• BY ELAINE SMOOKLER

The breaking day was shimmering with the buzz of nature going about its business. Breathing in, I felt awakened by the delicate bite of the early spring air. Breathing out, I felt my warm breath rise like a morning prayer. There was nothing special going on, only gently bubbling stillness and beauty all around. A moment of peace. I felt grateful to be present and noticing.

What does it mean to be grateful? Thankfully, it doesn’t mean convincing yourself of some bogus notion that everything’s fine and dandy. Living your life with gratitude means choosing to focus your time and attention on what you appreciate. The goal is not to block out difficulties, but to approach those difficulties from a different perspective. Appreciation softens us. It soothes our turbulent minds by connecting us with the wonderfully ordinary things, great and small, that we might otherwise take for granted.

Go ahead and take gratitude for a spin right now. Think of anything at all in your life that you can feel thankful for: that driver who yielded when you realized you were in the wrong lane, the fact that the sun rose this morning, any quality in yourself that you admire. When you’re thankful, how does your body respond? Is there a sense of lightness? Tingling? Warmth? In what way does expressing gratitude change your outlook? Might there be a connection between gratitude and happiness?

Gratitude can help us see that not everything is terrible—not all the time, anyway. Practicing gratitude can keep our hearts open to the tenderness in our daily experiences. There are so many things to be grateful for. Take trees, for example. Trees freely provide fruit and shelter and even offer themselves as climbing gyms for the young, the old, and what-the-heck-are-you-thinking-get-down-from-there Nana! The wild kingdoms of plants and animals are exuberant, colorful, and extravagant. We are surrounded by abundance and yet mindlessly whirl into automatic pilot, losing sight of life’s nourishing wonders.

The same is true of people. Have you ever picked up someone else’s socks, or stayed late at the office to help out, or held a door open for a stranger, or let someone else have the remote? When no one bothers to thank you, how does it feel? And who do you fail to thank? Remember: Offering our appreciation to one another is a powerful way to strengthen and even repair emotional bonds. Try it. It’s free.

Offering our appreciation to one another is a powerful way to strengthen and even repair emotional bonds.

As we cultivate greater appreciation for what is around us, we can include being thankful for what’s inside of us. We can delight in and feel grateful for our own unique talents and strengths. Perhaps you have a knack for making people laugh, or for being an astute listener. Or maybe you can thank yourself for just getting out of bed and making it through the day. We can be grateful that we have a heart, a mind, and the wisdom to know how to live with kindness and compassion.

Here are some simple gratitude tips that you can try starting right now:

1. Say “thank you!” Who doesn’t want to be appreciated for their efforts? Saying thanks can be a gift, and one that feels pretty good, too!
2. Remember what you appreciate most. When you’re feeling low, take a moment and write down some things that spark gratitude in you, like:
   • The pleasure of the spring sun
   • A stirring piece of music or art
   • A delicious or nutritious meal
   • A child’s laughter, a stranger’s sweet smile, a shared moment of joy
3. Pay attention to your emotions. Describe in as much detail as possible how your body feels when you express gratitude. Which emotions accompany these bubbly feelings? What kind of thoughts do you notice? When you begin to turn more frequently toward the things you appreciate, the world increasingly opens to reveal that there is always some small thing for which you can be grateful.

This article appeared in the April 2018 issue of Mindful magazine.

Preparing for a tropical storm and Burning Man here in the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. I’ll be back Monday with my own stories from an exciting weekend! Until then, if you just can’t get enough, go back September 24, 2020. There you’ll find a young-ish widow in the first year of widowhood. Happy reading!

I’m so blessed. I’m so blessed. I’m so blessed. Repeated 1,000 times over, it wouldn’t be enough to confirm how, on this very day in August, I AM SO BLESSED. I’m a 67 years old woman in great health with time to do as I please. I’m loved by family and friends every minute of my day. For this moment on this day I’m choosing happiness. Not borrowing troubles from tomorrow, for today, I’m so blessed.

