Priorities

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When AGMA’s brilliant and witty progeny were growing up, they had very little contact with both sets of grandparents.

Not such a bad thing considering my in-laws and my dad were crazy.  Sort of.  My step-mother was wonderful, but she kinda had be in the line with what my dad wanted.

One set of grands lived in Arizona. Then New York. Then Kentucky. Then Tennessee. Then North Carolina.  Then back to Arizona.  True Amurkin’ gypsies.

AGMA could understand the infrequent visits from Arizona and New York.  But North Carolina and Tennessee were within a pretty easy day’s drive from Cincinnati, where we lived.  And Kentucky was right next door.

But still, their visits were few and far between.  Again, not such a bad thing for a myriad of reasons, but I know the kids would have liked to have seen them more often.

But they were busy doing other stuff.  They didn’t have the time.

My dad and step-mother always lived close – within a 4 hour drive.  But they rarely visited.  We always had to bring the kids to them.

But they were busy doing other stuff.  My dad said that they just didn’t have the time.

I thought it was odd at the time.  I mean, they seemed to always find the time to go other places. But never to see their grandchildren.

Now that AGMA’s a Nana herself, it’s beyond comprehension to me.

But it was all about priorities.

I understood on some level that building a relationship with their grandchildren was not very important to them.  Or at least not as important as other things in their lives.  Not important enough to spend the $$, time and energy on.

And that’s actually a great way to define priorities.

Where you spend the most of your time, $$ and energy?

AGMA is struggling with my priorities right now.  Time, $$ and energy is too damned limited these days!

High on my list are the MAGITW (most adorable grandchildren in the world).  Hubs and I travel to Chicago frequently; lately it’s been once every 4 to 6 weeks.  AGMA’s in Nana heaven.

Another biggie is travel.  After taking some big trips overseas when AGMA was a young woman, my travel bug had to go underground for most of my adult life until we had the time and the means again.  That didn’t happen until about 2010.

Ya’ll know I love me my travel adventures!

Running is another priority.  More than just the physical aspect and the health benefits, it enriches my life emotionally and spiritually.  Plus AGMA can eat and drink a lot more yummy stuff when she’s training and it doesn’t immediately plant itself on my midsection and thighs.

Maintaining extended family relationships is another priority.  It takes time and energy and in some cases $$ to do that.  I’ve been very intentional at building relationships with my nieces as adults, their spouses and their kids over the last 12 years.  And it’s worked!  My great niece and nephews pretty much adore their crazy great aunt AGMA.  And my nieces are more like girlfriends.

But since AGMA grand babies have made their appearances, my visits to said nieces & families have been scaled back.

Priorities…

And maintaining relationships with friends.  That’s important too.  “Friendships are like gardens – they need to be tended or they get overgrown with the weeds of neglect.”  That’s not an AGMA original – I think I read it somewhere…

But it’s true.

AGMA’s new role as an activist is important too.  There is SO MUCH to be done on the local, state and Federal level.  There are phone calls to be made, postcards to write, $$ to donate, social media posts begging to be read and re-posted.

#MAGA

Oh, and I’m still working part-time as a therapeutic massage therapist so obviously my clients are a priority.  They have to be if AGMA wants to keep earning the big bucks (sputter, laugh, choke!)

And AGMA, my blog.  That’s a priority for me.  Most of the time.  I try to set aside the time each week to blog, but it doesn’t always work with my travel and work schedule.

Which brings me to the origin of this post…

Frustration.  It’s been weeks since I’ve made reading your wonderful WordPress posts a priority.  And I hate that.  I tried catching up today with some of you but the volume was so overwhelming that I quit.  Ya’ll are great writers and I hate that I can’t read everything you write, but…

I only have so much WordPress time today.  And I need to respond to comments and write a post.

Priorities…

I know I waste time.   AGMA’s at that point in her life where my candle burns down pretty fast as the day goes by, and by the time evening comes, I’m spent.  So I just fiddly fart around and don’t get anything of substance done after about 7 PM.

Priorities…

There’s a glimmer of hope though.

I’ve rousted my bottom out of bed earlier than normal the past two mornings to do Centering Prayer.  AGMA used to do this on a daily basis and it was important to me.  But it got pushed out by running and travel and work and family and ___________(fill in the blank).  It hasn’t been a priority for me of a while.  And I’ve missed it.  I’ve missed the insight it gives me about myself and the world.  I’ve missed the peace and calm that washes over me when I spend some time with the great I AM, the Lover of my soul.

I can’t figure out how to make everything “fit” into my life, but I think I might be on the right track again.

Two days and counting…

 

 

 

 

 

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A tale of many cities

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“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.”                               Charles Dickens: A Tale of Two Cities (1859)

It’s been a long time since AGMA’s read the CliffsNotes on this great book. I’m pretty sure that I never actually read it from cover to cover.

