Authentic

Authenticity is a word jumping around in my brain.

Stripping off the artificial, the disingenuous, to just be me.

I’m not sure if I love the real me or not.

It’s a struggle to lose the old identity, or at least the old hair color.

The new look is different, not terrible, but different. The gray is bright, and fine. Not yellow or coarse. Which is a plus.

My son said I looked ‘distinguished’. I don’t thing that was the look I was going for.

This authenticity is not what I thought it would be.

Is there a magic rule?

There is something about real life, and trying to spend time with someone.

One of the things I wanted most from my parents was that they spend time with my children and get to know them.

I’m beginning to wonder if that was just an odd request from me.

Being near family, I am starting to realize that not everyone wants time.

I’m here to spend it, but there doesn’t seem to be much interest. My son is busy, my brother is busy, my sister in law is busy, the kids are busy, busy, busy, busy, busy……. We’ve only had this trip planned since April.

I’m glad my VRBO is cheap, and close to where I need to be.

Hanging out until the birthday party tonight and watching something really sad on Netfix. I hope it goes well tonight. I’m ready to go home.

Gifts are cheap when not wanted.

Self driving cars

I kept seeing this weird vehicle.

It had a black dome on top, and surprise-surprise, no driver

Waymo has started their self driving fleet in Phoenix, AZ.

At first, I thought it was a google maps car. But no, there were passengers, but no driver.

I was able to snap a pic at the stop light….see the light is red! I’m a safe driver.

Have you seen a self driven car?

Have you ridden in a self driven car?

There is something a little creepy about being chauffeured around by the internet and GPS.

I’m not sure I could do it.

Haboob.

The sky turned orange, and the wind picked up.

Lightening flashed across the sky.

My eyes burned

My throat and nose felt raked by the dust.

Then it was all quiet and quite dirty.

Fun in flight

I fly Southwest Airlines quite a bit.

I like them.

Not only for the fun MD Anderson Art that they have decided to display on the overhead bins, but the Flight Attendants are more often than not, really fun.

I try to get the Exit Row when I can. It means I’m usually among seasoned travelers, and it’s a little more room for me and the stuff that I have to carry.

When sitting in an Exit Row, you have to give a verbal agreement to help in the event of an Emergency.

Our Flight attendant was being particularly cheeky. He grabbed my bag from the overhead bin because I had my A-list tag on it. He asked my name. He introduced me to two of the gentlemen in the row so we could get ‘friendly’. He then said: “Beverage of choice to the person who can answer this question:

What is the airspeed Velocity of an unladen swallow?”

So I shouted back: “African or European?”

His mouth dropped open “Wendy, how did you know that?”

So I had to be cheeky with him “You have to know these things when you are king”.

That did spark a discussion on how I came to be acquainted with Monty Python Movies. No one got the reference but me.

It made for a fun flight.

Today, I’m really grateful for enjoyable travel, and flight attendants who go out of their way to make their flights fun.

I get to see my baby tonight.

My oldest son moved to Phoenix almost 5 years ago.

He’s made a good success of his life, and is really happy living in the desert.

We are meeting up for dinner, and I can’t wait to get some face time with him.

He’s a bit of a mini-me.

I’m taking him Books, Emerson, Brett Bayer’s Three Days in Moscow, and we are going to a fun place that does Tequila tasting.

I’m sure that will be followed up by a spirited political discussion, a listing of all the projects going on and their progress, and a coaching session on our shared profession. He will probably be coaching me. 😁

I can’t believe he’s going to be 30 in October.

The plane can’t fly fast enough.

Today, I’m grateful for my job, that brings me to clients that are so close by to my family.

Starting off the week right

Santa Maria Tri Tip, or Prinaha bisteca.

The Churascarias of Brazil serve their tri tip on a skewer. I’m not that fancy.

I wandered around this cut for a couple of days, and decided to jump in feet first.

I sliced the fat cap, in a cross hatch and gave it a good salt and peppering, the I seared it well on both sided, and finished it in the oven.

Served it up with some beautiful Salsa Verde I made on Saturday, potatoes and zucchini.

That is a nice cut of beef to serve if you have less than an hour to get dinner on the table and need to feed several. It’s not an expensive cut either, but really flavorful.

This is the Pinterest image from the recipe I used.

We ate too fast to take pictures.

But I sliced up my tri-tip, gave the more rare pieces a quick dunk in the cast iron skillet that I cooked it in, and served the Salsa Verde (Chimichurri) on the side. My Salsa Verde go to is parsley, cilantro and oregano with garlic, red onion, lemon zest, lemon juice and olive oil.

I’m a firm believer that how you start a week sets the tone. So why not give Monday a boost and have something really fun.

I’m ready for Tuesday…..maybe?

Today, I’m really grateful for a meal to come together, and my family to spoil. When my youngest gets up from the table ready for seconds before anyone else finishes, I know it’s a good meal.

Bon Apetit.

Have you noticed?

Since I started this gratitude journey almost 4 years ago, I’ve noticed that I can’t hang around complainers.

Let me just define things: There is a huge difference between someone going through a major life event who needs support, and a complainer. And if you don’t know the difference, you are probably a complainer and you won’t understand the explanation.

Something happens when people start complaining, especially when they complain about things neither they or I can fix like a strangers fashion choice. I freeze up. My heart starts to shrink, and I feel something like physical pain. What am I supposed to do a about the shoes someone chooses to wear? Why do they think I care?

Complainers have become offensive to me. Their poison words damage me on a psychological, emotional, and physical level.

You know the type. Nothing is ever good enough, they can find the problem in every solution, they don’t like people for their political views, religious views, the shoes they wear, or their possessions. And what’s worse is they see themselves as “victim” all the time. Someone is always doing “something” to them.

They are “poor” people. Poor in attitude. Poor in spirit. They are Stingy, offended, whinging (whinging is a fretful whine) victims of society. And the more they complain, the worse their lives become. They are victims for sure. Victims of their own making. Every time they open their mouth, their lives get worse. These people like to complain. It’s part of the fabric of their being. They can’t wait to tell you what is wrong with someone else, what someone did, how they can’t get ahead because of someone, how they feel, and why it’s someone else’s fault. It makes me want to vomit, because I am whinging and opining about complainers! Can you see the vicious circle?

Do you think I could get them banned….Or start one of those movements? I promise that no one has to wear a hat in the form of genitals, or hand gestures, or sports logos. Maybe it’s the hats or the community offense that gets these things rolling?

Or Maybe the best thing I can do is maintain healthy boundaries, and choose my friends wisely? No Community Organizer Movements Necessary. I can make good choices? Yep, the power is still with me. I can make better choices.

Offense is a trap, and it ultimately hurts the one taking offense worse than the one doing the offense. My blood pressure went off the charts while describing the behavior of the complainers.

Have you been offended lately? Do you really know why?

Today I’m grateful that I get to make good choices. That I can keep offense off of my radar, out of my life, and thankfully off of my head.