After blogging yesterday, I made a list of a few things I needed from Walmart. The Tuesday night dinner with the neighbors convinced me the gardens of Winterpast need more hummingbird feeders. I tried this a few weeks ago and the ants won. Crawling up a tiny pole and then down the wire suspending my feeder, they back-stroked in the syrupy food. I was done with the entire mess. But, the neighbor’s hummingbirds, zipping this way and that, put on a real show. I’ll try again.

I need to be a little fancy for a special date with MM on the 28th of August. In order to accomplish that, I needed makeup more suitable for 2023. With my list in hand, off I drove towards the Walmart to the East.

What.

A.

Disappointment.

Having abandoned the Walmart in my little town over a year ago when our sweet Naomi vanished in the darkness of the parking lot, I’ve been happy to drive 35 minutes to the closest country store. It’s always been clean and well stocked. Well, that ship has sailed. Not sure what is going on with stores around here, but, they are making it impossible to find everything on a shopping list. Eggs are the only thing cheaper in price. And they are still double what they used to be.

Bacon has been hit or miss. Because of California’s plan to ruin every industry, hog ranchers are quitting. Farmer John has gone out of business. If you don’t believe me, just go to the store to find a package of bacon. I dare you. Here in Nevada, it’s slim picking’s. Sausage is still available, but only until they sell the last of it. And, so it goes.

So after hunting and pecking around the store, I’d found most things on my list. There was a little old lady who was struggling to get in line for the only human checker in the store. I had beat her there, but immediately felt horrible. She was having a hard time walking while fighting with the cart. I moved out of the way, putting her one cart closer to check out and we started to visit.

Adorable in every way, she had to let me know she had just sold her lawn mower, because it was just too much anymore. She talked of her love for her neighbors. How blessed she was to be alive on such a pretty day. She was a military wife, having followed her husband all over the world.

Independent.

Smart.

Kind.

God-fearing.

I learned she was all those things as we waited.

Sometimes the smallest act of kindness are the most appreciated. When someone gives up their place in line, starts an uplifting conversation, or says “Thank You”, we feel respected and valued. Often these little gifts of courtesy and compassion have a larger impact than anything anyone can give us.

When we give these same gifts to others, we have no idea how we’re impacting someone’s day. Little niceties add up and remind each of us, both the giver and receiver, of the simple beauty of kindness.

She was 20 years my senior. Her back was killing her, but she never revealed that through words. She was full of praise about the beauty of the day. As we stood in line waiting for the customers in front of us, she was becoming weaker. Finally it was her turn.

The checker was near exhaustion herself. Really, Walmart?????????? Is it beyond your ability to open more than lane for assisted checkout? The associate was a young woman of 43 with her own health issues, but she stepped up to help this woman. She went to the manicure station and borrowed a chair in which the woman could sit while her groceries were scanned. She placed every bag into the woman’s cart, speaking kindly to her the entire way. When it was time to pay, the associate took her card and ran it through the machine, saving agonizing steps for the lady. It was moving and quiet kindness I was lucky enough to watch.

By the time the octogenarian toddled off on her way, the checker now had at least nine people waiting in line. We’d all been waiting quiet awhile, yet, none of us were agitated or impatient. Maybe some of the guests DID observe the kindness that I did.

A higher kindness is indeed unfailing and always present in everything HE does. Even if we can’t see or understand what HE’s doing, HE is there. HIS ways aren’t our ways. We can still know that HIS kindness remains a key ingredient. My friend at Walmart would wholeheartedly agree.

Whatever you do today, let your attitude of kindness reflect the kindness HE has showed to you. Kindness costs nothing. What’s a few extra minutes in line? Who knows? In those few minutes you might be a witness to what HE would’ve done. It’s a thought.

More tomorrow.

In 2020, I found my forever home here at Winterpast. Every morning, I’m so grateful to have had the luck to find such a wonderful town in which to live. I’m a true desert gal. Under the bluest skies dotted with the puffiest white clouds, there is peace here. Even when summer storms come to visit, the complaint of the thunder adds a little excitement. The winds whip up the trees. All those things cocoon Winterpast and the homes around me.

