Today's topic High Fashion.  I like to think I know a little about what looks good on what shape and what colors look good on which coloring.  I am not perfect but love some aspects of fashion.

High Fashion.  I don't know much about it to be honest.  I just see pictures of hideous clothes, hair and weird makeup and hear it is high fashion.  I agree with that.  You have to be "high" to appreciate this fashion.  Have you seen some of the odd get ups they show? 

I feel like a bunch of weirdos rule the fashion industry and somehow we are to believe they know all.  Have you ever watched the Next Runway Model?  They have these men who do high fashion tell people what is what.  Don't get me wrong, I am all for men or women being leaders in any industry.  But, you come looking like a drunk, color blind clown dressed you and I am supposed to take you seriously?  One of the men, has hair that looks like Mo from The Three Stooges, and wears huge, cartoonish bow ties.  Another one of the men routinely looks like he took the top sheet off the bed and ta da, he is dressed and ready for action.  I can hardly pay any attention to him because I am so freaked out that he is not just in public looking crazy, but on national television. 

I also love to watch Fashion Police.  It is my dirty little secret.  But not so secret now, since I just blogged it.  They critique what celebrities are wearing.  I love the show.  But they will show something crazy and say "It's high fashion" like you would say about someone who just ain't right so make allowances.  They show celebs wearing hot, hot messes straight off the runway and I am supposed to be awed by them.  Yet another reason to just say no, no drugs, no being fooled by so called High Fashion.  

High Fashion reminds me of the story The Emperors New Clothes by Hans Christian Andersen.  A couple of tailors convince the Emperor that they are making him clothes from the most fabulous fabric.  It cannot be seen by stupid people or people unfit for their position.  Of course, there is no cloth, no clothes, but no one will admit that there is a problem for fear of being seen as stupid or unfit.  The Emperor struts through town, naked, and everyone oohs and ahhs over his clothes.  Until a child cries out he isn't wearing anything.  Then others take up the cry, the Emperor realizes they are right but doesn't acknowledge them.  I guess he didn't want to them to see how he had been taken in.  So he continues to walk through a procession line, probably much like a runway, looking like a fool, for fear of looking like a fool.  Do you get the logic? 

I am not afraid of being seen as stupid or a fool.  Oh, if only I were.  So, I will just say that yes fashion evolves, taste change, people move on.  Good for us!  But crazy is crazy anyway you slice it.  Just because someone says something is good doesn't make it so.  No matter what their lofty postion in life or the fashion industry. 

Today's topic, Near Death Experiences.  That is right.  I have had two near death experiences.  I thought you might want to hear about them.  Because I know there are several of you home on a Saturday night thinking I wonder what Marian will blog next. 

My first NDE (near death experience) was as a child of about 4-5 years old.  I remember it was sunny outside, but I wasn't outside.  I was in my Great Grandmother's kitchen.  Granny Griffin was cooking and the women in the family were gathered either helping or talking.  I was curious about the goings on. 

My Granny Griffin was cooking okra.  Not frying it like so many people like their okra prepared but boiling it.  For those of you unfamiliar with okra it is SLIMY when boiled.  I, being the curious child that I was, asked to taste the okra.  Or my Granny offered it to me, I can't remember.  So, I innocently let my Granny Griffin put the okra in my mouth.  I chewed and tried to swallow the slimy, slimy okra.  But I couldn't swallow the okra, because it kept sliding down on its own and choking me.  I would cough/gag it up and try to get it right.  The okra didn't care which pipe it went down it just was going to do what gravity dictated and slide down.  I could not control the stuff, it just kept doing whatever it wanted.  Which was to choke the life out of me.  After what seemed like forever I was finally able to manage the okra and swallow. 

 I do not eat okra. I feel very peaceful about that.  I don't have to worry about it trying to kill me ever again.  To you this may not be the exact definition of a near death experience.  But you would agree if you had been in that kitchen having the life choked out of you by a green, slimy pod.

My second NDE happened at a concert.  I just want to make sure you all know I am not this cool.  I want you to think I am but, alack and alas, I am not.  I was given the opportunity to see the Ramons live at the age of 13.  One of my sisters best friends was that cool and she and my sister took me.  As a side note, I am excited to have seen such a ground breaking, influential band play.  The Ramons were one of the inventors, if you will, of the Punk Rock movement.  I also saw their movie Rock and Roll High School which I still remember pretty well.  But I digress.  

