Cyber Support

Over the past three years I have felt and seen the power of bloggers united in their support for one another.  I have seen tremendous acts of courage and kindness.  I have read joyful and heartbreaking moments that so many people from around the world have shared.  And I have witnessed an outpouring of hope and support to so many... All through blogs.

It continues to surprise me how much the Internet has changed our lives in really a very short amount of time.  I can still remember, not all that long ago, when clients debated adding their email address to business cards because they thought it would never take the place of voicemail.  Now, I marvel at receiving text messages and photos via cellphone from my niece during the delivery of her baby girl nearly two years ago.

And Facebook-- I've been on it, and off it, and on it again with only my immediate family having access.  It still feels like it's "too much information" for me, and mostly a waste of time.  My main reason for turning it back on was to reach the younger generation in my family and to share photos.

My brother is a big Internet and Facebook fan-- His numerous friends and loved ones check in from time to time to commiserate over professional Cleveland sports teams.  But it was his post today that took my breath away and shined a light on the tremendous power of the Internet.  He wrote...

Friday morning I will be having surgery to take care of what's been controlling my life the last 15 months. This will cure me and hopefully in 3 months I will have another surgery to make this all a distant memory. We are very lucky to have The Cleveland Clinic 45 minutes away. They are #1 in the world for what's been ailing me. Thank you all in advance for the prayers. I will heal faster because of them.

His list of comments was a mile long!  I cried reading them... and smiled at all the old familiar childhood friends that had reached out to him.   It's changed my mind about Facebook too.

So now, dear blog friends, I'm reaching out to you.  Please say a prayer for my brother, Jim.  He's a really good guy and although I'm confident the surgery will go well, I know, as he said, that he will feel your prayers and support.

Thank you.
xo Joanna

Photo credit: © Leonid Tit - Fotolia.com

Seeing Red and GIVEAWAY!

 Like so many Sundays in the past, I made my usual mile and a half circle around the neighborhood doing errands-- dry cleaners, bank ATM, pharmacy, breakfast at the deli with my husband, then off to grocery shop.  I prefer to stay in the neighborhood and support the smaller, local business whenever I can.

But maybe not anymore.

All the people at the above mentioned stops know me by name and I know most all of the employees.  Like the guy at the dry cleaner... 

As Mario, the high school senior, sorted through my small armload of clothes, a pair of my panties fell to the floor.  I'm not sure which one of us was more embarrassed at the sight, but I know for sure that I could feel the heat on my face as it turned three shades of red.. to match the color of my panties.

We had one of those awkward moments before I reached to the floor to snatch them up and stuffed them into my purse-- Cuz let's face it, they'd been worn and well.... Ewww!  As you might imagine, I got out of there as quickly as possible, panties in my purse, and went on about my business.

For the next 90 minutes I made my rounds, opening my purse to get out my wallet to pay at each place of business.  Once at home again, after the groceries had been unpacked and put away, I went to my purse to retrieve the red panties and--

WHT?!?

They were gone, which obviously means I'd unknowingly left them behind at one of my errands when I opened my purse.

At that moment I'm not sure which I felt--  Relieved that the panties were at least the nice ones and not a gigantic pair of granny panties-- Mortified that my undies were in an unknown location for some poor soul (that I know!) to discover-- Or worse, someone knew they belonged to me but was too embarrassed to tell me to pick them up!

And this is NOT an April Fool's Day joke.  It's totally for real. 

Dare I retrace my steps and see if I can locate the missing garment so no one else has to handle them?  Perhaps they've been kicked under a counter, hung on the sign by the ATM machine, in the parking lot of the pharmacy, on the floor under a table at the deli or in the frozen food section of the market. 

Or do I call it a day and chalk it up to... to... to...  what would you call this anyway???

Big sigh.  I think I'll stay put and pray the next time I drive down the Boulevard I don't see them flapping in the wind. 

Happy Sunday everyone.
Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins

DON'T FORGET TO ENTER MY GIVEAWAY.

 WIN THIS GORGEOUS SPRING WREATH!  

CLICK HERE TO ENTER!

Photo Credit: © Yael Weiss - Fotolia.com

Flowers and a NEW GIVEAWAY!

One of the perks, in my five year old mind, for taking ballet lessons was getting to wear a beautiful tutu.  I wanted a pink one more than words could say and I just assumed it would magically appear at my first dance class.

It did not.

But I was a patient albeit fidgety dancer-- positive I would someday be a famous ballerina with a closet filled with tutus, so I waited... thinking at the end of the dance class year I would have "earned" my magnificent tutu, like an angel earns their wings, in time for our dance recital.

No tutu then either.  Not by a mile.

In preparation for our dance recital, which was to be performed on a huge stage with a gigantic audience of about 100 family members, we budding prima ballerinas sat on the floor at our dance studio and received two pink Kleenex tissues and a couple of pieces of string.