To some, my neighborhood would be considered pretty boring. There are no late night arguments to keep us up. No trampoline jumpers. No barking dogs (other than Oliver). A natural quiet that blankets this neighborhood. With good reason.

Many of the neighbors are still original owners. Winterpast was built in 2004. At this time, this was a little more expensive than some of the other neighborhoods, and so a little older group moved in. Many were just beginning the golden years of retirement. At this writing, I’m surrounded on three sides by octogenarians. Some are in great health while others are holding their own. None of them are partying night owls. That’s a good thing.

So, when the house across the street finally went up for sale, I was a little worried. Just WHO would buy the house?

Would it be a young family prepare their daughter’s first nursery?

A family with five kids that have failed to launch?

Or a very nice single gentleman and his mother?

Only time would tell, as one buyer after another stopped to look at the home for sale on our nice, quiet street.

In the end, the very nice gentleman and mom moved in. With life being pretty busy these days, we’d see each other in passing. Wave when we visited our mail boxes. Talk from the middle of the street.

One day, in passing, Miss Rose (his mom) was outside and we started to talk. She just retired. Things in her life are changing. She and her son are rearranging. We spoke of a little of this and a little of that. Nothing too earth shattering until she brought up my home town in the Central Valley of California. It just so happened she grew up there. 14 years older than me, she would have gone to school with my two sisters.

When I told her where I went to school, she shook her head in disbelief. Her ex-husband went there, with my two sisters, cousins, and neighbors. Why, he was a sophomore when my Grandfather and father were on the school board.

Oy Vey.

In the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada, how does it turn out that “almost family” moves across the street? Life is amazing sometimes. There are NO accidents. There are plenty of miracles. We just need to wake up and see them.

Last night, MM and I accepted the sweetest dinner invitation from the new neighbors across the street. Just a lovely last minute “Would you come for dinner?” The best kind. How nice is that?

Ninja Neighbor and her husband, the Sweet-Family-of-Three-Plus-2.5, and MM and I all enjoyed a wonderful evening under summer storm clouds. The weather was perfect for an outdoor picnic. A lovely evening was enjoyed by all.

During that time, my fellow alumnus and I marveled at how strange life is. Of all the people that could move across the street from one another, it would be two that have a valley connection.

To say the evening was magical doesn’t even begin to cover it. Arriving at 5:30. MM and I never stopped talking and laughing until we left at 9 PM. We are gathering our very own military unit, as we have another Marine on the street. Welcome to the neighborhood! We’ve been waiting for you to get here!

I have a feeling the street may liven up a little in the upcoming weeks. Over the summer, four houses sold. Four new families have quietly taken their places on the block. MM and I will host the next neighborhood get together, inviting everyone on the block so that no one can complain about happy noise. MM and I love a good party, good food, and good friends. Nothing better than that.

New neighbors are like presents under the Christmas tree. Each family brings something new and shiny to share with the community. Everyone has unique talents and tales. Winterpast continues to bless me with surprises.

Whatever you do today, watch for new neighbors. If you have a little something out of the garden, share some. If you make a batch of cookies, take a few over. Make small talk. You just might find out you’re 2nd cousins from the same town. Life is funny like that.

More tomorrow.

At some point, its just time. Time to look at possessions in a new light and get busy lightening the load. The day before trash day is a great choice. You can fill up empty cans and set them by the road with little time to change your mind. Yesterday was a day for that activity.

Old teachers often like to keep a few things because, “You just never know…” Just a year ago, I was in a euphoric state of mind as I returned to the classroom.

A little more than a year ago, I’d returned to college to complete a needed course. I’d fought with the State of Nevada to reinstate my teaching license after I finished the course. I’d spent more money than I like to remember buying things for an empty classroom. Happily, I returned to teach for one more year. My year lasted weeks.

I learned so many valuable lessons in eight short weeks. I learned that some owls are wise and some are otherwise. Some schools are places of love and light while others are a breeding ground of dark despair. Who needs teachers when you have artificial intelligence?

