Closing Words: Mormons

It's been great fun to read all the comments on yesterday's post. (My response to one email is here.) I'm not going to turn this into a blog on all things Mormon, but I wanted to wrap up the topic with a few final thoughts.

I'm just one of 13 million LDS people in 160 countries. Obviously we are a varied lot. The church teaches that members should let faith, study and reason work together, then pray for a personal conversion, so I am recording my own beliefs based on my experiences.

We have many aspects to our religion that are fascinating to study and discuss, but not all of these are considered to be doctrine. Not every statement made by one of our church leaders, past or present, necessarily constitutes doctrine. Isolated statements are often taken out of context, leaving their original meaning distorted. Some doctrines are more important than others and might be considered core doctrines. A frequent mistake is taking an obscure teaching that is peripheral to the Church's purpose (like where was the Garden of Eden,) and placing it at the very center.

The fundamental principle of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is that Jesus Christ is the son of God, born of Mary, that He taught us how to live, that He died for our sins, and was resurrected. That's what I believe.

And thus it was written....AMEN!

I'm A Mormon

That's a nickname for members of The Church of Jesus Christ, of Latter-day Saints. Although this matters greatly to me, I've never thought it really mattered to you. I'm just a combination of my own experiences, study, upbringing, and faith, the same as everybody is, and if you like me I'm thrilled, and if you don't, you don't. (Actually, it hurts my feelings if people don't like me, but I try to be mature about it.)

Anyway, with the whole Mitt Romney thing going on and my love of politics, I find myself watching newscasters and reading columnists defining me in totally inaccurate ways. I get defensive and sometimes yell at the TV and wonder about the media's sources. So, I decided to define myself. I'm not speaking for the LDS Church, or Mormons everywhere or anything. It says in Matthew that "ye shall know them by their fruits" and I'm as fruity as anyone, so I'll tell you (in a nutshell) what I believe.

First, let me say we believe that people have the right to worship "according to the dictates of their own conscience...let them worship how, when or what they may." That's one of our Articles of Faith. I believe it wholeheartedly, so I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything or change any one's mind. (I know we're famous for zealous missionary work, but people can get a little over enthusiastic about sharing, in my opinion.)

Here's where I'm coming from: I've gone to church my whole life, at least once a week and twice on Sunday. I've been taught by parents and leaders who believe our doctrine. Our church has a lay clergy, which means nobody went to theology school and nobody gets paid. We all serve as teachers, music leaders, and administrators of children's and teenage programs, Sunday School, the men's and women's organizations and everything that goes with those responsibilities. We're all taught to study the Bible, the Book of Mormon, and other good books at church and as families, which gave me a great foundation for learning on my own. I played the piano in Sunday School when I was 12, and started teaching 3-year-olds when I was 16, and I've served in the church, and attended church all the time since then. I think my 58 years of experience gives me the right to say what Mormons believe.

1. We believe in a literal God. I pray to Him, I know he knows me and hears my prayers because I've had answers.
   
2. We believe in Jesus Christ. I have studied his teachings in the New Testament, and I try to live the way he taught, and serve and love others as he demonstrated. That makes me a follower, or a disciple. In Acts 11:26, disciples were called Christians. We are Christians. I get SO angry and frustrated when the media says we're not...(very un-Christian-like, I know.)
3. We believe in the Holy Ghost. We believe that God, Jesus and the Holy Ghost are separate beings. The Holy Ghost is a spirit that testifies of Christ, teaches us personally, prompts us to do the right thing, reminds us not to do the wrong thing, warns us and comforts us. Jesus called him "the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost," in John 14:26. He reveals truth to us individually. We refer to it as personal revelation, which is a feeling, or a knowledge in our hearts and minds of what we ought to do in a given situation. I've experienced that as answers to my prayers, and at other times. It's very quiet, but sure. Other people might call it intuition, deja vu, or a premonition.
   
