I Forgot my Password

You know you have been away from your blog for too long when you have to go through the whole "forgot my password" routine twice in as many weeks. There was a time when I was logging into my Blogger account multiple times a day and knew my password as automatically as I know my name. Recently my blog has been neglected so much so that I forgot the password that I set for it originally in 2009 and have pecked out countless time since then. Alas, I reset to a new password and promptly forgot it within a week as well.

I never had to write my Blogger password down before thanks to my previous frequent, memory reinforcing use. But now it's written somewhere safe along with the login information for my other infrequently used accounts, like Craigslist (set up that one time I thought I would sell all sorts of house junk but decided I didn't like inviting strangers to my house to see the good stuff I was keeping) and that online flower shop (that I use every now and then but can never remember which one is the good online flower shop and which one stinks at sending online flowers.)

I thought these recent password memory disturbances could be explained away by my limited use of the unnatural, illogical combinations of alphanumeric characters, oddball symbols and grammatically incorrect use of capital letters required by programmers everywhere. Until I read Still Alice by Lisa Genova. And then I thought, maybe it's me.

Alice is a fifty year old Harvard psychology professor who starts to notice memory lapses and her dramatic increased consumption of sticky notes and lists. Then one day she finds herself lost and confused in a very familiar place. What comes next is Alice's surprising diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's disease. Alice narrates her downward spiral into the lonely place of Alzhiemer's where  cherished memories are stolen and communication skills are lost. Because Alice's situation begins looking very similar to many multitasking, over scheduled, under rested, middle-aged women, this book will make you think twice about the need for your lists and your dependence on the organizational bells and whistles of your smart phone. Is it good use of technology or a crutch keeping a genetic memory thief at bay for just a bit longer?

Either way, I've got my blogger password and other such important information tucked away safely. Just hoping I can keep remembering where that some place is.

Five Minute Friday

There is a moment right before it when you realize what's coming next. You feel powerless to change the outcome; it is going to happen. Unless... you flail, reach, grab and grasp to stop this thing. Your flailings change the choreography, the steps to the finale. Step-ball-change, step-ball-change, shuffle step, shuffle step, heel, toe, heel, toe, shuffle step, toe catches, aaaaahhh here it comes, knees buckle, hips sway, arms and body join in a desperate arabesque until you find your partner's arms, pulling together into promenade position and your fall becomes a stumble, barely perceptible from the mezzanine.

Today's FMF word was "Fall".

Happy Mother's Day...And Thank You

You might be tiring of my recent fascination with writing about my loved ones using the prompting perspective of "He (or she) is from..." My apologies if this tactic is not speaking to you. But I find it a very inspiring method to pull out the characteristics of a person and display them in an honorary way. I hope you can take one more...and this is one is for my mom.


She is from exotic places in my childhood mind.
Baton Rouge, Waco, Memphis, Webster Groves, Frankfurt.
Places where proper ladies wear proper outfits,
say and do proper things.
She is from her mother, my Oma, both cut from fine lady cloth.
She is from decorum and tradition.

She settled in the ordinary life of wife and mother.
Where she is from, they make extra- out of the ordinary.
She is Clara Barton at Boy Scout Camp.
She is Jackie Kennedy at the PTA helm.
She is Oprah substitute teaching your class.
She is Barbara Streisand singing in the church choir.
She is a Carol Burnett, Erma Bombeck, Lily Tomlin mash-up.
She is Julia Child whipping up fried chicken and Angel Pie.
She is Martha Stewart planning your party.
She is Mother Teresa championing your cause.

She is from the safest places in my childhood, from laughter and happy tears.
She is from Christmas morning and Barbie Doll birthday cakes.
She is from sewing on patches, hemming it up and ironing it again.
She is from Better Homes & Gardens and Ladies' Home Journal.

She is from you can do it, even if she didn't.
She is from holding you up before she has her own footing.
She is from a place where personal joy is found in giving to others.
She is from let me help, I'll do it, it will be okay.
She is from a place where she will gladly carry all your burdens so you won't have to.


I am from a place where embellishments and praise grow
from deep rooted seeds of truth.
I am from where you don't fully appreciate your mother
Until you wear her apron, pearls and high heels.
Where I come from, you thank your mother for all the work, love and sacrifice
She put into helping you arrive at where you are and continue on to where you are going.

Happy Mother's Day Mom!