You can’t always get what you want, but more importantly, “You cain’t get nowhere on yesterday’s train.” (Misspelling intended.) Truer words were never spoken.

After blogging yesterday, the gardens of Winterpast needed some attention. The apricots are finally gone, but plums took their place. After the flower beds were tidied up, the lawn needed mowing. Well, after the beds and lawn looked great, the patio needed sweeping. And so it went for a few hours on a most beautiful morning on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada.

After the back yard was company-ready, I rolled all the trash cans to the front yard in preparation for trash day. It’s a puzzlement to me. Here I sit, a party of one. Every week, I have four heavy trash cans for pick up. The limit is seven. No sorting or any of that nonsense. Fill ’em and set them out. Tuesday morning, everything disappears for another week. That’s how we roll here in Nevada.

One woman with a 1/2 acre = 4 trash cans per week.

This week, the cans weren’t empty, but they weren’t full either. It was then I realized the day had come to get rid of the last of the teacher materials I’ve hoarded. In some aspects of my life, my future is unknown. However, of these things, I am quite sure. I will NEVER teach in a classroom again. I will NEVER teach General Math, Algebra 1 and 2, Geometry, or anything mathematical ever again. Never. Never. Never. Ever.

The three boxes of outdated materials are now gone. Over the years, I’ve asked plenty of people if they were interested in math materials. The answer was always “No”. People that use these things have hoarded their own favorites. These materials needed to go.

Just as hundreds of VST’s Psychology books met their fate, the books of a former math teacher have left the building.

Oh, there were other things that hit the cans. An automatic bread maker from 1990. Two splintery chicken wire compost bins inherited when I moved here. A variety of things no longer needed or wanted. And so, it goes.

By 8 AM, I’ll have 4 clean cans and the purging can begin again. This time, things from the ranch. Tractor parts. Industrial spray rig parts. Old gloves. Broken tools. A can of dirt from a far off farm loved so much that I had to bring a little to the Nevada desert.

When VST died, everything had a memory. Even an old stapler brought a flood of tears. But as the years have gone by, theses anchors to the past have lost their hold. They’ve become obsolete items that can no longer tether me to a rich and wonderful past that’s been gone a very long time. It’s time to let go of burdensome things . The good stuff is safe in my heart.

Whatever you do today, spend 30 minutes going through items from your past. Look at the things you find and think about a person would cherish them. If no one that comes to mind, it’s probably time to let go. Use the 10% rule. Out of 10 things, choose one to lose. And then, keep going. Whatever will you do with the new space you find?

More tomorrow.

Good Morning, Monday Readers! I enjoyed a lovely weekend here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. The weather here has been perfect. Cool enough in the morning to be crisp and then hot enough in the afternoon to remind us all summer isn’t done with us just yet.

The project for the weekend revolved around air movement in the greenhouse. I purchased some very cute solar fans before the foundation was even poured. Cute little dollhouse fans measuring 6″ square, two run by a 20W solar panel. It seemed the perfect fit, until MM installed them under the hot desert sun.

Back to the drawing board.

Ventilation is critical in any green house. They reduce the air temperature inside and move fresh air into the greenhouse. They also help regulate the relative humidity inside the greenhouse. Humidity above 80% invites fungal growths. And no one needs to battle fungus.

I’ve now learned that a greenhouse like mine (10’x14’x6′) needs a fan that puts our 3600 cubic feet per minute in the summer. The air needs to change 1 time per minute according to a greenhouse guru online. That’s quite a bit of movement for a small space.

The idea of solar power is a magical thought. Heck, the energy of the sun helps plants to grow, right? So why can’t we run everything efficiently with solar? Sadly, technology doesn’t match our lofty ideas. I’d need a huge solar panel to run the fan I need to cool the greenhouse. It seems that I’ll be using a very long extension cord and a nice big industrial fan we used on the ranch. I’m too excited about this greenhouse to give up the summer months.

The next projects will include building pretty benches on which to set beautiful pots. Pea gravel needs to be hauled in for the flooring. I’m going to have a lovely potting bench, a stainless sink with running water, and motion lighting, just in case I feel like gardening in the evening. By the time MM and I get this thing finished, there won’t be a more lovely greenhouse in the land. It’ll just take a minute to get everything going in the right direction.

