For Seth: Insanity: We're all on the spectrum!

Last night I found out some very disturbing news.  An old acquaintance of mine was found dead.  He was very artistic, very intelligent, and he was young.  He  died in a dumpster amid garbage.  My thoughts are, according to a newspaper article that he was trying to keep warm on a cold Midwest March night.





 He came from a Christian family, went to a Christian high school and graduated from a Christian university.  His family was a respectable middle class family.  His mother was an artist and he seemed to have inherited her talent for the arts.   He won an award or two for film making and his videos were creative, imaginative,  young and interesting. 



I didn't know him that well, but he made a video for me when I had a small, inner city school.  He also did some house sitting and dog watching for me once when I was out of the country. Yet, lately, I found out that he has recently been homeless; drifting around a cold city in the dead of winter, alone.

He was found in a dumpster, dead.  The newspaper article stated that his parents said  he was mentally ill and refused to take his medications.  My heart breaks!  After hearing the news, and then going to bed not long after, my dreams were filled with strange images from my past and dark feelings that made no sense at all.   But the feelings totally aligned themselves with how I felt about my friend's death.


Strange enough, the day they found him, I had been watching some tedtalks on my computer. The ones about mental illness specifically drew my attention and I watched with an alluring curiosity .  When I was a child I knew that my family didn't resemble other families.  My mother had electric shock treatments when I was about eleven or twelve.




"Electroconvulsive therapy is a procedure in which electric currents are passed through the brain, intentionally triggering a brief seizure.  ECT seems to cause changes in brain chemistry that can quickly reverse symptoms of certain mental illnesses.  It often works when other treatments are unsuccessful." (mayoclinic.org) As a young girl, when I asked what mom was going to have done, it was simply explained to me that she was going to have treatments that would help her forget the "bad" things.  In the sixties, these treatments were done without anesthesia

 No one really talked about things like that in those days.  I just knew something wasn't right, especially when she went to the hospital and stayed for what I thought, was a large amount of time. I remember my father taking me to visit her in the psych ward.  It felt so strange, the atmosphere had  an ethereal, sad quality that I felt immediately after I got off the elevator. I can't remember how it came to be, but I was asked to sing "Has Anybody Seen My Gal" to an audience of people captured under the title of mentally ill. Their blank stares and empty faces made me think of zombies and people absent from their bodies. I think I was about twelve.




I was always sort of afraid to tackle the thought that anyone I knew had mental illness, let alone, myself.  I remember my sister saying our mother was mentally ill and how it made me feel defensive, as if  it was a huge insult to be in the league of the mad, and insane.   Now, I see  that type of thinking is more damaging than the illness itself. Still, any sort of "illness" bothers me.  Maybe I'm a perfectionist?   I know I'm codependent, I've been through therapy.  Yet still, the stigma is shadowy, grey and certainly not something you want to discuss at a cocktail party.

My friend didn't take his medications, wound up in a dumpster, and was accidentally killed in that dirty, circular file of other peoples waste and items of rejection.  He didn't take his medications! WHY?

I believe  people diagnosed with mental illness, at least the ones that I know, have all been and are pretty perceiving to things "normal" people aren't.  To live in a world where everyone is expected to think along the lines of someone else's definition of normalcy is difficult if not impossible. Not to forget the trendy thinking of "not depending on chemicals" to "fix" a problem...everything should be "natural", "healthy" and "organic".  Lastly, you have religious solutions to mental problems that say if you pray hard enough, or do just the right thing, say the right thing that God will "deliver" you.  And if God doesn't, just try harder or have other people pray for you.  Whatever!!! Sometimes those theories are the most damaging.


I truly believe that most people, upon further inspection, fall in the category of  "mentally ill".    I know some  who suffer from such severe anxiety that they break out in rashes, or try to plan their lives out ahead so much that the moment is non existent. These same people view counselling or therapy as something for other people; poor souls.  Mentally ill? I believe so.  In denial? Absolutely!   They believe that you have to be in a near vegetative state to even have therapy.

