English is a beautiful language

"Happy belated birthday!"
With a nod to Princess Bride and Inigo Montoya: You keep saying that phrase; I do not think it means what you think it means. There is no “belated birthday.” A birthday is a specific day, so no one can have a late birthday. If I miss someone’s birthday, the phrase is: “Belated happy birthday (wishes)!” because the wishes are belated, not the birthday.
English is a beautiful language and applying what we learned in elementary school helps us to communicate more clearly and promotes better understanding. (It also prevents expensive lawsuits, as people have gone to court when language is found to be misleading or incorrect.) The way a phrase is ordered (syntax) can alter the intended meaning. For example, this news headline:

Former Deputy Sentenced For Missing Wife's Murder

Maybe he was just busy that day and couldn’t be there for the murder?
Sometimes a typo is just a typo. I don’t think I want to be contacted by this associate:

I’ve been fortunate to be employed as a copywriter/editor/proofreader for many years and am pretty passionate about getting things right (in accordance with AP Stylebook and Merriam-Webster) before my work is published. I feel strongly that professional work should be correct. In various studies, polls and surveys, people have said that errors on business ads, websites, flyers, signs, etc., affect customer perceptions and impact the brand. Comments generally fall along the line of “If they can’t even get the spelling correct, what does that say about the quality of their other work?” Errors diminish perception about the quality of the business, they devalue the impact of the message. People have been known to lose confidence and to even quit doing business with companies because of the lack of quality in their published work.
That said, though, I’m not a “grammar Nazi” and, frankly, I find the term abhorrently insulting. If you make errors in your personal writing, it doesn’t matter to me one bit. (I do it all the time; I don’t check my personal writing with the same level of scrutiny that I do my professional work.) Sure, it helps to clarify meaning when the work is correct, but I’m usually able to figure out what you mean. I’m not a writing judge. And, by the way, why are mathematicians not called “math Nazis” or scientists not called “science Nazis?” If someone points out a math error, you thank them. But people are blasted for pointing out personal writing errors, so I just don’t do it unless someone asks for help. Even at work, if someone else makes an error on their published work, I don’t point it out unless someone specifically asks me to review their work for errors.
Some folks on Facebook have asked me to help them by posting examples of common errors so they can improve their communication. They’ve been very appreciative and find it helpful. I think people generally want to grow and evolve, to learn how to do things better, to improve themselves along life’s journey. I’m always learning new things about language usage. I’m passionate about information design—how we design information to be consumed by the user with understanding and clarity—and I feel that language is part of the discipline of information design.
I’ll end with a little nugget that, like the late birthday greeting, doesn’t mean what most people think it means:
In “ZIP code,” ZIP is an acronym for Zone Improvement Program and should always be capitalized per the United States Postal Service, which created the program. “Zip code” is incorrect. And now you’ve just learned something new!

Kindness and acceptance–without labels

When Sally Ride passed away last year, I remember reading a headline announcing that she had confirmed that she was gay shortly before her passing. Recently, there was a big to-do about Jody Foster at some awards show. (Sorry, I don’t watch them so I’m not sure which it was.)

I wish we were evolved enough as a civilization that we didn’t keep labeling people unnecessarily, whether by color, gender, race, sexual identity, handicap … whatever. Sure, there are times when a description is helpful, such as describing a bad guy: “He was about 6’, with jeans, gray shirt, ruddy skin tone and shaggy hair.” But we use labels when they aren’t necessary, such as the Sally Ride announcement. It seems that if she announced her preference, then, for equality’s sake, every other astronaut should announce theirs, too. Or imagine every entertainer, director, writer, etc., at awards shows going on stage and announcing their religion, race, preference, etc. Every time I hear the term “black president,” I cringe. He’s the American president of the American people, period. Let’s not separate him with a label. (Besides, he’s actually half-white and half-black, as if that makes any difference, either. He could just as easily be labeled a white president or bi-racial president; I don’t know why people label him as a black president … or use any label at all.)

All those labels don’t really matter. Does the person do a good job at what they do? Do they treat others well? Are they kind and thoughtful? These things matter, not the amount of pigment in their skin or who they love. (Love is a beautiful thing and should be celebrated.) I cringe when I read a news report where skin color is mentioned when it’s not relevant to the story. I cringed when an acquaintance wrote about her granddaughter being hassled by a schoolmate … and she felt compelled to mention his skin color.

If society pressures anyone to announce anything that labels and separates them, then they should require it of all. Can you imagine me introducing myself to you as a Spanish/French/German/Apache Catholic with Zen Buddhist leanings, some spinal issues that make movement difficult, blah, blah, blah? If you’re telling your story and including background information, that’s one thing, but for society to want people to make announcements … well, I sure do hope we evolve beyond that at some point and understand how irrelevant it really is.