I saw the movie though…

But holy crap on a cracker, this quote totally describes so many people I know in the USA.

Including AGMA.

On one hand, life is very good. It took 60+ years, but I’m finally comfortable in my own skin. I’ve dispelled (for the most part) the shadows of the past that held me hostage for so many years. It’s really wonderfully liberating.

AGMA’s become a Ms. Sassy Pants.

I’ve taken up marathon running. I’ve discovered a passion for men’s elite cycling (young men in spandex!). I have a blog I adore writing and a family in my WordPress friends. And I got a tattoo this year. That I still LOVE by the way.

My relationship with my older son and DIL has completely transformed into something I only dreamed of a few years ago. I’m welcomed into their home with open arms and lots of love. They have given me two adorable grandchildren to spoil.

And spoil them AGMA does indeed!  Which is what I was doing last week when I should have been posting to AGMA.  Oops…

Hubs is retired. We have a comfortable income from his pension and my part-time massage therapy work. And some modest savings.  So I can travel. Something AGMA has been wanting to do since her early 20’s.  Egypt, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, and all over Europe multiple times. For me it’s been a dream come true.

However, I just found out that we are actually at the poverty level based on the GOP’s definition of the middle class in the new tax bill. Evidently to be middle class, you need to earn $450,000 per year.

Who knew?

#MAGA

Great segue to the worst of times…

Our traitorous illegitimate president. His pack of corrupt henchmen and Stepford women. The spineless, heartless, bottom dwellers of the GOP. The morons in charge of education, our natural resources, consumer protection, financial regulation, commerce, housing, veterans affairs, public health, social programs, immigration.

Lobbyists basically in charge of public policy.

A nuclear game of cat and mouse between narcissistic megalomaniacs.

The repeated assaults on and the attempted destruction of the tenants of our Constitution. The attacks on the judiciary. The demonization on the free press. The egregious, illegal exploitation of public office for personal gain.

The fear and hate mongering. Condoned attacks on women, minorities, non-Christians, LGBTQ’s, the disabled.

The extreme profanity of the “Christian” alt-right.

Treason and rigged elections. Gerrymandering. Voter suppression. Poll taxes.

Our precious children at Sandy Hook and Columbine. Virginia Tech. Charleston. San Bernardino. Orlando. Charlottesville. Las Vegas, New York City. Denver. Sutherland Springs.

Our precious children…

Chuck was right; it is the best of times and the worst of times.

AGMA’s challenge, as I think is every other person who loves what American used to stand for, is to not retreat into my personal best of times out of fatigue or sense of helplessness or a desire to block it it all out. Although I know plenty of people who have done just that. They have just tuned out what’s happening to the US because it’s not all unicorns and rainbows. Or it makes them feel bad or sad or ruins their feng shui.

Ah…I think that’s what happened in Germany in the 1930‘s.

Just sayin’…

As AGMA loves to tell via social media our Trump-arse-kissing, spineless, gutless, in-the-pocket-of-the-lobbyists, dishonorable Georgia senator David Perdue, “History has its eye on you and will judge you accordingly.”

Truthfully, history has its eyes on all of us. And will judge us on how we used our best of times to heal our worst of times.

AGMA knows this seems overwhelmingly daunting. But I also know that the actions of one person can make a difference.

We all can’t be a Mother Theresa (especially AGMA!), but we can pick up the phone and call our legislators. On the federal, state and local level. Often. And let them know what we think about the worst of times and how we want them to make it better.

And we can support, either financially and/or with our time, local political candidates who would unite and heal rather than divide and wound.

The same thing with organizations that support civil rights, voting rights, LGBT rights, a clean environment, sensible gun laws, our Constitution, immigrant rights, our veterans, etc…

You get the idea.

Honestly, AGMA would really like to cocoon and withdraw from all of this worst of times stuff. I mean, my life is going great. I’m living large. Finally. Why should I worry about all that other “unpleasantness”?

Two reasons…

An almost 3 year old boy who loves trucks of every kind, wants to be a “worker guy” when he grows up, and loves inventing make-believe stories he can act out with his Nan when she visits.

And a just turned 1 year old young lady who loves to climb on things she’s not supposed to (that’a girl!), babbles incessantly and gives her Nan the best heart melting snuggles that Nan ever had.

They and millions of other precious children of all colors and religious backgrounds and cultures deserve a better future.

History does indeed have its eyes on us.

I wonder how we’ll do?

To sleep, perchance to dream

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AGMA dreaming of sleeping through the night

“Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care,                                                                         The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,                                                                      Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,                                                                 Chief nourisher in life’s feast.”

-William Shakespeare, Macbeth

So it sounds like Bill knew how to get a good night’s sleep.

