Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Is Cursive writing a dying art...

Image of a modern fountain pen writing in curs...Image via Wikipedia

    I heard a story on the news the other day and it got me thinking.  It was survey of incoming college freshmen this year.  It seems that the majority of them do not know how to write in cursive.  The folks that do college entry test say that 85% of the students tested now print their essays.
   Is cursive writing dying out?  Is it soon to go the way of the Dodo bird?  Something only seen in museums.

Dodo reconstruction (Raphus cucullatus) reflec...Image via Wikipedia

  I remember when I went to school learning how to write using a Big Chief tablet and a black jumbo pencil.  I could not wait to learn to write in cursive.
Why because all the grown ups wrote in cursive, and it was like a secret code.  If it was important like a letter or postcard it was in cursive writing.  These things had to be read to me.  How did I know there wasn't a secret the grown ups were keeping from me.  Kind of like when they would spell words they didn't want me to understand.  What kind of secrets would be revealed when I could read the code for myself?
   I concentrated so hard on learning those letters.  After all I was on a mission to learn the secrets of the adults.  When I could read and write in cursive I found out that apparently most of the adults didn't take the same class that I did.  Oh there were similarities in their cursive writing and what I learned but the adults each had their own way of writing.  It made it a little harder to read, but I made it out.
   What secrets did the writing reveal... nothing.  They would write letters about what we did, how much they missed each other and things like that.  But at least I could now read for myself what they wrote.  I no longer had to depend on others to read the letters from Grandma to me. 
   I later learned everyone develops their own way to write.  Your own personalty shaped your formation of the letters.  Your way of writing becomes so much a part of yourself, that it revealed more about you than you knew.  Reading and interpreting writing is what a handwriting analyst does everyday.  There are volumes written about it.
   But if cursive writing dies out who will read those volumes of information and what will become of our written history.  Most of the letters and documents that make up our past are written in cursive, The Deceleration of Independence,  The Constitution and most every important document from our forefathers.  Not to mention all the personal letters from people like Benjamin Franklin, Mark Twain and from your great grandfather to your great grandmother during the war.  Only a lucky few would still be able to read and enjoy these writings in their original form.
   Will future generations come back full circle to were we started when we were children?  Will they have to depend on others to read the code written down in the letters, and hope that nothing gets left out?  That in itself should be reason enough to continue to teach and learn cursive writing.
   But then I have always loved a mystery and wanted to see everything for myself.  Maybe, just maybe there is a hidden code in those letters.  Do you really want someone else to read and discover it before you do?

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Friday, August 27, 2010

Email to Mom...#Fridayflash

   Okay everyone I am biting my nails and suffering a panic attach but here it is the first time I am participating in a #fridayflash.  I wrote this a while back.  I just had to get the courage to show it to the great writers out there in blog land. Be kind, but please let me know how I did.  I can't get better if I don't know how.

Email to Mom -- #Fridayflash

Dear Momma,
   Sorry I have not written I have been busy in the garden. I'm sorry I did not get the flowers planted in your garden in time this year.  I did however get the vegetables in and they are doing great.  It wont be long till we will have to pull out the canning recipes.  I can't wait to try Great Aunt Jean's tomato recipe.  It sounds delicious.
  This is great.  I still have a hard time believing I'm talking with you.  To think my little brother helped make the programing that makes this happen.  He told me they are really close to perfecting the voice over internet too.  I can't wait till I can hear everyone's voice again.
  Oh yes, he said to tell Mr. Bell thank you for the suggestion.  It was just what they needed.  It allowed them to get over the plateau they had reached.  He also told me to tell you they already have some researchers working on sending images as well as voice.  Wouldn't that be great, then I could see you as we talk.
   Let Mr. Jefferson know I was able to get a hold of his family in Virginia.  They said their computer has been down but it should be fixed by the end of the week and they would contact him then.
    I have so missed you, but I know you are catching up with all the family and friends there.  Tell all my cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents I said hello.  I miss you all and can't wait to see you.  Don't worry I am going to do as you asked and stay here until I'm called. 
   Well I've got to go for now I'll talk to you soon
Love always,
Your daughter

PS:  We were able to find that old fashion yellow rose that you wanted.  We all went out this weekend and planted it at your grave.  Hope you like it.