As I create a little oasis here in the desert, my thoughts remain with the people of Maui. Keep them in your prayers. If you happen to have an extra prayer, send it to them. Their nightmare won’t be over in our lifetimes. Something special is gone forever. It only took 30 minutes to destroy their way of life.

Whatever you do today, think about growing something. Anything. Plants clean our air and help the planet, so get busy. There are still plenty of growing days until winter!

More tomorrow.

The last few days have taken the wind right out of my sails. Strange that an event an ocean away could have such an effect on one old desert gal. Of course, it’s my heart that accepts the sorrow as my own. Once, very long ago, I was a Maui Babe. A rat pack of four women celebrating a 50th birthday of the youngest of us.

I never moved up the rank to be a Maui Goddess like my dear friend, the Goddess of the Central Coast. Nope. I’ve been happy to be a Maui Babe all these years. One of four in our royal court.

So many of the places now reduced to ash held special memories for me. It was at “Burger’s in Paradise” that we discovered the birthday girl had a special guy in her life. A wonderful man that would befriend us all from that day forward. I formed a spiritual connection with the Old Banyan, covering a city block. If she could’ve only shared her stories with me, I’d tell you now. I couldn’t get enough of the clean air and trade winds. We made the best memories cherished to this day.

VST and I visited Maui on other occasions and made memories of our own. Standing at the very site of Lindbergh’s grave was almost as amazing as the drive to get there. Lindbergh’s grave is marked with a simple granite slab laid upon lava stones in the yard behind the church. The epitaph is a quote from the Bible: ‘If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea.’ . Psalms 139:9

The beginning of the Psalm is as follows:

You have searched me, LORD, and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue you, LORD, know it completely.

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. (Psalms 139:1-10 -NIV)

Remembered is the wonderful dinner enjoyed at Mama’s Fish Hut, or the hilarious day VST humored me, agreeing to take a hula class. Memories that connect my heart to a devastated little island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

I’ve learned one important lesson at this early stage of this tragedy. When vacationing, I’ll give careful consideration to Disaster Preparedness in the area. It’s easy to get lulled into a belief that tragedy can’t possibly occur in paradise. It does. It just did.

When vacationing, have a plan. Many people left their documents in hotel rooms to which they couldn’t return. Hard to get a flight out without a driver’s license and credit card. People were separated from important medications. Not too hard to carry a couple doses of medication if it’s truly essential. Have a plan. If you separate from travel companions, choose a “meet up” spot and time. Tell people where you’re going and when you’ll return. You just never know……

This weekend, I plan to spend time in my garden and focus on all things Winterpast. As always, she is here to comfort me through grief. Her demands are simple. Water my gardens. Fertilize my roots. Take time to rest in the shade of my trees. Set down your burden for a little while and get to work. Autumn is just around the corner.

I’ll be back on Monday.

Two words should never find themselves in the same sentence.

Maui.

Fire.

Hawaii has always been my safe space. So many nights, the memories of time spent with VST have lulled me to sound sleep. It was our happy place for 32 years. When things got overwhelming we’d pack our bags and go. It was our second home. A place to reconnect and dream about the future. We considered ourselves visiting locals.

Each person leaves Hawaii with a unique mural etched on their heart. A little bit of paradise tucked in the suitcase. Once you’ve fallen in love with the trade winds, moonlit beaches, and nature’s music tumbling on the waves, you’re just never the same.

Today, pray for our island Brothers and Sisters on Maui. Today, I grieve for them. Something wonderful is gone.

So much loss.

Unthinkable.

Hold sweet memories close today. Take some time to remember one of the most beautiful places in the world.

More tomorrow.

De-Cluttering and hot August days are meant for each other. For the last few years, I’ve held on to boxes of memory filled cell phones and lap tops. Although electronic devices aren’t usually considered sentimental items, looking at them takes me back through my years with VST, as we upgraded our electronics.