I remember it was dark outside, but I wasn't outside.  I was inside where, by the way it was stifling, I mean stifling hot.   It was winter in Idaho, (that is right, I went through puberty in Idaho) so I guess someone had the heat up. Or maybe that is how the Ramons wanted it.  I don't know.  Anyway, it was so hot in the room!  I remember there was this guy wearing a cardigan sweater.  I could not for the life of me figure out why he was in a cardigan because it was so HOT.  You get that it was hot, right? 

Because, Punk was on the fringe the actual concert was pretty small, I don't know maybe two hundred people?   Maybe?  Anyway the music started, it was standing only, no sitting.  I stood in front and there was a guy to left of me.  He kept jumping with his arms up and every time he came down he would hit my shoulder.  I was into the music at first, but then I realized that my shoulder hurt so I moved slightly away.  I think I did this a few times.  Each time he would move over and continue to pound into my shoulder.  Don't ask me why I didn't just move further away.  I was 13.  Finally, I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.  So he jumps up, arms in the air and I hit him, hard, in the ribs, twice before he gets back down.  I remember I actually heard his Ooof over the music.  A moment later I can tell he is turned toward me, moving, dancing, whatever while he looked at me.  I never looked at him again. 

The concert ends and I find out why the guy had on a cardigan, he had joints taped into the inside and was lighting them up and passing them around.  No, people, I didn't inhale. 

Oh, and I found out what the guy who kept hitting me was doing.  My sister, my dear, dear sister, asked me "Marian, what was that guy doing, the one dancing around you and waving a knife?" 

To this day I wonder if he would have stabbed me if I had looked at him.  But, I didn't.  My attitude was OK we are done here.  So, that is my second NDE.  Again, maybe not your definition but close enough, don't you think?

Today's topic. Lunch. Or rather lunch inspectors.

Within about a week two stories of a lunch inspector, no joke, for lunches sent from home for preschoolers have emerged.  In both stories the home lunches seemed pretty healthy, but were rejected by the inspector/s as not healthy enough.  So the children were fed school food and the parents were charged for the meals.  

I should be torn.  I mean it is a good idea to make sure our children are offered healthy foods.  Right? That sounds so good.  But, do we need some stranger inspecting our children's lunches to make sure they are healthy enough?  Do the inspectors take into consideration food allergies or religious strictures?  Or that preschoolers go through phases were they will or won't eat certain foods for whatever mercurial reason suits them?  I don't think they do.

When you look at what is required and what was provided from home, honestly I was impressed. Especially, considering at least one of the mom's didn't have any idea there were mandates.  I truly expected to see the children were sent things like snack cakes, cookies, and other gross prepackaged foods.  When I first heard the story, I thought that the parents had provided crap repeatedly and there needed to be an intervention. This was not the case.  The parents sent good food.  There were items such as sandwiches on whole wheat and fruit.  One of the lunches did have some chips so I guess maybe you could say something, if you have a stick stuck in a dark place.

My concern is that though standards exist for the schools the people who enforce the standards have their own ideas of what is appropriate.  As evidenced by perfectly good lunches were rejected because the inspector/s deemed the lunch/es inferior.

Which brings me to the real topic, Child Rearing.  This is an incredibly slippery slope.  It sounds so good to have someone looking out for the children.  This is a topic incredibly important to me. Children desperately need good strong advocates.

That being said, we cannot, cannot decide how parents should raise their children.  Obvious exceptions apply so don't get your panties in wad.  Parents feed, clothe and discipline as they see fit. What values they want to instill in their children are their business.  This includes the children's eating habits.  It pains me but there it is.  Unless the parents are being truly neglectful or abusive we need to keep our noses out of their home life.  A lunch sent from home is part of that life and none of our concern.  The inspectors should make sure the school provides good, healthy food that is paid for with our taxes, period.

We cannot allow any institution or agency to make decisions in our lives unless we choose to allow such.  And I don't know many people who want someone telling them how to raise their children.  We think the bad parents are someone else, the children that need inspectors checking up on them someone elses children.  That may be true for now.   But if you let little things like this go by you may find, much to your surprise and chagrin you are the so called "bad parents".  That, my friends, terrifies me!  Like the food inspectors illustrate so clearly, everyone has their own idea of what is right and wrong, their own agenda and their own ax to grind.  I don't think you want a government flunky deciding how you should parent. 

Today's topic Donuts.  In particular how I compare my life to a certain donut. 

I hate custard filled donuts, hate them.  I can't understand why anyone would want one when there are delicious creme filled donuts.  I want the creme filled donut in life, but wind up so often with the custard.  I hate that. 