©2010 Pamela Jo

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Under the Sea (Part 2)...

   After the little episode the first time in the pool, I did great.  No more problems in the water ....  Until we went to a 16 foot deep diving pool to practice swimming to our scuba gear and putting it on underwater.
   On this occasion my partner was a friend of mine, who had been a diver for quite a while.  He was helping the staff out in this training session and partnered with me.  The purpose of the exercise was to  swim down and put on your scuba gear underwater.  Also to exchange your scuba tank for a new tank underwater.  This could come in handy if you have to stay underwater to decompress from a deep dive.

    So into the pool the equipment goes.  Then in I go with my buddy.  I swim down grab the scuba regulator turn on the tank and breath.  Okay that part done, I now have air.  I place my arms into the BCD jacket with the scuba tank attached, swing it up and over and Wa La,  I'm done.  This is going to be a breeze.  Next up buddy breathing to the surface.  He takes a breath hands me the scuba regulator and I take a breath and so on.  Piece of cake.  Only thing now is taking off one pack and exchanging it for another one.  I'm batting a thousand here.  What could go wrong.
   My partner is what could go wrong.  I take off my tank and switch out regulators.  He helps me put my arms into the other tank and swings it up over my head.  Ah, I can't get it on.  My arms are twisted and the regulator is being pulled out of my mouth while the tank is pushing me down.  Okay, okay don't panic.  Your not alone here. Your buddy will see the problem and fix it ... But he doesn't.  He thinks its on right and I am the problem.
   I try to tell him its twisted. Which is really hard to signal when your arms are twisted above your head.  He insists its okay and keeps try to push it on.

  Meanwhile, I can't breathHe on the other hand has his tank on and is having no such problem.  I finally kick the crap out of him, ditch the tank and head for the surface.  He comes up fighting mad, insisting that I was in the wrong.  That the pack was on right and I just panicked.  Duh, not breathing can cause that you know.
   Then the head teacher came running up pulled me out of the pool.  Asking if I was okay.  He saw the whole thing and said I would have never been able to get that pack on as twisted as the straps where, and what took me so long getting to the surface.  I shot my partner a look that said, "HA ... I told you it wasn't me."  The teacher jumped in the pool and completed the exercise with me.  Piece of cake.  I passed.
   I completed the course and took my open water check out in Cozumel during Texas Dive Week.   And that my friends is another story.

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Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Under the Sea (Part 1).

    I have always wanted to scuba dive.  Once I saw “The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau” I was lost.  Ariel dreamed of being where the people are, I dreamed of being where the fish are.