4. We believe that God wants us to be happy. That is why he has given us commandments. The commandments are not a bunch of arbitrary rules. They are to protect us from unhappiness, and lead us in a direction that will bring us joy and peace.
   It's like a parent telling a child that under no circumstance should he climb on the railing. It's a commandment. The kid might think it looks fun, and besides, other kids do it and nothing happens to them. The parent knows that the child could experience pain, and suffering. When the child is more experienced, he will realize that the rule was for his protection, not to limit his freedom, or make him a dork.
5. We believe that we are children of God and he loves us. I grew up with a father who loved me, and wanted to protect me and give me opportunities, so I can understand God as a loving Heavenly Father. Others who grew up with very strict, or cruel fathers might imagine God with that personality. As I have read His words, I have come to know Him (like we get to know other authors) and as I have prayed sincerely to Him, I have felt His presence and His love. That's how I know it. Not because others have told me, but because I've experienced it myself. God is good.
6. "We believe that the family is ordained of God, that marriage between one man and one woman is central to His plan. We believe that children are entitled to birth between the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity. Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ." (from The Family Proclamation)
7. We believe in forgiveness and repentance. That assumes that we aren't all following all the principles and practices we have been taught. It's REALLY ANNOYING to have my church judged by all the imperfect people who are members!!! Don't Catholics or Presbyterians ever sin??? Just because we're a bunch of hypocrites like everyone else, why do we get all the news coverage? (Forgive me.)
8. We believe in eternal life. That means we lived before we were born and that we live after we die. If this wasn't a principle in my faith, I would have made it up for myself. I can't fathom believing anything else.
9. We believe that nobody is going to hell just because they didn't hear about Jesus in this life, or because they died before they were baptized. Everybody gets a chance. Life may not be fair, but eternity is.
10. We believe in searching out good things: good books, good ideas, good people. I know that God inspires people of all races, religions, backgrounds and political parties (I'll tell you that I am a Democrat, since I'm letting it all hang out) with impressions of how they can make the world better. "God is no respecter of persons." (Acts 10:34)
    

This was a pretty big nutshell...more a coconut shell. But these are a few of the things that define me. I'm a believer.

(I'll wrap this up on tomorrow's post.)

What defines you?

Rail Trail

Mountain biking may not be a big deal to many of you, but if you haven't been on a bike in 25 years it's HUGE. Dee is writing an article about a place that is inaccessible to motorized vehicles, and he'll do anything in the name of research.


Five miles on two wheels, one snowstorm and 120 photos later, he's sitting on the couch with swollen knees and a very proud grin on his face. Good going, dear!

Biking Coach: Dan; Photographer: Min; Support Vehicle: Oma

Have you made yourself proud recently? Come on, you can tell us...

The Mom Song Sung to William Tell Overture

...just in case you haven't seen this, you MUST see it!! (Thanks gab, LeeAnn and Karen.)

P.S. For uninitiated u-tubers, just click on the big arrow that's on her face and it will start.

Dream On

Illustration from Pamela Winterbourne Compilation

Some dreams will never come true. It is now time to set them aside, and move on with my life. I've accepted the fact that I'll never:

1. Sing on stage with the Dixie Chicks. (Picking a banjo during the finale of Cowboy.)
   
2. Sail on a sailboat with Robert Redford. (Picture the scene in The Way We Were.)
3. Backpack through Europe, sleep in haylofts, and bathe in streams.
4. Have Ed McMahon show up at my door with a million dollars.
5. Illustrate books with my drawings. (aka Mary Engelbreit.)

Do you have any to add?

Dee-Day

(Visit Dee's blog by clicking here.)

This is a War Baby, born 9 months (plus a few hours) after his WWII soldier dad returned to his waiting wife. A true Boomer. He's mine.

You could not meet a more interesting guy. That's a direct result of the fact that he's interested...in EVERYTHING. By the time I met Dee when he was 22 he was already an expert in European History, World Geography, the British Military, photography, German philosophy, politics and US current events. He collected coins and stamps, knew diverse things about music, Rommel, Hubert Humphrey and art. I was fascinated.

He'd worked in a pizza place, hoed sugar beets, stocked fabric bolts, and managed a pro-shop at a golf course, saving for college from the time he was 13. He'd lived in Germany, met Bobby Kennedy, been a boy scout, worked at Grand Canyon, skinny-dipped in the river, hunted pheasants, and made fires to roast grasshoppers for a picnic. He'd tracked trains, then put nails and coins on the tracks to watch them get flattened. He had a Tom Sawyer type childhood, a hard-working, studious youth, and was smarter than anyone I'd ever met.

