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Kamala:  ( comma la)  ( , la) Should I put a comma here? Yes!   Shakespeare asked “What’s in a name?”. Donald Trump thinks he has an answer with one of his many creative stupid ways to show his disrespect for someone. Coining nicknames and mispronouncing the names of his opponents is one of his attempts to dominate, it’s a power move to give others a nasty nickname. He  actually weaponizes a person’s name against them.  Kamala Harris has told us many times how to pronounce her name. Trump has said “ People think I mispronounce it on purpose, but actually I’ve heard it said about seven different ways. There are a lot of ways.…I said, ‘don’t worry about it’. It doesn’t matter what I say. I couldn’t care less if I mispronounce it or not. I couldn’t care less.” That’s obvious! He’s not alone,  (R.)Nancy Mace has taken some heat for repeatedly mispronouncing Kamala. Her “adult” response, “I will say Kamala’s name any way that I want to!”  I am particularly offended by their name games, it strikes a nerve and just plain pisses me off.  

It turns out there’s a lot in a name. I’m at Starbucks and listening to names being called out to let people know their order is ready. I hear“ Danita” and it’s coffee time! When we introduce ourselves it’s the first piece of information we share. We Midwest folk joke, “Call me anything, but don’t call me late for supper.”, but we don’t really mean it’s ok to call me “anything”.  Making an effort to remember and correctly pronounce someone’s name helps them feel seen and valued. If I’ve told someone my name, and pronounced it for them a couple of times, and they still get it wrong they don’t really care! 

My friend, Missey, seldom uses her legal first name,“Mary”, unless it’s for official documents and business. She is not a “Mary”, she is a “ Missey”. I think people kind of grow into or out of their names. Lots of people are known by their first names only, or by a name they have chosen; i.e. Cher, Prince, Pink, Picasso. Some very popular songs are named after women; i.e. Billie Jean, Jolene, Roxanne , Betty Davis Eyes….  I’ve never met “ A Boy Named Sue”, but I know “ I’m Henry the Eighth. I Am”, “Hey Jude” and “ Bad, Bad Leroy Brown”. I’ve always been amused by the very colorful nicknames for Mafia members; i.e. Dapper Don, Ice Pick Willie, Scarface…. I think I’d want my Mafia name to be Big Toad. (There’s a story, but I’m not going there now.) We want our pets to come when they are called, and they don’t care if their name is “Scuttlebutt”. I have had nicknames for all my pets, and some I’m embarrassed to share, but my animals are never offended. 

What do we do about Trump’s  name calling and denigration of Kamala’s name?  Turn the other cheek or punch him? Guess which one I prefer?!  Or even better we could not vote for him. I’m sure Trump does not understand why the Vietnam War Memorial is so moving. It displays the names of all the soldiers who died in Vietnam. It’s pretty hard to dismiss all those soldiers, who Trump has referred to as “ suckers and losers”, when you see the thousands of names on the wall. The reading of the names is the very least we can do. I nominate Donald Trump to read aloud all of the names slowly and correctly while standing in front of the memorial. 

I’ve always loved the song “ I am…I said “by Neil Diamond. 

I am…I said

To no one there

And no one heard at all, not even the chair

“I am”… I cried

“I am”… said I

And I am lost, and I can’t even say why

“I am”… I said 

“I am”… I cried

“I am”… I said

So the next time someone asks you what your name is—say it proudly and give it it’s due. “ I am…I said”   I am DANITA.

Philosophy can be an exercise in “Oh the Thinks You Can Think”, but remember “Don’t let your mind wander, it’s too small to be out by itself.” I’m thinking of my philosophy more as guidelines for living which are useful and practical, and not just theoretical constructs.

I’ve had a lot of years to consider my philosophy of life, it’s not static, but I do  have  beliefs and philosophical tenets that I know to be true.  I am a member of a 12 step program so I embrace the Steps. I’m also a believer in Stoic principles which are some of the building blocks for the 12 Steps. Those greek Stoic philosophers nailed it! The word stoic has evolved to a rather unflattering meaning, but the ancient Greek Stoic philosophers were not unemotional, detached or lacking joy. I wish I could have spent an afternoon with Marcus Aurelius, I know I would have enjoyed myself.