from Wikimedia Commons

    I took swimming classes as a child, I didn't do very well in class.  But that didn't stop me I taught myself to swim ... underwater of course.
   It was so quite and peaceful under the water, unless my brothers were around and decided to ride my back to side of the pool.  Then it was still quite but the peace thing was gone.  I was too concerned with getting back to where the people are so I could breath.  Did I mention I am terrified of drowning.
   I tried snorkeling at the beach, but the waves kept sending water down the snorkel.  That would trigger that whole terrified of drowning thing again.
   So I knew I would have to wait until I could learn how to scuba dive.  That way you take the air with you so you can breath.  That would solve that terrified of drowning problem.  Yeah right...
   So after I was out on my own with my own money I signed up for scuba diving classes.  I listened to all the things that could go wrong and how to correct them.  I learned all about the scuba equipment.  I bought a real scuba mask, a real snorkel, and real fins.  Not those cheap things from the pool department at Walmart. I got a dive knife, dive log, compass and a dive bag to put it all in.
   I was so proud of these purchases that walked around the living room trying them out.  And I only tripped on the fins a couple of times.  I never really liked that vase anyway.  I was so excited about our classes first day in the pool in full gear, that I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve.
   The big day dawned bright and sunny.  We got to the store and went straight into the pool room.  Suited up in all the equipment and hopped into the pool.  Now I have to say at this point we were in the shallow end of the pool in about 4 feet of water.  We were to go underwater sit on the bottom and practice purging water from our masks.  Okay great, here we go.
   Down I went, and promptly forgot to breath through my mouth.  I am trying desperately to breath through my nose that is blocked by the mask.  Uh oh, my brain goes into panic mode ... can't breath, no air, going to die on the bottom of the pool.  Then my legs remember I am only in 4 feet of water and I am 5' 8”, and stand up.  I immediately jerk the mask off and come face to face with a classmate who is more terrified than I am.
   This is a good thing.  My teacher mood kicks in.
   I start talking to her and calming her down.  I remind her that we can breath underwater.  We have these freaking heavy tanks full of air on our backs.  I told her to practice breathing with me through the scuba regulator and then we would go down together.  It worked.
She kept her eyes glued to me and we completed that exercise and all the others for the day.  I was so concerned with her I forgot about myself. Jacques Cousteau  would have been proud.

Picture of Jacques-Yves Cousteau.Image via Wikipedia

   After that I had no problem.  Until my friend (???) tried to drown me toward the end of the course.
   But that my friends is another blog.

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Sunday, August 22, 2010

Help I don't know what to write about...

   What do write about when you can't think what to write about.  Do you just throw yourself into it and hope for the best.  Or do you give up and hope tomorrow will be better.
  What if its not?  Is this a test of the universe to see if you actually can write under pressure?  Are the blog gods laughing at us?  Showing us they are in control of our writing life, not us.
   Okay, Uncle...Help...SOS....PLEASE.  Give me an idea.  I check all the usual places. The newspapers, other blogs, wiki,  the comics...Hey don't laugh you can get some great ideas there.  Nothing.  Not one little thing comes to mind.
   Now I am getting desperate.  I love keeping this blog up.  It helps me to de-stress.  It is my happy place .... Until I can't think of something to write about.

   Et tu, blogger?  

   Why have you turned on me?  What did I do to you?  I am sorry.  I don't know what for, but I am truly sorry.  Please forgive me.

    Nothing.  I still have no idea what I am going to write about.  I will have a blank screen staring back at me, laughing.  AAGGHHH.

   Wait.  What is this?  There are words on here.  There is a blog post.  Wow, how did that happen?

   THANK YOU,  BLOG GODS.   I will never take you for granted again.

   Wait did I just hear someone laughing!!!!

c. 1640-1645Image via Wikipedia

                          Dante Alighieri, in Canto II of The Inferno:

                               O Muses, O high genius, aid me now!
                               O memory that engraved the things I saw,
                               Here shall your worth be manifest to all!
                               (Anthony Esolen translation, 2002)


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Thursday, August 19, 2010

My editor....Miss Foxy....

                     I would like you all to meet my Editor.  Miss Foxy. 

                            She is always watching everything I type.

   In the mornings, she gets out of bed and leads me to the computer and waits for me to sit down and get started.  If I take too long she will come and get me.
   She is a slave driver.  I am not allowed to leave the computer for long than 5 minutes or she starts yelling loudly for me to get back to work
   While helping me work on the blog on Dogs the other day, she feel asleep.  I published it before she okay-ed the pictures and the final copy.
   Believe me she was not happy when she looked on line and found out that not only did I not give her editorial credit, I did not include her picture.  She is still giving me the cold shoulder.
    You have never really been snubbed until you have been snubbed by a dog.  They follow you around and sit right in front of your feet with their back turned to remind you just how wrong you are.  I was tired of tripping over her, so I gave in.
   To make up for that faux pas I had to promise her her own blog with pictures.  Hopefully I will be forgiven soon.