No surprise… No Monday Night Football or TV series to binge watch on Netflix. No glowing blue screens to reduce the production of his melatonin. No “mine is bigger than yours” dare and double dare between two narcissistic, megalomaniac bullies that threatens to wipe out humanity.

How about you? How you sleepin’ at night?

Once upon a time, AGMA slept like tRump at the G20. Like a log.

From my childhood through my 20’s, I was a 8 hour a night sleeper. Sometimes 9.

But of course, that was PC.

Pre-children…

Sleep patterns start going downhill when you’re pregnant.

The first thing to go was the tummy sleeping. As a child and young adult, AGMA was a tummy sleeper. However, this is difficult if you have a little human in your abdomen. They tend to take issue with being squished. Plus, you reach the point where tummy sleeping is like balancing your body on a volleyball.

I became a fitful side sleeper.

Then there were the wee hours (pun intended) trips to the bathroom. That little human needs more room as he grows. And the space formerly occupied by your bladder seems the perfect place for him to practice his downward dog.

Bladder volume decreases significantly. Bathroom visits increase exponentially.

Finally, there is the last month of pregnancy where no sleeping position is comfortable no matter how many pillows you try to stuff around the “hanging out” places

Then the baby comes and all hell breaks loose. Sleeping at night is replaced with naps that come in 2 to 4 hour intervals 24/7. The distinction between day and night is a blur. AGMA looked like an extra on The Walking Dead.

We had our second son when our first was 18 months old. This was a brilliant (if unintended) plan. We front loaded all of the baby induced sleep deprivation into a 3 year time frame.

AGMA was so exhausted one night that I didn’t hear my older son (who was 2 at the time) coughing and wheezing in the middle of the night. I didn’t hear Hubs get up. Nor did I hear the garage door open and close when Hubs took son to the emergency room. Nor did I hear them return from the emergency room. I found out about it all the next morning.

Oops…

By the time the kids are old enough to sleep solidly through the night, your sleep cycle is so mangled that you wake up in the middle of the night for no reason.

This lasts until they become teenagers and start going out on the weekends with friends. Now you can’t sleep because you have to stay up to wait for them to come home. This was pre-cell phone tracking. We used to have to depend on them finding a landline to get in touch with us if they were going to be late.

Which they never could seem to find.

So when they finally leave home (assuming they ever do leave home) for college or to live on their own, you are sad. Really. But you think that you will be able to finally get a good night’s sleep.

Nope.

What time is it kids?

“It’s time for perimenopause and menopause!”

Now AGMA’s waking up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. Or at a minimum, kicking off all of the covers to try to cool down. Then waking up an hour later to put the covers back on because I’m cold. Over and over. And over.

This went on for 6 years until the plumbing finally turned off.

TMI?

But at this point, sleeping though the night now was being thwarted by modern technology. WTF?

Those damned blue light screens… On your TV, laptop, phone and tablet. Google “how blue light affects sleep”. We do a number on our brain when we stare at those things in the evening.

It interrupts our Circadian rhythm. Not a good thing.

And as long as we’re talking about interruptions, Hubs doesn’t help AGMA’s sleep issues.

I’m an early to bed, early to rise type of gal. He’s a late to bed, late to rise kinda guy. So every night at 1:30 AM, AGMA’s roused by his bathroom ritual. And him feeding the cats.

But AGMA being AGMA, and needing her beauty sleep to keep me from being a raging bitch, has found some solutions.

Friends and family are truly thankful.

I take some natural sleep aids (Holy Basil and Tryptophan) that are non-habit forming and pretty effective. On rare occasions, I take a big pharma sleep aid if I have a long run the next day or am on an international flight, and really need to get a good night’s sleep.

AGMA bought an eye mask and ear plugs. Presto! Hubs doesn’t wake me up anymore when he comes to bed. I’m like Sgt Schultz… I hear nothing. I see nothing. I just hope our smoke alarm doesn’t go off in the middle of the night.

I started running. On run days, I sleep soooo much better at night.

AGMA needs to get better about the blue light stuff. My phone and my tablet both have those blue light filters that you can put on the the evening, but I don’t use them enough.

I still get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, but because of my running or natural sleep aids, I go right back to sleep when I get back in bed. Most nights.

And then tRump became president.

AGMA’s still trying to figure out how to get around the nightmares that one’s causing.

Is it 2020 yet?

No blinking

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Tresors de Champagne : la Boutique.  This was a lovely tasting room in Reims featuring local producers.

OMG…

Isn’t she done yammering about her trip to France??

Yeah – I can hear you out there… And no, I’m not done.

One more post.  And it may not be what you expect.

AGMA loved every town/chateau/winery we visited on our trip, but I was REALLY looking forward to our next to the last stop.