After receiving a triple degree in German, European Studies and History from BYU, Dee had planned to go into foreign service, the CIA or the Intelligence field. But with the reality of a wife and two kids already, he found a job in real estate as a developer and builder. He built about 50 homes, a subdivision, some condos, office buildings and a business park and was involved in the politics of water rights, irrigation feuds, and building permits. He arbitrated, negotiated, and stagnated. It was time to move on.

After reinventing himself with a year at The King's Manor in York, England he received another degree in Architectural History and Preservation. Dee's first business venture after returning home was to sponsor a three-day, world-wide conference on retro-fitting historic buildings with hydraulic springs to prevent damage during an earthquake. The SL City and County Building was the first building to benefit from the new technology. The conference was well-attended by architects from all over the world who wanted to observe and learn first hand. Dee was the guy who humbly accepted all the credit.

Salt Lake City and County Building, World Wide Symposim

He began writing books on historic buildings, and architectural styles and features, which led to books about towns, individuals, businesses and families. He's now written over 70 books. (They are commissioned and privately published, so they're not often available in bookstores.) He becomes an expert on each new topic, spending months, even years, studying the various subjects.

It's fun to watch Dee immerse himself in a new interest. When he wrote a book about a Jewish Rabbi in Seattle, it led him to 1860's silver mines in Colorado and the beginnings of a rabbinical school in Cincinnati. The story of a San Francisco bridge building company took us to an ancestral winery in Germany, as well as a study of the construction of the Chunnel.

Early logging in Ontario's rivers, and the establishment of Quaker Meetings in Pennsylvania, pirates settling Newfoundland and ghost towns in Southern Utah have become a few areas of expertise for Dee. He loves to dig out the stories behind the stories and he becomes well acquainted with people long gone. He knows people's businesses and ancestors better than they do themselves, and he appreciates the hard work and sacrifice of unknown heroes. His research skills are superb. He can find everything that's been written about anything, consolidate and unify the information, add to it, and then condense it to a form that's factual and entertaining. He would find the history of dirt intriguing, and you would, too, when he wrote it down!

Dee has an incredible memory for dates and places involving anyone else, and when he gets going on a little historic recitation he's thorough to the point of...well, thoroughness. But it's almost impossible to get him to talk about his memories. He can't remember the details of his own history.

We got married 38 years ago, in September, and a few weeks later on his birthday I baked him a cake. He came home from school, saw it on the table and was overcome. "I've never had a birthday cake before," he told me emotionally. He hadn't??? Where was his mother??? What kind of deprived childhood had he come from??? I vowed to make it all up to him. I'd give him memorable celebrations that would overwhelm his past disappointments.

The next year, true to my promise, I baked him a triple decker. When he walked in, his eyes misted over and he whispered tremulously, "Oh, my gosh, Dear. I've never had a birthday cake before."

Like I said, he's an interesting guy. The best part is that he's interested in me!

Happy Birthday, Dear!

The Old Ballgame

It's October, so I'm ready for baseball. This is probably sacrilege for real fans. They've been watching since March and know the background of each team, who deserves the wild card, who has home-field advantage, all that stuff. They say things like, "It's a six-for-four playoff shootout, with the division rivals playing each other down the stretch." I say things like, "I'm going for the Yankees. Are they in it?"

Even though I love baseball, the season is just too long for me. I scan the sports pages and wait until it's been narrowed down to a few teams, then pick whoever appeals and give my 1/2 hearted attention to the last few Playoff games. Then I get serious about the World Series. I can hear about all the preliminary stats, injuries and steroid stories from the color guys in the press box during the games that count. I'll know all the details by the end of game one, and buy my sweatshirt with pride. My team is fighting for the trophy and I've become a fan.

The real series that piques my interest is happening over on the editorial page. The day after any election, the new season starts for me. I listen to the debates, follow the players, and read every op-ed piece that I can find. Sports blogs have nothing on political blogs, and I follow them all, weeding out the nut jobs, and gaining insight from the old coaches watching from the side lines. I take it personally when a support staffer quits the team; I worry about the mind games going on in the dugout, as new game plans are introduced. I know about Hillary's RBI's and Mitt's home runs, Obama's wild card entry and Fred Thompson's 7th inning rally. Brownback and Huckabee, Chris Dodd and Joe Biden are players whose positions I'm familiar with. I recognize a stance, a pitch and a base hit when I see it.

