The Weather Report

This re-post from 12/10 is dedicated to my beloved nephew Jeremy, because I miss him.

Jeremy and Auntie Robyn, Summer 2010

We work hard to shield kids from all things bad. In the process, though, we rob them of opportunities to learn to cope with adversity.

I wish I'd been taught that life's unfair, instead of being hit by pain time and again, completely ill-prepared.

I wish I'd been given an umbrella, one that I could use in the sun or rain.

I wish I'd been raised like my nephew, Jeremy.

On the first morning of my visit, Jeremy entered the guest room to announce, with arms outstretched in explanatory fashion, "It's a sunny day! It's a sunny day!"

"You're right, sweetie." I colluded with his denial, as rain continued pounding on the window panes. "It's a sunny day, Jeremy."

"Yeah," he sighed, plopping down beside me on the air mattress. "Rain is too scary." He shook his head from side to side. "It's dark. I don't like it."

"It is scary," I confirmed, wrapping my arm around him. "But today is a sunny day for us."

With that, Jeremy popped up and began jumping wildly on the mattress like a yo-yo on crack. "I'm a rock star! I'm a rock star!" He shouted. "Oh yeah! I'm a rock star!"

Mind you, the kid's growing up in L.A. where everyone and their i-Pod is a rock star. In fact, all inanimate objects suffer from some degree of rock stardom. Soda cans are labeled "rock star," chewing gum, gaudy sunglasses, and glittery T-shirts. You name it - all rockstars. None is quite like my Jeremy, though.

So when I called him to say "Happy Hanukah" last night, Jeremy told me that he got a Toy Story mm-brella for Hanukah.

"You got a Toy Story umbrella? That's very special," I assured.

"Yep. I used it today. 'Cuz it's raining," he said with excitement.

With his umbrella, Jeremy now welcomes the rain.

I hung up longing for the childhood in which I was given an umbrella, one that I could use in the sun or rain. I'm glad Jeremy has one.

Dogs' Day Afternoon: Sundays in My City

UnknownMami hosts a scenic world tour on Sundays. Enjoy great photographs from around the world by visiting here.

Our theme today is the canine. These sweet doggies were at the Butte Humane Society in Chico, CA when I visited last month. There were lots of folks there wanting to adopt, so I'm hopeful the dogs have been -or will soon be- moved to loving homes. (I was just dropping by and taking advantage of photo opps, not looking to adopt. I was tempted, though, and bet you are too. Am I right?) 

 

 

Thank you for coming by. They also appreciated your visit.
Happy Sunday and new week!

Insecure Writer's Group with Dr. Phil!

Because writers might on occasion grapple with insecurities, Alex J. Cavanaugh founded an Insecure Writer’s Support Group for bloggers. We’re posting monthly, exposing our insecurities and/or offering support. Please check out Alex’s link to visit others’ posts. It’s a huge group of exceptional writers, authors and fun folks. Some are all three.  

Several of you have remarked that I don’t seem insecure. Thank you. That feedback helped me to realize there’s a huge difference between me and my writer’s voice. It’s a gap so great that only an expert could help us find common ground.  So I asked Dr. Phil to facilitate an intervention. He agreed; he likes a challenge. Please enjoy today’s show.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RWV (Robyn’s Writer’s Voice): Welcome, Dr. Phil. Thanks for making the trip.

Dr. Phil: Sure thing. Now what seems to be the problem? I said, what seems to be the problem?

RWV (Pointing at a corner of the room): The problem? Look at her Dr. Phil! Robyn cowers in the corner. A stone-cold look of fear across her face, she slowly nibbles dark chocolate covered edamame. I do all the work. I’m the assertive, articulate, (winking and thumbing her neckline to expose a teaser of cleavage) sexy, edgy woman. She’s the wimpy, people-pleasing, shlumpy klutz.  (Nudging Dr. Phil) It ain’t hard to figure out why she’s still single. Huh? I express all her emotions for her too, while she sits there getting fat munching ho-hos.

Robyn: It’s edamame, you dumb –

Dr. Phil (interrupting): Come closer to us and let’s talk, Robyn.

Robyn (meekly): W, w, why?

Dr. Phil: Because you can’t change what you don’t acknowledge. I said, you cannot change what you don’t acknowledge.

Robyn moves shyly to the middle of the stage, plopping down an arm’s distance from Dr. Phil and her Writer’s Voice.

Dr. Phil: That’s better. Now, what is it you’re so scared of?

Robyn: I, well, it’s, I don’t know. I’m shy. I don’t think I have, uh, anything important to say so I get quiet when I to start to (whispering) express myself in real life. I leave it all to her.  

Dr. Phil: Tell ya what. I’ve hired the experts of The Insecure People Attached to Secure Writers’ Voices Foundation for a 26-day intensive in Fortworth, Texas. These folks are the best of the best. But it’s not gonna be easy. You’re gonna have to work real hard to come to a meeting of the minds. Now are you willing to do this? I said, are you willing to do this work?

RWV: That depends, will there be any single men there who aren’t idiots, freaks or weirdoes?

Robyn to RWV: Shh, I can’t believe you said that. to Dr. Phil: Uh, will there be chocolate?

Dr. Phil: Okay, listen; I’ve hired the best of the best. I can’t promise men or chocolate, but there’s a private jet waiting just outside the stage doors to take you there.

RWV: A pilot? I bet he’s cute! She skips off fingering her mile-high frequent flyer club card.

Robyn strolls behind, nervously, clinging to her container of edamame.

Dr. Phil: We’ll follow up with these two some other time. Ya’all have a great evening!

Dr. Phil walks up to his wife, Robin, and escorts her off-stage. There, he starts to unbutton her blouse, but she stops him when she notices the camera’s still rolling.

-Commercial break-