There, our five year old hands worked diligently to make tissue carnation flowers.  We carefully folded the tissue into a fan, then folded it in half, tired the string around the center, and fluffed the tissue ends into a "flower".  My flowers looked more like a couple of used Kleenex on their way to the trash but I'd done my best.

When I asked my elegant ballet teacher, who happened to be dressed in a lovely chiffon tutu, what the "flowers" were for, she happily handed me a red plastic head band to attach my "flowers" onto thereby making my dance recital costume to match my red leotard.

My young mind raced-- This could not possibly be my costume.  I wanted a tutu and I wanted it for the dance recital-- now!  As soon as I realized that was not going to happen, I became a very disappointed ballerina with crocodile tears rolling down my face.  In fact, I have vague memories of my mother dragging me, kicking and screaming, to the recital where the idea of wearing those hideous Kleenex flowers in my hair left me in a puddle on the back seat of the car.

At that early stage of my life I learned a hard lesson about expectations.  I also learned I was not a great flower maker but I did have the potential to be a pretty good ballet dance-- which I did til my early 20s....  right up until I realized I enjoyed cheeseburgers, boys and mini skirts far better than I enjoyed blistered feet, salads and tutus.

I hadn't thought of those tissue flowers until I saw one of Attila's flower wreaths.  My flowers were a far cry from the gorgeous ones Attila's posse of creative geniuses makes.  Their handmade flowers are turned into these stunning wreaths-- AND YOU CAN WIN ONE!

SPRING WREATH GIVEAWAY!

Courtesy of Attila the Mom at Cheaper Than Therapy and her fantastic Highland Roses Collaborative Craft Studio, this happy 14" wreath-- with handmade hot pink and purple flowers with green leaf accents, would be a welcome addition to your Spring decorations, or make a nice gift to brighten up a dorm or hospital room, wish someone a happy birthday, or just remind a loved one that you're thinking of them.

It could be YOURS-  Entering is EASY.

Giveaway is available to everyone, EVERYWHERE, as long as you have a blog.  Attila will ship the wreath to you anywhere in the world-- How nice is that!

Leave one comment below to enter.

For a second chance, stop by the designer's shopping store HERE and leave a second comment below telling me which is your favorite wreath.

Giveaway ends, at Midnight, Pacific Time, April 5th.  Be sure I can reach you via email.

Come on-- Check out the Spring Wreaths and ENTER!
Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins 

I was not compensated for this giveaway.  It's a generous offer from a blog friend that I am passing on to you.
Photo Credit: © evgeniya_m - Fotolia.com

Circles

Did you ever feel like you were running around in circles?  I ask because, well, I'm hoping I'm not the only one.

At a recent dinner party, I was seated next to a late 40-something mother of three--  A newly divorced and happily dating woman overflowing with energy and a sense of wonder, who asked me a simple question--  What's your passion? 

*Blink*

My blank stare caused her to continue firing more probing questions faster than I could say "Margarita on the rocks, please!". (And, I don't even drink.)  Her high octane wonder was all about "reinventing" herself and she wanted a little "how to" advice from me.

"What excites you-- makes you jump out of bed every morning ready to meet the world?  What are you just itching to do?  Are you traveling, where's your next adventure, what's new and exciting that's coming up for you???"

Her questions instantly depressed me because I couldn't think of One. Single. Thing. that would even remotely sound "exciting or passionate" to this woman who was only 6 years younger than me.

Had I lost my fire?  Was I really as boring and underachieving as I felt at that moment?

It reminded me how little I've managed to accomplished lately despite feeling like I've been in overdrive for months-- chasing important paperwork, coordinating appointments, arranging get togethers, looking for all the stuff I can't seem to locate when I need it... You get the picture.... running in never ending circles with no sense of accomplishment and definitely not an ounce of passion.

A sense of accomplishment is one of the things I miss most since I stopped working nearly four years ago.  Even saying it's been FOUR years puts a lump in my throat...  What the heck have I been doing all this time and when was the last time I felt that joyous rush my dinner partner was gushing about?

Let me back up by saying I stopped working for what I thought at the time were very good reasons-- not the least of which was that I had accomplished enough to have earned the right to "retire".  And, at the time, I thought I had prepared myself for retirement with countless interesting and meaningful things that I looked forward to doing with my new found spare time.

Leisure time worked really well for me-- for about a week and a half.  Seriously, how much sleeping in and lunching with friends can a Type A personality girl do?

In short, I have not learned to fully embrace life in the slow lane-- A new life without fast-paced deadlines, business meetings that made my blood boil, globe trotting to film festivals, or creative sessions that made me sit straight up in my chair with joy.

Yes, I now do meaningful work with two important charities-- arts education and lupus-- and yes, I spend far more quality time with family and close friends, but it's that sense of accomplishment-- the excitement of a successful project you can see or touch, that's left me feeling like I'm a bit lost and running in circles.

