So, what did you see?

Amanda and I have known each other for more than ten years now; we met while I was still at Cable and Wireless. We reconnected when she returned to Bermuda earlier this year. Although our lives are completely different during, the many hours we have spent talking, catching up and reminiscing we realise that we have far more in common than you would ever suspect. We are about the same age and have reached points in our lives where we can absolutely appreciate, laugh and cry at the mistakes and great decisions we've made in our lives.

One day recently we were at dinner and talked about how we each viewed the world and how our perspectives are completely different despite our commonalities. She is white, English, educated, has lived in Bermuda for a significant portion of her life and is well traveled. I am black, Bermudian, educated, have lived in England for a significant portion of my life and I am well traveled.

So we set out to conduct an experiment. We agreed that we would go out together and write about the experience, what we saw, what we did, how we felt. Here are our stories:

My view
As soon as we agreed to conduct the experiment I decided I needed to brush up on my observation skills so I would be equal to the task. I mean suppose Amanda saw something that would be the complete focus of her piece and I didn't even know the incident took place. So I started preparing for our task by looking at what was going on around me and trying to make mental notes. I would like to think my preparations stood me in good stead but I think I failed completely because I can't believe any of the little observations I made a mental note of could have been of any great significance.

Here are some of the things I saw:
An old guy with a red walking stick - I didn't even know they came in different colors;
One woman with way too much make up on - I didn't even know you could get that many different colors on your face at one time;
Then there was the guy with the loud shirt - again, many colors.

After the whole color thing I felt I had to pay more attention to the atmosphere what was happening around me.

A lady I know who is returning home, due to work permit issues invited me to her leaving party. I dragged Amanda along. We sat at the bar chatting and all I could get from the atmosphere was "someone in here is smoking, is that even legal in this day and age?"

Since I couldn't get past the whole smoking thing I decided to concentrate on our conversation - what deep and meaningful nuggets of conversation would Amanda and I participate in that would be the focus of my piece. Would I impart a delicious morsel that she would spend her 1,000 words talking about or would she dazzle my mind and give me something that I would noodle around in my brain and have to write about.

I think that moment approached as she and I walked from my car to the restaurant we had decided to eat at. We strolled along Front Street chatting happily and I was totally aware of my surroundings, alert to any possible issue that I had to observe and I listened intently to Amanda waiting for her to wax poetic when I suddenly I veered left and was blind and deaf to everything around me I pressed my nose figuratively again the window of the store that sells Prada.

A black bag with brass hardware, two strap lengths and a catch that was totally unexpected caught my eye. I frowned as I leaned closer to the window trying to see if I could spot the price tag. My eyes glazed over as I imagined the smell of the leather and the feel of it beneath my expert, self trained hands. I imagined how it would look first on my shoulder and then in my closet with my other captives, um, I mean precious bags ... my precious!

I heard a voice in the distance trying to bring me back to earth -- OMG, I had completely forgotten about Amanda and I think she may have asked me a question, what? How many bags do I own? What kind of question is that? How many stars are there in the sky, how many grains of sand are there in the desert? I don't know and that isn't important right now. The important question is do you think we can find someone to open the store for us so I can look at this totally uncharacteristic Fendi masterpiece?

After standing around ostensibly looking at the other designer offerings in the window I realised that I wasn't going to be able to get my hands on the bag and so after another side long glance I shuffled along to the meal that awaited our undivided attention.

Once we had eaten I thought we would call it a night but before we headed off in opposite directions we decided to try one more time to find my brother and bust in on him and his friends on their 'boys night out'. We decided to look in his favorite haunt to see if he was there. As luck would have it we found him, despite the fact that I think he tried to avoid us.

Without invitation we joined him and some of his friends and started making small talk with two gentlemen, one I knew only slightly and the other I was meeting for the first time. As we exchanged pleasantries, my brother's child hood friend squeezed himself between me and Amanda and started monopologising the conversation.

I am sorry to say this is where the evening fell apart for me. I was trying to maintain an eye on what was happening in the place, stay abreast of who was where and how everyone was interacting. My brother's friend put paid to that when he decided to engage in a totally embarrassing and humiliatingly funny expose on our 'relationship'. He made up the wildest accusations and charges against me that he could think of - stalking him, court decisions on our (retarded) child, flagrant sexual acts. While these charges were flying back and forward all I could do was laugh my stupid head off. I couldn't even mount a convincing attack, especially for the two men he insisted on regaling these flights of fantasy to.

Given that they didn't know me and may or may not have known my brother's friend to them these things about me could well have been true which added to my total inability to respond due to the now near hysterical and uncontrollable raucous laughter escaping my person. Nothing I did would stop him and in fact when I tried to interject with my own accusations of his cross dressing things seemed to get worse.

In the end I gave up and went to say hello to someone who was standing at the bar. When I look back at that incident I have to shake my head because if I could have kept my wits about me I may be been able to dissect it and write about it objectively. However since I was desperately trying to defend myself I have nothing deep and meaningful to impart other than I have a long memory and my plan is to exact revenge on my brother's friend some day, somehow, some way.

We finally decided to call it a night. I drove Amanda to the taxi stand. I did consider taking her home but she was staying in the depths of Southampton and I didn't have the energy, strength or focus to make the drive there and back.

What did I learn from this experiment - I need to be more observant, obsess less about bags and perhaps not hang out with my brother and his friends, lest embarrassing things happen.

(PS - this essay is supposed to be 1,000 words. Who knew I could write so much - it is in fact 1,369, I'm sorry Amanda.)

Here is Amanda's entry ...

Night out

7am. Friday morning. I'm in bed. Asleep. Aderonke texts to ask if I am up for drinks tonight. What is she like? The day has barely begun and she is thinking of alcohol? Its a little early for me to consider such matters and I just cant think about it right now....

At work - several hours later - I text back to say yes.

She picks me up from work at 6 and takes me to someone she used to work with's leaving do at the theatre bar.

I fret about my situation over a vodka cranberry. Should I stay or should I go.

'Stay - enjoy yourself'.' she says over her G & T.

That sorted we head for our next venue. After a fruitless call to her elusive brother we make our way to LVs. A quick scout around the bar tells us our group isn't there...

'Are you hungry? '

'Yes. You?'

To the Pickled Onion we go.

A glass of champagne and a trip down memory lane - we discuss the great loves of our life over dinner. A heart to heart over broken hearts.

'So what are you doing to meet guys these days,' she asks?

'Well, Ummm - this is kind of it.'

'Well lets go to the bar and talk to some....' '

I don't know how. I dont do this sort of thing. Its not my style' - I protest weakly.

But she's in there. 'I'll ask him the time' she says 'its a start.'

To my surprise - she does.

To my surprise - it works.

I don't feel what follows is worthy of recording aside to say that I foolishly give out my number and instantly regret it.

Time to go home. We're in Aderoke's car about to drive off when she decides at the last moment to revist LVs to check if her brother and pals are there. Result!