Reims. Champagne central. Bubbles, bubbles and more bubbles.

AGMA’s promised land!

I’ve been wanted to visit the champagne region ever since I found out there was such a thing as champagne. Probably even before. I’m pretty sure my mom drank champagne when she was pregnant with me.  Or Schlitz.

Hey – it was the 50’s and they did stuff like that back then.

The champagne region did not disappoint.  It was as fan-tabulous as AGMA had hoped. Glasses of the mystical, mahvelous, bubbly elixer were as inexpensive as a regular ol’ glass of wine and were sold EVERYWHERE! A bottle of non-vintage champagne – good champagne from small local producers – was between 15 to 25 Euros.  On our one full day there, I had 8 – count ‘em – 8 glasses.  Yeah – that’s right.

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Be still my beating heart!

AGMA was home!

The champagne vineyards were beautiful – there was a tinge of fall on the grape vines.  And the Reims Cathedral was spectacular. Of the “Big 3” medieval cathedrals in France (Notre Dame, Chartres and Reims), Reims wins the prize. It was a marvel.

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The spectacular Reims Cathedral built between 1211 and 1345

Yet despite the beauty of the area and the wonderful, delectable, delicious champagne, our enjoyment was tempered with sadness.

We booked an AirB&B studio apartment in Reims only a few blocks from the Catherdral. When you book an entire flat, you rarely meet the owner. They usually have a lockbox that gives guests access to the keys. I messaged our host about a week before we were supposed to arrive to get the skinny on the check in process. And from the AirB&B reviews, I also knew that Patrick, our host, owned his own champagne house – the PERFECT host right? – and wanted to know if we could visit his cellars and do a “tasting”.

Patrick sent me a lovely message with incredibly detailed instructions regarding access to the flat. He said that he was going to be traveling during our visit and regretted not being able to meet us especially since his wife “knows Georgia and loves it so much.” However, we were more than welcome to email his staff to set up a time to visit and taste.

Delightful!

Then on Wednesday, two days before our visit to Reims, I received a message from Patrick’s wife.

It was short and stunning.

She said, “Hello I’m Patrick’s wife. Just to tell you that you can’t come to the cellar this weekend. I’ve lost my husband on Monday so there will be no tasting or anything else. But no problem with the flat.”

I stared at my phone in disbelief. She couldn’t mean what I think she means…

She did.

Patrick died on Monday, three days after sending me that lovely message.

According to some articles I found on the Internet, he was working of a piece of agricultural equipment used in his vineyard when something went terribly wrong. A bucket dropped, hit him in the head and killed him.

He was 55 years old.

When Patrick awakened that Monday morning, I’m sure his whole week was planned.  His whole year was probably planned.  He was a successful champagne producer and had some business to take care of, but first on his list that Monday was working on some of the grape harvesting machinery.  Clearly, he wasn’t above getting his hands dirty with the day to day operations of his business.

He was a leader in the champagne producing community being the past president (at a very young age) of one of their important producer associations. His champagne house was a family affair and he was mentoring his son into the business.

He bought the flat in Reims to try out this AirB&B thing and it was doing pretty well.  It had good reviews and was rented for the weekend to a couple from Georgia. But he wasn’t going to be able to meet them because he was going out of town with his wife.

In the blink of an eye, that all changed.

His business cards were in the flat along with an order form for champagne from his champagne house, Le Brun-Servenay in Avize. I felt sad every time I looked at them.

I never met Patrick. I only messaged back and forth with him via AirB&B. But though that and reading about him on the Internet via Chrome’s translation function, it seemed like he was an lovely, gifted man, devoted to his profession and family. Somebody I’d like to hang out with and have of glass of his champagne with. Maybe a couple glasses.

Definitely.

So AGMA has decided.  I’ll be going back to Reims and the champagne region in the not too distant future.

And I’ll be traveling down to Avize in the “Cote Des Blancs” to visit the Le Brun-Servenay Champagne House for a tasting. And will probably buy a bottle or two. Or three.

I’ll raise a glass to Patrick, who reminds me to live and love fully in the present moment, and to never take even one minute of living and breathing for granted.

Live big. Live large. Drink champagne. Often.

Because it can all change in the blink of an eye.

Patrick

Patrick Le Brun in his vineyards

Salamanders and sips

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In Chateau d’Amboise

AGMA’s so on top of things.

I’ve been back from my trip over 2 weeks and I’m just now getting around to writing about the last week and a half of our adventure.

Top notch travel blogger here.

Our last 10 days in France can be summed up as a festival of the nectar of Vitis vinifera.

And Francis I.

AGMA can’t say I’d ever heard of Francis I (1494-1547) before last month, but if you go into any of the grand chateaus in the Loire Valley, you’ll see his salamanders everywhere.

