from Syvlia…………………………………………………a long overdue chuckle………..
Most of you know of my dear friend Sylvia. From time to time she visits me on the internet, sharing some juicy tidbit sent by her UK network of friends and family. I first wrote of her in my post, “role models, aging gracefully,” dated 8-24-10.
My friend who’s 70ish is admirable not only because she’s such a fashion-plate, which she is, but also because she is laden with health issues that would bring a younger, stronger woman, like me, to my knees. I’m a wuss by comparison. Like an older sister, sometimes a mom, my girlfriend was a smoker for many years, but was finally able to kick the habit. Whether as a result of smoking or having had it beforehand, she continues to suffer with emphysema which is compounded by asthma. Weighing under 100 pounds she’s a lightweight, but she can be as “tough as nails” when debating her opinion. I’ve never tested her, and am not about to try. I’d rather have her in my corner. When a coughing fit overtakes her, she can easily bruise some ribs. As a last resort her doctor prescribes prednisone which eliminates the cough, but leaves my friend with side effects that linger. She has bouts of diverticulitis which has her curled up in great pain. Throughout our 13 years of friendship, she’s been poked, probed, xrayed, cat-scanned, MRI’d more than anyonelse I know. With the help of a physician who’s cared for her, REALLY CARED, my amazing friend always seems “as fit as a fiddle.” I forget her medical history until another episode occurs, and it always does.
I think I dress rather smartly, but when I’m out with my friend and her husband I know she’s outdone me. Not that I mind, for I am simply in awe of her sense of style, wearing skirts and dresses that I never would, simply because they wouldn’t look as well on me. They’re not my “cup of tea,” but they suit my girlfriend to a tee. And the jewelry, she can wear several gold bangles, rings on several fingers, including on her toes, and of course, earrings. Stunning is the only word to describe her. Whether she’s lounging at home or stepping out, in my estimation, she’s always “dressed to the nines.”
You can continue to read more wonderful things about Sylvia, for there’s definitely more good things to be said about her, by going to the original post mentioned above. I just wanted to give you an inkling of who she is, before you read further. And you’ll want to read further, I guarantee you. Enjoy this little “gem” from Sylvia…
I was really surprised to find out who my role was.
DON’T scroll down until you do the SIMPLE math below. It’s crazy how accurate this is!
1) Pick your favorite number between 1-9
2) Multiply by 3, then
3) Add 3
4) Then again multiply by 3 (Go get the calculator…). You’ll get a 2 or 3 digit number
5) Add the digits together
Now scroll down…
With the last number, see who YOUR ROLE MODEL is from the following list:
I know. I know. I just have that effect on people. One day, you too can be like me.
P.S. Stop picking different numbers! I AM YOUR ROLE MODEL! Deal with it!!!
You might think my friend Sylvia sits at her computer all day, laughing. I can assure you she doesn’t. Her house is immaculately kept. She knits up creations that could make her wealthy if she didn’t give them away. She and Jim pet sit without hesitation. They’re also active participants in their retirement community, socializing, as well as helping others in need. Sylvia is the last of her generation, I’m sure, to hand write letters and Christmas cards, in beautiful calligraphy. And the lady has monumental health issues with which she deals daily, none of which stops her from living her best life. Needless to say, she’s a great role model, with her no-nonsense attitude.
Sylvia may not “get” the ins and outs of the internet, but she does relish its entertainment value. She shared the following with me, another gem from her British network. It took me a couple of reads to “get” it. My daughter, on the other hand, burst into laughs immediately. Go figure.
Should a Child Witness Childbirth? (Here’s your answer.)
Due to a power outtage, only one paramedic responded to the call. The house was very dark, so the paramedic asked Kathleen, a 3-year-old girl, to hold a flashlight high over her mommy so he could see while he helped deliver the baby.
Very diligently, Kathleen did as she was asked. Heidi pushed and pushed and after a little while, Connor was born. The paramedic lifted him by his little feet and patted him on his bottom. Connor began to cry.
The paramedic then thanked Kathleen for her help and asked the wide-eyed 3-year-old what she thought about what she had just witnessed. Kathleen quickly responded. “He shouldn’t have crawled in there in the first place…spank him again!”
If you don’t laugh at this one, there’s no hope for you.
guess there’s some hope for me…since i took a couple of seconds…hugmamma.
My spirits needed a boost after the “rain” that’s showered down upon me of late, the last downpour being the viral attack. The other stuff was normal family occurrences, like my daughter having a bad case of the flu which required a visit to the ER, and hubby having had to go overseas for business. Every family has ordeals. It’s when they pile up one after another, that frustration seeps in.
