I wonder . . .

I’ve been watching Dancing With The Stars these past few weeks. The season just ended and for the finale they brought back some of the original stars from the beginning. One of them was Gladys Knight (Pipless of course) and I got to wondering . . . whatever happened to her Pips anyway? I know Gladys struck off on her own years back and if I google it, I learn that it happened back in 1989. But what of her background singers, the Pips? And what the heck is a Pip anyway?

As far as backup singers go, the three Pips were the best. In fact, I saw a comedy sketch once where the Pips performed Gladys-less. They sounded pretty good too. Harmonized perfectly with their doo waas and ooh diddies. The only thing missing were the lyrics of the actual song which made it somewhat of a different kind of experience, regardless of how well it was Pipped. 

But so . . . where are the three of them now? Did they take advantage of that Pip Pension Plan after Gladys gave them the heave ho? Have they all retired comfortably to some remote island in the Caribbean? Or did they have to go on working even after Gladys decided to go Pipless? Maybe they landed another job singing back up. With obviously less notoriety, a less memorable name for their twilight years. Or maybe they had to get a job doing something they were untrained for: someone’s accountant, a bank teller, grocery store clerk. I don’t know about you, but I sure wouldn’t have recognized a Pip if one waited on me at a restaurant. Or sold me a pair of shoes. Or called to offer me a deal on solar panels.

So just where are those Pips anyway? And come to think of it, where the heck did Tony Orlando put Dawn?  

Look! I found Peeta!

I think he's in here somewhere:

Or wait . . . maybe this is him -->

Or this -->




















Could be in here:

Or here -->













Maybe even here: 

No wait . . . I really think this is him:

Yep. I'm sure of it. Same eyes and everything.

My new "smart" phone . . . and my relationship with it

The first phone I ever had spent it’s entire life on a tiny table next to the front door of my one room place. It was plugged into the wall and, since it’s cord was very short, conversation and mobility did not exist in the same sentence. Not only that but, to make a call, I had to stick my finger into one of ten holes and rotate said finger in a clockwise direction seven to ten times - one rotation for each digit in the phone number.

Fast forward, and skip over several technological evolutions to present time and the phone I have today. I've already overcome my angst over certain terms. Oh yeah . . . it used to raise my grammatical hackles to hear the word “text” used as a verb! But I’m over that. In fact, I've even grown to accept the word “sex” as a verb. 

But that’s a whole other conversation, now isn’t it? This one’s about my phone - I’ll try to leave sex out of it.

I converted to one of those text phones a while back. This, so I could communicate with my son. But alas, that phone was apparently not "smart" since all it did was make calls, take pictures, act as my alarm clock and text. It finally broke down and had to be replaced so I went ahead and upgraded to a “smart” phone. My new android can do everything except wash the dogs, do the dishes and cut the grass. Which you’d think would be great, right? But I’ve come to realize that I should probably go to smart phone training school in order to make friends with the thing. In the meantime I muddle along, trying my best to figure it out.

Take texting for example. My phone has a feature called swipe where I can rub the aforementioned finger along certain letters and it picks the word it thinks is closest to what I swiped. If it thinks I chose the wrong word, it replaces my word with one it feels more accurately represents the thing I want to say. It also has something called talk-to-text where I can talk into it and it transcribes my words into a text message.

So there I was trying to talk to my daughter via text, working frantically to hold up my end of the conversation while she was texting faster than I can even talk. That’s about the time when - quite by accident - I discovered another wonderful feature of my phone, one that converts English to another language. And it does this no matter what method I use as input.

So Holly’s on her own phone trying to figure out why I’m suddenly speaking Spanish. Meanwhile, I’m on my phone hitting any button I can to get back to English. I have yet to realize that I even have a language button, let alone the fact that it acts as a toggle, moving from English to Spanish. From Spanish to what looks like Kanji. From Kanji to what very well might be Swahili and from there into . . . I’m thinking . . . Korean? Beats the heck out of me. I keep switching from Swipe to Talk-to-Text, trying to make things right while erroneously hitting the language button over and over again, rolling through languages faster than the rotations of Linda Blair's head. 

