To All My Girl Friends


 I have a new delightful friend,
 I am most in awe of her.
 When we first met I was impressed,
 By her bizarre behavior.

 That day I had a date with friends,
 We met to have some lunch.
 Mae had come along with them.
 All in all ... a pleasant bunch.

 When the menus were presented,
 We ordered salads, sandwiches, and soups.
 Except for Mae who circumvented And said,
 Ice Cream, please: two scoops

 I was not sure my ears heard right.
 And the others were aghast.
 Along with heated apple pie,
 Mae added, completely unabashed.

 We tried to act quite nonchalant,
 As if people did this all the time.
 But when our orders were brought out,
 I did not enjoy mine.

 I could not take my eyes off Mae,
 As her pie a-la-mode went down.
 The other ladies showed dismay,
 They ate their lunches silently, and frowned.

 Well, the next time I went out to eat,
 I called and invited Mae.
 My lunch contained white tuna meat,
 She ordered a parfait.

 I smiled when her dish I viewed,
 And she asked if she amused me.
 I answered, Yes, you do,
 But also you confuse me.

How come you order rich desserts,
 When I feel I must be sensible?
 She laughed and said, with wanton mirth,
 I am tasting all that's possible.

 I try to eat the food I need,
 And do the things I should.
 But life's so short, my friend, indeed,
 I hate missing out on something good.

 This year I realized how old I was,
 She grinned, I've not been this old before.
 So, before I die, I've got to try,
 Those things for years I had ignored.

 I've not smelled all the flowers yet,
 There's too many books I have not read.
 There's more fudge sundaes to wolf down
 And kites to be flown overhead.

There are many malls I have not shopped,
 I've not laughed at all the jokes.
 I've missed a lot of Broadway hits,
 And potato chips and cokes.

 I want to wade again in water,
  And feel ocean spray upon my face.
 Sit in a country church once more,
 And thank God for its grace.

 I want peanut butter every day,
 Spread on my morning toast.
 I want un-timed long-distance calls,
 To the folks I love the most.

 I've not cried at all the movies yet,
 Nor walked in the morning rain.
 I need to feel wind in my hair,
 I want to fall in love again.

 So, if I choose to have dessert,
 Instead of having dinner,
 And should I die before night falls,
 I'd say I died a winner.

 Because I missed out on nothing,
 I filled my heart's desire.
 I had that final chocolate mousse,
 Before my life expired.

 With that, I called the waitress over.
 I'd changed my mind, it seems.
 I said: I want what she is having,
 Only, add some more whipped-cream!

Women are not inherently passive or peaceful. We're not inherently

anything but human.

~Robin  Morgan~

***

Believing in our hearts that who we are is enough is the key to a

more satisfying and balanced life.

~Ellen Sue Stern~

***

We must overcome the notion that we must be regular...it robs you of the

chance to be extraordinary and leads you to the mediocre.

~Uta Hagen~

***

I have no regrets. I wouldn't have lived my life the way I did if I was going to worry about what people were going to say.

~Ingrid Bergman~

***

I don't believe in failure. It is not failure if you enjoyed the process.

~Oprah Winfrey~

***

Don't be afraid your life will end. Be afraid it will never begin.

~Grace Hansen~

SOME THINGS YOU KEEP

Some things you keep. Like good teeth. Warm coats. Bald husbands.  They're

good for you, reliable and practical and so sublime that to throw them away

would make the garbage man a thief.

So you hang on, because something old is sometimes better than something

new, and who you know is often better than a stranger. These are my thoughts. They make me sound old...old and tame...and dull at a time when everybody

else is risky and racy and flashing all that's new and improved in their lives.

New careers, new thighs, new lips, new cars. The world is dizzy with trade-ins.

I could keep track, but I don't think I want to.

I grew up in the fifties with practical parents -- a mother, God bless her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it -- and still does. A father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones.

They weren't poor, my parents, they were just satisfied. Their marriage was

good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can

see them now, Dad in trousers and tee shirt and Mom in a house dress,

 lawnmower in one's hand, dishtowel in the other's. It was a time for fixing things -- a curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress.

Things you keep. It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that refixing, reheating, renewing. I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant there'd always be more.

But then my father died, and on that clear autumn night, in the chill of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any 'more.' Sometimes what you care about most gets all used up and goes

away, never to return.

So, while you have it, it's best to love it and care for it and fix it when it's broken and heal it when it's sick. That's true for marriage and old cars and children with bad report cards, and dogs with bad hips, and aging parents. You keep them because they're worth it, because you're worth it.

Some things you keep. Like a best friend who moved away or a brother or sister you grew up with, there's just some things that make life important....people you know are special....and you should keep them close!

~Author Unknown To Me~