We are suddenly surrounded by people. I am introduced to one smartly dressed man after another - ever increasingly levels of smartness - the final one perfectly dressed and immaculate in every way. When my attention returns to my immediate surroundings I see Aderonke at the centre of it all - involved in a raucous exchange with her brother's best friend Will. (This seems to be the case whenever these two get together.) I only catch fragments of their exchange above the din of the bar and the great gales of laughter coming from the amused on-lookers, but whips and high heeled boots are definitly mentioned between the screams of laughter as is money and Obama.

A little later - when its all died down, I am cornered by Will who comfortably lounges back beside me and insists that I work at weekends in order to hide or run away from something in my personal life. I don't have any good enough excuses to disuade him from this line of questioning or get him to believe otherwise. He continues 'How long since the break up? Three months? Six months? A year?' If only it were that simple. I can't even begin to explain.

Aderonke returns from the bar with a huge glass of wine in her hand. The crowd has moved on and she decides we ought to call it a night as we both have to work in the morning. More importantly - has she just bumped in to someone at the bar that she will be dealing with tomorrow - so doesn't want to give the wrong impression. Back in her jeep she offers too drive me to Southampton. I refuse her offer - Its a long way to Barnes corner. 'That's Somerset Southampton - not even Warwick Southampton...' she says horrified at the very thought. She drops me next to a taxi on Front Street. I say goodbye and she says she can't wait to read about our night out. She has been planning for her article for weeks. I have no idea what she has up her sleeve and know I will not be able to compete.

In the cab on the way home my phone bleeps. Its a text from my work mate to say - Her boyfriend's Mum has a cousin called Pork and Beans. She knows these things amuse me. I burst out laughing. Its been a good night. Just what the doctor ordered. I'm thinking of getting a nice cup of tea and heading to bed. As I settle down at home I wonder if Aderonke is busy thinking of her next night out and will be texting another unsuspecting friend at daybreak tomorrow to see if they are up for a drink...

Do I have a job for you ... but first you have to fill in the application form.

Last year I wrote an article about dating and listed some possible questions you can ask a potential mate. I read the article below about the application form anyone seeking a job in the Obama administration must complete. My questions pale in comparison to this questionnaire. Here is the article. I have started filling in my form, it may take a while to complete it to the best of my ability and I have to keep in the back of my mind that after I submit it I still have to go for an interview ...

White House job application leaves no stone unturned

By Jim Kavanagh
CNN

The Obama transition team is sending a seven-page, 63-item questionnaire to every candidate for Cabinet and other high-ranking positions in the incoming administration.

The questions cover everything from information on family members, Facebook pages, blogs and hired help to links to Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, American International Group and troubled banks as well as lawsuits, gifts, resumes, loans and more.

The transition team has about 7,000 positions to fill, according to the U.S. Government Printing Office's Plum Book, the quadrennial list of positions subject to presidential appointment.

Included are 15 Cabinet positions and nearly 200 ambassadorships as well as agency heads and their immediate subordinates, policy executives and advisers, and top aides to those officials.

The largest part of the questionnaire asks prospective White House appointees and their spouses to list real estate and other business transactions, affiliations and relationships as well as personal financial and tax information.

It also asks about writings, speeches, testimony, online communications and even personal diaries.

An entire section requests details on any criminal or civil legal action in which the applicant may have been involved. The last question in that 11-item section asks for details on any child support or alimony orders.

In an apparent effort to avoid the problems faced by several nominees in the last two administrations, a block of four questions is devoted to ferreting out details -- including the immigration status -- of any domestic help the applicant may have hired.

Question 61 seems to have been prompted by the controversy over former 1960s radical William Ayres in Obama's campaign: "Have you had any association with any person, group or business venture that could be used -- even unfairly -- to impugn or attack your character or qualifications for government service?"

Under the final, "Miscellaneous" category, the questionnaire asks for the names and phone numbers of past live-in lovers; whether anyone in the applicant's family owns a gun; the state of the applicant's health; and whether he or she has any enemies.

What President Elect, Barack Obama's victory means to me

I can't let another day go by without acknowledging on this medium the time in history we are living through. On Tuesday November 4, 2008 the electorate of the United States of America voted for hope, for change, for Barack Obama.

What does this historic election mean to me, a black woman, a Bermudian and a citizen of the world?

I had a conversation yesterday with an elder of our community and I didn't have to ask her what she thought of the US Presidential elections. It was a topic we shifted into effortlessly as soon as the initial salutations were over. We each shared our view and she expressed the emotions bubbling inside, the hope she has carried around in her life, the pride she has always expressed through her writing and story telling and the strength she instilled in her children.

I remember when Oprah Winfrey endorsed Obama many months ago. She took a lot of heat from Hillary Clinton supporters for not endorsing a woman. Shortly after her endorsement my husband and I had a discussion about the gender, race issue. I walked away from that conversation understanding my husband's position which also happened to be mine, we identify ourselves through our race first and gender second. It is something that has been instilled in us since, well, since forever.

I look at Mr. Obama as I do the men in my family; my husband, fathers, brothers and uncles are responsible black men who take care of their families, who love their wives and respect their mother, sisters and daughters. This is what I see in the next President of the United States. I do recognize that this is not the case for many families, black and white, in the US, Bermuda and indeed around the world. Mr. Obama has become the new role model that doesn't involve sports, singing, rapping or acting. He got to where he is through hard work, ambition and determination.

As a Bermudian, I am hoping his leadership style will rub off on the leaders in my island nation. I would like for them to learn from him how to lead with humility, strength and with the best intention for the populous.

As a citizen of the world, I have read many articles about how there is a tide of hope rippling through the world. People in far flung nations attended election parties, stayed up into the night and early morning to learn of the election results first hand.

There is vibration that is in the air and a feeling of change. We can not go back to the dark days of segregation, we can no longer stand by silently while horrors are being perpetrated against groups of people, we can no longer turn a blind eye to injustice. I think history will show that the people of the world at this time, took on the issues that are plaguing mankind, killing our planet and separating human beings.

I would like to think we took this opportunity to make a world of difference.

After the initial tears, shock and awe (the good kind) began to ebb away in the hours after the election decision was announced, I asked myself if I can remember any other time in my adult life that I felt hopeful and excited and speechless. The only thing that came to mind was when Nelson Mandela was released from prison. I was a young broadcast journalist (my first job after college) and the only reporter on duty that day. I grabbed the mike, turned on the tv and reported what I saw to anyone who happened to be listening to the radio.

I remember feeling excitement, and joy and anticipation of what would happen next. Mr. Mandela had the ability to start to bring about change in the country of his birth. He was able to see in his lifetime the regime that imprisoned him become dismantled and his country was given the opportunity to rebuild.

I think we are at another point in history where an opportunity exists for us to stand up and say in one voice; we are ready to embrace change and become a better role model, a better citizen, a better human being.

I stand ready ...

Two for the price of one? (I mean really, what other title could I have given?)

Far be it for me to comment on another culture but really two husbands, at the same time? This article begs for so many responses but I am not going to influence you, let me know your thoughts.

