The Garden of Make Believe

I've been reminiscing about my past... wayyy past.. Like 3-4 years old past.

I used to watch this show called "The Magical Garden of Make Believe." As a kid, I loved it. Loved everything about it. From the swings, to the squirrel, to the lollipops, to the chuckling flowers. I loved it.

Between that point in my life to now, no one believed the show existed. I used to ask people if they remembered the Magical Kingdom of Make Believe.. and people always responded with something snide like, "are YOU in that magical garden of make believe right now?" or "are you high on something - because what kind of name is THAT for a childrens' show?" Now - I wasn't high - but I'm sure the people who created the show were. Wasn't everyone at that time?

But - with the wonderful proliferation of things good and evil now on the internet, a co-worker put these simple words in my search engine, clicked the 'video' tab - and lo and behold.. The Magical Garden of Make Believe appeared before me...

I think everyone should have a Magical Garden of Make Believe. No - not an actual one, but I mean a show that brings you back to one of the best points in your life. Afterall, how much cooler does your life really get after three? I mean, at three, you have someone paying for your meals, you always have clothes to wear, you don't ever worry about the mundane details in life, like - if you poop in your pants, who is going to change you? Someone always did.. (well - I wasn't not potty trained at that point.. I swear I was potty trained already...) I mean, my life at three was cake. I'd say, I may not have had it better since... Different? Good - perhaps.. Better? No way.

So - when I saw this video, it instantly transferred me back to that moment in time... and all the nice memories, and feelings of security came back..

But I still had my adult brain, and as I watched the video unfurl in front of me, I thought - damn - this show was hokey.

I remember one of the things that really fascinated me was the squirrel's home. I wanted to go inside the home of that squirrel. I wanted to know what it was like to live in a tree. How great would that be? To live in a tree.. Wouldn't you like to see? (sorry - the regression is still very strong... ) The chuckling flowers were great too. Oh - how I wanted a swing in my home on my imaginary tree.. in a big room...

And - I really wanted that stone laden walkway...

It's amazing how many memories an actual video can bring back.

Now that I have a baby girl, I'd like to expose her to the same shows that I used to watch as a kid... but watching the TV today- it's a completely different world. Ni Hao Kai Lan would have rocked my world as a kid. I've even DVR'd some Sesame Street shows, but I have to admit, it's just not the same as when I was a kid... and not in a good way... I think there's way too much going on now - and I'm not sure why - but I feel as though the puppets (the Elmos and Ernies and Berts of the world) are just screaming.. Did they always scream and carry on this way? And WHAT happened to Suffleupagus, lovingly referred to as 'snuffy?' He was the best ever..

But - I digress.. My point is, you want to share a little bit of your past with your kids... You want, perhaps, to be able to talk about how you felt watching the program and how your kid felt- with your child when you're older..

Now, however, watching that show online... I'm not sure if I would.

Maybe I'll keep chuckling flowers to myself...

and that squirrel's home... I still want to find out how that squirrel's pad is decked out...

Look into my crystal ball….

I don’t know your take on psychics, but for the longest time, I refused to go to any of them. I think, perhaps, it had something to do with believing in them too much. It’s like that superstition that is only as real as the faith you give in its truth.

So – I didn’t really like the idea of going to a psychic, until my girlfriend said that she had a psychic friend, and that we should go as a harmless girl’s day out type thing. Sound good? No. It’s not. Now – unless you’re ready to fall completely in love with an activity that you and your friends decided to do for ‘girls night out.’

I was hooked.

When I went to my first psychic, and I have to say, I was a little disappointed. Though she was on point, I had to ask her questions. In my head, I thought – there’s something I’m giving away while asking the question. Maybe I have a slight intonation in my voice when I am talking about something I want to happen and the psychic just picks up on that – and uses that as the “prediction.” Or, maybe my question itself is a clue into what it is I want her to say. Needless to say – I was skeptical after the first psychic. But I had my share of fun with the girls, a nice lunch, good conversation (mostly about the predictions).