The Iowa and New Hampshire Caucuses are the spring-training games that get my heart racing. Healthcare, education, and the war in Iraq are the pitches I want to see hit out of the park.

For some, the political season is just too long. They lose interest in the games played months and months before the series really starts. I do understand. After all, when this series ends around Halloween, my teams have another whole year of tryouts, trades, new uniforms, and hot-box plays. But I love it! It gives me plenty of time to watch them in action, see who goes for the high fly ball, or misses the grounders. I will know which of my players has heart.

One baseball player said, "I just try to go out and do the best that I can and help this team win. If things fall right we have a chance to make the playoffs." That applies in both dug-outs. Both are participating in great old American contests. "I'll root, root, root for the home team...if they don't win it's a shame!" I will follow the games for what seems like forever to some, and start sizing up the new standings the very next day.

I may be a latecomer to the baseball season. But I'll support my new team with heart and soul. Someone else may be a latecomer to the political game. By then there will be the casualties of the season, and they'll be choosing from the players with the most endurance, who made the fewest errors on the field. Actually, with all my expertise, I'll end up picking from the same roster they do. Either way, it'll be fun to see who gets the MVP award.

Kid Wisdom

I've decided to have another baby. I mean, if I really want this blog to be entertaining I need a few little kids around full-time to give me good material. The mommy-bloggers have it made!

Here are a few nuggets from my recent Oma travels:

Hannah (6): Why is Chase getting baptized?

Mom: He wants to promise Heavenly Father that he'll obey the commandments, and H.F. promises that He'll always bless Chase.

Hannah: What does it mean to obey the commandments?

Mom: It means he'll try to be good.

Hannah: All the time? I'm just not ready for that.



We were playing that we were lost. Chelsea (2) was the big sister and I was the baby. Lucy was the bear. She roared and growled and we screamed and hid. Then the bear attacked and said to me, "I'm going to bite off your leg!"

I did a great imitation of a crying baby, and the sister comforted me, saying "It's all right. It won't even hurt. I have your pink bink in my pack-pack," and she stuck her pacifier in my mouth. (Remember that trick if you're ever being eaten by a bear.)


Lucy (4) looked at my feet and asked why I had little rocks stuck in them. I told her those were calluses. (I had just had a pedicure, too!) I said her feet were nice and soft because they were still new, and mine were getting pretty old. She suggested I go to the doctor and get some new ones. "He could just cut the hard ones off and put some soft ones on."

It's too bad that when I was a mom I didn't know how much fun I was having!

Did you lose some weight?

Because I found some on my thighs that can't possibly be mine!

I sometimes feel like I'm watching a merry-go-round go round, with the same things trotting past me again and again. One of them is called Diet. How many times have I seen that same old horse? I remember the protein diet that required just steak, then the carbohydrate diet which called for only salad. I lost and re-lost the same 40 pounds drinking hot lemonade, and eating three eggs for breakfast, and again for lunch and a chicken breast for dinner. These weren't fad diets I read in a magazine. They were highly regarded programs approved by doctors. I'm old enough to have seen a lot of scientists change their minds, and change them back again, especially about diet.

Facts have turned into fiction.

1. I gave a report in Home Ec about the food groups. In those days there were seven.
   
2. When my mom was having babies she started them on solids at one month. She stirred a raw egg yolk into the Gerber's cereal, and used all the left-over egg whites for Angel Food Cake.
   
3. My pediatrician recommended coating pacifiers in honey to coax a new-born baby to take it.
   
4. All children needed whole milk for the calories.
5. A nutritious meal required potatoes and gravy, meat, rolls, butter and two vegetables, plus a side salad and dessert. This is the way my grandmothers and mother cooked.

I was required to eat everything on my plate. I remember sitting for hours at the kitchen table staring at my cold liver and onions while my mom did the dishes. I couldn't leave the table once because I didn't eat my sardines!

Back in the day, there was no mention of childhood obesity. We all dumped our hot lunches in the garbage can, after eating just the rice pudding or brownie. Then we ran around the playground for an hour. There was no mention of homework either. If we finished our work at school, we didn't have extra assignments until Jr. High. I came home from school every day, had cookies and milk, and played outside until it was dark. There were a few kids who were chubby, but it wasn't talked about, or monitored. I can't ever remember an adult telling me I should exercise or watch my food intake. Grandmothers and aunts were famous for telling teenagers (boys and girls) that they were too skinny! Then they offered us a slice of cake, or pie.