Yeah. Salamanders. With little crowns.

WTF??

Francis I was the first king of France with absolute power, and ruled from 1515 to 1547. And everybody knows every king with absolute power needs a symbol he can slather all over his castles just in case people don’t know they belong to him.

Evidently back in the day, folks thought salamanders were magical creatures able to live in and use fire for their own purposes. They were a symbol of power, mystery and purity. I guess Francis liked that ‘cause all the chateaus we visited were dripping with salamanders.

With little crowns.

Not having Instagram or Twitter back then – they were sooooo lucky – Francis I had to travel around France with his entourage giving folks some face time so everybody knew that he was THE king.

It’s good to be the king.

He seemed to have spent an inordinate amount of time in the Loire Valley. But of course it was the Beverly Hills 90210 of the time. It was the epicenter of chic where all of the beautiful and powerful people in France hung out.

Paris was so 1400’s…

We visited 7 chateau’s in the Loire – Chenonceau, Gaillard, Amboise, du Close Luce, d’Azay-le-Rideau, Blois, and the grand Chambord. Easy for me to say. They were all either built by Francis or “borrowed” by Francis.

Like I said, it’s good to be the king.

Good Lord, AGMA can’t clean our townhouse. Chambord alone would have done me in…

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Honey, can you grab the vacuum cleaner and a mop?

Aside from the yugely biggly chateaus, there was wine in the Loire. Lots of wine. While not as famous as Bordeaux and Burgundy, the Loire Valley produces some lovely, affordable wines. Both red and white.

We visited Vouvray twice for “tastings”.

“Tastings” is code for “they give you enough wine to get you well on your way.”

That’s what I’m takin’ about!  A “tasting” in Burgundy.

We stayed at an AirB&B in Amboise during our visit to the Loire Valley. Our host was the fabulous Christine who spoke wonderful English. Here is the link to our room. Everything in Amboise was walkable from her home and she served a uber-yummy breakfast in the morning with home-made crepes and preserves. It was a great value for the money.

We got very, very serious about wine after we left the Loire. We spent 3 days in Burgundy and then 2 days in the Champagne region.

More tastings! AGMA loved me my “tastings”!

Burgundy was really interesting if you are a oenophilia. Yeah, I said it. Oenophilia.

It was fascinating learning about all of the wine “rules” there. And there are a lot of rules. Which is why wines from this area are $$. Actually, they are $$$. And some are even $$$$.

Hubs is a pretty steady guy and doesn’t get excited by much. But you should have seen him when we drove through the unassuming looking Vosne-Romanee vineyards. He was as excited as tRump with a bag of Cheetos in a spray tan booth watching Fox and Friends.

The vineyards looked like the vineyards we saw around Saint Emilion and the Medoc and in other areas of Burgundy.

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Evidently they’re not.

The 6 Grand Cru vineyards in this area only total a mere 67 acres. But most of the bottles of wine produced from these vineyards are all pre-sold starting at $1000 and up. Depending on the location of the vineyard, the year, the producer and the harvest “rules”, prices can go up into the 10’s of thousands.

In case you’re wondering, AGMA did not bring a bottle of this particular wine home.

Burgundy was actually kind of a pricey area. For us, it was real pricey. Hubs somehow lost his wallet (the jury is still out on how it happened…) He was panicked. Naturally.

But of course AGMA had my wits about me. I went to the TI (Tourist Information Office) across the street from the last place he had it, and we were in luck.

Sort of.

Yes, they had his wallet. Yes, it had all his credit cards and ID and other cards in it.

No, there wasn’t any money in it. To the tune of about $300.

Ouch.

Having learned my lesson last summer in stealth purse protection when my purse got stolen in Barcelona (it was recovered in tact from the hapless lady thieves), I would say Hubs learned his lesson in stealth wallet protection. An expensive lesson.

Ouch.

In Burgundy, we stayed in Beaune which was brilliant. Our hotel, the Brit Hotel Au Grand Saint Jean, was a great value (for the area) in a fabulous location. Easy walking distance to all of Beaune and some fabulous restaurants.

After Burgundy, we drove north. Our next stop was Reims.

Finally, AGMA was headed to the promise land…

OMG – CHAMPAGNE!!

But this post is getting too long and I have a lot to say about our last 4 days in France, sooooo…..

Meet me here next week.

Same time, same place.

 

 

 

Teens Dream: It’s Not Just for Teens

I’ve just been so heartsick about Las Vegas and Puerto Rico and the demented Orange Menace… But this post by Life in the Boomer Lane totally lifted me up. Not only because the organization sounds amazing, but also that she is engaging with them herself, using her skills, passions, and talents, to promote Teens Dream. Bravo LBL!!