So to keep it simple, I’ve boiled down my practical and aspirational  philosophy to 3 points:

3.Keep it Simple : If you are not disciplined and determined to keep it simple, we all know that weddings for immediate family “only”can end up with a guest list of 300 people. Considering a plan B can be a healthy  approach,  but if I have a plan Z I’ve gone way too far. I can’t plan for all scenarios. (See point 2)  I’d rather be living than planning and worrying. What are my priorities? I can clean up my household clutter and my social and emotional clutter. I don’t “have to” show up to every event I’m invited to. I am not bound  to friendships that may be toxic or unfulfilling. My goal is to live a low maintainence life style. I am determined to prioritize family and friends and keep it simple. I let things that don’t work for me fall away. 

2.Shit Happens : Life is generous in manifesting a host of things that hurt us and scare us. It can, and does, rain on our parade. People we love die and tornadoes wipe out entire towns. Resistance is doomed to fail, we really can’t make this shit up! Wishing and hoping  aren’t very helpful either. I’ve come to believe that acceptance is the answer, but at times it takes painful time to arrive at acceptance.  Only then can I decide if I can do anything to respond. Life is not out to get me, it just is. Painful. Joyful. Scary. Awesome…

3. The bedrock of Stoic philosophy and all 12 step programs is to change what I can, and accept what I cannot change. I know and feel this to be true. As the Serenity prayer says, we need to “have the wisdom to know the difference” and that is the journey of my lifetime.  When shit happens or joy happens,and we know it will, how do I respond instead of just react?It is silly and tragic to spend much of my life trying to change what I cannot change. It is not under my control to change other people , places or things. I cannot make someone love me, make it rain or live forever. Time spent on these impossible endeavors means I have less time to focus on the few things I can control: my thoughts and my behavior. I’m learning to ask myself the right questions about what I can and cannot control. Living this way scares me at times, but it is also freeing and keeps things simple when shit or joy happens. My time is too precious to resist life in all its tragedies and glories. 

I’m going to read this book :”Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations” by Jules Evans . The title makes me smile as well as these “gems”I found.

Roscoe and Molly don’t eat books. Thank God for that!

I resemble this.

Once upon a time a little girl was born in the kingdom of wishful thinking.  She was beautiful, with eyes that sparkled like blue diamonds and hair like ebony. Everyone thought that she would live happily ever after, especially when her prince came. But…after the honeymoon her prince began to tell her she couldn’t do anything “just right” . The porridge she made was awful and she needed to make the bed perfectly. He  became abusive to her, and poof her happily ever after became fear and bruises. I don’t want to hear this non-fairy tale. It could be a horrible coincidence, but I may still harbor a Goldilocks and Cinderella complex because I have an embarrassing number of pairs of shoes, and most of them are not “just right”.

Happy endings in fairy tales are foretold by standard phrases like “happily ever after” or “And they lived happily ever after”. Good is supposed triumph over evil, love is stronger than hate   We want happy endings or it just doesn’t feel right. Let’s go  back to simpler and better times where there was justice for all. If I do all the right things, I will insure that bad things will not happen to me. Bad things do happen to good people.  Who wants to believe Murphy Law, which says that “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”?  There is no comfort in this proverb.

Where are all the damsels in distress? They are busy being rescued by their savior,  the prince.  I was part of the women’s lib movement in the 70’s,  so I threw away my bra and my belief that I needed a man, and embraced equality . Not so fast…my mouth was repeating the feminist manifesto, but my actions and feelings were not keeping up. I thought fairy tales and happy endings went up in the smoke from the joint I was smoking. I huffed and puffed and blew the house down, but what about second hand smoke? Was I still a damsel in distress? While professing to believe in the power of women, I think I was still following the trail of bread crumbs into the woods that led me to captivity and dependence. I was an ambivalent slow learner with generations of fairy tales to question and evaluate.