So anyway, things have changed. It's interesting to notice what we focus on now. Parents, teachers, school districts and even government agencies worry about butter, fruit juice and cupcakes (check Jo's blog on this one!) yet most families go for weeks at a time without eating dinner together. Are kids getting direction, love, humor or affection along with a meal? Or just dishing themselves up something healthy, but eating it alone? Shouldn't the greatest efforts be to support this tradition which has proven to strengthen kids in resisting drugs, sex, and dropping out of school? Questions about the fat content in the yogurt at lunch might not lift the weight the student is experiencing that day. A strong family unit might.

There is talk of mandatory drug testing in elementary schools, but kids are taking (and selling) their own parent's prescription medicines. Is anybody home? Wouldn't it be more effective in keeping poisons from a child's system, to watch him at various times of the day, keep track unobtrusively of his money, moods, private meetings with unknown associates. If he expects a parent to be present, he is less likely to traffic or use drugs in his home, and more likely to eat the organic apple placed in the fruit basket while mom jokes with him and encourages him to play basketball in the driveway for an hour before dinner. If mom and dad drink, smoke or use drugs of some kind themselves, it's pretty hard to convince a smart teenager that he should cut down on fries and burgers. It becomes a "choose your poison" kind of lifestyle. Cupcakes for lunch and video games after school are not the only things weighing him down.

Homework takes afternoons away from kids, and there's little time or energy left over for playtime. With the dangers kids are exposed to now, playing with friends often must be arranged, instead of occurring spontaneously in the neighborhood. This takes time, casual background checks, communication with the child, and friendly, consistent supervision. Shouldn't the public focus be on education, and public safety, allowing good parenting skills to be practiced at home. There's a lot of healthy stuff a child needs in his diet that can't be purchased from a vending machine, even with a carefully stocked selection.

Sometimes I wish the carousel would just stop for a few minutes, and let everybody off. We need to catch our breath and figure out what's really wrong, before we jump on and try to fix a random problem. Maybe the problem isn't obesity, maybe it's lack of self esteem, lack of parental respect for the child, a need for parental involvement in more than diet. That opens a new path to solutions. Tennis with dad, mowing the lawn for the neighbor, shoveling the snow for grandma...there could be individual family solutions tailor made for unique situations that banning all cupcakes wouldn't touch.

There is extra weight on families, but not just the kind a diet can remedy. As parents and grandparents we should exercise wisdom about what our priorities ought to be, in raising emotionally, spiritually and physically healthy kids. We can plan for the healthiest way to include all these concerns in our basic food groups. Then we need to binge on common sense.

The Travelin' O's

We're off for a few days! (I'll be lost without you.)

Check me out on Monday.

The Devil You Know

York, England Signpost

Leonard Pitts of The Miami Herald wrote an article called Fifty years after Little Rock. It is the story of how the US Army had to escort nine American children to school, in order to protect them "from a mob of American adults screaming blood and murder at their attempt to attend an American school. Because the adults had pale skin and the children's skin was dark."

The article continued:

"From the vantage point of half a century, it seems an absurd drama. You shake your head at the fatuity of the adults in the old news footage, their mouths twisted, fists clenched, eyes alight, and you marvel that they were driven to such a fury, such a madness, by so innocuous an event. You wonder what in the world they could have been thinking....

"We always expect evil to look different, obvious. We are always anticipating the pointed ears and the pitchfork, the black stovepipe hat and the Snidely Whiplash mustache. The truth, however, is that evil is rather banal. You might pass it five times a day and never recognize it for what it is.

"The pale men and women who took to the streets of Little Rock, Ark., in 1957 would have been, in the overwhelming majority, Christian people. They paid their taxes. They helped the poor. They visited the sick. They held hands over hearts for the Pledge of Allegiance. They were decent folks, yet they had this evil belief that people with dark skin were of a savage, yet simultaneously childlike, lower order...