HIMACHAL PRADESH, India (CNN) -- Amar and Kundan Singh Pundir are brothers. Younger brother Amar breaks rocks in a mine for a living. Kundan farms their small piece of inherited land. They live in a beautiful but remote hillside village in the clouds of Himachal Pradesh, India.
Both in their 40's, the two brothers have lived together nearly their whole lives. They are poor and share just about everything: Their home, their work and a wife.

"See we have a tradition from the beginning to have a family of five to 10 people. Two brothers and one wife." Kundan says.

They practice what is known as fraternal polyandry -- where the brothers of one family marry the same woman. Why? Tradition and economics.

Life is hard here. The village is precariously perched on the side of a very steep hill about 6,000ft up. Most of the villagers survive off tiny plots of cropland.

In this difficult terrain there isn't enough land to go around. So, instead of finding separate wives and splitting up their inherited property, the brothers marry the same woman and keep their land together.

Wife Indira Devi says life with two husbands isn't easy.

"We fight a lot."

But like any married couple they fight mostly over mundane stuff, except there are three spouses instead of two.

"Usually it's about chores, why didn't you do this? Why didn't you do that?" she says.

One thing they agreed on was the need to have children; They have three. So how does a married trio deal with sex?

"We make shifts, change shifts and sleep on alternate days. We have to make shifts otherwise it won't work," Kundan says.

"To run our families we have to do this, overcome the hurdles as well and then we have to control our hearts from feeling too much," Amar adds.

To outsiders their arrangement may seem odd, but in the village of about 200 it is the norm.
Typically the marriages are arranged and women have two husbands. But some wives have three or four depending on how many brothers there are in a family.

Polyandry is illegal in India but socially acceptable here. No one from the government seems to bother the villagers about the law.

"It's been going on for ages. My sister in law has two husbands, my mother in law also has two husbands," Indira says.

And as to the question of which husband is the biological father of the children -- the Pundir's don't know and don't care.

"For me everyone is the same, my mother and my fathers are the same. My mother and my fathers are like God to me," 17-year old daughter Sunita Singh Pundir says.

Even as modern society arrives in this ancient village through satellite dishes and mobile phones, the Pundirs say they want their age-old tradition to continue with their children.

"Absolutely," eldest son Sohna says.

He and his younger brother have already discussed it and will marry the same woman.

Daughter Sunita isn't so sure.

"I would like one husband," she says.

But when asked if she will marry for love or tradition, Sunita's answer makes it clear the tradition of marrying more than one man will continue with the next generation.

"I will never leave our tradition even if I have to forgo love. I will never spoil my parents' reputation and my brothers.'"

Under pressure

You would think that with the current credit crunch, an impending historic election in the United States just days away and what impact the global financial retraction would have on Bermuda I would write about these important and timely topics.

No. I want to talk about the pressure I am feeling from ladies’ bag designers. Let me say from the outset I love bags. They are one of my passions. I take bags seriously as I believe they say a lot about the person carrying them.

I have travel handbags which must have certain features that make carrying them handy and non-cumbersome when elbowing 6’5” guys out of the way as my suitcase is carried away at warp speed by the luggage conveyor belts in the arrivals hall. The bag I travel with has to be big enough to carry my day to day items – 32 lipsticks, three nail files, a myriad of mints (you never know when you may have to offer one politely to the person next to you on a plane whose definition of oral hygiene may not be approved by the American or any other Dental Association), a wallet and various other items a girl can’t live without. Conversely the bag has to be small enough to look cute if you are going out to dinner with friends and family members whom you haven’t seen for months, years or indeed ever.

So I have this cute black bag I took to Omaha with me. I tend to use it exclusively for travel. However this time around for some reason upon my return I didn’t switch back to my day to day bag. The bag is great; It is divided into five discrete areas if you include the little flap at the back and the two pocket areas in the front.

It also has various tailor made pockets for a cell phone, lotion, iPod, credit cards and another cell phone (some people carry two – as I did for two years). These pockets have caused me to become a little anxious in that there are so many I am feeling pressured to not only use them all but to use them correctly.

Two things are driving me nuts – am I using the pockets for the right items and what do I do with the pockets that I don’t have anything to put in. I have figured out where my cell phone and other crucial items should reside and I didn’t realize how anal I have been about these compartments until I was in a meeting recently and reached for a pen (which has its own little slot). As I took it out and saw in my haste to leave the house I had put a few items in the wrong areas. I could hear the person leading the meeting still talking so I quickly started taking pieces out of my bag and discretely placing them on the table in front of me so I could return the items to their logical space.

I was doing okay until I realized that there hadn’t been a sound in the room for about 45 seconds. I glanced up as I reached for the remote control to the radio in my office (there is a long story about why I was carrying it around with me) and realized that everyone was looking at me expectantly. I must have had a blank look on my face because the person next to me whispered that it was now my turn to talk. With half a dozen items still in front of me I had to quickly think of a graceful way to get out of what could have been a potentially embarrassing situation.

Anyway, to get back to my purse. During that meeting I realized that I was feeling pressured (and perhaps a little intimidated) by bag designers to get it right. I don’t like that feeling but I like being organized. I have to find a mental and emotional space where I can let my natural inclination to have an orderly purse, which leads to an orderly life, which leads to an orderly world overcome the self-imposed need towards being a semi-perfectionist and accept that there are no right or wrongs when it comes to purse order and organization. Although if the pockets were labeled …

How to Complain at a Hotel

I promise you, I didn't go looking for this article - it popped up. Given my latest travel escapade and subsequent response from the hotel I thought I would conclude the series of entries with this well timed article. So if you run into problems with roaches, Elder bugs or any other insects you know what to do, and equally important, how to complain.

Get satisfaction when things go wrong during your hotel stay
By Charlyn Keating Chisholm, About.com

Even in the best hotels, things go wrong occasionally. Patience, persistence, and smile go a long way toward getting results when you have a valid complaint at a hotel.
Identify the ProblemMake sure you can explain the problem clearly and concisely. Don't exaggerate; be honest and tell it like it is. Get evidence if you can. A photo snapped with your cell phone can be a powerful image.

If it's just a small annoyance, consider letting it slide. Life is short, and that goes double when you're on vacation. Save yourself some stress by picking your battles, keeping your sense of humor and being flexible when faced with a minor issue you can live with.

Identify the Solution
Before you complain, figure out what your expectations for solution are. Do you need something fixed in your room? Need a new room assigned? What's your timetable?

Be realistic about compensation for problems. You shouldn't pay for services you didn't receive. But you are unlikely to have your entire stay comped because because one thing was not working in your room.

One helpful approach is to tell the manager that you are not looking for compensation, you just wanted to let him/her know there is a problem so it can be addressed.

Time Your Complaint
Complain as soon as you know there is a problem. Don't wait until the next day or when you are checking out. Still, if there's a long line at the front desk and all the phones are ringing, you may want to delay until a quieter time so attention can be paid to your problem.

Complain in Person
Don't call the front desk with your problem. Go down in person and talk face to face. Explain the situation and let them know what your expectations are. Keep your story short and to the point.

Remain Calm
Be polite and calm. Even if you feel frustrated or angry, never raise your voice or lose your cool. A smile goes a long way toward helping people want to help you. Losing your temper will make the situation worse, and may even get you escorted out of the hotel. Tell your story once, without exaggeration or drama ("My whole trip is ruined!"), and what you'd like done about it, and wait for a response.