By now I'm laughing so hard my eyes are watering and I’m close to wetting my pants. Holly’s texts back to me have stopped making sense and she’s reverted to questions like “WTF, Mom!” Or “Mom . . . have you been drinking?” The very last thing I said to her went something like this: “desazon m que menja hilinger. And peanuts.” 

That was right before she called me. “Mom, what are you doing?”

“I have no clue! Isn’t it obvious!”

Needless to say, that was the most fun I’ve had with technology in a very long time! Don’t ask me what the “and peanuts” was supposed to have meant. I have no idea. 

So the other day my friend, Beth, sent a great email that I could totally relate to. In it were some of the other wonderful ways our new “smart phones” have enhanced communication. Take a look:

 Ain't technology fun!? 

How the heck did this happen?

On Thursdays I teach yoga. But not the kind of class you'd imagine with spandex clad women stretching, posing and sweating on their hot pink mats.

Nope, my Thursday class is different.

It started when my daughter said "Moooommmm, I really need you to teach me yoga. My body hurts and needs some gentle stretching." Then my son said, "Yeeaah . . I'm more flexible after taking just two of your classes." Then his girlfriend said, "and wouldn't it be good for my back?"

I thought . . . okay, I can do a class for three. But I don't have enough room in my house. So I checked the schedule at The Texas Yoga Center where I teach on occasion and, sure enough, there was a spot open on Thursday afternoons. And when I talked to the owner about using the room, she said, "That would be great! You could ask your son to talk it up at school and see if there are more teens who want to do 'Teen Yoga.'"

So I did. And he did. And since he's a football player and knows mostly football players . . . well, that's what Thursday's class has turned in to. A handful of muscular, athletic boys (and a few girls) who want to learn a little yoga. Yoga of all things! I know what you're thinking. You're trying to picture Terry Bradshaw in Lord of the Dancer's Pose. Or Ben Roethlisberger holding Warrior Two for a few minutes. John Elway in Pigeon Pose. Or Peyton Manning in Bound Tree Pose. Kind of brings some interesting images to mind doesn't it?

True, there's something both weird and amazing about this odd combo and I keep wondering why these young men want to join me in sun salutations till they're all running sweat. Or warm up with Moon Salute, holding Goddess Pose for a breath or two. But they DO! And the harder I make it, the happier they seem.

Our goal pose has been Crow Pose. Also known as Crane. Or in Sanskrit, Bakasana.

photo compliments of luluemon athletica

It's a fairly challenging pose that takes upper body strength coupled with a good sense of balance. And while Thursday's class sure doesn't lack for muscle (emphasis here) we're all still working on our balance.

Some of us have already nailed Bakasana! Next thing you know, I'll be teaching these boys poses I can't even do!

When a gift just keeps on giving

So, you may already know that I had an anniversary recently. It was a biggie too. Twenty years! Who would'a thunk it, huh? It came on a Wednesday, a typical Wednesday where my husband went off to work in the wee hours of the morning, giving me a kiss goodbye before heading off in the dark. It was later when I got up to make breakfast for me and the boy when I discovered this:

Typical of our tradition, I did not open it. We always (always) wait until we're together to open gifts, cards and such. However . . . she said with a cunning little grin . . .  tradition did not prohibit my lifting and shaking the thing! But oh my gosh . . . what the heck did he buy me?! A case of bricks? A personalized stepping stone?

Ronnie lifted it too and between the two of us, we figured it weighed some ten to fifteen pounds.

Needless to say, I heaved it up and down a number of times throughout the day trying to guess what was in it. And only when hubby and I had gone out to a nice celebratory dinner and returned home, did I open it.

And it wasn't a brick at all but this:

What an awesome gift! Reminiscent of our ten year anniversary when we'd taken an Alaskan cruise, returning with stories and memories, a lot of great art work, a ton of pictures! And a case of canned Sockeye Salmon that had lasted many, many months.

I expect this case to do the same.

However, I did dig into it the other day.

It looked something like this:

And on my salad it looked just like this:

And it tasted a lot like this:

Yep . . .that's about it.

THANKS HONEY! I LOVE IT!