I’ve felt very strongly about this for so many years, that I find that I often don’t notice the things that separate us. I try to look at who the person is—their Divine within—and I sometimes fail to note their physical appearance. Does Marsha have light skin? Are John’s eyes round or slanted? I fail to note these sometimes. Don’t know and don’t care, unless we’re talking about cultural issues that are pertinent to a discussion.

Buddhist teachings encourage us to observe, but not judge. Let us all simply be kind and accepting of one another. Let’s drop the unnecessary labels and just celebrate our shared oneness.

Merry Christmas, Mom

Merry Christmas, Mom! I took flowers to the cemetery last week. Gosh, the cemetery was so beautiful! It’s one of my favorite places during the holidays. There is more love to be experienced there than in any gaudily decorated mall. There were quite a few families putting up trees and decorations when I was there. Everywhere you could see the love that people put into decorating and including their loved ones in their holiday celebrations. Of course, we all know our loved ones aren’t lying there under the sod; you are all free from any physical encumbrances, no limitations imposed on you by a body any longer. But the cemetery gives us a very special place to gather, to share memories or to ponder alone. There is a sense of aliveness there, oddly enough, because the energy of love is just so powerful and the cemetery is filled with love. One family puts up a cardboard fireplace each year, hung with paper stockings with family names written on them; as new members join the family, new stockings join the others on the mantel. It always touches my heart; those are the kinds of things that always touched yours, too.

When I was cleaning your headstone and polishing it to a gleam, I noticed an incense stick stuck in the dirt around the stone again. That always touches me, too; someone (a stranger, I assume), lights incense and says prayers for you. I sometimes see the red stick in a couple of other graves, but not in all those that surround yours. Someone specifically chooses yours for their incense and prayers. That kind of thing would touch your heart, too, I know.

So, we had Christmas brunch at my place today. Steve offered to bring the food and make brunch for everyone. Ern and the Wesleys brought drinks and food, too. I love that everyone pitches in when they come over, like family always did at home when we had Christmas with you and Dad. There’s no sense of “host and guests;” it’s family all setting up the table, gathering chairs, helping to serve, lighting candles. (BTW, I sent Dad See’s chocolates for Thanksgiving; Amber and I sent him a Hickory Farms basket for Christmas. We didn’t hear from him for either occasion. I miss him so much, Mom, that I just have to try to not think of him too much. Please watch over him, OK?) Brianna wanted me to play Rudolph on the piano after we ate, so I played and some of them sang. Then I played Silver Bells for you since you always loved that. I’ve been playing your other favorites the last few days, too, like Little Drummer Boy, White Christmas and the carols.

I miss you, Mom, but I carry your love with me always. Just look at the beautiful family you started, mom to sons and daughter to granddaughter to great-granddaughters. Your presence is felt in every family celebration. I love you, Mom!

12-12-12

Number combos are fun to note, aren't they? Today's 12/12/12; a repetitive number pattern like this won't occur for 88 years, when the date will be 01/01/01. We do have 11/12/13 coming up next year, though, so can have some fun with that.

There are those who attribute dates with serious portent. Some believe the ancient Mayans said that 12/12/12 would signal a shift in the world, letting go of old ways and embracing a new, more peaceful world. There are all kinds of predictions, practices, beliefs, etc. about 12/12/12. I respect others' beliefs; I believe there is more in this world than I'll ever know.

For me, though, dates are fun but not anything that I believe signals anything. The measurement of time is a manmade thing, an arbitrary assignment of numbers to time, days, months, years. There are a number of different types of calendars, too, such as Gregorian, Hebrew, Julian, etc., each of which assigned their numbering differently, some with leap years, some with leap months, some with a different number of days in some months. I've read that the Mayans didn't account for leap years, so any big event that was supposed to happen on 12/21/12, should have actually happened seven months ago.

Dates are just a way that man measures time.

• The snowy great white egrets I saw flying overhead today don't know that today is 12/12/12; they're living as they live every day.
• The orchids that are starting to bloom in my garden don't know it's 12/12/12; they're just filling up with enormous energy as they prepare to open up in magnificence.
• The earth doesn't know it's 12/12/12.
• And for the Divine, time isn't measured; always is always, there are no limits, no constraints such as measured time. How can we limit the Divine with something as unimportant as a calendar?

One friend suggests that we use this day to open ourselves to a higher state of being, to be more light, more open; to stretch ourselves and to do everything with a sense of soul purpose. A great suggestion for any day and every day.

Happy 12/12/12!