Blogging usually helps release pent up angst, but when my computer is out of commission…duh??? Taking deep breaths helps, as well as reconnecting to small things that give pleasure in and of themselves. Several magazines await my perusal. Cupboards need reorganizing. Out running errands, the serenity and peace of Mother Nature washes over me as I gaze out across rolling hills dotted with sleek, black cattle, grazing. But I must admit, nothing totally replaces sitting at my laptop, words streaming forth from my fingertips. My senses are always on overload, so downloading them brings me the greatest relief, and sense of satisfaction.
My dear friend Sylvia, always hovering “close by,” emailed me a video that was shared with her by her British network of family and friends. I think the English, and Europeans, have a healthy sense of self, and a wicked sense of humor. They “put it out there,” watching to see our reaction, their eyes seeming to chuckle at our befuddlement. Where some of us might need reassurance that laughter is appropriate, my English friends don’t hold back. They might not guffaw, but they smile broadly, enjoying the moment without reservation.
Sylvia assured me I’d laugh at this video. I must admit that I had reservations about sharing it, but I guarantee you won’t see anything you shouldn’t see. What you do see is the Brit’s unencumbered sense of fun, and their healthy sense of self, also totally unencumbered. My friend and I hope you enjoy, and that it gives you a boost, if that’s what you need. I couldn’t reprint it here, so if you’re really curious you’ll want to click on the following. It was done in 1982, so it’s pretty mild by today’s standards. And Sylvia is a grandmother who’s not into wild and crazy… mildly crazy maybe.
HGTV is one of my “go to” stations when I’m surfing the channels looking for somewhere to land. One of my favorite segments, which my husband also enjoys watching, is “House Hunters International.” Being “niele” (Hawaiian for “curious”, my family says I’m “nosey”) by nature, I want to see how other people live, especially in foreign countries. What are their houses like? Do they reflect a totally different lifestyle, or one not unlike mine? What are prices like? Do they seem in line with what the homes offer in basics, as well as in amenities? I’ve seen HGTV shows filmed in cities like Tokyo, Hong Kong, Honolulu, Paris, Edinburgh and countries like Mexico, Portugal, Spain, Italy, England, Argentina, Costa Rica, and islands like Aruba, Jamaica, the Caymans.
Most of the locations HGTV visits seem to appeal to my exotic side. Of course viewing places I’ve not been as a traveler is like being in a candy shop, face pressed against glass cases, eyes bugging out over the contents. My latest refrain which seems ongoing is “We should retire there.” To which my husband’s reply is always “Yeah?” or “I don’t think so.” I’ve decided he has no exotic side, only a very practical one which keeps me fully grounded. If it weren’t for him, I’d have been airborne a zillion times, never landing for a breather. Of course I’m glad he never takes me seriously for then I’d have to “put my money where my mouth is.” And I’ve no “kala,” (Hawaiian for money, lots of it) to support a lifestyle of the “rich and famous.” Besides, we’re not of that class, being pretty simple in our wants and likes. I’d like a vacation home in Hawaii, and a Volkswagen bug, blue or yellow. See, pretty basic. Well, at least half my wants is…the Hawaiian home…with an ocean view.
While I’m caught up in the moment watching non-natives weighing the pros and cons of various houses in foreign locales, I’m amazed at their decision to live beyond their comfort zones. Some even retiring, lock, stock and barrel, to supposed final homes of their “golden years.” Besides needing a tremendously flexible attitude toward their adopted place of abode and its citizenry, these new residents must be prepared to live within the explicit, and implicit, laws of the land. They might find themselves adrift without a” life jacket” in a face-off with the ruling government where they’d taken up residence. Trying to cloak themselves in the American flag as U.S. citizens might be like moving a mountain, which might prove easier to do in the long-term.
Of note is the ongoing case of Amanda Knox, a University of Washington student who, while studying abroad for a semester in Luca, Italy was accused of murdering her British roommate. The rural town peopled by folk who have probably lived their entire lives in that village have little, if any, experience with foreign visitors except what is stereotypically represented. So it seems in Knox’s case being an American teenager may have prematurely cast her in the widely viewed role of “wild child.” Even I, sitting in the comfort and safety of my home in the U.S., can’t be absolutely certain if she is innocent or guilty. But while her case is on appeal and her parents wage an all-out-war, sacrificing much in time, energy and money, their daughter is serving out a 20+ year sentence.