Find the Person With the Power
You should be able to determine fairly quickly if the person you are speaking to is willing and able to fix the problem. If not, ask for the manager on duty or GM (general manager). Calmly and candidly explain the situation to the manager and what you would like done. Let them know who else you've talked to and when.

Be Patient
In many cases, the situation can be resolved right away. Hotel staff are in the customer service business, and for the most part, they want you to be satisfied. Keep in mind that some problems are beyond their control, and some take time to fix. If you have a specific time frame (e.g., you have a dinner meeting and need to use that broken shower); ask them for a backup plan (use of a shower in another room or in the spa).

Be Persistent
If you are speaking to the right person (the one with the power to fix the problem), and they seem unwilling to do so, ask again, and then a third time. Remain polite and keep your cool, but be persistent in stating your need for a solution.

Be Flexible
If they can't offer the fix you requested, consider any alternate fixes they've offered with an open mind. Is it really going to ruin your entire vacation if you don't have a view of the pool as you imagined? Keep your sense of humor and focus on the positives.

Take It Home
It's best to resolve the problem when you are still at the hotel. If for some reason they can't fix the problem to your satisfaction while you are in the hotel, keep notes of what happened, who you talked to, when, and what was said. Once at home, you can dispute the charges with the credit card company (always pay with one) and write a letter to the General Manager of the hotel. You should expect a reply within a couple of weeks with an apology, a partial refund, or an invitation to return to the hotel at a reduced rate in the future. If the hotel is part of a chain, don't escalate your letter writing to the CEO unless you are unable to get a satisfactory response from the hotel staff.

Even if you have a complaint, remember: hotels (and the people who work in them) aren't perfect, and things go wrong more often than any of us would like. If you find a hotel that solves your problems efficiently, show them your appreciation by becoming a repeat customer.

Bugging out

After my traumatic ordeal at Four Points, I wrote to the hotel manager and expressed my concern about the bugs in his establishment. Here is his response:

Good Afternoon,

Thank you for contacting me regarding your recent visit to our property, I apologize for the condition in which you found you hotel rooms. I assure you that the insects you saw were not roaches. They are in fact, Box Elder bugs and are related to the Lady Bug. They are harmless, which does not excuse their presence, but unfortunately, they are a nuisance in our area each fall. We have had the interior and exterior of our buildings treated this past week in order to remedy the issue.

For the inconvenience, I have awarded 7000 points to your SPG account.

I am happy we were able to accommodate you at the Sheraton Suites and I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.

Regards,

Stephen Pugh
Director of Guest Services

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth

So my husband is in Omaha until December. Last week I decided to fly from Bermuda and surprise him for his birthday. I made the decision pretty late and all the seats on the most direct route were taken or the ticket price was outrageous. So I decided to get the cheapest ticket which, of course took me through Philadelphia and Chicago before getting to Omaha. Usually Bermuda to Newark then on to Omaha is the most direct route.

I am very happy to report that there were no incidents going and my arrival was a complete surprise for my husband. He didn't have a clue!

The return journey home was event-free except for the incident I am about to relay. I promise you I am not making this up nor am I embellishing the details and I will not change the names to protect the guilty.

I knew that on my return to Bermuda I would have to overnight in Philadelphia. No problem I called and made reservations at Four Points Sheraton at Philadelphia Airport with confirmation that I would be arriving after mid-night. My credit card secured the room and I was a happy camper.

Got to Philly - waited for the shuttle for about ten minutes. Not bad at all. Walked into the lobby of the hotel. The front desk clerk was on the phone and looking a little harried. She was dealing with a customer complaint on the phone and trying to book me in. After about 20 minutes I was given the key to my room and proceeded to the elevator which whisked me to the fourth floor. Found room 453 and walked in. I noted that a dead roach greeted me but I thought - well at least it is dead.

As I entered the room I felt it didn't have that crisp freshly made feel to it that hotel rooms usually have. I looked around to determine why I felt that way. The pillows - they were squashed down and not straight and neat. Had someone been in the room and laid down? I continued to look around. I went into the bathroom - yes someone had been in there. There was used soap in the soap dish and the soap wrapper was on the counter. I looked in the sink and there was dried lather in the sink - where someone had washed their hands.

I looked in the bath tub and found two insects lying there waiting for their towel, valet, I'm not sure what.

As I shuddered to think that my room hadn't been cleaned properly something on the floor near the window attracted my attention. I walked over and bent at the waist to get a better look. There was something dead on the floor with ants all over it.

My skin was crawling and on my way out the door I grabbed my luggage and bolted for the elevator.

I talked with the front counter clerk and explained my situation and demanded another room. She disappeared for about seven minutes in the middle of serving another customer. When she returned, I noted the white towel in her hand but didn't think too much of it.

She finished serving the customer in front of her and gave me another room. I took the key ever hopeful that I could finally lay my head down and get some well deserved sleep.

I walked into the new room and knew instantly that someone had been laying in the bed because it wasn't even made up properly. I walked to the desk and there was a roach eyeing reproachfully as it casually made its way home.

I didn't even both to put my bags down I hightailed it out of there but not before taking pictures as my empirical evidence.

Meanwhile back in the lobby the front desk clerk who wasn't having a good shift looked at me and I am sure mentally shook her head and cut her eyes. By this time I had my husband on the phone and was regaling to him my adventure thus far.

Again I explained my situation - the young lady wasn't surprised because I think when she disappeared for those seven minutes she had gone up to the room, moved out the guests who were complaining and decided to reassign their room to me in hopes that I wouldn't notice the extra guests who weren't paying their share of the room.

Finally she sent me to their sister hotel - Sheraton Suites which was across the street.

I have traveled around the world and except for that time in Zimbabwe out in the bush when ants invaded my toothbrush (and I had to made a life changing, character building decision - throw away the toothbrush and not brush my teeth for weeks on end or pick out the ants and wash off the brush with the water from my waterbottle) I can categorically say I have never had to deal with an insect infestation at a hotel I had to spend the night.

I will be writing to the Sheraton hotel chain to describe in detail my teeth gritting, skin crawling experience.

Palin comparison

I don't think I have been this fascinated by a US presidential election since ... well, ever. There was that time in high school when in History class I had a bet with my friend that Carter would beat Reagan. I lost and needless to say I was wrong for eight long years.

This election has grabbed people's attention like nothing before. It has everything - money, financial crashes, political posturing, missteps, bad interviews - all the isms you can think of - agism, sexism, racism ... you name it, it is all there.

I must admit when McCain announced Palin as his running mate I thought to myself he has just pulled off a political coup - he will now work woo away all the Clinton supporters who were upset that she wasn't the nominee or Obama's running mate. I made the assumption that Palin was a tested politician with the smarts to play the game and play it well.

I think I've read so much over the last few weeks about this election I swear I could answer all the questions on a Jeopardy! category correctly.