I met my friend when I attended an inner city church filled with people who would be diagnosed mentally ill if they had the money for treatment. I loved that church and funnily enough, felt more at home there than anywhere.  There was a woman who was certainly bi-polar, and very kind.  Once she was in one of her moods she threatened to kill me over something trivial in my mind, obviously it wasn't trivial to her. (I was educating her son.) It was almost amusing that I had no fear in me whatsoever!  I knew she deeply loved me and appreciated what I was doing for her and her son.  And, I knew her heart.

A young life is gone and I don't understand why.  Brilliant, creative and good hearted, he left too soon and he left in a way that grieves me as much as his lost life.  In spite of the fact that I haven't spoken with him in years, it still hits hard and heavy that he left our world.  I hope he has found peace.

Just Think About It,( with your heart)

First, I want to say that it's a February evening, the sun has not quite set, and this, my friend, is close to paradise.  The Phoenix weather is p e r f e c t at this time of year.  My windows and french doors are open, I hear the birds singing, and well....I'm just happy I'm here

Secondly, on not such a happy note, I want to talk about my vegetarianism.  I know, there are certain things I just harp on, and this is one. Yep, I'm doing it again. For years I intentionally stayed away from being sort of self righteous about not eating animal. But it seems that the more people actually know about what they're eating, they go one of two ways; they usually lose their appetite for animals, or they defend their desire to still eat meat without feeling bad, to the hilt. 



 “I can't count the times that upon telling someone I am vegetarian, he or she responded by pointing out an inconsistency in my lifestyle or trying to find a flaw in an argument I never made. (I have often felt that my vegetarianism matters more to such people than it does to me.)” 
― Jonathan Safran Foer, Eating Animals

I remember when I was just a little girl, sitting at our family table, looking at the roast my mother put before us.  It was dinner.  I saw dead animal.  I don't know exactly how I finally erased the thought of the truth that I was eating what once was a living creature, an animal, but I managed to get that thought out of my mind.

I love those moments in life when you have this amazing moment of realization...a revelation....a type of waking up.  That type of moment happened to me twenty five years ago this year.  I had been really sick and wasn't able to eat for a week.  As my appetite rapidly returned, I told my husband how hungry I was.  We had a grocery store not too far from us where you could buy fried chicken.  He told me he would  run over there and  and buy us an easy dinner of..yes, fried chicken.  That evening, as  I looked at the dead bird I intended to eat, I looked at it and saw veins, muscle, flesh and blood.  It seemed as though this voice that had been in me for a long time, but only spoke just then, said something....something loud and clear, that resonated in my whole being, had this message:  "You don't have to eat that.  Your mother isn't here to make you eat your meat.  You're an adult now." And that was it. 

 I haven't had meat since then, and I seriously do not miss it.  I didn't become a vegetarian for any sort of health reason.  I became a vegetarian because I knew what I didn't want to do,and that was, eat an animal. I also pictured exactly what the animal looked like before it was slaughtered.Most of all, I wondered what it would be like to be the animal, knowing I would be slaughtered.  I realized that I was eating something that probably didn't want to die so that I could indulge in it's flesh. 

At first I was almost shy about letting others know of my decision. Yet at the same time, there was this sort of peaceful feeling that I had been true to my real self. Not the self that is conditioned by culture and society. But I really didn't want to appear self righteous around all of my meat eating friends. I don't think I actually knew another vegetarian  back then. When I told others I didn't eat meat, they most always had this sort of speech that it's fine, as long as I don't impose my "tastes" on them.  And then of course, they proceeded to tell how there are some "arrogant, self righteous" vegetarians "out there".  

Fast forward twenty five years.  I've changed a lot!  I'm more eccentric about my love for animals to the point where I admit to liking them more than people.  I'm not embarrassed to tell that truth.  As a matter of fact, if someone has a problem with MY vegetarianism..I realize it's not me, but their own self, who has the problem.  AND their problem is usually that they really don't want to think of meat as an animal, or at least they don't want to see, feel, hear the cries of how that animal was killed. 

The thing about me is that I idealistically want people to see life the way I do. (Well, at least I admit it!) Espeically when it has to do with animals. Animals have been faithful and loving to me without exception, why shouldn't I love them so? It's difficult for me to express the way I really feel.  Words don't come easy for me so I'll close with this video, which says it all!  