Although we weren’t obsessed with having the latest and greatest, every year there was something that needed updating. There was just one small problem. VST wouldn’t get rid of the old. He was just like that. Everything was secreted in his office because, as he would remind me, “You just never know……”

Well, as I sit here in August, 2023, I do know one thing. I’ve had to learn a bunch to retrieve old memories off these devices.

Oh, how I long for the days of Costco Photos. I’d drop off rolls of 35 mm film and then wait a few days until the photographs were ready. I’d always order two sets, because of course, “You just never know….” Although in those day with time being a precious commodity, I scrapbooked every school year from 1996 – 2010. The first copy of each picture would go into the scrapbook while the second one would go home with a child. Those photographs were precious.

Last week, as I collected up the phones, laptops, and desktops, I felt overwhelmed. How would I ever learn how to retrieve the information off the devices? No longer was I going to hold onto this junk. The problem was that it wasn’t junk as long as it held old memories.

And so I began to learn.

The first thing about retrieving information is that you can’t really do anything wrong. If you do, shut the machine down and then try again. If you get dangerously close to deleting things, the device will ask several times if that is your intention. That should give anyone attempting to do this a little piece of mind.

You need the proper cords for the proper devices. So far, I’ve found all the right cords. This, in itself, is a miracle considering I had phones from 2007.

Look to You Tube for advice. There videos explaining steps for retrieving data from every type of device. Take notes and get started.

As I went through phone after phone, I realized how much our society is losing by capturing pictures using this method. How many people forget the thousands of images they’ve taken on this day or that? For me, if it’s not printed, it didn’t happen.

Going through the phones was emotionally draining. When I work with old photos and mementos, I’m transported back to the Land-of-Long-Ago. Going through that portal takes a lot of mental energy, but, it’s also healing. Everything in due time. At this point, I’m down to two tablets, two phones, and a laptop. The video tapes wait for another day.

When all the important documents and photos have been retrieved, return the device back to the factory setting. Then the fun part begins. Retrieval of the hard drive or SIM card. Again, turn to YouTube to find out how to disassemble your desktop, laptop, or phone. With a small screwdriver, a dining room table, and patience, you’ll be done in no time.

An important note. Remove the SIM cards from old phones when you are finished. These little chips hold all your personal information. Once those are removed, reset the phone to factory settings. Throw the SIM card away. For computers and lap tops, the hard drives should be removed before you discard the device. This is rather like working a puzzle to get to the prize.

Then comes the fun part.

DOING THE HILLARY.

Take the biggest hammer you own and smash the hard drive with all your might. Strike it over and over until it is really bent. This is great for relieving your self of any angry thoughts. It’s also much cheaper than visiting a rage room. Remember, be sure to wear eye-protection.

Once the computer is in pieces, bag it up and put it in the garbage. Unless you live in California, of course. There, you keep that stuff forever.

Reclaiming data and place it in one central place feels wonderful. The thought of losing those connections to the past kept me clinging to those devices for almost 20 years. For, in the real world, kids grow up and move away. Blonde hair turns grey. Cancer comes knocking. The unexpected happens.

Oy Vey.

I just never knew………

Whatever you do today, look for old devices and their cords. Charge them up and reclaim your memories.

More tomorrow.

Just seeing this picture takes me back to the mid-1900’s when life was so much simpler. As a farm girl in the vineyards of Central California, I had no access to high fashion, let alone a strapless swimsuit, high heels, and sunglasses. Even in a house of five daughters with a mother that sewed all our clothes, there were no issues of Vogue magazine scattered about. When I got my first Barbie, the game was on.

Barbie was like another sister. We’d go outside and I’d take her on farm adventures. When Ken came into the picture, he was just her accessory. Barbie was the main focus. She could do anything I could do, but have not doubt, I showed her, not the other way around. Barbie became Farm Girl Barbie and she loved it.

Throughout the years, Auntie TJ spoiled me with handmade high fashion created just for Barbie. Even her very own handcrafted wedding dress more beautiful than anything sold in the store. Pretty soon, Barbie’s wardrobe was larger than mine. And not long after that, I outgrew here and she lay forgotten on a shelf. But, Barbie was never discarded, being my all time favorite doll. I still have her and her wardrobe.