Of all the OpEd pieces I have read the one below could only have been written by a woman about another woman. I have to admit I chuckled in a few places. I welcome your thoughts - do you agree with this piece? As a group do we squarely fit into these categories?

Why Some Women Hate Sarah Palin
By Belinda Luscombe Thursday, Oct. 02, 2008

Some polls are suggesting that after gaining an initial bump, McCain's campaign is being hobbled by Sarah Palin's vice-presidential candidacy. The voters who are deserting her fastest, some of whom are even calling on her to withdraw, are mostly women.

Ah, women, the consistently, tragically underestimated constituency. What the Democrats learned during the primaries and the Republicans might now be finding out the hard way, I learned at my very academic, well-regarded all-girls high school: that is never to discount the ability of women to open a robust, committed, well-thought-out vat of hatred for another girl.
Women are weapons-grade haters. Hillary Clinton knows it. Palin knows it too. When women get their hate on, they don't just dislike, or find disfavor with, or sort of not really appreciate. They loathe — deeply, richly, sustainingly. I do not say this to disparage my gender; women also love in more or less the same way.

When men disagree, the steps to resolution are reasonably clear and unsophisticated. Acts of physical violence are visited upon one another's person or property, and the whole thing blows over. Women? Nu-unh. We savor the discord. We draw it out. We share our contempt with our friends, like a useful stock tip, or really good salsa. And then we all go hate together: a mutually encouraging group activity for when the book group gets quiet.

The hatred women have for Sarah Palin, and others had for Hillary before her, is not necessarily about politics. Anybody can run the numbers on how many people Palin's pro-life, pro-gun, socially conservative policies will seduce and how many they will alienate. Rather, the test that the McCain campaign failed to put her through was the Abbotsleigh Ladies College test. (Named after my high school. Go, green and gold!). It's a simple three-point pass-fail exam: Will the other girls like her?

Here's why Palin doesn't make the grade:
1. She's too pretty. This is very bad news. At school, pretty girls tend to be liked only by other pretty girls. The rest of us, whose looks hover somewhere around underwhelming, resent them and whisper archly of their "unearned attention." So, if everyone calls your candidate "hot," you're in a whole mess of trouble. If the Pakistani head-of-state more or less hits on her, well, yes, she'll get a sympathy vote, but we're in Dukakis-in-the-tank territory. It's an admiration vaporizer. (Of course a candidate can't be too ugly, or it will scare the men, who are clearly shallow as a gender.)

2. She's too confident. This also bodes ill. Women have self-esteem issues. But they also have other-women's-esteem issues. As almost any woman — from the head of the Budgerigar Breeders association to Queen Elizabeth — can attest, it's almost impossible to get confidence right. Too timid and you're a pushover. Too self-aggrandizing and you're a bad word unless it's about a dog, or Project Runway's Kenley. Or Michelle, my best friend until 9th grade, after she won that debating prize and got cocky.

3. She could embarrass us. History is not on Palin's side. Every time a woman gets a plum job, be she Hewlett-Packard's ex-boss, Carly Fiorina, or CBS's Katie Couric, there's always that whispery fear that people will think she got the job just because she's a woman. So if things don't go well — and a couple of YouTube clips have suggested that they're certainly not going well for Palin — women are the first to turn on her for making it harder for the rest of us to louse up at work.

The fact of the matter is once a female decides it's over with another female, it's like an end-stage marriage. No matter how seemingly benign, every attribute becomes an affront: the hair, the voice, the husband, the moose-shooting, the glasses, the big family, the making rape victims pay for their own rape test kits.

I know, I know. With all this extra baggage a female candidate has to bear, the chances of finding a woman whom other women won't hate seem skinnier than last year's jeans. But don't despair, if all else fails, we could just do what we always do and just vote in some guy. It's worked so well for us in the past.

Friends

I felt a need to write this piece based on a number of things that have happened recently. I have never been one to take friendships lightly. I believe friends are an important fixture in my life. I think in many ways my friends and when we met are a reflection of where we each were mentally, emotionally and physically at that time.

One of my oldest friends I met in primary school and over the years we have been able to maintain our friendship. We probably aren't as close as we were when we roamed the corridors of our primary and high schools sharing to die for secrets about the boys we liked and the ones we positively dispised because they teased us mercilessly.

I then look at the women I met as a teenager and throughout my adult life. I know when I met them I never anticipated the paths we each would travel.

I look at my closest friends - the small group of women I have let into my inner circle - as the closest I could possibly have to a sister. I don't have a sister but I am positive beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would have been my absolute best friend.

The lady who does my hair was having a frank and candid discussion with me about a few things that are going on in her life and let me know in no uncertain terms that she didn't see me just as a client but I had stepped into her friends circle. I thought about what she said. On the other hand I wouldn't have categorised her as a friend - more of an acquaintance.

Is my definition of friendship too stringent? Should I be a little more relaxed in how I see friendship? What constitutes a friend?

By my definition, a friend is someone you have shared life's ups and downs with and whom you can call in the middle of the night with a crisis and know that if need be she (or he) will be on a plane the next day to help.

I truly value the friends I have in my life. I know my life wouldn't have been as rich without their knowledge, wisdom, guidance and humor and for them I am truly grateful.

I read somewhere many years ago that strangers are friends waiting to be met.

I also believe that my friends should be friends with each other because I know they would love one another the way I love each of them. I look at the women in my inner circle and realise how much they are alike and I draw strength from the knowledge that I have to exhibit a few of those qualities for them in turn to have befriend me.

I am truly grateful to each person who calls me friend because my friends make up the rich fabric of my life and in many cases have become an extension of my family. As one friend described me, the sister (or brother) my mom didn't give birth to.

Seeing is believing

Let's face it we have all heard the notion that when you reach 40 or so, your eye sight starts to change and you will need reading glasses no matter how much you might rant and rail against the realities of the situation.

I am trying to get through the denial phase of not being able to see clearly so I can get the correct prescription for some reading glasses. Mind you, I am holding out hope that my contact lenses are the wrong prescription and I merely need new lenses for my glasses. However I did purchase two pairs of off the shelf reading glasses with a magnification of 1 and they work very well, in fact, maybe too well.

I keep a pair with my stitching equipment because I definitely wouldn't be able to see the minute details of my work without them. The second pair I have put into my purse because I am concerned that I may be at a client's office and given some important documents to read and I won't be able to see a word.

I had lunch with a friend earlier this week; we are about the same age and I asked her if she was having problems reading, she insisted the writing is getting smaller and fainter. I immediately concurred and so we consoled each other about the failings of the printing industry.

Vanity aside I am seriously grappling with the fact that if it is my eye sight today what else do I have to look forward as my body continues its ceaseless march to old age? I was even hesitant as I wrote 'old age' I was looking for a far more attractive way to phrase it, nothing came to mind.

Recently I was listening to some older people talking and for about 20 minutes straight they each discussed bodily functions and what was considered normal and what issues may be problem areas. I shudder to think that I will one day relish such discussions and knowing me be extremely knowledgeable about intimate details which I will be anxious to share with anyone willing to listen.

I look forward to the day when I can accept my changing eye sight and go to the optometrist so he can tell me what I'm experiencing isn't unusual all people of 'a certain age' experience the same problem.