I’m over 70, but sometimes I still believe in fairy tales. Come to think of it, there are no heroines in fairy tales who are old Ike me. We usually get the roles of the wicked witch or the evil queen. “Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?” Maybe the biggest fairy tale of all is that only the young can be beautiful and deserving

Maybe instead of rewriting our history and banning books that reflect reality, we could  start teaching our children that a ‘happily ever after” does not exist, and there is no goal or challenge that can be met that guarantees  everlasting happiness and success. I think the best choice is to experience and live happy moments in between life’s challenges. Expect problems and learn from them to become strong. So there is no magic wand, glass slipper or fairy dust that we can rely on to give us our fairy-tale ending. Writer Michael Ford has edited a book of erotic tales for men called “Happily Ever After”. The irony is not lost on me.

I have big feet. BIG. I was a size 9 when I needed to be sexy in my heels, a size 10 after pregnancy and standing on my feet 40 hours a week, and now I wear clown shoes, size 11.  I have to if I don’t want  my toes to  be black and blue.   My siblings called me “Tubby Toes”, hitting both my shoe size and my weight. In 1975, for about 2 seconds I weighed 127 pounds and was a size 8. My weight is pretty steady now, but varied a lot when I was younger. No matter what the scale said, I was “fat”. This disconnect between the reality of my body and how I see and feel about it. is called body dysmorphia :a mental illness characterized by obsessive focus on a perceived flaw in appearance. Think being anorexic and looking in the mirror and “seeing” yourself at 300 pounds. That tiny pimple on you chin is Mt. Vesuvius spewing hot lava. Ew! This is a common fear of teenagers who then can’t stop looking at it or think about popping it. Maybe teenage  angst never really goes away it just becomes adult and elder angst.

I’m an either/or person: I’m  beautiful, or I’m very ugly; I’m smart, or I’m  pretty dumb. Dysmorphia is an “exaggerated  perception” i.e. I’m worthless, I’m lazy, I’m unloveable, I’m a failure. Oh my! As I age, I’ve learned to soften some expectations, judgements and certainties. I’m not 100 % sure of anything!  Except…I hate Donald Trump 100%. I am 100% sure that he has no redeeming qualities. It seems I have no power to wrestle myself out of this pathological certainty, so I pray for help. Really. 

Beyond my Trump “ blindness”, I am willing and sometimes able to look at how I may suffer from dysmorphia.  I know my eyes “see”, so why am I stuck in front of funhouse mirrors? I can correct my vision, but how can I make sure that my brain “sees” correctly? Social scientists have theorized that we often see what we want to see, and most of us know this to be true. Our brains can trick us and deceive us, so maintaining objectivity is difficult. Thats where dysphoria comes in; dys·pho·ria: a state of feeling unwell or unhappy. If I am feeling unhappy I want validation for my mood. I’m unhappy because I’m ugly and stupid, and because I’m stupid and ugly I am feeling unhappy. Are you still with me? Kinda like the chicken or the egg question. 

When I was a young woman I was diagnosed with dysthymia: a milder, but long lasting form of depression which may have episodes of major depression.  Do I see what I want to see? Is what I think more important that what my eyes are seeing? How dysfunctional am I? What does it feel like to not be depressed?

 The Greek prefix “dys” means, “ bad, difficult and painful”. My conclusion: if a word begins with “dys” I don’t want it!

Here it is, it’s July already. I’m not planning to do Christmas in July, but this year I’ve decided I need to redo my 2024 New Year’s resolutions.  I just got back from our annual June trip to Iowa. It seems appropriate to consider what direction I want the rest of the year to go. Lots of food for thought while I also stuffed myself with Iowa goodies.

I’m aiming to find my true north. The idiom “true north” refers to finding or proceeding on the correct course or in the right direction. I know that literally and metamorphically, my compass has been off this year. Some uncomfortable changes were forced on me, but I am solely to blame for the poor choices I made. Me, myself and I. Remember how those little wind up toys just took off on the tabletop, heading every which way and making random abrupt turns ..that’s me!

I get clarity when I go home to Iowa to visit my family, especially because my adult son comes along. He “sees” things differently from me so I am encouraged to let go of some of the expectations and resentments I carry. I can open my old eyes to see the beauty of Iowa and the beauty of the love in my family. So Resolution 3: Pay attention to the stories I tell myself and challenge myself to consider telling myself stories that bring connection with others and not isolation. I am not always right! I was wrong when I figured Lena’s and Ollie’s Food truck with “Norwegian brats” would suck. Who knew  lefse and brats go together quite well! Who knew that despite all the vast differences between my siblings and me, l can love each and every one. 