I was amazed to see how many people were into psychics. After my first psychic reading, it was fodder for conversation at my office, at family functions, with friends, with strangers, with anyone actually. People asked me a number of questions. Most of the time there was a heavy amount of skepticism, but there was a lot of intrigue as well. Funnier even, when asked, most of these skeptical people have gone to a psychic too. It’s amazing how many people have actually gone to a psychic, and even more, how heavily the messages they give them are guarded. People actually think that telling others what a psychic told you is a little like telling someone what your wish is right after you blew out the candles on your birthday cake. Shhhh!! Don’t tell! It may not come true.

My skepticism was securely maintained, and I remained really cynical about what any psychic might say about me. Afterall, there was nothing that psychic told me that couldn’t be explained away by the way I asked the question, or what I said in my question, or the way I looked at her, or even because of the way I smelled. Oh – I have on powder fresh scent, of course she knew I went to high school in New York City!! I mean – duh.

And then – I met – Fiona. Holy cow. Fiona made me sweat up a storm. She was referred to me by a friend at work. It isn’t required that you ask questions. She simply asks you to start drawing cards and asks to hold something that was solely owned by you. As you’re drawing your cards, she starts to prattle about the mundane details of your life and offers you advice on the number one most important thing you were thinking before you got there. (We all have to admit, despite how cynical we get, there still is a sense of awe there when someone starts talking about your life, and they’re repeating it like they read it – but it’s been a while, so they’re just trying to retell it from memory, AND IN THE EXACT PRIORITY LEVEL YOU HAVE IT ON YOUR QUESTION SHEET.)

I tried to generally apply what she said to me, and I have to admit, there wasn’t any way the things she said to me could be applied generally. I had a list of questions. Boom. Boom. Boom. Answered Question 1, 2, and 3.

It was really freaky.

Another friend of mine, who also believed in these psychics, went to another one before and asked who had psychic ability- and who did not. That particular psychic said that it was a bit like a gene that passes in the family. If you have a family member who has always seemed touch, or is into this stuff, it is a pretty good bet that you’ve got that gene in you as well. But it is up to you to use that ability. If you have been able to use it before (small kids who have imaginary friends… yeah – okay…. Imaginary my butt now…) as they get older and figure out what they’re involved with, the person gets to decide if they want to continue to receive these sixth sense type images/feelings/senses. If you are in constant denial about the ability, like a muscle that is never used, it soon atrophies and is no longer useful in any real way. Same with a sixth sense. So you can decide to be aware, or you can decide to be unaware…

But it’s ultimately up to you to choose..

So, rather than just stop at a list of questions, I also brought pictures of people with me. She pauses over everyone’s face, places her fingers on the image. Often, if the person has a problem, her finger traces over the area that had posed a problem in the past. She then answers questions about the people in the picture that you might have questions on, but she did not discuss during the main portion of the reading. She usually asks for the list of questions or the pictures at the end, after she's done verbally vomiting the answers to all your deepest darkest questions/secrets.

It’s bewitching to think that your path really has a bit of predetermination. It’s like the psychic Is the GPS in my brain, basically leading me to one place, but allowing me the option of making my mistakes, and then the world joins together to get me back on tract. In GPS terms, the psychic is saying, “recalculating.” Only – you’re too focused on being lost, sometimes you don’t even listen… or hear it.

So – what am I saying about psychics? If you’re tickled by the idea, try one out. This is the psychic I went to and ultimately really liked. Keep an open mind, otherwise, don’t even bother… But, I hope you know that you still have fate over your destiny… the psychic just sees a snapshot of where you are, and presumes the path you’re going to take (very much like a GPS)… whether or not you take that path, or the unbeaten path, now that is up to you.

http://thewhitegryphon.com/

War. What is it good for? Absolutely Nothing.

Warning*** this is not a happy blog. Do not ready if you want to stay happy today...***

In honor of Veteran's Day...

I wrote a letter when this war began in the Middle East per George number two. I wrote a letter to soldiers I didn’t know – but thought about often. I am not a peaceful person by nature. I believe in an eye for an eye. I believe in the death penalty (with conclusive DNA evidence, or course. Nothing based on circumstance). I DO believe that we should kill people to show people that killing people is wrong. But war… Well – I just don’t get wars.