Several years ago, my sister Ginna and I were in San Fransisco on the Wharf just touring around.  What do we find?  A store selling Krispy Kreme donuts.  We decide to get one.  Mmmm, I am thinking a delicious creme filled donut!  The rack is labeled, my sister gets one and I get one from the same labeled rack.  Hers, delicious creme filled donut, mine disgusting custard filled.  I don't eat it because it is gross.  I threw it away. 

And that, people, so often is my life in a nutshell, or in this case donut hole.  I want the delicious creme filled donut, I take action to get the delicious creme filled donut, I pay for the delicious creme filled donut, but no, I get a disgusting custard filled donut.  

So, this is my code for something in my life completely sucking.  I got a custard donut.  My sister makes sure to point out that I get the occasional creme filled donut.  And I do.  But somehow the gross custard filled donuts of life take over and I can't get the taste out of my mouth. 

One of the biggest custard donuts of my life was a car.  A Nissan Altima.  That thing was a lemon and not a nice lemon filled donut but a real lemon.  I missed the lemon law by one, (custard donut).  The dealership fixed the car over and over again until they realized the lemon law loomed ahead.  Then suddenly, it was my fault the car was a huge, for lack of anything bad enough to call it, custard donut.  I talked to the dealership and corporate and no one would look at my point of view.  I didn't want any money or them to do anything but take the car back and me walk.  They could resell or actually fix it and resell.  But they wanted to stick me with the stinking mass of junk.  So that is what happened I got stuck with the piece of crap custard donut. 

When I really dream big you call it the chocolate iced, glazed, creme filled donut. Not just glazed creme filled, or chocolate iced creme filled but both.  You have to ask for that one.  They don't just make them.  You go to the store and ask them to chocolate ice a glazed creme filled donut.  Now, you can't do this often because the other name for this donut is the Full Heart Attack.  The other two merely clog your arteries.  But the chocolate iced, glazed. creme filled could potentially do you in.  But you die happy.  So it is a trade off.

Today's topic Parenting in Public.  I am actually just going to comment on one aspect of parenting in public so don't get too over wrought. 

Just a day or so ago a man tried to grab a little girl from a Walmart.  She was out of school sick.  She and her mom were shopping when he attempted to take her.  I am so proud this little girl fought hard enough, long enough that he gave up and left.  I want to make sure that everyone understands he is the true villain.  No child should be taken by some evil, evil person. 

However, I am so mad at this girl's mother.  What does she mean letting her baby go over a couple of aisles alone to look at toys?  Why not just hand her over?  I just want to smack this mom around.  I know you shouldn't blame the victim, but I don't care.  The child is the victim, the mother the idiot.  So, I don't have a big problem being mad at her.  She victimized her own child. 

I see this all the time, I mean all the time.  Parents that let their precious little ones go unattended in public.  I know we have to let our children learn to play and get along in life without us.  I know that.  But you can let them play and learn to be independent and still be watching over them.

I have kindly confronted parents about this.  Truly, I haven't been arrested yet and I think that means I have been nice about it.  Seriously, I don't scream or yell or even let them see how furious I am.  I just remind them that there are bad, bad people out looking for chances at children.  I usually get a very bland and somewhat defencive reply.  Like there is any defence for letting your child out of your sight in a huge store.  So many stories of children being snatched come from large stores.  Your children will live, I mean literally, if they don't get to go look at the toys or the fish or bikes etc.  They may not if you aren't watching. 

Once a few years ago my niece, Rachel, purposefully left the area we were in because she wanted her own way.  We were in a grocery store and I was the adult in charge.  I brought the hammer down hard.  To me that is non negotiable. There is no reason or excuse a kid can have that makes it OK.
She didn't get a spanking if that is what you are thinking.  I just took the thing she wanted most away for the whole day, to a small child that is big.  I wanted her to understand I was serious. She did and you will note she is still with our family.

You may think you have taught your children to be smart, but, maybe not so much.  I have been lost (thank you dyslexia) many times and come across children playing who oh, so quickly and willingly come over to help me out.  I usually get the information I need thank them and remind them don't talk to strangers and that some people aren't nice like me.

Before, I get a lot of comments from people saying that it isn't always something the parent can prevent.  I know that, thanks.  I am talking this time in our lives where there are unfeeling, desperate people making opportunities to take children away to fulfill their evil, lustful, terrible appetites.  A parent is supposed to protect their child not put them in harms way. 