"If you had suggested to them that this was wrong, they would have looked at you askance, maybe even laughed, and wondered what was wrong with 'you.' Because they knew they were right, they knew it in their bones, knew it in their Bibles, knew it with certitude, knew it beyond all question...

"Five decades later there is...the self-deluding conceit of a generation that is pleased to think of itself as enlightened beyond history, pleased to look back on past events and tsk-tsk the behavior of the poor, benighted souls who lived through them."

In 1960 my parents put our house up for sale. An American couple, of Japanese descent, made an offer. Our very decent and religious neighborhood passed around a petition and presented it to my folks, with dozens of signatures protesting the sale of the house to this family of a different race. The same situation was happening all around our city at the time. The couple withdrew their offer and moved somewhere else. The familiar devil was making an appearance.

Prejudice because of race is old news, now. It's the devil we recognize. In his red suit and pointy ears, he's too obvious, and we're learning not to let him in, or at least we know to be quiet about it. However there are a lot of sneaky little devils running around without their pitchforks, wearing jeans and t-shirts, or suits and ties. They appear normal, and they advocate a more politically-correct kind of prejudice. Something on our level. As a result, our associations with people are much more polite, but just as judgmental. The certainty of "we're better than them" is still front and center on the evil agenda.

I don't have answers here. My conscience was pricked by the article and I recognized myself as part the generation who thinks we've learned the lessons that will prevent massive social revolt over prejudice in the future. I think it would do me some good to analyze my feelings towards people who are different than I am, forget the rumors and misconceptions, and find out for myself.

We all belong to groups: Ethnic, age, family, religion, gender, business, neighborhoods. Some are inherited, some are chosen, and some are both. Society comes to conclusions about those groups that aren't accurate, but we must brush off the criticism and move on with the praiseworthy.

In a very small way I have felt judged unfairly because of society's ignorance and prejudice against some of my own groups. It makes me want to stand on a mountain top and scream about how stupid people are and how unjustified it is. "I'm not an idiot!" I'd bellow idiotically. Then I realize that would only feed the perception. So I quietly go back to regular life and hope to set a decent example, and try to contribute something worthwhile.

Those sneaky little devils can get back together with the devil I know and go right back where they came from. I only hope I'm wise enough not to follow them! (I'm really prejudiced against prejudice.)

Once Upon a Time...

I had a story published today on the Elderstory Telling Blog. I love it when that happens!

Gold Rush

A Golden View, Park City

Autumn. The word itself gives me a rush. This week the canyon looked like a variegated carpet, woven to conceal the parched, brown hills. To make things even cooler, it has rained since Friday! We're just soaking it all in. I continually fall for fall.

Today was perfect. We arrived home from church at noon, opened the windows to let a crisp cross-breeze flutter our blinds, and got comfy. Dee snuggled under the duvet and fell asleep, and I read the newspaper to the sound of rain, and a few rumbles of thunder. Later we ran between the drops and crunched through damp leaves to devour a pot roast dinner, followed by Marta's homemade chocolate souffle. Right now I'm listening to cars splash through puddles and looking out at street lights reflected in the mist, while watching an occasional glimmer of lightning.

Mother Nature can be very generous (when she's being good natured.) Did you know that a fully mature oak tree sheds about seven hundred thousand leaves every year? I'm pretty mature. I wonder how many little bits of color I've spread around this year. Seventy? Seven hundred? Think of all the trees she dots along the fall foliage trails, and all the oo's and ahh's she inspires. At least seven hundred thousand.

I'm no Mother Nature, but my little crop has spread some bits of color around since last September. In harvest terms, I've had a good yield. (I can't count to 700,000, but I'm good for seven.)

1. Twin grand daughters were born healthy, full-term and beautiful.
2. Summer camp in the woods featured extra wildlife from CO.
   
3. The cross-country trekkers found a new home in MO.
   
4. Kindergarten anxieties ended brilliantly for both mothers and daughters.
   
5. Marriage has proven to be blissful for the newlyweds.
   
6. A certain Law and Order team are closer to the final verdict.
7. Biker-Dad's helmet saved the day.

It may have been just a trick of the autumn light, but today everything looked golden.

Insights From Off the Grid

I've been scampering around the blogosphere searching for meaning. I wanted to tour some new landscapes, and see what's going on outside my blog roll; you know, get out of my comfort zone, learn from the culture of the undiscovered blogs. In my explorations, I found five sites you might like, too.