Life in the Boomer Lane

The Las Vegas massacre is simply the latest onslaught to send us reeling. It seems that every day we have to face some kind of terrorism, random gun violence, war, famine, or natural disaster resulting from a climate that is reacting to our abuse of the planet.  And, on the days when we don’t have to face any of these, our own president steps in to fill the gap, armed with an astonishing array of words and actions that offend our sensibilities to a degree we never thought possible.

As boomers, we’ve seen the demise of all of the lofty goals we marched for all those years ago. It doesn’t seem possible that the boundless optimism and energy we expended then could have devolved into the mess we have today.

It would be easy to write it all off as the end of the world, except for one thing. There…

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Love is love part deux

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So AGMA’s in France now. Oh la la…

I’m sure the wine and food and scenery are wonderful, but since I’m writing this before I go, I can’t swear to it. Pretty sure it is though.

As I wrote last week, I’m really going to try to write at least one post, maybe two, while I’m gone. One actually seems doable. I’ll never be a travel blogger…

AGMA isn’t one for beating a dead horse, but since I need some stuff to post this week, we’re returning to a familiar theme.

My WordPress SPAM folder.

Hmmm…Spam…I’m hungry…wonder if I can find any Spam in France?

Pig innards maybe.  Probably not Spam though. Which I think is made from pig innards…

My first post on blog spam, Love is Love, was actually the 7th top liked post of AGMA ever. I’m not too proud to play off of that modest success.

Especially when I get such AWESOME spam!

So without further ado, love – extreme love – from Emmett sent on 8/22/17 on my post No Close-Ups… (take a deep breath)

“I was very pleased to discover this page. I need to to thank you for ones time for this particularly fantastic read!! I definitely loved every little bit of it and i also have you book-marked to check out new information in your website. Can I simply say what a relief to uncover somebody that truly understands what they are talking about on the net. You actually realize how to bring a problem to light and make it important. More and more people should look at this and understand this side of the story. I was surprised you’re not more popular because you surely have the gift. Good write-up. I absolutely appreciate this site. Keep it up! It’s hard to find well-informed people on this subject, but you sound like you know what you’re talking about! Thanks You should be a part of a contest for one of the most useful sites on the web. I’m going to recommend this site! A motivating discussion is definitely worth comment. I believe that you ought to write more about this topic, it might not be a taboo subject but typically people don’t speak about these issues. To the next! All the best!! Hello! I simply would like to offer you a huge thumbs up for your excellent information you have right here on this post. I am returning to your web site for more soon. When I initially commented I appear to have clicked the -Notify me when new comments are added- checkbox and now every time a comment is added I receive four emails with the same comment. Is there a means you can remove me from that service? Kudos! The next time I read a blog, Hopefully it does not fail me just as much as this particular one. After all, Yes, it was my choice to read, nonetheless I genuinely believed you would probably have something helpful to talk about. Oh my goodness! Awesome article dude! Many thanks, However I am having issues with your RSS. I don’t understand why I cannot subscribe to it. Is there anyone else having similar RSS issues? Anyone that knows the solution can you kindly respond? Thanx!! An outstanding share! I have just forwarded this onto a colleague who had been doing a little research on this. And he in fact ordered me dinner because I stumbled upon it for him… lol. So allow me to reword this…. Thanks for the meal!! But yeah, thanx for spending some time to discuss this issue here on your site. After exploring a number of the blog posts on your website, I seriously like your way of writing a blog. I added it to my bookmark webpage list and will be checking back in the near future. Please visit my website as well and let me know your opinion. This website truly has all of the info I wanted about this subject and didn’t know who to ask. There’s certainly a lot to know about this subject. I really like all of the points you’ve made. You made some good points there. I checked on the net for more info about the issue and found most people will go along with your views on this site. Nice post. I learn something new and challenging on blogs I stumbleupon every day. It will always be exciting to read through content from other writers and use something from their web sites. I blog often and I seriously thank you for your content. This great article has really peaked my interest. I’m going to book mark your website and keep checking for new details about once per week. I opted in for your RSS feed as well. Pretty! This was an extremely wonderful post. Many thanks for providing these details.”

Exhale.

AGMA had 3 other posts in my SPAM folder that were every bit as long as this one. Two were almost identical to the one above.

Great minds right?

The third was indecipherable but I think it had a political spin to it.

Here’s a small excerpt – it was really long – of Gene’s comment from 8/29/2017 on Ciao Bella Italia Part Due

“many pastime “Grandmas intended for Bernie” switches, Laud the guy because of the length of his eye-sight, and moreover seem message to refuse the chance to put Clinton to a traditional way to the blue accommodate, playing that particular you will have another shot down the line.”

???

John Lennon was right, “All you need is love!” (dat da da da da…)

I run my marathon in 2 days.