Resolution 2: Dont take it personally. I’m responsible for my own feelings and not everyone will think I am a goddess. People pleasing ends up pleasing no one. Judging and comparing myself with others leads to disconnection. In the unlikely event that someone disagrees with me I can listen, agree to disagree and let respect be the guiding principle. I’m not less than or more than. I’m realizing how judgmental I am. What an ego! I am one of many and it is enough to be good enough and not the best or impossibly perfect. It is true that the world does not revolve around me, and if it did it would have a very wonky orbit. 

I’ve been thinking about “niceness” and whether I am a “nice” person. I’m thinking of nice as “pleasant, polite and agreeable”.  I’ve decided my most important resolution, Resolution 1 is: Don’t be nice. Be kind, authentic and compassionate. None of these traits require that I always do what others think I should do. Being truthful with myself is critical. If there is uncomfortable silence after I’ve said something, it could mean I need to “Shut the f**k up.”, or it could mean I have just voiced a truth that others believe shouldn’t be talked about or want to stay in denial about. Did you just step on my toes, or am I wearing huge clown shoes or vice versa ? Is there really an elephant trampling around the room that only I can see, or am I the elephant?

The Pitbull: a  muscular fierce looking dog with a bad reputation, usually unearned. I’m sure, like me, you’ve heard it a million times that “it depends on the owner”.  Still, I am a little uncomfortable when I see a Pitbull pulling their owner wherever the dog wants to go! This morning I was walking my little doggies and spotted a  Pitbull being walked and I held up my doggies. I’ve learned avoidance is sometimes the best response . I stood and watched as the owner led the dog up the stairs to their house.Their progress was slow as the dog had a difficult time negotiating the stairs and moved very stiffly. At the top of the stairs the dog turned and I saw a very gray muzzle, and I realized the dog was quite old. Immediately, my heart was full of kinship and sorrow.  I thought, as my eyes teared up, “Yes, Pitbulls get old too.”

All animals get old, including all human animals like me. For a moment, that Pitbull and I were both old souls with beating hearts. I felt compassion for the two of us with our aging bodies. We were once strong and curious and had the world on a leash.  I feel so connected to dogs, and I know for sure that we are a “we” and know each other well..  Puppies and babies are so magnetic and lovable, we gravitate to them,  but old dogs and old people are an acquired taste. We learn to love aging faces and bodies as we ourselves are aging. 

I believe that aging and awe are traveling companions and curiosity is the glue that holds them together. Like the Pitbull, I explore the world on my daily walks and often spot something ordinary that brings me awe. I move slower; this speed allows the world to rush in over my walls. Lest I get too philosophical and cerebral, I know aging can be a very difficult experience. Aging brings  a lot of losses to grieve. The physical, emotional and spiritual losses that come with aging keep me tethered to resistance.  How do I overcome the urge to fight aging? The truth is I’m not into overcoming much of anything, now I just want to accept it all.  Begrudging  my aging body doesn’t help me stay  healthy.  Actually resistance is not good for much of anything.  Reality always wins, and in spite of it I find that I still love and am loved. Raging at my diminishing capabilities is a waste of precious time.  I choose instead to be grateful that my hearing aides and my glasses can compensate for some of the sensory deficits I have. Of course, I have my moments of anger and regret, but I don’t hang out there. The kindness of the pitbull’s owner help him to take in the world, and make sure that he isn’t isolated from the great “ outside” and companionship. I’d like to think we humans want that for each other too. 

Some days the equation seems to be as x (age) goes up, y ( joy) goes down, but I know it’s the choices I make that create the “new” math of my life.  I have so much less to manage and worry about.  I get to say “I don’t care.”and “So what!” at least once a day. How satisfying is that? I get to care for my doggies, and other peoples dogs too, as they and I age.   We can count dog years and people years,  but we all know it’s the life in those years that counts.  We both deserve “treats” and walks every day, and massive amounts of unconditional love. Birthdays add up and joys add up too.