Finding the blessings in less …

For Thanksgiving, a friend, Laura Hegfield,  gathers together people’s thoughts of gratitude and posts them all in her blog, weaving them together in different colors, to create a Mega Mobius Gratitude Quilt.  As a writing prompt, she provided “In this moment, I am grateful for …” It’s such a beautiful gathering of people’s thoughts, their joys, their struggles, their hearts. I look forward to it each year. I hope you take a moment to visit her blog and enjoy the Quilt. Here is my contribution:
I light a candle in the darkness of my little office. I inhale love, I exhale gratitude. And I think “In this moment, I am grateful for …” The blessings simply flood in, like water flowing in and around things, seeking the open spaces within me. Grateful for … learning how to live with less since I was laid off in May, how not just to live with less but to be satisfied with less, to be filled with less, to find the blessings that abound in less. Where before I might pay someone to do some things for me, I now learn to do them for myself. The dishwasher has been broken since June; I find the blessings in washing dishes the way Thich Nhat Hanh describes it, feeling the slippery soap, the edge of a plate, the warm water; gazing out the window and watching a little bird or the breeze in the trees. In this moment, I am grateful for less.
I admit that it’s been a bit of a struggle to learn this lesson. I live on less than half of what I’d been making before May. I’ve given up getting my hair colored, the occasional mani/pedi. I watch my budget very closely, feeling exultant when I stretch $20 worth of gas a full week. I carefully consider whether I can spend $2.04 for a cup of coffee, knowing that $2 is actually coming out of my savings, which I am reluctant to deplete.
I  may not be able to enjoy the extra little frills of life that I used to, but with careful budgeting, I’m able to pay my bills and meet my obligations. I find free things to do with friends, spending time gardening with one, a walk with another, a day at the swap meet (we had free passes) spent browsing and talking, knowing neither of us could spend anything, free from even considering it. I’m learning acceptance and ease in these circumstances that I find myself in. And, I have hope that this won’t last forever, that I’ll land a job again where I’m paid decently again.
Everything is temporary. Everything changes. The ability to change and flow like water is a lesson that I’m blessed to learn.

Friends in the Band

I loved high school! I mean, I LOVED high school! It was a great time of growth, learning, friendships, fun, activities; being young, strong, feeling our capabilities. In junior high and high school, I was involved in a lot of activities and clubs. Mom used to tell me that I didn’t need to join EVERY club on campus. I had a fabulous time!

Part of my high school experience was hanging out with the band group. I was actually in Drill Team, but my brother was in band and I developed some of my closest friendships (and boyfriends – even a husband) from the band group. Band and Drill Team did so many things together anyway, practicing every day for halftime shows and competitions. I joined the Stage Band (playing piano) my senior year and was the only girl. Again, great fun learning music together, teasing one another, traveling to band competitions together.

The band friends were all very close, both at school and after school and on weekends, gathering together for parties, hanging out, sometimes jamming together for fun. We always had one other’s backs for anything, from boyfriend/girlfriend troubles to school or parent issues. These close friendships really made high school a true joy for me.

Over time, we lost touch but a few of us have reconnected on Facebook. One of my best high school friends is this fun, sparkling redhead who all the band guys had a crush on. One of the best people I’ve ever known. She came out to California to visit last year, so several of us got together and had a beach party. It was the first time we’d seen one another in many years.

She came out again this year so this time, we gathered at my home and had a potluck. (My great friend Vicki joined us and fit right in.) So much food! So much fun! So hot! We had a fabulous time, picking right back up again with our close high school friendships, teasing, laughing, playing, catching up on news about those who are still with us and a few who aren’t. A few times, I just paused and drank it all in, these wonderful friends, still their high school selves inside, still dear, fun, good, kind-hearted. It was a glorious day!

   

   

         

Foo dogs–I won!

I recently entered a contest at House of Turquoise. The winning prize: a pair of turquoise ceramic Foo dogs from the very stylish Shop Ten 25, valued at $135. I left my comment, never thinking that I’d win; HOT is a very popular site with loads of readers who also left comments and, of course, everyone wanted a shot at winning these beauties. Somehow the stars and moon aligned magically and I won!

So this arrived on my doorstep last week:

I was giddy with excitement, but such a large box! Maybe I should’ve checked the measurements on the site. I’d cleared off room on some shelves but may have to re-think this!
There was a lovely note inside from Abbe of Shop Ten 25 … and about a metric ton of paper packaging and bubble wrap! There was no way these babies could get broken.

I unrolled and unrolled the bubble wrap and voila! A Foo dog! Gorgeous, yes?
I then unrolled and unrolled the other bundle and found his brother. Don’t you love the detail on these, front and back? These are easily the most expensive accessories I have in my entire home. I’m so thrilled with how perfectly they fit my style!

   

I think I’ll post the bubble wrap and box on Freecycle; folks are always looking for packing materials when moving households. Win-win!    

Tried them on the shelves, but they were just a tad tall for the space. I’m not sure yet where they’ll end up. I tried them on the round table (Ballard’s Bornova). Nice, but I’d be concerned about them being knocked over accidentally.

 

  

So for now, they’re on a side table (below), guarding a favorite pic of my mom and me. Mom’s birthday was this last week (Aug. 28), so I like that they have a special place with her photo for now.

Please be sure to check out House of Turquoise for fabulous home eye candy; Erin does a fabulous job at curating some wonderful homes! And you must check out Abbe’s shop Shop Ten 25 for designer home furnishings!