So, when Barbie came out in movie form I was a bit interested until it became polarized. This part of society loved it. That part of society hated it. Sexualized opinions. Politicized opinions. All over a doll. A silly doll. From the things I read, I decided I’d never see the movie.

Until yesterday.

It had been a quiet morning. MM was busy with his own day and Oliver was sleeping away the morning. Even the mustangs were bored.

I was looking through comments about the movie and it struck me. Since when had I morphed into a lazy woman that would accept the opinions of others as mine. This was BARBIE for goodness sakes. I had to go and see for myself.

So, this old, grey, conservative woman got in the car and drove 45 miles to the east. I’d not figured the time correctly, and barely made the beginning of the movie. You really shouldn’t miss the first two minutes if you decide to go. Interesting.

In my very humble opinion, this movie wasn’t a normal kid’s film. The plot was often confusing. There were very few scenes that involved real places. The children in the theater weren’t laughing. It was very pink and Barbie. And yet, for some reason, I couldn’t walk out. There were no overtly sexualized scenes. I never noticed gender issues, but then, I’m not of the generation that would.

Throughout the movie, I kept wondering how much longer it would go on. Although clever in a few spots, there were not great acting, dancing, or singing. Just a lot of pink. That was until THE monologue I hope I never forget.

The following words were written by the actress, America Ferrera, for HER character to say to a distraught Barbie. Playing a young Hispanic mom, she referred to things that every woman on the planet has been through, (even a young farm girl from Central California).

You be the judge.

America Ferrera’s Powerful Monologue in Barbie (Spoken to a distraught Barbie who didn’t feel pretty anymore)

It is literally impossible to be a woman. You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don’t think you’re good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we’re always doing it wrong.

You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas. You’re supposed to love being a mother, but don’t talk about your kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman but also always be looking out for other people.

You have to answer for men’s bad behavior, which is insane, but if you point that out, you’re accused of complaining. You’re supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you’re supposed to be a part of the sisterhood.

But always stand out and always be grateful. But never forget that the system is rigged. So find a way to acknowledge that but also always be grateful.

You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.

I’m just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us. And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing women, then I don’t even know. (Barbie Movie)

America Ferrera, You Go, Girl. And yes, so many times in this crazy world…...I don’t even know.

Whatever you do today, step out of your comfort zone to question the opinions you hold dear. Do something out of the ordinary. Try something new. You just never know what pearls of wisdom you just might stumble upon.

More tomorrow.

Naomi Irion’s Murderer is DEAD.

High Desert Plains of Nevada: The LC Sheriff’s Office has reported the death of Troy Driver, who was awaiting trial for the murder of Naomi Irion. Driver died as a result of self-inflicted asphyxiation while held without bail in a maximum-security jail cell with no contact with other inmates. Deputies conducting a routine hourly cell check found him unresponsive on Sunday, August 6 at approximately 6.15 pm.

Despite immediate life-saving measures, including CPR by jail personnel and medical assistance from YM Fire Department, Driver could not be revived. Subsequently, an outside agency, the Nevada State Police Division of Investigations, has been called upon to conduct a thorough investigation into the circumstances surrounding his death. Further details concerning the investigation and the events leading to his death have not been released at this time.

Troy Driver, 43, “was in custody on multiple charges for the murder of Naomi Irion,” a press release announced.

The following is a very thorough and factual video on what happened. Take some time and listen to the details of the case. Listen to her brave Mom and take heed of her advice.

Naomi was just a girl. She was exploring a fresh new life and on her way to success. After moving from South Africa to live with her brother, she was independent. Working at a great job, she was already being considered for advancement.

Naomi loved rainbows. She loved The Beach Boys. She was just a girl living in a small town on her way to a job she loved. This monster stole that innocence from her. He stole peace from our tiny little town. She is missed.

Be light and love! When you see a rainbow, remember Our Naomi.

More tomorrow.