So after that dinner party I took a long hard look at "retirement" (gawd I hate that word) and grabbed the bull by the horns, so to speak.  My first step was to embrace and enjoy running in circles... By way of my sewing machine.  I've spent hours going round and round and round and the sense of accomplishment with every turn has been refreshing and even exciting as I watched the project come together.

No, this might not sound glamorous or exciting to some, and definitely not to my dinner companion, but I'm coming to understand that "following your passion" can also be finely disguised as being content with your life.   

How's life treating you?
Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins
Photo Credit: Joanna Jenkins

Watermelon

One of life's little pleasures is to pull up to your home and see a package waiting for you at the front door.  The anticipation of seeing who it's from and what the brown cardboard box holds is a small joy that can't help but put a smile on your face.

That's what happened to Godson on Friday.  One of my nieces, who visited here last Spring, knew he and his mom were big gardeners and had the yard in their new house to plant a sizable vegetable garden.

Well, the garden is about to get a little bigger.  Godson received a "Giant Watermelon Growing Kit".

His mom and I spent a few hours this past weekend working on the soil and preparing the bed where the watermelons would reside.  It's a huge, wide planter, quite deep, that runs along two sides of the yard near the swimming pool-- Perfect for watermelon vines that can grow up to 12 feet long.

This planter has been there for a very long while and was in need of soil amendments and freshening up before anything could possibly grow so we got out the usual garden tools, worked like dogs, and dug and turned and dug and turned and dug, and dug and.... WTH!?!?!

We started to hit junk-- Filler junk so that the original owners wouldn't need so much dirt-- Lots of empty plastic bottles, bricks, old pipe fittings, plastic kids toys, including a couple of Barbie dolls, dozens of tennis balls, broken pottery, a pair of tennis shoes, and one very large, hot pink, anatomically correct-- vibrator!

Yes, vibrator.

I pulled that thing out, realized what it was, and tossed in the air like a hot potato... which my BFF caught and immediately tossed over her shoulder... Landing in the swimming pool... Where it looked even pinker and even bigger.

We were laughing so hard it took us about ten minutes to fish it out of the deep end of the pool.  Staring as it dripped in the pool net, we did the only thing we could think of and buried it back in the far end of the planter where it will hopefully never be seen again.

Why didn't we put it in the garbage?  BFF has a neighbor who's famous for garbage picking in other people's trash and THAT was the last thing we wanted the picker to pull out!

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins
Photo Credit: © Igor Kovalchuk - Fotolia.com

Say What?!?!

Here in the Jenkins House of Colds and Flu, I knew that after more than three weeks with the worst bronchitis bug I've had in years, that I was looking pretty ragged but I didn't know exactly how bad I was looking until our neighbor, a real estate agent, knocked on the door.


Let's call this guy "Bruce".  He knocks on our door every month to hand out some useless tshatshke with his name and phone number on it in hopes that, should we decided to sell our house, we'll call him first.  He's a nice enough guy but with a drawer full of his junk I kinda feel bad taking any more of his promo materials.


This time when I opened the door for Bruce, he took a giant step backwards away from me.  That was my first clue that I was clearly not at my best and wondered if I'd even combed my hair that morning.  He proceed to chat with his notepad covering his mouth and nose despite my being a full six feet away and with absolutely no plans of kissing the guy on the lips, or anywhere else for that matter.


He chatted away as I suppressed a cough and the urge to blow my nose all the while nodding my head at the appropriate times.  For the record, if Bruce wasn't a neighbor, I'd have never opened the door.  I'm not a fan of those types of cold calls and have no intention of selling my home anytime soon.


Five minutes into his chattering and close to the moment I thought I'd teeter over from boredom and/or a cough attack, Bruce changed conversation gears, got very serious, and handed me his business card.  The expression on his face was that of a guy who'd just eaten a sour pickle.  In hindsight, perhaps he was concerned that my eyes were starting to roll around my head.


Bruce proceed, with great concern, to tell me that he sincerely hoped I had my Will and estate in order and asked if I would please include his business card along with a note stating that he was my preferred real estate agent should I pass away before I sold the house.


I stood there in stunned silence.


So he kept on talking.... Saying that it's always best not to die in the house if at all possible and certainly not to die in some horrific manner as it would stigmatize the house and must be disclosed to potential buyers.


For the record, I am a licensed real estate agent and I know all about disclosing info on a property but I have never, ever, heard a real estate agent asking to be included in a Last Will and Testament, but there my neighbor was, doing just that.
 
I stood there taking this hideous sales pitch in and wondered if Bruce was giving this spiel to the entire neighborhood or just me in all my bronchitis glory.  I thought for a moment of bursting out laughing in his face but, well, he's a neighbor and that could be awkward.  So instead, I started coughing, and coughing and coughing..... until he went away.

Sheesh.

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com  -  Joanna Jenkins
Photo Credit © alexskopje - Fotolia.com