Make sure you know where your children are. Don't let yourself be distracted by a good sale or something pretty or be lured away.  Be on your toes and aware that the evil doers are always thinking of new ways to take children away from their parents.  Be smarter than they are, please, for the sake of the children.

Today's topic Hands.  That's right hands.

I have been thinking about my hands lately.  How old they look compared to the rest of me.  They are dried and cracked and my nails break all the time.  I know a lot of women with a similar problem.  It has come to my attention that the reason they look so old so quickly is because I use them so much.  I use them, then I wash them over and over again all the time.  Oh, I try to stop time with creams and lotions. For a while I was self conscious of my hands looking so much older than I do. 

I have to admit I love it when people guess my age as usually so much younger than I am. It makes me feel like I have done something right.  Whether it was the right genentics or clean living can be debated in another post or your own head.  I do like to think I have had something to do with it but I won't argue the point.  You heard me right.  I, Marian F, will not argue.  That is big coming from me. 

So, there I was feeling self conscious about my hands and how beat up they look when it occurred to me what I do to make them look like that.  I know I joke about taking care of the poor, sick children and saving lives but I really get to do great service with these hands.  I get to ease suffering and do things for someone they are unable to do for themselves.  Some of the things no one would choose.  No one would choose to have tape taken off various places on their bodies several times a day, or get medicines that make them feel worse and not better or get shots or having to move when all they want to do is lay still.  I don't even think a masochist would choose what my hands have dished out. 

The flip side of that is my hands have tried to be tender and kind.  They have rubbed backs, stroked foreheads. fanned, tucked in, held and fed so many precisous little ones. I think it a privledge to be able to use them for such things.

I guess what I am saying is I don't care anymore that my hands look so much older than the rest of me.  They have worked the hardest and bare witness to how much they toil.  No one should be afraid of showing their hard work.  So, I am not.

Today's topic Doing the right thing.  The post was going to be about technology, but I had an interesting experience that I am inspired by so, on to doing the right thing. 

There are so many people in this world who just do what is right and let the consequence follow.  I am surrounded by so many people who choose to do what is right and good.  I am very grateful to see such fine examples.

The incident that prompted this post happened today.  I was going to the ATM and as I drove up I noticed a man holding up a ATM card and walking toward the car that had just driven off.   It turned out the man was someone I knew.  Since it was taking a while to get the other drivers attention he said to me, slightly put out, "I had hernia surgery this week, I don't have time for this."  The other driver finally noticed and the card was returned.  I heard him teasingly say, " I could have robbed you blind."  As I watched him gingerly get back into his car I realized that it can be literally painful and inconvenient to do the right thing. 

So knowing this why do so many people still choose to be honest in their dealings, be kind to others, sacrifice their time, talents and money?  I have a theory that it is innate for us to want to help others. 
I look at children and how excited they are to be good helpers.  I think we have to be taught to take advantage, steal, lie and hate. And usually we are taught this by example.  We can also be taught to do the right thing by example, to strengthen the tendencies we have as children to help and not hinder.

When I was young, maybe five or six, I took a tiny teacup home from a store.  I was fascinated by how small and yet perfect all the pieces were.  I had asked my mom to buy me the tea set.  When she told me no I was sad.  So, I took one teacup and held it in my hand all the way home.  Almost as soon as we walked in the house my mother noticed something was off and confronted me.  I think she may have spanked me.  I don't remember that part.  What I do remember is my mom taking me back to the store to return the teacup and apologize to the manager.  I was so scared to have to confess what I had done.  The manager was kind and understanding.  To this day I still love to look at tiny little tea sets and I have only good thoughts associated with them. 

What a great thing my mom did for me!  She didn't put the tiny teacup aside or throw it away, forget about it or just give me a spanking or talking to. She took me right back to the scene of the crime to face the music.  All this for a teacup that couldn't have been worth ten cents.  I don't claim to do the right thing as often as I should but I had a great pattern to follow so any missteps are my own.

I don't know how I got so lucky but I seem to be surrounded by people doing the right thing.  I see so many sacrifices by parents, co-workers, friends and even strangers.  On a daily basis I see someone choose to do the right thing not knowing if anyone one is watching.  They just do the right thing because it is the right thing to do.  When I have praised friends for their kind deeds so often they say "I didn't have any other choice."  Sure they did.  They could have chosen what may have been less painful or more convenient.  But, instead they chose to do the right thing because it is ingrained into their nature. 

My hope is that we can all be a little more aware of doing the right thing.  Let's take care of each other, watch each others backs and make this world a little bit easier to navigate.