Ramblings on a Free Friday

Sitting upstairs in my beautiful bedroom, the sun slowly coming up and my view is amazing:  Mountains preceded by red tile roofs, framed with the tops of trees. 




 I'm feeling extremely grateful for this day. And yes, I have the day off from my day job.  I will be helping my daughter move into her long awaited for new home that she can call her own.




 Peaceful and tranquil, and suddenly one of my beloved dogs hops on the bed and demands my attention by literally getting in my face with his big, sad-ish looking blue eyes, placing his huge paws on my computer and begging for touch.  This is the one who had been neglected the first year and a half of his life. His persistent attempts to be touched or played with (He CONSTANTLY brings his ball or rope toy and drops it in front of me so I will play with him.)is so annoying, but I understand and love him to the moon and back! 


So, where was I? Ah yes, the view.  It's almost totally light now and I will soon be getting ready to meet my daughter at the gym where she trains, do her weights class and then head out for some serious, enjoyable work. But still I ramble.  What I really wanted to do was write about how terribly difficult it is to stay in keeping with my life intention: that is to be grateful for all things, to see the good in all and to thank God for this beautiful world. And I AM grateful, and I DO see the good in all and I certainly do thank God for this beautiful world.  But when it gets right down to it....we live in an imperfect world, and anyone who cannot see that, I question their sanity.  Or, if it IS perfect....the perfection is hiding in the greyness of....what??? Pollution?  Okay, pollution.


I was brought up by a Catholic mother,

 and Jewish father.


(of course these are pics of them in their youth, but what great pics they are!)


I believe I have mentioned that more than several times.  And, I was brought up by a conservative (not in his younger days) father, and a liberal (not in her younger days) mother.  Both of my parents were very intelligent, and both obviously impressed me to think for myself, to look at all sides and then make my decision.  I am grateful to have had the parents that I had, I miss them very much, and I often wish they were here so that I could throw around controversial subjects to hear their view on them.  But they're not.


Okay, rambling yet again.  I guess what I want to say is that I truly want to be a positive thinker like Joel Olstien, or Louise Hay, but I see too, at times, to be more like what Mark Twain calls "an optimist who hasn't arrived yet." Unfortunately, to be ruthlessly honest, I blame others for my inadequacies. (Be careful with your judging here...I"m being open and stupidly honest).  So tell me how to keep my upbeat thought process when I'm around people who are always talking about the horrible injustices of the world, people who are angry and fearful that their "rights" are being taken away from them, and others who seem to always see the dark side of the cloud?


When I let myself get involved with the "world's" problems, I become one of the people to be blamed. Catch 22.  So there ya have it.  Again, no answers today, in the meantime, I'll celebrate my daughter's new joy with.....well.......a good sugar-free coke. (another intentional choice...to stick with my gym's New Year's Challenge and give up alcoholic beverages for 6 weeks....Oy Vey!!!!) Have a great, and joyful imperfect day!

My Baby Blue

I have to talk about my Milo....He is my blue eyed, red and white haired, Australian Shepherd.  Let me say this though,before I get started;  I have three dogs and I love my other two with all my heart.  My Milo though...he's different.  I mean they're all different, like having kids, you love them all, but in different ways.  And comparisons are really foolish when you talk about the love of your dogs.  But this is about Milo!

I saw his sweet, innocent, eager face on Facebook.



 I had been looking for a  third dog, but not  actively. When I saw his face, I had to find out more.  His large blue eyes, spoke volumes to me, and the expression on his face was almost confusing and begging for love.  He was adoptable, good with kids and other dogs; well, that was all I had to read. I think it was the next day we drove across the city, about a half hour to where his foster home was.  Turns out he was about 18 months old and his first 17 months were spent in a four by six foot pen, alone, with no real human contact. Apparently, some guy bought him from a breeder and it turned out he traveled a lot so he left Milo with his mother.  His mother was "allergic" to dogs, so she basically pushed food into his small pen.

Milo wasn't his name.  It was Patches.  Patches.  I don't think so.  I knew from the minute I met him he certainly was not a "Patches".  Even now, as I sit here typing, and he goes in and out of the dog door, or as he lies on the floor by my chair, I look at him and know that Milo was his name and should have been his name from the start.