I’m possessed. Not that kind of possessed!  I’m possessed by all my possessions.  I know“You can’t take it with you”,  but I thought I would have like 100 years before I needed to downsize. I supersized my stuff, binged on material possessions and gained a lot of material and psychic weight,  and there is no Ozempic for clutter control. I’ll have to settle for will power!

I still want to hang onto things but I’m starting to change my thinking and my behavior slowly. I will only change when  I decide to change , and the “times they are a changin.” Right now it’s more painful for me to collect things and clutter my life than to feel momentarily bereft when I let things or people go. I want to see clearly, move freely and think freely. I can’t be tending to my stuff and lose my focus. Too many choices and I become overwhelmed, and conversely I’m  convinced there is one and only one correct choice. Just buy 5 different kinds of toothpaste or shampoo, experiment and choose one and keep the others just in case.   When I quit smoking I threw away a lot of almost full packs cause I just wanted 1 more cigarette -and then I would quit completely. I finally quit when I got it that cigarettes were controlling me not vice versa. I wanted to be free to not “ need” a substance to get thru my life. Notice that cigarettes aren’t sold in packs of 5! 

The better I am at organizing, the worst I become at paring down my stuff. Why keep figuring out how to organize my stuff when I could just get rid of it?. If I am not using a pan or a utensil or whatever why do I keep it and then have to figure out how to store it. I play this game with myself where I see how many pairs of shoes I can buy, keep and organize.  It’s not a game I can win. Believe me I have tried! I have a bounce house full of beads of all kinds. I think I might need to bring home less stuff. The flow of what comes in and what goes out needs to skew toward less “ in” and lots more “ out”. Who needs 5 corkscrews because you couldn’t find the other 4?

I’m a compulsive person who must figure it all out. I have a dangerous amount of psychic clutter. It’s ALL important and I must always focus on bettering myself, being good enough and preferably perfect. I have rehearsals going on in my head all the time.  I get myself prepared with the best argument, retort ,put down or flirt. How will I get him to fall in love with me? Now I am finally confronting my false sense of control and realizing that worry really shits on today and this moment.  If I am worrying, I am not available to experience what is happening right now. I can’t hoard time no matter what bargains with the devil I try to make. I am a consumer of time and I know it is finite. Life doesn’t need to be so complicated and “time” consuming. 

My friend Henry David Thoreau preached :“Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb nail.” And “ Our life is frittered away by detail, simplify, simplify.” And the traveler in me  agrees with Henry” The rule is to carry as little as possible.” See the  farmer with his pitchfork and the farmer’s wife in her apron , and you are looking at “American Gothic” by Grant Wood. Now imagine them both with cell phones in their hands, ear buds in ,back packs stuffed to the gills and suitcases in a pile at their feet. Substitute  the pichfork with a Weed wacker. Silly isn’t it? What are the 12 Steps for Hoarders Anonymous?

What do I do when I see an aging stranger in my mirror: a.cry, b.smile,  c. scream or d. All of the above? That’s easy, the correct answer is”d”. I’m not  talking just a bad hair day here, I’m flirting with Dorian Gray!  I troll myself and since I know best what’s gets to me, I hurl some pretty good zingers at myself. I’ve got wrinkles on top of  wrinkles, and what about that hair-do and the hair on my  chiny, chin,chin. That deer in the headlines look is not very flatttering. I don’t think my teeth should be brown.  Heads up, my insides don’t match my outsides, so what you see is not what you get.

 Aging is a messy situation. Should I fight it, embrace it, or ignore it?  I could look younger with the right anti-aging potions and lotions and cosmetic surgery,  but I I still wouldn’t have had fewer birthdays. Denying aging will never change the reality of aging. It is a relentless process, stopped only by death….. not a warm fuzzy feeling….