I ESPECIALLY don’t get this war.

But, rather than get into the war and what it’s about and why it matters, all I want to talk about is what REALLY matters. The soldiers that battle in these wars.

Whatever the battle… we’ve lost. We’ve lost sons, we’ve lost daughters, we’ve lost friends, we’ve lost fathers, we’ve lost mothers, we’ve lost. We’ve really lost.

And when I mean we’ve lost, I mean – we have lost. Because even for those persons who are still here, those soldiers who fought and were able to return home, they are no longer the people they were when they left. They are broken. And we’ve forgotten about them. We’ve forgotten that they laid their lives on the line, live or die, for the freedoms we enjoy every day. We are able to forget them, because they battle for us. Our daily lives do not change. Their worlds do. Lives shift in the balance, and somehow, that is something that many of them knowingly understand before enlisting, and more than understand when they return for their second, third or fourth deployment. Often, it is simply because they cannot leave those people they battled with-behind.

I don’t remember what I wrote in my letter, but the sentiments ring true to this day, for me. It was really important to me to convey how I felt about these soldiers who fight this battle, regardless of whether or not they agree with the war. It is their duty to go, and they honor their duty. My letter went something like this:

“I don’t know who you are, but I look for you every day. In news reports, on CNN, in any media outlet, I look for you. I search for you to make sure you are alright. I look for you to make sure you come home to us. I look for you to be sure that I remember the sacrifice you make for us. I look for you to mourn in case you have fallen. Fallen for me. I will always look for you, and remember. Come home. Come home to us safely.”

As the humdrum of life has gone on, and the war is covered less and less in the media, I have to admit, I look for these soldiers less and less, but the numbers still come through. This week, 30 people died. Next week – who knows how many? Fort Hood took 13 lives, on our own soil. No more war. We are all done.

As my daughter says, “All done.”

Let us be all done.

I don't wanna go slow I go fast!

A tiny head resting on your shoulder. That is my new best feeling in the world.

My daughter has been sick for the past X number of days, and in the rush of getting things done, and trying to maintain some sort of sanity, things passed me by. Through all the hustle and bustle, I found myself listening to one of the songs I downloaded for her from ITunes. I heard this band from Nick Jr., and I love them. They’re called the Laurie Berkner Band. There is one particularly pertinent song that I love to listen to from them. It’s called ‘Fast and Slow’ – and to children, it’s a song about the tortoise and the rabbit. But there’s another message that’s there for older kids or adults. The following are the lyrics (click on the link for the video).

Fast and Slow
(The Rabbit and the Turtle)

I don’t want to go slow I go fast
I’m a rabbit I hop and I jump and I dash
And I’ll go whizzing by
In the blink of an eye
Like a jet-engine airplane that speeds through the sky
I don’t want to go slow I go fast

I don’t want to go fast I go slow
That’s the way that I move, I’m a turtle you know
Join me as I crawl by
We can breathe, we can sigh
We can laugh we can cry
We can talk about why
We don’t want to go fast we go slow

I don’t want to go slow I go fast
I’m a rabbit I hop and I jump and I dash
And I’ll go whizzing by
In the blink of an eye
Like a jet-engine airplane that speeds through the sky
I don’t want to go slow I go fast

You don’t want to go slow you go fast
And you may find you’re missing the world you go past
Crickets singing their sound
Golden leaves turning brown
You might find something new that you wouldn’t have found
If you never went slow, only fast

Won’t you slow down
And wait for me?
Take it slow, take it slow, take it slow
Come on slow down
We can share all the new things we see
When we’re slow, here we go, together we’re slow

And other times we can go fast!


As you might have guessed, the lines that spoke to me particularly were, “You don’t want to go slow you go fast/And you may find you’re missing the world you go past/Crickets singing their sound/Golden leaves turning brown/You might find something new that you wouldn’t have found/If you never went slow, only fast.”

So – she put her head on my shoulder, and snuggled into my body. I hugged her back, and held her tight.