                  She takes her job seriously.... She even edits my dreams.

Edited by Miss Foxy....okay, am I forgiven yet!!!!

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Dogs are NOT people... their better than that...

   I am a dog person... no I am a animal person.  We just have dogs right now,  because our dogs are not cat friendly.  All of the dogs we have had we found or I should say they found us.
   I have only had three purebred dogs that I know of in my life.  None of which I paid for from a breeder.   The first was a poodle named Coco that my family got from an Aunt and Uncle who were moving and couldn't take him with them.  The second one was a white shepherd named Polo that I got when I got my first home.  The couple who owned his mom and dad where not going to bred them when ... surprise, they were a little too late getting the male fixed.  And now we have Foxy a Pomeranian.   I first saw her from my office running along a feeder street of a busy freeway.  When I left the building she was trying her best to get past the security guard and into the building.  She was scared and wouldn't go to anyone.  I had just bought some dog food so I got a small bowl and put it down for her.  She ate it then sat on my foot and refused to leave me.  She followed me to my car and jumped in before I could say anything.  So even though we already had 5 dogs, Foxy moved onto the farm.  You give her 5 minutes and she will have any man wrapped around her little paw.  I have seen her do it over and over again.  The little hussy.
   I have lived with numerous dogs through out my life.  I can tell you one thing for sure, purebred or mutt every dog I have meet is more honest, loyal and loving than most people.  They worry about us when we don't feel good.  They are always there to greet us when we get home.  The love us even when we don't seem to deserve it, like the times we get mad over something and blame them.  They protect us from harm without thought to themselves, even when we don't want them too.  They know better than we do just ask them.  And yes they can communicate if you learn to listen and read them.
   Some people just don't get it.  They will tell you dogs can't dream.  So have they ever even seen a dog sleeping.  I guess the wagging tale, running feet, muffled barks and whines are gas right.  They say dogs can't smile.  Wrong, I have seen my dogs and others change expressions when someone they like enters the room.  They say dogs don't have feeling like we do, okay maybe on this one they are right a dog's feelings go deeper.  You will never feel more loved, excepted and protected like you will with a dog.
   Then there are the people who will tell you a dog is dangerous.  A dog will fight when cornered, yes.  But then all living things will do that, even some plants.  I have yet to see a whole breed of dog no matter what, that is all bad.  Every generation has their so called mean breads.  You know the ones that will turn on their owners.  First I heard it was German Shepherds, then Doberman Pinschers, then Chow Chows, then Rottweilers, and now its Pit Bulls.  Yes, there are some bad dogs, I'm not na├»ve.  But most of them are made that way by being mistreated, or in breed for aggressiveness.  In other words made that way by people, not nature.  The in breeding part does the same thing with people, look at the history of some of this worlds royal and high society families.
   So next time you come across one of those people, you know the ones who look down their noses and inform you that a dog is an animal not a person.  Look them straight in the eye and tell them your right they would never lower themselves to be a person.  They are better than that.

This is our boy Chance...We miss you...

A dog or cat is the only time you can ever really buy love.  Check out your local pet adoption agency or pound and find your own special little lover.
Don't know where to look click here.

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Monday, August 16, 2010

Could you hold please...Do I really have a choice ...