Being a professed worrier, although I’m getting better, the rampant killings by drug cartels in Mexico City and other parts of Mexico, has me wondering about the safety of retirees who have moved south for the “good life.” In her attempts to assuage my concerns a friend, herself a regular visitor to Puerto Vallarta and whose friends’ family lives on the outskirts of the resort, assures me that Americans are safe. The resorts at which they are guests, are heavily guarded. I’ve also been told by the Mexican woman who works at the dry cleaner we frequent, that the sleepy village where she is from and where her family still resides, is untouched by the violence.
I am not as mystified about Europeans residing in countries other their own. It would be like my having moved from Hawaii to the east coast to New England to where I am now in the Pacific Northwest. The difference, of course, being that European countries are sovereignties. Furthermore the ability for Europeans to travel easily across borders, proposes a certain level of comfort. That ease and inherent comfort are not an intrinsic part of moving from the U.S. to a country in Europe, Asia, or South America. And then there’s the language. Europeans tend to know more than their native tongue; we, on the other hand, rely heavily upon others knowing English.
It would seem that at least 2 categories of Americans make their homes abroad, those who take their identity with them insisting that their surroundings adjust; or those who are chameleons adjusting to whatever their environs require. Dear friends of ours, a gay married couple, recently bought a home in the Spanish countryside. Imagine my disbelief when my husband told me of their purchase?!?. “How could they just up and decide to move to Spain? Do they know anyone? Are they leaving for good?” But then I let the news sink in. I thought of the 2 men, their effervescent personalities, their annual social gatherings, their love of travel to places like Vietnam and the Galapagos Isles, and their talent for bringing friends together as family. Such reflection left me with no residual qualms, about these 2 fabulous men taking up residence in a foreign country. Perhaps,… I’m even a little envious of their hutzpah.
Having been raised on Maui, I often blame my islander roots as reason for not traveling farther afield with more frequency, or seriously contemplating a permanent home abroad. I use the same excuse for choosing to drive through residential neighborhoods or back roads, rather than speeding down freeways at 60 miles an hour trying to keep up with everyonelse. Call it an island mentality or fear of the unknown, I will never be Marco Polo or Magellan. Perhaps because of my dysfunctional childhood, I find that being with my husband and daughter is more important to me than traveling the globe in search of what I’m already blessed with here at home. But while my search is complete my daughter is confident she’d be fine working, and living, in Europe, if that’s where her career took her. And she goes with our blessing to live the life she envisions for herself, here or abroad. That won’t prohibit me from continuing to give advice, however, that she “drive carefully and be safe.”
is it youth that gives us wings, which when “clipped” in older age keeps some of us closer to the nest?…hugmamma.
I thought the following TV Times piece was especially interesting since I have several good friends who are Brits. Some even read my posts. Here’s the article, in part.
“Piers Morgan loves America” by Kate O’Hare
He may be Irish by ethnicity and British by nationality, but Piers Morgan loves America, and over the course of several years as a judge on NBC’s “American’s Got Talent,” …he’s gotten to see a lot of the nation and its people.
He’s even written a book about his experiences, called “God Bless America: Misadventures of a Big Mouth Brit,” released in 2009.
“When I used to come here as a young show-business reporter for one of the London papers, I had a warped view,” Morgan says. “The only Americans I met were lawyers, entertainment agents, managers and celebrities, which is not a very good reflection of the real America. So, you end up thinking all Americans are like that, because they’re the only ones you meet.
“The same way, if you’re on holiday in Europe, and you see a bunch of football hooligans fighting, you go, ‘God, they’re a bunch of savages.’ “
As to what he’s learned during his travels, Morgan says, “What a huge country this is, and so varied. As I’ve traveled around with ‘America’s Got Talent,’ I’ve gone to the North, South, East, West–everywhere very different.
“The common ground, I think, is that American people are very courteous in a way, I think, Brits have unfortunately become less courteous. There’s a great spirit and energy about America. There’s a real can-do mentality, where you don’t have a social class structure. Your structure is based on achievement and people who have done well for themselves. You embrace that and encourage that.
“It’s intoxicating for Brits, where a lot of the time in Britain, it’s what kind of silver spoon you were born with in your family, is how you get on.
“So it’s nice, the can-do mentality. America’s not perfect, but it has a great spirit to it. Certainly if I was in trouble, I’d want to have a couple of Americans in my corner.”
hugs for us…hugmamma.