Anyway, his transition was really fairly smooth.  He was great with Tasha and Lexy, our other family dogs. Tasha was very curious and happy he was here and Lexy, the old alpha dog, had been through four other dogs in our household, so she took it all in stride. I honestly can't remember much about his first few days in his new home.  I think that Tasha had some sort of special language that she used when she communicated to him, and told him everything was cool in this house, to hang out, and enjoy his new home. Yep, I do think that was her message to him.




 Because that's what he did.  He seem as comfortable as he could have been for a boy who had no real human contact for the first 17 months of his life.  His foster family, however, was awesome.  They nursed him through the trauma of losing his testicles, and made him comfortable in his own fur by combing out all of the mats.  They also provided a happy, safe place with lots of hands on love and affection.

Still, as with humans, those early days of life are vital, and form us in so many ways.  Milo can't get enough physical contact, and he loves being stroked, hugged and loved on.  Like a typical Aussie, he gets a huge amount of joy from leaping up in the air to catch a tennis ball.



When it comes to food, he can't get enough.  That's  a little disturbing. The owner of our gym said that her dog would eat until he blew himself up. That's Milo...I think he would as well. Fortunately I have a great life partner, my husband, who takes him and his 'siblings' on a hike each morning, on the mountain across from our home. He LOVES that!!  






Milo is extremely intelligent. They say Aussies have about the same intelligence as a five year old human.  I believe it, Milo has proved it.  He is my boy, there is a bond.  I feel guilty that I have to go to work and leave him. Even though he has two others his same kind; dogs. I feel guilty when I leave and don't take him, but I have to remind myself that it could have been worse for him. It doesn't keep me from thinking that he would be much happier with a younger family, with kids who can play with his young, curious self.



Okay, well, it's a Friday night, and my boy is lying next to me, asleep.  He is beautiful, and I am fortunate.  My companion, my boy, my faithful friend, Milo, is a treasure to me.  I am happy to be his!

Grateful Me

So, it's been a while since I've written.  Firstly, I want to say that I probably have had the best Christmas that I've ever had!  And yes, it is because we finally finished our room addition, and yes it is because my daughter and my son in law have finally bought a most magnificent home, (and yes, near us!) and yes, because my son found a lovely lady to love him, and marry him.  (And of course she found a most excellent man, my son, to love her and cherish her; at least he better! ;-)  )


But it's a new year with a future ahead of us all.  I believe there is much in store for us and I want to make sure I'm aware and intentional about knowing how rich I really am.  A friend of mine on Facebook told me about a book she is reading, and highly suggested it to me.


 It's called "The Magic",  by Rhonda Byrne.  Her perspective on life is refreshing and in my case, life changing.  She talks about the wonders of youth where anything is possible, life is endless,  Santa Claus is real, miracles happen, true love is genuinely authentic, and life is good! With her words, she takes you back to those young, childhood memories. If you're really open, and you're really looking, those memories will stir something deep within your being that you thought was lost eons ago. 

" Truly I tell you, unless you turn and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."  Jesus


Actually for me, I'm a die hard idealist who remembers all the enchantments I used to feel when I sat under my grandparents overgrown shrubbery. It felt like a perfect world where no one, or nothing could damage my fantasy of castles, princes and princesses, and a world so appealing, you never wanted to leave. I imagine C.S. Lewis had such a world in mind when he wrote about Narnia.  



For me, it wasn't a wardrobe that took me there, it was my grandparents Spirea.  It grew about four feet upwards and then it's limbs spilled over to the ground and left a cozy, charming space between the trunk of the bush and the limbs that touched the ground. Most of the time it was decorated with tiny, delicate, white flowers that looked like lace.   There, I climbed under it's protective covering and sat for hours, thinking, pretending and enjoying the summer's day.  



Yep, I remember that well.  

Of course I couldn't stay.  At that age,  I wasn't able to put my feelings or thoughts into words.  But if they could have been, I would have said that I didn't want to leave, and why couldn't the world stay like my imagined world.  Now, as an adult I have to ponder the question; "Was it really imagined??? Is it really imagined?" 