   Have you ever got one of these calls.  The phone rings you answerer it only to here a mechanical voice say,  “Please stay on the line for an important phone call.  We will be with you shortly.”
   Companies are now calling you up to put you on hold.  It is bad enough when you call them and you get “Thank you for calling.  Please hold.”  If your lucky you just heard an actual human voice tell you that.  It is probably the last human voice you will hear for quite awhile.  Unless you are calling to buy something, then they answer real quick.
   When you are on hold you listen to muzak or a recorded infomercial  for the company.  Then they tease you by taking you off hold only to hear the mechanical voice tell you “Your call is very important to us.  Please continue to hold.” and back on hold you go.  If my call was that important to them they would not have put me on hold in the first place.
   Then there are the ones that threaten you.  They have you on hold take you off long enough to say, “Please continue to hold.  If you hang up you will lose your place.  ALL calls are handled in the order they are received.”  You feel like a kid who is caught misbehaving by the teacher and is sent to the end of the line.
   But I guess that is better than calling someone only to hear this, “All lines are currently busy.  Please hang up and try your call later.”   Click.  Why say please hang up when they are going to hang up on you.  Maybe it so they have the excuses we said please.   This type of call doesn't even hold out a prayer of ever being answered.  You didn't win the lottery.  Better luck next time.  See ya.
   The more important your call is the ruder the hold response is.  These are usually utility companies or government agencies.  They know they have you over a barrel.  They know there is no one else you can call for your problem.  Can you say monopoly. 
   I get so mad with being put on hold.  My time is just as valuable as theirs is.  More so to me because it is mine.   They seem to enjoy stealing your time from you.  Now they don't even wait for you to call to steal it.  They call you. 
   Well in this case I am in charge not them.  You want to talk to me be there when I pick up.  Other wise I send you to back of the line and you will have to wait your turn. 
   All human calls are answered in the order the are received.  Computers calls are happily sent to the twilight zone of the disconnected.  Good luck getting  a hold of a human there.

Please Hold...

Maybe these companies need to make this mandatory reading.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Safe Drivers ???

  When family and friends get together you can learn so much about the people you thought you knew well.  All you have to do is listen...

   When our family gets together for weddings and such, you see people you haven't seen in years.  Everyone start reminiscing about the old days when they where younger.  I always like to listen in on the stories they share.  They get so wrapped up in the stories that they forget that your there and don't sensor them.

    At my sister's wedding a cousin and I sat in the living room with all the Uncles and Grandfather's and listened to the stories.   What did we find out?
    These men sitting in front of us ... the same ones who lecture us on our driving ...  Who tell us daily to be careful ....  And complained loudly that we drove too fast, when we drive 6 miles over the speed limit.  So what were they reminiscing about ... Drag Racing.


   These same men use to meet every week and hold drag racing events.  They talked about the cars and how they would spend every penny they had trying to build the perfect car.  They talked about the engines they rebuilt and blew up in the races.
   How nobody could ever beat my Granddad's blue Ford Fairlane with the big cop car engine in it. 

    My Uncle's tbird had come close until he souped up the engine so much it blew up during one of the races.

   The talked about the red sports car my Dad had that he loved to drive, until he spun out and wrecked it. They tried to recall exactly how many cars each of them had wrecked drag racing.
   These are the men that complained that we didn't know how to drive safely.  These are the men that  had made such a big deal out of hitting a shopping cart in the grocery store parking lot and scratching the bumper.  These men told us daily how we needed to be better drivers, and stay within the speed limits. 
   These are the safe drivers, who took it upon themselves to educate us on the way to drive.  And educate us they did.
   My cousin and I just sat there smiling, listening ...... and taking notes.

Monday, August 9, 2010

How to shave years off your life...answer the phone...

  Have you ever got that phone call.  You know the one you get when the other person starts out by saying “First off, I want you to know you don't have to worry everything is going to be okay, but....” 
   MAYDAY....MAYDAY... Emergency ahead.  You don't worry ... you go straight into panic mode.  Your brain immediately starts flashing every picture of every possible accident you have ever seen or heard about. 
   All you want is information... how bad is it...where are you... how fast can I get there.
   The person on the other end is trying not to panic you so they are talking very slowly.
   Ahhh, you just want to reach through the phone and strangle them.
   This has happened to all of us at one time or the other.  I have been on both sides of that call, as I am sure everyone has been.  Here are just two of the calls my mother has gotten.