I don’t want to go fast.. because I find that I’m missing the world I go past.

Or just a tiny head resting on my shoulder.

Take me out to the Ballgame...

First, I’d like to apologize to Luscious’s son. I know how much he loves baseball.

So – here it is.

I don’t get baseball. I’ll admit it. McSquared seems to be an equal opportunity sports watcher. He likes everything. He likes baseball, football, soccer (when we have access to it), and volleyball—just to name a few. If there’s something to be won competitively, he’ll watch it.

So – I’m here watching the fourth game in the World Series.

I suppose if you really think about it, it’s hard to really give any of these types of games any real weight. I mean, it’s a bunch of grown men chasing after a ball, for the most part. Phallic, isn’t it? But, let’s just say that we don’t find it funny that we spend bajillions of dollars paying these guys to chase after these balls, there is some real heat that goes on between people watching these games. I mean, there are fights over these games sometimes. People can be so funny.

So – let’s get to it. I don’t get baseball. I like football. There is nothing better than seeing a bunch of hunky big boys in tight tight pants. (Not the same as ballet). But there is constant action in football that doesn’t happen in baseball. During the set up, they break to commercial, when there’s a time out, they go to commercial. In football, anything boring cuts to commercial, so you know you have about 60 seconds to pee, get a glass of water, grab that second beer, etc… Baseball though, you watch every second. Every. Single. Second. You watch them chew gum/tobacco like they’re all cows on a pasture. You watch the pitcher set up on the mound, you watch the batter swing his bat a bajillion times before the pitch is actually thrown, and then, when you’ve finally decided it’s too boring to pay any more attention, the pitcher throws the ball, someone whacks it out of the park, and you missed it. You missed it because you decided nothing was going to happen, so you look away for all of two seconds, and you miss it. You miss some amazing base hit missed by the other team, and so someone runs home. And it would have been so exciting to watch, if you had just WATCHED it.

Then, what’s up with the umpires being completely right beyond reproach? Where’s the challenge flag here? In game 4 for example, that guy on the Phillies team CLEARLY misses home, and yet, he was declared safe. Either there was no way to challenge it – or the Yankees were stupid… and I don’t really think the Yankees are stupid. They’re paid enough to have the stupid knocked out of them. So what’s up with that? I mean, football is tolerable because you can challenge a stupid call. It seems to be a little justice there. No disrespect to the umpires (or the referees in football), but everyone makes mistakes. Don’t take it personal. But it can’t be done.

Then there’s this ridiculous talking under their breathe. Everyone talks under their breathe. The umpires are miked, so sometimes they play what was actually said, but there’s no passion accompanied with the talking under their breathe. I mean, there IS passion, but there’s no passion. Like – in soccer and football, there’s a lot of passion, a lot of screaming, a lot of cheering, and a lot of air fist pumping. And that’s just by the players. But, in baseball, the rowdiest people are those in the stands. Everyone else is stoic faced… Even the homeruns come back to quite a stoic reception. I find it all really pretty boring, actually. Any real show of passion is deemed a brouhaha. (Love it when the arguments rise to the level of kicking up dirt at an umpires feet).

So – I suppose what I’m trying to say is not only do I not really get America’s Favorite Passtime, I’ll have to say, to the chagrin of a lot of Americans, that I don’t really like it. I much rather watch soccer or football. Now – those are EXCITING games… And even if they’re really terrible, football players wear tight tight pants, and soccer players often remove their shirts… Which is good family fun (for mom).

Oh – P.S. How can fat people be playing baseball? I can understand why fat guys play football, I’ve yet to see fat people play soccer or volleyball. But I’ve seen pudgy (to say it lovingly) people playing baseball. Now how did THAT happen?

Oh – P.P.S. There are no names on the back of the shirts for the Yankees. What’s up with that?

Oh - P.P.P.S. Baseball seems to be the least physically challenging as compared to football and soccer. What's up with leaving a game for an injury? Unless you get a ball lodge in your head, I'm not sure baseball warrants the same forgiveness for injuries during a game.