Until that day I will continue to squint and have to read with the paper a little further away.

A vow of sobriety

I was recently hanging out with some friends who were drinking champagne, having a chat and a good laugh when the name of my latest activity dawned on me. I am currently on a vow of sobriety. Let me add, while they drank the bubbly I sipped ice cold sparkling water liberally laced with Rose's Lime.

How did this start you might ask yourself. I will give you the very abridged version.
My birthday.
Drinks with friends.
Far too many drinks.

Accosting and hugging Cuba Gooding, Jr. - twice.

Dancing and more drinking until the club closed.
Sitting on the steps of Fairmont Southampton and refusing to get up.
Falling into bed at 4am and not being able to get up until 4pm.

Needless to say, my husband was not at all impressed with my behavior. Once sober we exchanged a few terse words which involved vehement denials from me on my ability to control my occasional drinking.

Between a rock and a hard place I finally stated that 'I can stop drinking at any time' and to prove it I won't have another alcoholic beverage until Labor Day - September 1. You may remember that my birthday is May 25. I am now 72 days in and feel wonderful. I will admit I've had a number of challenges during this period.

The book club. I don't think I've ever been to a book club meeting and not had a sip of the great wine the ladies serve. However, I stuck to the fruit juice served and didn't give in to temptation.

Then there were the intimate dinners Mark and I often share ... the glass or two of shiraz went wanting.

Outtings with friends where it is only natural that you have a cocktail of some sort - make mine an appletini.

A pool party on the first day of Cup Match ... everyone, and I mean everyone, was drinking something or the other and yours truly sat back, watched and totally resisted when I would otherwise have sampled at least one of everything. Still your girl didn't crack. I held on strong!

Yesterday afternoon was the most recent test. The champagne came straight from the fridge and as it sat on the coffee table looking extremely tempting I resisted, yet again.

What am I learning from this? I am steadfast and resolute in my vow and not to mention somewhat self righteous - now I am preaching to my friends that if I am not drinking neither should they. This plea seems to be falling totally on deaf ears.

I have 25 days left. I am more than 3/4 of the way there and know I can attain my goal with the worst of temptations behind me.

Who knew sobriety would be this great? Having said that, I already have my first drink planned - a glass of champagne to break the alcohol fast - 5pm September 1, 2008.

Waaay too much time on my hands

Okay, so I just spent the best part of three or four hours on line jumping from website to website. I found Time Magazine's top 50 websites list. Of course I had to investigate the ones that sounded interesting.

http://www.time.com/time/specials/2007/article/0,28804,1809858_1809957,00.html

The two sites that captured my attention was a family genealogy site. I have already created a family tree with the information I have on my immediate family members. That was exciting; I have since forwarded the site to members of my family asking them to add information to the tree.

If you are interested in starting your own tree go to:

www.geni.com

It is extremely easy to use and in no time you will be building your family tree.

The second site I spent a lot of time at was:

www.freerice.com

I love that site! You test your vocabulary and for each word you get right 20 grains of rice is donated to hungry people. I call it a feel good site because as you are spending time 'playing' you are also making a difference in people's lives.

Now, I need to get back to some work - or play. Whichever is more appealing.

Up the creek without a cell phone

So Mark and I were in NY/NJ recently. We had a wonderful time playing tourists, discovering new eateries, visiting old ones and spending quality time together. I will add we also visited a number of game shops and rooted out stitching retailers.

On this particular day Mark had to dash into the city to take an exam. He was starting at 12noon and we agreed to meet at 5pm outside of Borders at New York's Penn Station.

An excellent arrangement which gave me plenty of time to lounge around the hotel room some more and catch up on my much needed rest. Our hotel, by the way, was near Newark Airport. It was a perfect location to jet around NJ or hop a train to the city.

At the appointed time I left the hotel and made my way to the train station. Mark and I had remarked previously that the train system in the US doesn't seem as efficient as the one in the UK. If a train was posted to leave, say, Paddington station in London, at 5:03pm understand, as the second hand reaches the 12 the train is pulling out of the station. Not so with the trains along the NE Corridor. This is why I wasn't too worried when the 4:40pm train didn't arrive. However as 5pm approached I became concerned.

Then there was an announcement over the loud speaker "Due to limited power supply, all trains are cancelled until further notice!" I instantly turned to the person beside me to get confirmation that what I heard was correct - no trains!!!

I must give a little color commentary at this point. The weather that day in NY and NJ was hot, overcast, humid and severe thunder storms were threatening. Apparently all trains from Virginia to NY were affected which was cold comfort to me standing on the platform with my iPod blasting and my cell phone popping with text messages to family and friends an activity I thought I would partake in to while away my time waiting, when I thought the train's arrival was imminent.

Given the sudden abandonment by New Jersey Transit of its customers I made the decision to jettison my journey to the center of the earth and head back to the cool, climate controlled comfort of my hotel room. However before I did that I had to find a way to contact my husband who would be patiently waiting for me at our appointed location.

I have said to Mark time and time again, you need a cell phone. At the best of times he doesn't like talking on the phone much less carrying one around with him. This was a perfect example of why a cell phone in this day and age is a critical piece of every day equipment.

Given that we were meeting outside of Borders, I figured I would give them a call and ask the person who answered VERY nicely to go out and get him so I could talk to him. Would someone take that on and help a sister out of a bind? It was worth a try.

I got a friend to go on line and look up Borders' phone number and then text it to me. This happened within the space of 60 seconds. So now, armed with the only means of connecting with my husband I was at the whim and mercy of the next person I talked to on the phone. I called Borders and was asked to hold .... and I held and held. Finally gave up and called back. This time I got an obliging lady, who, after I explained my dilemma, agreed to provide assistance.

I described Mark to her but for the life of me could not remember what color shirt or shorts he had on. So much for my powers of observation. I would make an horrendous eye witness if I can't even describe accurately how the man I live with was dressed. I gave a general description (tall, slender, black man with a baseball cap) together with his name and hoped for the best.

An eternity later a voice came on the phone - are you holding for Mark Wilson. "YES! Um, yes, I am." "Hold please." "This is Mark Wilson." I instantly recognised the mellifluous tones of my husband's baritone voice and poured out my tale of woe explaining why at that instant we weren't standing together in front of Borders embracing each other after five hours apart. I ended by saying, "This is exactly why you need a cell phone." Actually those weren't the last words - I also murmured, I love you and ended the conversation.

That taken care of I made my way back to the NJT booth to get my refund for a ticket I know I would never use. The fact that they did not give me a refund and gleefully told me I can use the ticket at any time was no panacea for the entire train system collapsing and spoiling my last evening in the city.

The moral of the lesson? Don't depend on NJ Transit unless you have a cell phone.

Stitching world notoriety

OMG!! I'm famous!

Deep breath - let me start at the beginning. Since I last wrote about my counted cross stitching addiction, I have become a member of the Bermuda Guild of Stitchery. They meet on the first Thursday of each month in a local church hall.