  My mother got a call early in the morning once like this:
   ' Ah, Mrs. H.  I want you to know everything is going to be all right.  The emergency room clerk just needs to get your health insurance information for A.'
   ' WHAT....What happened?'
    'He is going to be fine the Doctor said he could stitch the muscles and tendons back together.    And there shouldn't be any permanent damage to his hand.'
   'WHAT HAPPENED?  WHERE are you?'
   ' We are at the hospital.  But I'm sure they will let him go home as soon as he comes out of surgery. We just needed to get his medical information for the forms.'
   'WHAT hospital?  YOU STAY RIGHT THERE.  We are leaving now and will be there in 3 hours.'

   Turns out a glass broke and cut the back of my brother's hand.  The surgery was to clean and stitch the wound and make sure their was no damage to the nerves.  By trying not to panic us it sent our imaginations and heart rates into overdrive.
   Then there was the time my sister,  her 1year old son and 2 ½ year old daughter and myself where on the way home from a family funeral late at night.  We both had to work the next day so we didn't spend the night.
   Halfway home my transmission suddenly goes out.  I coast to the side of a very dark highway, get out and lift the hood to signal trouble.  This was before cell phones. Yes, back when dinosaurs ruled the earth and George Washington was president.
   Any way while I was opening the hood, I see  headlights come over the hill, slow down and pull behind the car.

   When I the door of the car opened I saw it was a Highway Patrol car and the officer had stopped to check on us.  He asked is there was anything he could do to help.
   I started to breath again, caught my racing heart and put it back in my chest where it belonged, and told him yes.  He told us the nearest town was 40 miles up the road and called a tow truck for us.
   He wanted to know if there was anyone we would like him to get a hold of to pick us up.
   I gave him my Grandmother's phone number, so he could get a hold of our parents to come get us.  He called it in on his radio.  Then he waited with us until the tow truck got there. 
   We where sitting in a truck stop restaurant  when our Mom and Dad stormed in and said 'Don't you ever do that to us again.'
   What did we do?  I didn't mean for the car to break down.  Why were they mad at us?
   After they calmed down I learned why they were so upset with us.  It seems that when the Highway Patrol called they spoke to my Grandmother and my mom and dad only heard one side of the conversation.

  What they heard was something like this:
   “Hello ... Yes this is Alice ...  Who did you say you where? ... Texas Highway Patrol....Yes, I have a granddaughter named Pamela .... Yes she is on her way back to Houston now... What happened? ... Where are they? .... Yes their parents are here with me now.... Okay, I'll get them for you.... Hold on.”

   I have since been on the receiving end of those calls a few times now and know the sheer panic you feel.  I can now appreciate exactly what my bothers, my sister and I put my parent through.  Calls like these will defiantly shave years off your life.
  Then again you still don't want to panic the person on the other end....
'Ah, There's no need to panic, but...'

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Let me call you sweetheart....

   I have a horrible memory for names.  I remember faces but the names escape me.  No, it's not because I am getting older...More experienced.  I have always had this problem. 
   Why do you think I call everyone darling.  After all I'm not a Gabor sister.

Eva Gabor

                                   Oops, I just dated myself didn't I.

   This can get real embarrassing, like when you are trying to introduce someone.  I have done it so often that now it is expected of me.  I just brush it off with something like, okay I would like to introduce you  but you know I am horrible with names so just introduce yourselves.   Hey it worked for Dory in
Finding Nemo.
   When I taught dance, I had a little trick I did.  I would set the student's chart on a table by the floor and then dance them over to it to read the name.  I just pretended to see what step I needed to teach them next.  I knew that chart forward and backwards, literally.  I thought I was pretty slick until one Valentine's Day .....
   All my students got together and gave me a card.  It had Donald and Daisy Duck on it, and said ...Let me call you sweetheart.....Because I can't remember your name.
   I laughed and said... BUSTED.    They knew about it all the time.   Hey, I always said I got the smart people.
   Sometimes it helps to have accomplices.  If one of us couldn't remember a name, another one would go up to the person and introduce ourselves.  When we had the name we would walk by the other and tell them the name in passing.  Then they could go up to the person and pretend they knew the name the whole time.  That one worked like a charm.
   So if you forget names like I do, don't get upset about it.  Use one of the above tricks or make up a new one.  You could even try telling the truth ... I remember your face but I'm sorry your name escapes me. 
   Well, I hope I helped you out a little, Darling.