Pray for me.

Hic…

Eclipsing small minds and hands

trump_eclipse__steve_greenberg

picture by Steven Greenberg 2017

Sorry ‘bout last week.

AGMA really does try to post every week. But sometimes life gets in the way or I do a really sucky job at time management. Most of the time it’s the latter.

You’re probably sick of hearing about it, but how many saw the total eclipse last Monday?

Let me put it another way… Those of you in the US who didn’t get the opportunity to see the total eclipse are probably sick of hearing about it.

Those of us who experienced it can’t stop talking about it.

When it comes time for AGMA to say goodbye to this early life, I’m pretty sure that this eclipse will be on my top ten list of life events. It’ll probably be right above the tRump impeachment…

I started out feeling ambivalent about it. Eclipse, smeclipse – what’s the big deal?

In Atlanta, we were going to have a 98% eclipse. 98% is good enough right? Get the glasses, step outside at 2:30 or so, ooooh and ahhhh, and that’s it.

Surely it wasn’t worth 2% more to fight the “soul crushing” (as one article I read put it) traffic to and from the path of totality in Tennessee or South Carolina.

But some little voice inside of AGMA told me that I needed to have my soul crushed in traffic. Hubs was always on board with 100%. I gave in.

But where to go? So many people I know booked hotels in North Georgia or South Carolina months in advance. Not really a great idea if you have the luxury to travel to multiple areas of totality in 3 to 4 hours. The “experts” advised to wait until the day of to decide based on weather reports.

Luckily, in Atlanta, we could travel to a plethora of totality areas easily within 3 to 4 hours. If we left early enough in the morning that is….

So Monday morning we check the weather in Toccoa, GA, Greenville, SC, and Athens, TN. Athens won out with clear skies forecast for the day.

We left at 6:30 AM and three hours later, we were parked in a lovely shady spot in Athens Regional Park to watch the eclipse with 10,000 close friends.

We whiled away the 3.5 hours until the start of the eclipse in our little part of the park visiting with the lovely people around us. There were a few Indian families, an Aisian family, a Hispanic family, several African American families and lots of pasty, pale folks like Hubs and AGMA. And they came from all over – Ohio, Florida, Georgia, DC. And Tennessee. And nobody mentioned politics once.

We had a great time!

The excitement really started to build when somebody announced the eclipse was starting in Oregon. OMG OMG OMG! People were buzzing.

At 1:03 PM, we all threw on our glasses and looked up. And waited. And waited.

Eclipses are slow to develop.

Over the next nearly hour and a half, we watched as the moon slowly swallowed the sun.

It was very hot that day – 93 degrees – and even hotter in the sun. AGMA got all gross and sweaty when I was in the sun watching the early stages of the eclipse. TMI? Luckily we had plenty of shade to step back into when the heat got too intense.

But at some point in the eclipse, I stepped out into the sun and it wasn’t hot. Huh? The air felt as cool as the air in the shade. Freaky… At some point, the automatic lights on the highway went on. The daylight looked strange.

As AGMA watched the last sliver of the sun get gobbled up, cheers started.. Lots of whooping and hollering. We all took off our glasses to total darkness around us. The night critters started singing their night songs.

And I looked up to the most spectacular heavenly sight I’ve ever seen. There are no words that AGMA can use to describe the power and beauty of a total eclipse. But I felt like I was standing in liminal space and was being showered by ancient stardust from the beginning of time.

There was gasping and cheering and laughing. Some folks were crying.

It was a solar orgasm.

It lasted for a magical 2 minutes and 35 seconds.

When when the first sliver of the sun appeared again, there was a YUGE cheer.

I wanted a cigarette. I don’t smoke.

Getting home was more of a challenge than getting to Athens. It took an hour to get out of the park. And another 5 hours to get back to Atlanta on I-75. Not quite soul crushing, but pretty bad.

But it was totally, completely, without question worth it. AGMA’d do it again in a heart beat.

Everybody who traveled to this specific place on this specific day for this specific time experienced something very special together. For 2 minutes and 35 seconds, we were a unified in wonder and amazement. We were all equal in our place in the universe. We experience joy and happiness together.

After the hell of the Nazi/white supremacist hate in Charlottesville, this wonderful group experience of the total eclipse was heaven. Literally. And isn’t this how life should look in these good old United States? Everybody together in equality sharing a common experience of wonder and unity.

It totally eclipsed the small minds and hands that seek to tear us apart.

That’s why AGMA is (drum roll) starting a petition to have a TOTAL ECLIPSE EVERY WEEK!

We need an eclipse every week. Desperately.

I wonder who I would send it to? Neil deGrasse Tyson? Stephen Hawking? Bill Nye? Raj Koothrappali?

Surely one of those guys can arrange it.