Instead of focusing more on old news or “old”news,  I decided to take a writing break and drive downtown to see an “old” friend.  A Canada goose was about  to cross the street on Centre Avenue, and as I put my brakes on I saw that she was a Mama Goose followed  by 4 goslings and bringing up the rear was Papa goose.  Of course,  I had to come to a complete stop as they ambled across the street. I smiled when I realized I had gotten my warm and fuzzy feeling after all. That moment I was ageless, just a fellow Mother and traveler on the road of life. I had helped my son Tyler cross the street many times. Being in the moment and witnessing the innocence of the goslings made me feel blessed.  It was what I needed to change the direction of my day and take a “right” turn.

Then I remembered my blog about the yellow caterpillar that my late husband, Roger, and I spotted while we were resting on a bench?. Roger was pretty far along in his dementia,  but able to walk and focus on some things. I  don’t think that caterpillars are warm blooded, but they sure are fuzzy. We watched the yellow caterpillar slowly make it’s way across the rocks to the base of a tree. We wondered how it decided which direction to crawl?. Up and down and around the rocks he went. Our world became that yellow caterpillar. We weren’t old or young, or sick or well, we were just there, in the moment. 

I am typing this while sitting on my sofa and I just felt this light touch on my arm. It is my little dog Molly reaching out to me with her paw. She pats my arm to let me know she wants attention, and “pets” and probably to sit on my  lap. She doesn’t care how old I am, or how old I look, or how old I feel. So I’ve went from my angst about aging to warm and fuzzy goslings, caterpillars and Molly. I choose the warm and fuzzy!

I’d like a word with you! Don’t worry you’re not in trouble. Since my mind feels like word salad that’s my topic.  I love words, vocabulary is my thing. I’m fascinated by finding the perfect word, synonyms are so much fun. How did this or that slang or idiom come to be?  We use some weird words. What about the joy of cursing? It seems to me that without slang, idioms and swearing, English would be a pretty boring language.  I imagine those who are learning our language have a hard time with the underbelly of our language!

Ironically, I’m first going to define some words. Slang: very informal usage in vocabulary and idiom that is characteristically more metaphorical, playful, elliptical, vivid, and ephemeral than ordinary language. Wow that definition has  some major vocabulary in it!  Slang is basically informal language, it’s not wrong or bad, but I probably wouldn’t refer to the Pope as “ Hey dude!” My age is showing for sure, but when, as a young person,  I used words like groovy, cool, and right-on we agreed on their meaning and we knew when and how to use them.  Slang is older than we think, or conversely short-lived in usage.  “Groovy” is a good example, it comes from the 30’s originally, was resurrected in the 60’s  but is seldom used today. Slang is generational and often specific to particular group. The boyz in the hood use different slang than Rednecks use! 

Slang is often used when we talk about sex. How many ways can we say sexual intercourse, or penis and vagina? Let me count the ways! We could start with “Play nug-a-nug”, slang for having sex in 1500.  In 1970, my friends and I  just asked “Did you do it?”, “it” meaning have sex. “A roll in the hay” does not mean rolling in the hay barn, and “making whoopee” has nothing to do with whoopie pies. There is so much slang for male and female genitalia that using the correct terms, like penis and vagina, seem like “dirty” words to me. Almost everyone “diddles”, but no one masturbates, right? The more taboo a topic is, the more slang created to cushion reality. Would you rather be “Pushing up daisies “ or be dead?


idiom: an expression that cannot be understood from the meanings of its separate words but has a meaning of its own   Huh?  For example, “I’m all ears.” does not mean one is literally covered in ears, it means you are very attentive and listening closely. A lot of idioms in common usage in our language have old and archaic origins. “ Hit the road.” refers to the sound that horses hooves made on the road. This is so much more vivid than “I’m leaving now.” Winking your eyes 40 times will not be nearly as restful as a short nap. “40 winks” originated in Britain. Are you going to “Beat around the bush.”,  “ Bark up the wrong tree.” or “Bury the hatchet.”?

People who have a poor vocabulary are boring to listen to. To say you are “sad” is not nearly as interesting and nuanced as saying you are “heartbroken, “despondent” or “miserable”. The latter set of words are more precise and reveal the nature and depth of your feelings. I’m not a word snob, I’m just curious and want to better understand. Are you just angry or are you fuming and irate? You decide.

For now,  I think I’ll bite the bullet and hit the road. Or do I need to face the music first? I’m cool, you’re cool, we’re all cool….