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Monday, August 2, 2010

I'm not a stalker, I just got too big for my shell...

   I have been contacted through facebook by some of my fellow graduates from  high school.  I graduated with a lot of people.  Some of the ones I graduated with recommended other graduates, and so on and so on.
   Now I have a number of people on my friends list that I barely remember and who have no idea who I am.  Only one of them actually asked who are you.  You see I'm not the same person I was back then.  Back then I hid inside my own little shell.
   In high school I was not one of the cool kids.  I was too shy.  I am the one who sat at the back of the class and hid out.  I would turn bright red when I talked in front of more than 2 people... I'm not kidding I did.  I was in a drill team called the Shufflers.  We sat in the stands and preformed routines by flipping cards to form words and pictures.  But even then I was the quite one.  I didn't have a car and I walked to and from school.  So I didn't go hang out with the other students.  But I did have great legs...
    So what changed.  I learned not to take everything so seriously.  I didn't like talking in front of people so I took a speech class.  I had to talk then. 
   Then life took over and helped trained me.  I learned to joke around and not show my embarrassment.  When you blush easily you become an easy target.  So I had plenty of practice handling this one.  Like the time I turned 18 while working at an amusement park in my hometown.  The security guards that knew me got on the loud speaker and announced to all the employees “Hey Guys.  She's legal.”  You either laugh or die.....I'm still here.
   Then I took ballroom dance lessons because I was going with a polka band to Octoberfest in Germany.  I couldn't dance...period.  I got hooked on dancing.
   When I couldn't afford to pay for lessons any more I started teaching.  I spent a lot of time in the arms of strangers.  They were at my mercy and I was the boss.  That helped.  I took over the dance classes and taught 3 or 4 couples in the back room.  That quickly became 15-25 couples in the large ballroom.  I complained about the size because I was still a little bit shy with so many people.  I was told they picked you we didn't do it.  Wow... what a boost to my ego.   It taught me to be loud too. I had to be heard over the music and the feet on the floor.
   The embarrassment part, when your a dancer at competitions you've got sometimes 2 to 3 minutes to change costumes you don't have time for embarrassment.  I have stripped out of one outfit and into another in bathrooms, in hallways and once in the corner of the ballroom with two of my students holding up a sheet.  I have changed in a car while on the way to a dance competition, no I wasn't driving.  But the truck next to us did do a sudden lane change as I recall.  Hey I ya gota do what ya gota do.  There was no way I was going to be the one everyone had to wait on.   I never missed a mark.
   I have danced in front of tens of thousands of people at the Astrodome and on live TV for the Texas Sesquicentennial.  I think I got the blushing in front of people part handled.  The hardest part of that was learning how to pronounce Sesquicentennial.  
   I was an RMT (registered massage therapist), who specialized in pain management.  I have worked on athletes, CEO s, musicians, men, women and children.  Out of survival I have learned to handle awkward situations, and extract myself from them.  Yeah, Al G. you better not mess with me.
   The dancers, musicians and very dear friends that know me wouldn't have recognized me in High School.  So you see, even if you remember me from High School... you still don't know who I am.  I am a person in a constant state of change, as we all are.

My old High School...ahh, Memories....or nightmares.

I would like to thank Micheal for be brave enough to ask who I was and in turn giving me the idea for this blog.
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