If not, we’ll have to figure out this unity stuff some other way. Quickly. Please.

Only 7 years until the next total eclipse.

April 8, 2024. Meet me in Dallas.

I’ll bring the chips.

Transfiguration

16well_pear-blog480

OMG, OMG, OMG…

On Sunday, I read an article in the New York Times titled Researchers Track an Unlikely Culprit in Weight Gain that just might change AGMA’s life.

And the life of every apple shaped post-menopausal woman with wonky bones and a draggin’ booty.

I mean, this is BIG!

Researchers have discovered that the suppression of a single hormone in ovary-less female mice did amazing, wonderful, marvelous things.

From the article… “In mouse studies, blocking the hormone solves those problems, increasing the calories burned, reducing abdominal fat, slowing bone loss and even encouraging physical activity.”

A single hormone. Let that sink in ladies.

Can it really be that simple? Can we really transform from apples back to pears? And have stronger bones and more energy?

AGMA loves to imagine an alternate pear universe.

The offending hormone is F.S.H. – follicle stimulating hormone. In women, it stimulates the production of little eggies that can eventually turn into little humans. Given a little Barry White playing in the background…

AGMA’d think after enduring a lifetime of monthly cramps, bad moods, and having to deal with tampons, pads, gross leaks and ruined clothes, our bodies would be happy to be done with all that when our reproductive system start flipping the off switches.

Nah, baby nah. The retribution has just started.

Among a myriad of other things, menopause really pisses off the pituitary gland. It starts pumping out mass quantities of F.S.H.

And that’s when the trouble starts.

We wake up one morning and search in vain. What happened to our waist? It was just there yesterday.  WTF?

And we find it’s been replaced by a large blob of grossosity.

That never. goes. away. ever.

And, on the nights we manage to get a decent night’s sleep – which doesn’t happen very often because of some other body chemicals that go cattywhampus – our arse is still dragging the next day.

That never. goes. away. ever.

And a DEXA scan shows that some of our backbone, which has always been a symbol of our endurance, resilience and courage, is slowly leaking away. We’re given big pharma meds with potentially dangerous side effects, and warnings about brittle bones.

And, for all but the most determined individuals, the combination of these often work together to cause women to get very sedentary.   It get’s real easy to sit in on the couch, surf the ‘net, snack on whatever’s in the fridge or in the panty, and watch Antiques Roadshow reruns.  Which only exacerbates things.

Yikes – exacerbate – now there’s a word AGMA is sure would flummox 45 and the mental giants that surround him…

In the words of my grandson, “No fair!”

Hell, AGMA runs flippin’ marathons, and I still can’t get rid of the grossosity. Or replace lost bone. Or feel energized.

“No fair!”

But Dr. Mone Zaidi of the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai in New York City wants to change all that for us. He’s currently working on an anti-F.S.H. antibody to test on humans.

God bless Dr. Zaidi!

I wonder if he’s accepting test subjects in Georgia?

Pick me, pick me!

AGMA can’t imagine the implications if his research proves that suppressing F.S.H. in women will do all the wonderful things it does in mice. At the very least, he will instantly become a rock star-like celebrity and possibly could have his likeness added to Mt. Rushmore.

Dr. Zaidi for President 2020?

Women’s fashion will need to be totally resized.  Donations of large waist/hip pants to charity organizations will surge. Profits of the big pharma companies that make those questionable bone replacement drugs will dip. And Antiques Roadshow viewership will decrease dramatically.

And AGMA would be a glorious pear again.

Pick me, pick me!

P.S.  If you haven’t had a chance to read my reblog of Monday of my friend Dooke’s post please take a look at it.  I know it’s long, but it’s a beautiful story of a life quest realized.   And it might bring a tear to your eye like it did to crusty ol’ AGMA!

Explaining a Special Place – Col du Galibier

This is one of the most beautiful, moving pieces I’ve ever read on WordPress. True, my beloved Tour de France figures in the story in a large part, but it’s so much deeper than that, and it touched my heart. I hope you enjoy readiing this as much as I did! Dookes definitely has a way with words…

Hogrider Dookes

In a post last week I talked about Col du Galibier in the high French Alps and how it is a place that is very special to me.

Then regular commenter on my posts, AGMA, posed the question;

“Why is it special?”

I started to write a reply for AGMA, then paused and thought that probably it would be a good idea to explain “why” to a broader audience.

We have to rewind the clock back about 50 years…

Young Dookes was exploring the darkest parts of his father’s workshop/garage. At the very back, almost hidden from view and next to the engine of an old BSA motorbike, young Dookes found a man’s bicycle. In the eyes of Young Dookes, this was a prize of great beauty for not only did it have racing style drop handlebars, but there on the rear wheel was a set of derailleur gears…

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