1. Susan Flemming
2. Write Now is Good
3. Tea Party Girl
4. Pat Doyle
5. Rocks In My Dryer

These sites have great curb appeal, but I didn't have time for much more than a whistle stop visit today. I'll be back to hang out and get the lay of the land. I'm a little picky about my on-line liaisons. I have some random standards.

I like blogs that don't have too much advertising, that have a decent font size that I can see comfortably, that don't suddenly blast music at me, and that have a friendly attitude. I don't like lots of little dancing characters jumping around, or unexpected blinking words. It's jarring! I like shorter paragraphs so I don't lose interest by seeing large blocks of words. Long paragraphs, with no capitals and no periods, give me the frantic feeling of having no end in sight. A light colored font makes for difficult reading, and even if I like the content, it's too much effort to relax with. I don't go back.

My hobby has to feel fun. The time has to fly by unnoticed. When it feels like work, I'm reminded of the real work I need to get back to. The same is true if I can't figure out how to navigate the site, find the bio or the archive, or leave comments. If I have to join somthing to comment, I feel uninvited and a little dumb. I'll skip on down the road where it's easier to join in.

Being sent to a U-Tube link is fun, though, because then I'm prepared for the action. I love to laugh out loud at something silly while sitting at my desk, and know the rest of you are laughing as you post or read it. I feel like I'm part of the in crowd. Most important: I want the writer to say something. I love photos, images and links, but I want to be inside someone's mind and connect. I want to see some personality, some authenticity and sincerity. I want to like the writer on some level.

What attracts you to, or annoys you about different blogs? Do you have some favorite places to suggest I go? I'm packing a lunch, and I'll just be sitting here until you send me some directions. Visiting new parts of the 'sphere is kind of like going on a vacation! (Well, not quite...)

(If you're a lurker, this is your chance to invite me over!)

Dressing My Inner Princess

Trinny Woodall and Susannah Constantine

Stacy and Clinton, Trinny and Susannah: they've all taught me what not to wear. I'm a sucker for fashion shows. I've purged my closet, donated my mistakes, cleaned and mended my keeper pile, and purchased everything they've told me I should wear. And still, I have nothing to wear! Why? I've realized it's mostly because I don't go the right places. I'm a princess without a ball.

The list of Ten Must-Have Wardrobe Items assumes that I'm walking around NYC on a chilly, might-rain kind of day wearing my crisp white shirt, my black pencil skirt, a red cashmere v-neck sweater, suede high-heeled boots, and a tan trench coat. On my head sits a jaunty fedora, and my real alligator bag holds my chic workout clothes, a Burberry umbrella and a beaded camisole to change into for an evening out.

Here's what holds me back from this fabulous look. I'm having hot flashes under my itchy cashmere, which sweats off my Lancome foundation and smears the collar of my shriveled and damp shirt. The pencil skirt hikes up when I'm in the dentist's chair, the trench twists when I get back in the car at the gas station, and the suede boots look odd when I let the repairman in to fix the furnace. If it's raining my windshield wipers do the trick. The hat gets knocked off when I climb in my friend's Mini. The treadmill is downstairs, and I'd spill root beer on the cami. My lifestyle doesn't fit my style.

I own a classic LBD and a classy black suit. Which should I choose for the dance review at the middle school, where I could be feeding a baby a bottle? I'm only comfy in my casual jeans when I'm standing up; sitting in them for a road trip would cut off the circulation to my legs. And how can I kick off my boots and get them back on when I'm flying coach?

I want some advice on how to look polished for my pedicure, how to be jazzy at the piano recital, and how to appear groovy at the grocery store. These are the places I really go. It's fun to buy clothes for the wannabe life I imagine, but often I'm driving through the bank, the dry cleaners and the library book-return and I get home only to realize nobody even saw how dashing I was. Dee leaves while I'm still sporting a bed-head, and snoring into my pillow. Occasionally I'm back in my pj's by the time he gets home. Who cares if I'm a frump?

The problem is, I care! It's important to my self-esteem. When I look in the mirror I want to cheer myself up. So I'll keep looking for a fashion show that will meet my needs, and in the meantime take all the advice I can get from the real princesses in my life.

Princess Hannah