It’s a War

Photo by meo on Pexels.com

For a Healthy Brain

The attention span of a gold fish is nine seconds. Currently, our attention spam is eight. Worldwide millions of people suffer with diabetes, mental health problems and obesity. People wait to get sick to eat well. Our bodies are getting bigger and our brains smaller. We are becoming dinosaurs, and we know they are extinct. *

https://www.cdc.gov/diabetes/managing/mental-health.html

Recently, I watched Lewis Howes PBS television show, The School of Greatness. His interview of Dr. Daniel Amen was a life changer for me. The physiatrist has many Youtube discussions on Brain Envy, authored many books, and is considered an expert (with a sense of humor) in his field.  

It started when he was thirty-seven years of age. He compared his mother’s brain scan with his own. Her brain was healthier. He called it Brain Envy, and attributed this early brain changes to having meningitis as a child, and playing high school football; but wondered. . .  if behavior contributed, could a change in behavior stop or reverse the damage?   His research proved it does and supports his conclusions that diseases that produce inflammation effect blood vessel flow and the brain.

 Dr. Amen has work with the NFL to restore memory for players, been on the New York Best Seller List and view on PBS television.

Lewis Howes ended the interview by asking Dr. Amens for three tips for a healthy brain.

  • Love your brain/practice good habits; sleep, diet, exercise.
  • Don’t believe everything you think, rid yourself of negative self-talk.
  • Think positive, ask; What will I do today to help my brain?

*Taken from Dr. Daniel Amen’s discussions.

Writing Tips

Note to self. . . destroy things you’ve written, when you haven’t a clue what it says or why I have a picture of it. It may have been a timed exercise? Anyhow, I thought Eileen Moynihan’s post worth sharing.

C is for Curmudgeon

Please let me know if you enjoyed this post. Thank you. The picture is of my husband. We’ve been married for 52 years. Yes, he can be grumpy!

It’s Father’s Day

Sweet Memories

The pedaling of an old man riding a wide-tire bicycle grabs my attention as I drive Acoma road. The methodical around and around of the bike’s wheels is mesmerizing.  I press the car brakes, slow to a crawl and drop back, to give the senior space, as we approach the corner stop.

He wears red Keds, and a large droopy straw hat shades his face from the morning sun. He sports a long sleeve plaid shirt and hazardous baggy Dockers. The blue and chrome fender bike has no basket or hand brakes.

Behind him rides a man in a metallic Speedo shirt, and black skin-tight shorts.  He wears a helmet and mustache, and he does not pass abruptly. Instead, he moves to coast gently beside the elder, a solid traffic barrier.  They ease the corner, two abreast, like dancing a Minuet synchronized to Chopin. I stop at the corner. . . rather than go straight. I turn right. . . and follow them, absorbed in their relationship.

They are a pair. Paternal. Their head, back, and shoulders are a younger/older version, of the other.  The son deliberately peddles ahead, never looks back, but hoovers; and allows his father to ride independently. The old man’s bike wheels don’t wobble. The handlebars do not shake. There is an air of pride accompanying his movement.

As they resume their single file adventure, I drive by, see his wrinkled face, and guess the elder is eighty. I catch a glimpse of the son’s full head of peppered gray hair, and face with minimal expression lines, when passing, and guess . . . he’s nearing sixty.

My mind conjures a past Father’s Day,

I imagine it is 1958, the father wears the same plaid shirt, Dockers and Keds. The son, is dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. The father, leads the way with subtle protectiveness and allows the son to celebrate his newly acquired skill, riding a bike.

“Daddy, look at me!” He yells with a big smile.

Today is Father’s Day 2012. I watch the pair celebrate with the simple act of being together. Pedaling their bicycles, and needing each other in a different way.

 . . . just saying

You don’t need a WordPress account to comment. Write your comment in the box below or click on the caption icon to the right of the title above. Ignore requests for a name/ username and press post or save. Your comment will be posted anonymously. Please follow me to receive notification of new posts.

*Post was originally published in 2012, over ten years ago on claudiajustsaying.wordpress.com

A Victory Garden

A Smithsonian Libraryhttps://library.si.edu/exhibition/cultivating-americas-gardens/gardening-for-the-common-good

Last week’s discussion explored the silliness of buying and discarding plastic, and how to STOP. Reader’s comments that they reuse glass jars instead, does make more sense and I’ve adopted the practice.

My friend, Pat, suggested buying laundry detergent sheets on line. She’s mentioned this before, and now I’m ready to listen. Those huge plastic containers are difficult to lift, store, and estimates say; take 450 years to decompose in a landfill. Carol, my Wordle consort, said fabric softener sheets are the way to go.

Clean People offers both laundry and softener sheets at reasonable prices on line.

But when Johanna quoted a daughter-in-law’s plea “TO SAVE THE PLANET,” I conjured numerous images in my head. Eleanor Roosevelt was among them, and although she crusaded for many causes her Victory Garden stands out for me.

“Victory gardens (originally called war gardens or liberty gardens) made their first appearance during World War I (1914–1918). President Woodrow Wilson called on Americans to plant vegetable gardens to ward off the possible threat of food shortages. Americans took up the challenge as a civic and patriotic duty.”

The idea wasn’t new, but Eleanor gave it momentum because people began one by one to plant a garden. And nosy neighbors, not wanting to be unpatriotic planted one too.

“In 1943, with World War II underway, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt had a victory garden planted on the front lawn of the White House—just one of the millions of victory gardens planted that year. Staged photographs in seed catalogs and instructional manuals often showed women and children tending victory gardens. The message: abundant yields were possible for any aspiring gardener. Today, the Smithsonian’s Victory Garden flourishes on the 12th Street side of the National Museum of American History. In the summer, the garden showcases heirloom varieties of flowers and vegetables that were available to gardeners during World War II.”

