Random Thoughts

I am “the girl who can’t ride a bike”. I guess to be accurate, I should say that I WAS “the girl who can’t ride a bike”.   But it was such a big part of my identity growing up, that the never formalized (but often teased about) nickname stuck in my psyche. You know how most kids love to jump on their bikes and pedal around the neighborhood once they have figured out how to balance, brake, and GO?   Yeah, that wasn’t me.   I wasn’t that kid. I am not sure WHAT really happened. The one thing I do remember is being on a bike in my family’s garage in Omaha, Nebraska trying to ride my bike.   It must’ve been winter, otherwise, why wouldn’t I have been outdoors??   But I think my foot slipped off the pedal and I know for sure my knee hit the handlebar.   It hurt.   I remember crying. But I am guessing that it hurt my pride more than it hurt my knee.   I think I was already past the age where kids were “supposed” to ride a bike. ...

I am not a religious person.   I don’t talk about that much, but when I do, I realize it surprises people.   I haven’t had a “place of worship” to call my own since I was a teenager really, and that has suited me just fine (though I must say, there is a certain church near me full of very like- minded people that always leaves me feeling peaceful and full of joy when I go, and I went to a Bat mitzvah in Chicago years ago that left me thinking I should have been born Jewish because I fit right in and liked the genuineness of it all…) Anyway, I don’t find my “center”, my gratitude, or my “place” in a church, mosque, or synagogue.   I am a spiritual person.   I feel grounded.   I feel thankful (and take time each day to reflect on that which I am thankful for).   But I don’t feel the desire or need to follow an organized religion. But oh – once a year – once a year the National Cathedral in Washington DC moves away all of the chairs.   They cle...

I like that I live “one stoplight away” from our country’s capital (that is the phrase every realtor who lists a house in our neighborhood uses, causing us to wonder, “What route do they drive into the district?” and also “One stoplight , perhaps, but four traffic jams…”).   Close proximity to DC means we can easily join protests, marches, and celebrations.   I love that.   And, let’s be honest, since November 8, 2016, there have been lots of protests and marches to join in on, but we’ve been light in what I could consider reasons to celebrate… Little boy with his sign at a protest against the Muslim Ban at Dulles Airport I have made more protest signs and spent more arm-aching hours holding them in the air the last 19 months than I have the other 52 years of my life combined.     I like protests and rallies .   Especially in this day and age, I find them to be a space filled with INSPIRATION, with HOPE, and with the BELIEF that things can and ...

I think we all do it, really, in some form or the other.  We search for perfection.  Some people dream of a perfect BODY – curves in all the right places and nary a wrinkle.  Some people hunt for the perfect mate – someone who fits every idealized fantasy they can imagine.  Me – sometimes I catch myself running after the perfect EXPERIENCE… I did it tonight, and when I realized what was happening, I had to laugh. Here’s the deal – perfection doesn’t EXIST.  There is no perfect body, no perfect mate, no perfect family, no perfect house, or perfect life.  And there is no perfect experience .  Have you ever tried to do that – ensure that you will have the perfect experience??  If you can look at it from the outside, from a bird’s eye view, you will see how utterly ridiculous it is.  How about this one: trying to make the PERFECT HOLIDAY !!  You buy the biggest, fullest Christmas tree.  You decorate it with gorgeous o...

What if great art – brilliant art – were right in front of you?   Would you care?   Would you NOTICE?   Would you stop your busy, rushing about life for at least a moment or two to take it in and appreciate it? That was the premise behind the Washington Post experiment in 2007 – would morning Metro commuters in Washington DC take the time to listen and appreciate the music of one of the world’s best musicians, Joshua Bell?  The piece Gene Weingarten wrote in the Post on the experiment enthralled me at the time and also won a Pulitzer Prize.  (Article here:  http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/magazine/pearls-before-breakfast-can-one-of-the-nations-great-musicians-cut-through-the-fog-of-a-dc-rush-hour-lets-find-out/2014/09/23/8a6d46da-4331-11e4-b47c-f5889e061e5f_story.html As you can see if you read Weingarten’s piece, the experiment that day at L’Enfant Metro yielded dismal results:  Bell played his violin for 43 minutes. 1,097 people h...