Here is the link to their site: http://www.stitchbermuda.com/

The guild organized a workshop for the last weekend in May. They brought in stitching legend Jane Greenoff. Wow! She was wonderful. I attended the beginner's class because I knew I wasn't ready for the master's lessons. I figured I should learn to crawl before taking off at a full sprint.

I learned so much in that day and a half. In fact I could have been in class for a week and not learned a fraction of what Ms. Greenoff had to impart. During her class she took some pictures of her students and guess who is now on her website - yours truly.

Here is the link --http://janesjournal.thecrossstitchguild.com/

Like I said, I'm famous!!!

I have to admit since learning the new stitching techniques I haven't stopped. I'm going to bed at 11:00pm and midnight in an attempt to continue practicing. (I am usually in bed by 8:30pm).

My casual habit has now become a full fledged addiction and I'm not sure I want to stop!!!

Lost Tribe Revealed in Brazil

Imagine living for generations in isolation with little or no knowledge of the world outside of your immediate environment. I found this article on the Discovery News website. It is truly fascinating. I sincerely hope that these people can continue to live undisturbed which seems highly unlikely given that planes and helicopters have already circled their village to get pictures. Unfortunately, I'm sure more will follow.


May 30, 2008 -- Dramatic images of an isolated Brazilian tribe believed never to have had contact with the outside world were published by officials Friday to draw attention to threats posed to their way of life.

The pictures, released by the Brazilian government's National Indian Foundation (FUNAI), showed alarmed natives pointing bows and arrows at the aircraft carrying photographers.

The head of FUNAI's environmental protection unit responsible for the images, Jose Carlos dos Reis Mereilles, told Brazilian newspapers the foundation had known of the existence of the tribe for years -- located in thick rainforest near the Peruvian border -- and many photos had been taken.

"This time, we decided to reveal the material to prove that there are Indians living in complete isolation, and to call attention to a serious problem that exists, which is the threat of interlopers from the Peruvian side," he told O Estado de S. Paulo.

The pictures were taken from several flights over the apparently sedentary tribe's thatched-roof village in the remote Brazilian state of Acre.

Survival International, a British group lobbying on behalf of indigenous people around the world, said on its Web site there were fears illegal logging in Peru could endanger the Brazilian tribe's habitat, by forcing displaced Peruvian tribes into contact with it.

It said there were an estimated 500 isolated Indians living on the Brazilian side of the border.
"The world needs to wake up to this, and ensure that their territory is protected in accordance with international law. Otherwise, they will soon be made extinct," Survival International director Stephen Corry said.

His group said there were more than 100 uncontacted indigenous tribes worldwide.

Here is the link if you want to see the pictures:
http://dsc.discovery.com/news/2008/05/30/brazilian-tribe.html

The story of me

I don't know how many of you have had a story written about you - by your mother no less.

A few months ago, my mom told my nieces this story about how I was born and decided to put pen to paper. Here it is for your enjoyment. Please note that names were changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike.

Long before your Uncle Oluremi and your father, Abimbola were given to me, there was your Aunt Aderonke.

Now Aderonke was my first child, this is what I tell people, and this is really what I want people to think. If the truth be told, I know the govenment would have to get involved. I haven't mentioned anything about your aunt's birth to any living person. I do not know at this late stage whether or not to reveal the truth to you girls, but I suppose I must.

"Mum" is the word, meaning, I am going to relay to you girls the circumstances of Auntie Aderonke's birth. But you must promise not to tell anyone, not even your pretty teddy bears, nor your dolls.

At 18 years old I was a carefree, happy teenager running around my backyard, swinging from the trees, skating, riding my bike, skipping rope and eating ice cream every day. When my parents called me I always obeyed and went to them. I was a good kid. My neighbor had a large vegetable garden and everyday he gave us vegetables, so we ate very well.

One evening I was outside in my yard disposing of some garbage when I heard a faint cry. I thought nothing of it because in my neighborhood there were plenty of children and kids were always crying so I went indoors, washed up, brushed my teeth and went to bed.

Sometime during the night I was awaken by something soft and furry touching my face. I sat upright in bed and felt my two cats Lightening and Nosey sitting on me. I asked them if they wanted to eat but instead they pushed me onto the floor and tried dragging me to the door. I then understood they wanted me to follow them. So I put on my slippers, opened the door and followed after them. After about ten minutes of huffing and puffing and trying to keep Lightening and Nosey in view we came to the prettiest garden I have ever seen. all around me were roses of every color, daffodils, daisies, carnations and pumpkins. In the center of this beauty were pumpkins. Large, yellowish, orange pumpkins.

WOW! They looked as if they were shining.

I sat near these shining pumpkins and rested. My two companions jumped up onto the largest of these pumpkins, looked at me and I swear Lightening and Nosey were smiling. I sat and looked at them and after a few minutes I heard a noise, a crying sound. I was so scared that I jumped up so fast I fell over some pumpkins and realised that I was listening to a baby crying. But where was it coming from?

Oh no.

Oh no. The pumpkins were shaking now, things were really getting weird. I ran home fast, jumped into bed and pulled the covers over my head. I stayed in bed until the sun came up.

Lightening and Nosey did not come home that night. "It's okay, I thought. When they get hungry they will come begging." But even at supper time they did not appear and I started to worry. What's happening with them. They cannot be lost, they are together and they are cats. They have noses to smell their way home, so they aren't lost.

What if a pumpkin, that large shiny pumpkin toppled over onth them and they are trapped, or even crushed? There they are, sweet, soft Lightening, climbing and jumping from tree to tree so fast, lying hurt under that pumpkin, waiting for me to rescue him with Nosey. There's Nosey so considerate, always bringing me gifts freshly killed, or something still wiggling, like last week he had captured a small bird and presented it to me. Sweet Nosey. Now they need me, and I must go.

I ran all the way to that pretty flower garden, stopping not once and I did not feel tired.

Before me was a sight I could not understand so I fell down on the pumpkin and just looked. Lightening and Nosey came and rubbed against me as if to say, 'don't be afraid'.

I sat up and stretched out my arms because creeping towards mw as the loveliest brown-eyed, baby girl. She smiled and giggled as I held her. She wiggled and hugged me tight and immediately I fell in love with here as she snuggled into my arms, closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

But where did she come from?

Where are her parents?

Why is she out here, in a garden, alone?

And then I understood s I looked closely at her. In her hair were pumpkin seeds and her skin smelled of fresh pumpkin and in her tiny fists were seven little pumpkin seeds.

A pumpkin baby -- a real pumpkin baby. They are rea! Pumpkin babies are real!! I had only read about them in story books, but now I have one. A special precious pumpkin baby has been given to me, entrusted to me.

I am lucky!

I am special!

But can I care for her? Can I?

Of course I can, after all I have cared for Lightening and Nosey all these years and they are just fine.

The difference now is that with a baby I can teach her to speak like me and I shall love her always, my precious pumpkin baby. I will call her Terrylynn. No, that is a little girl's name. She will grow to be a woman - she needs a strong name. Aderonke. I will name her Aderonke. So now Aderonke my precious little girl let's go home so that I could give you a nice warm bath and introduce you to your new family. Ha-ha-ha that will be interesting.