There are numerous Save the Planet organizations. All of them do good work, but none have resulted in a grass roots effort to get us to STOP USING PLASTIC. Perhaps we can do we can spread the word.

                                                                               . . . just saying

P.S. Please don’t look to me for a Victory Garden, in Florida the soil is sand, and if the deer don’t eat it a rabbit of bug will.

You don’t need a WordPress account to comment. Write your comment in the box below or click on the caption icon to the right of the title above. Ignore requests for a name/ username and press post or save. Your comment will be posted anonymously. Please follow me to receive notification of new posts

A Cozy Life

Hope you enjoy my post on claudiajustsaying

Photo by Monica Turlui on Pexels.com

Green Poop

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Just when I get my writing grove back, shit happens. Yesterday morning if was green poop. You can laugh but my husband thought it serious and had a small melt down. His poop was apple green. He got up between 3:30 and 4:30 am (Why? Because he always does.) I rose around 7:30, and was greeted with this seven fire alert, before I had coffee.

Consequently, he cancelled plans to play bingo, waited for the doctor’s return phone call and worried. Attempting to be a loving wife, (we’re married 51 years). I spent the next five hours consoling him and reassuring him, he wasn’t going to die. . . today.

I’m working to enter THE WRITER MAGAZINE’S SPRING SHORT STORY CONTEST
https://www.writermag.com/contests/ and planned to hit my computer writing, with my first cup of coffee.

I won’t bore you with the other distractions thrown my way, but around 2pm the wheels fell of the bus and after yelling at my husband, he promised to take the anti anxiety-depression medicine.

This morning I woke refreshed and started writing around 8am. The disruption? Lost cable service.

The dead line for the contest is June 20th. However, we are leaving on a trip on June 14th and I would like to submit by this weekend.

If there is anyone willing to critique my story, (it’s 2000 words) Please let me know and I will email the document to you.

. . . Seriously Just Saying

You don’t need a WordPress account to comment. Write your comment in the box below or click on the caption icon to the right of the title above. Ignore requests for a name/ username and press post or save. Your comment will be posted anonymously. Please follow me  to receive notification of new posts.

Daily Prompt Hat

lady in hat standing with raised arms among red poppy flowers

Photo by Monica Turlui on Pexels.com

Staying Alive, staying alive

Hat Head

Bed Head

Remember what you said?

You’ll love me even when I’m dead.

Well––––I’m not dead, just crazy in the head

You put a metal hat on my head and I got into bed

Woke up with fried head

That was when you said, you’d love me more if I was dead.

But I’m staying alive, staying alive.

Prompt Hat

. . . Seriously Just Saying

You don’t need a WordPress account to comment. Write your comment in the box below or click on the caption icon to the right of the title above. Ignore requests for a name/ username and press post or save. Your comment will be posted anonymously. Please follow me to receive notification of new posts.

Bullshit and Peas

“Have you always gotten your way?”

It was a bullshit inquire from a detective.

The man, Fred, I think he said was his name, sat opposite me in a white dress shirt that was too tight and stained. My guess was, he missed his mouth during breakfast, frequently.

An ugly belt hugged his hips keeping his stomach in check, like a dam keeping water at bay. I speculated what might happen if his belt broke loose. 

“Pretty much, according to my sister, but you know how sisters can be. She swore if Mom served peas, I wanted and got carrots. But she’s an incurable liar. Miss Goody-Two-Shoes is what she calls me.”

“Did you like peas?”

“Sure, the small itty bitty kind, the frozen package says petite. And they had to be cooked right, bright green and not mushy, I hated mushy. Mom wasn’t a good cook.”

“So, you were spoiled?”

“No, I’d have eaten the fucking peas. It wasn’t about the God damn peas. It’s about power. Isn’t it? You have the power to screw me, Mr. Hot-Shot.”

“Calm down, it’s small talk.”

“Yea, small talk? I’ve been here for hours, you asking the same questions. Mr. Hot-Shot, wearing that not to expensive watch.”

The DA twisted his arm and looked at his Mavado.

“I know how to play your game. You provoke me, I get angry. Like with mom. I’ll push the peas around until they get mushy than smash the plate in the sink, and listen to the garbage disposal make a noise like an electric saw cutting up a dead body.”

     “Why did you do it?”

     “Mush the peas?”

     “No, kill your mother.”

. . . Seriously Just Saying

You don’t need a WordPress account to comment. Write your comment in the box below or click on the caption icon to the right of the title above. Ignore requests for a name/ username and press post or save. Your comment will be posted anonymously. Please follow me  to receive notification of new posts.

 

Sunday, Not Just Another Day

bd4575ac-a7b6-4f95-a0bd-7812d2c101a5

Today is Sunday, but not any Sunday, it’s Mother’s Day, a day that brings joy to many, although maybe not.

My daughter has planned a special treat for me a picnic. I love a picnic but I’m not looking forward to the occasion. My son died four years ago and for some unknown reason this year is especially difficult.

Friends have frequently asked how do you survive the death of a child and I would quote Ted Kennedy and say, “We go on for the living.”

So I will put on a big smile and sing, On a picnic we will go for it’s summertime you know, and we love to spend out Sundays in the park. Did you bring the hot dogs, hot dogs, hot dogs? Did you bring, etc.

. . . Seriously Just Saying

You don’t need a WordPress account to comment. Write your comment in the box below or click on the caption icon to the right of the title above. Ignore requests for a name/ username and press post or save. Your comment will be posted anonymously. Please follow me  to receive notification of new posts. Thank you.