"I am here to tell you that the magic you once believed in is true, and it's the disillusioned adult perspective of life that is false.  The magic of life is real - and it's as real as you are.  In fact, life can be far more wondrous than you ever thought it was as a child, and more breathtaking, awe-inspiring, and exciting than anything you've seen before." (Rhonda Byrne...)

I won't even begin to tell you my whole story, but let me say this; one of the reasons I sought out my grandparents' backyard sanctuary was because my everyday life was not exactly my aspiration of the most ideal way to live.  It wasn't bad, and don't get me wrong, I am thankful for my upbringing, but there was always a subtle modulated communique, that spoke of doubt, cynicism and sadness and sickness.



So, to read those thoughts that Rhonda Byrnes spoke of in her book...WOW! And to actually be willing to believe those words, receive those words; maybe????  

Here's the short version of my story; At one point in my life when I found my faith after losing it for years, I was taught that we are not to go by our feelings, that our feelings deceive us, we need  to be practical etc etc etc..blah blah blah.  You catch my drift!!! So trying to be the best person I could be, I interpreted that to mean that my self was not trust worthy.  I became someone hard, self righteous, and fake. But I did it with good intentions of pleasing God and others.  I don't think I pleased God, myself or anyone else for that matter. Actually the reverse happened. However, thanks to God's wonderful grace and mercy, I was able to change.  I had to go through a whole lot of pain to get rid of the fake self and find who I truly was.  I am thankful for the pain that I went through, for the hell that I went through, for all that happened. (I really did try to keep it short!)


"That's the thing with magic.  You've got to know it's still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you."  charles de lint - writer anc celtic folk musician

Now, my life has been getting better and better.  Thank God! This book is teaching me even more about the mystery of life abundantly.  The book, as I've already said, is called,  "The Magic".  The Merriam-Webster definition of magic is "power that allows people to do impossible things by saying special words and performing special actions."  The magic she is talking about is gratitude.  Not just saying thank you, but saying thank you all the time for specific things, at specific times, and as she said "saturating yourself in gratitude." Feeling the gratitude in every fiber of your being is the goal.  



"When I started counting my blessings, my whole life changed." willie nelson


When I was about 8 or so, my father called me downstairs to watch a video of WW2 concentration camp survivors. He told me those were my ancestors. It was actual footage of the 'prisoners' being released from hellish, abusive prisons. Tiny men and women who were just a skeleton of their former selves.  The vision put an imprint on my soul that never went away. 




 I remember taking baths after that, and thinking about those survivors, thinking about all the things they had to go through. At my young age I soaked in my tub and felt extremely  rich and grateful for the clean, warm water, the big white tub, and of course the perfumed, bubbly,soap.



That was probably the beginning of my appreciation of all that I had. 

In Rhonda Byrne's book, you can choose to take the journey each day by doing certain exercises. The first one, which is repeated for 28 days, is keeping a journal of all you are grateful for and why.  Each day you log ten things you're thankful for and why you are thankful. 

"It is quite possible to leave your home for a walk in the early morning air and return a different person - beguiled, enchanted" mary ellen chase, educator and writer 1887-1973


 After you finish writing them, you read them aloud (or in your head) and say, "thank you, thank you, thank you". By the end of the 28 days, you have 336 things you are grateful for.  Because you say them every night before you go to bed, you wake up feeling wonderfully prosperous.  

Why do you think scripture is filled with giving thanks?  It certainly isn't because God is a narcissist. I believe it's because God set up certain ways our world, our universe works.  If one is grateful for what one has, however small, then much will be given to that person. If one complains, criticizes, and is constantly finding fault, I believe even what that person has is taken away... not by God, but by their lack of appreciation.

Okay, so I'm finished.  This is my fourth day and it's been a wonderful four days. I am thankful to Rhonda Byrne for writing this book!!! I will keep you posted!

The Christmas Song/Story

I love Christmas!  I love the feelings it evokes, I love the food, I love the gifts, I love the decorating, I love the music.