Written by Cynthia Webson Bademosi

March 12, 2008

I need to check my closets and under my bed

Have a look at this story and tell my someone could live in your house and you wouldn't notice. I look forward to reading your comments.



Japan man discovers woman living in his closet
Fri May 30, 2008 1:35pm EDT

TOKYO (Reuters) - A Japanese man who was mystified when food kept disappearing from his kitchen, set up a hidden camera and found an unknown woman living secretly in his closet, Japanese media said Friday.

The 57-year-old unemployed man of Fukuoka in southern Japan called police Wednesday when the camera sent pictures to his mobile phone of an intruder in his home while he was out on Wednesday, the Asahi newspaper said on its Website.

Officers rushed to the house and found a 58-year-old unemployed woman hiding in an unused closet, where she had secreted a mattress and plastic drink bottles, the Asahi said. Police suspect she may have been there for several months, the paper said.

"I didn't have anywhere to live," the Nikkan Sports tabloid quoted the woman as telling police.
Local police confirmed that they had arrested a woman for trespassing, but would not comment further on the case.

(Reporting by Isabel Reynolds; Editing by David Fox)

Exploding into a midlife crisis

I write this entry a few days before my 44th birthday. Ignore earlier references to being 35 years old. I may have been a bit delusional when I shared that thought.

Despite my constant and chronic denials I will be 44 years old on May 25 which is 528 months old or 16,060 days - give or take a couple of leap days (you can do the maths yourself on the minutes and or seconds.)

I like to think I'm wiser than I was 20 years ago (God, I sincerely hope so). What I still can't get over is the fact that I can say '20 years ago' with authority, I remember what I was doing 20 years ago - I was legally an adult - and had been for several years. Having said that I honestly didn't feel I had truly grown up until I was about 30 years old. What does that say about my view of myself?

In any case I digress - I wanted to share the life lessons I've learned over the years.
Cherish every moment;
Don't take your loved ones for granted;
Don't live with regret; and
Find your passion - whatever that is and make a step towards doing it or striving for it.

Is that it, the sum total of my learnings? I'm sure there is more but that is all I can think of right now.

I guess now that I've shared these truly deep meanings of life with you I can gracefully and graciously become a 44 year old. I have to say I don't look 44 but more importantly I don't feel as though I'm 44 - however I'm supposed to feel.

I will let you know if my perspective on life changes once I make become an official mid-lifer.

Did you participate in Earth Hour

Last night at 8pm I turned off all unnecessary lights and appliances in my house. My husband wasn't on board so he agreed to be in one room of the house while the rest of the house was in darkness. It worked out well.

Just after 8pm I climbed the hill of which my house is at the bottom. I wanted to see how many of my fellow Bermudians were participating. From what I could tell it looked like about 40% of the island was in darkness. My immediate neighbors must have forgotten or not known because most of their houses were ablaze.

When I returned home at about 8:20 I got my iPod and lay on the couch with a flashlight at the ready and a glass of chilled white wine within easy reach. Peacefully I listened to music and played a game on the iPod. I so enjoyed the space I was in I didn't turn my lights on again until 9:20pm.

First of all did you participate and if so what did you do ... tell all.

The human pet

I read this story on line and all I could say was, you have got to be kidding me!

http://today.reuters.com/news/articlenews.aspx?type=oddlyEnoughNews&storyID=2008-01-23T182442Z_01_EIC366253_RTRUKOC_0_US-GIRL-LEASH1.xml&WTmodLoc=NewsArt-L3-Oddly+Enough+NewsNews-2

Tell me your thoughts.

The (hand) writing is on the wall

One of the things I realised last year was that my mail box was inudated with bills and other meaningless envelopes. I didn't receive personal mail the way I used, dare I say it, twenty years ago. This prompted me to make a commitment to two friends that I would start corresponding with them via snail mail.

The prospect of receiving something other than demands for money gave me a reason to visit my mail box. At least I could look forward to something hand written and personal that provided me with a connection to the person who sent it.

So far it is working out well. For those of you who may not be familiar with the concept. I will lay out the steps below:

1. Find some paper and a pen.
2. Write a letter - which is pretty much like an email but done by hand.
3. Next you find an envelope, fold the precious document and place it carefully into the envelope.
4. Find the appropriate stamp - you are on your own with this one, since most of you know my affiliation with Bermuda Post Office (and this piece isn't about defending them loudly and strongly).
5. Then you mail the letter.
6. Wait three to six weeks for a response (again not a piece about defending the BPO).
7. When the response arrives you find the appropriate location to savor it undisturbed and the process starts again.

This morning I wrote a letter to a friend following the above steps. As I read over my missive, several things struck me:

1. There is no delete button.
2. You can't insert, where you need to.
3. Unless you start over again you can't tidy up you letter to give it the pristineness (is that a word) of an email or Word document.
4. My handwriting has gone to the dogs.

This is the main focus of this piece. My handwriting. Granted it has never been text book beautiful it was at least more legible years ago than it is now. I have heard my writing described as a series of loops. While I accept that (it shows the warmth and friendliness of character -ask any graphologist), I assumed most people could decipher it. I am at a point that I'm not sure I can understand it.

What has happened in the years since pcs and laptops have become as vital as food and water in a household? I will speak for myself, my handwriting has suffered. I've noticed that the quality and cost of the pen (which will be the subject of another blog entry), doesn't necessarily give you beautiful instantly legible penmanship (despite the fervid claims by writing implement marketers).

I am concerned that the two people who receive handwritten missives from me may give up sending me letters because they don't want to receive my chicken scratch and spend the best part of a Sunday afternoon trying to decipher my exciting news - which is no longer news or exciting because it is weeks old due to delays in the postal system (again, not a commentary on the local postal service which, does an excellent job of getting mail to its final destination - I know this first hand).

In order for my writing relationships to continue I have to find a way to improve my handwriting.

I mean other than making notes for myself, there is little opportunity to write anything long or meaningful. My fingers know their way around the keyboard and in many instances move of their own volition. I welcome your thoughts on how to improve my penmanship because at this rate my friends may beg me to resort to emails and give up using the mail service simply for their benefit (and then what will happen to postal workers worldwide?).

So the final analysis is that good penmanship will keep the postmen and women of the world employed for the foreseeable future.

A new year ... a new point of view

I initially thought I wouldn't set any new years resolutions for myself. Most of the time I don't follow them or by February I've forgetten why I made them in the first place. However I have had to change my mind, thanks to my husband.

We went grocery shopping this week and as we were driving home I started to give him my thoughts on the fastest way to get home. I honestly believe he always selects the longest, most tortuous route. As my comments fell on deaf ears I swallowed my irritation and vowed that I would no longer give directions or make suggestions when he is driving. From now on I will simply sit back and enjoy the view, no matter how dark it may be outside.

The second resolution I've made is not to give parking space suggestions no matter how many times he circles the parking lot searching for the spot furthest from the door. It often feels as though my helpful tips seem to fall on deaf ears.

So there you have it from a person who resolved not to make resolutions, I've made two. I'll let you know how I make out as time goes by.