But it also brings up some pretty crappy thoughts.  I, personally, acknowledge Christmas as a time when we remember that there was a baby born who was the savior.  With the word savior comes thoughts like, 'saved from what'???. With the concept of savior  comes the fact that we're living in an imperfect world; a beautiful world, but imperfect. Usually where I get into trouble is  the thought that something we once had is now lost. Something went dreadfully wrong in this world as we know it, and I believe, we all as humans, genuinely know it!



"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." He was the radical, he was the strange Jew, he was the Savior of all human kind.  





Yet in my heart, knowing that I believe in his constant presence in my life, there is an ache, a dull, continuous reminder, that we still struggle, we still suffer, and we still are not that perfect being we want to be.  




Animal abuse, human abuse and abusing the earth is a glaring example of the emotional and political deformities in our world. Yet Christ came to set us free.  My Christian upbringing says that "we" are saved.  But if we look around, on a global level, saved from what?  When I made the choice to become a Christian, it was very, very straightforward as to what I, personally, was saved from; the hell of my own choices, the pain of things that had shaped my life, and the fact that my depression and life style was on a constant spiral down, down, down.  And then, there he came, into my life....glorious, bright and all the other descriptions you can think of when it comes to God.  JESUS!  Yes, I LOVE that name.



I still have no answers on how to 'save' our beautifully flawed world, and  it really does grieve me.  But apparently, it's not my problem, although my awareness shares the pain. I love the way Rob Bell thinks, and I think this quote fits nicely in this part of my blog:

“Salvation is the entire universe being brought back into harmony with its maker.” 
― Rob Bell, Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith 






To be able to articulate all the thoughts that go through my head would be close to heaven for me, but alas, it's not happening.  I'm doing the best I can.  Christmas is about Jesus' birth in my house.  And Jesus' birth was bitter sweet.  He came, and knew from the start, all he would have to suffer.  Whether he saw the big picture from the time he was a young kid, or whether the nagging realization was a feeling that appeared slowly, he knew! His life might have been about how much he loved this life, but also his life might have been clouded with the sad reality of how hateful society can be.  I think he sees that hate today, and is terribly sad.  Especially around election time.  The mud slinging, the disrespect, the overall negativity of it all:  if God weeps, it's about that, it's about our lack of love for one another.




"Father up above, why in all this hatred do you fill me up with love?"  dmb


I always told my kids that St. Nick was where the idea of Santa came from.  I honestly don't think they suffered much by knowing there was no Santa.  I  like honesty on all levels.  I told my kids that we give gifts because God gave humanity a gift; a gift of God's only son, Jesus.   There is so much that was a part of Jesus' birth....The fact that Mary told Joseph she was pregnant and still was a virgin.  Yeah, right.  People are people, no matter where or what times you lived.  Can you imagine Joseph's thoughts?  I'm sure some of his friends might have labeled her a slut.




 But God came though.  He gave Joseph a dream.  (Dreams are really God's secret language.) And seriously, I can NOT imagine what Mary was thinking and feeling about the fact that some very strange being came to her in whatever form, and said, hey, you''re going to get pregnant.  It will be  a boy, and he will be the savior."  OMG!

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has come to make you new?
This Child that you delivered will soon deliver you.

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will calm the storm with His hand?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has walked where angels trod?
When you kiss your little Baby you kissed the face of God?

The blind will see.
The deaf will hear.
The dead will live again.
The lame will leap.
The dumb will speak
The praises of The Lamb.

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
The sleeping Child you're holding is the Great, I Am.

I always wanted a son, and 32 years and some months ago, I had one.  He is my heart.  To think of any harm whatsoever coming to him, would kill me, literally, I don't know if I could live if either of my children were harmed in any way.  And yet, Mary had to go through that.  I wonder what happened to her later, after Jesus died.  

There is so much about Jesus life and death that amazes me.  It has caused me to know in my heart that HE is the man, he is the one, he is my love.  

I have a little idea why I think about all of my loved ones who have gone to the "other side' around Christmas.  It's been like this for a while now.  At Christmas I think of dead people.  I feel them sometimes when I let myself.  And I feel their love.  This has compelled an even deeper faith in Jesus because hey, if my dead relatives and loved ones can see me, how much more is that true for Jesus.  

Ahhhh, and yet again, I am rambling.  To put feelings and thoughts into some art form is, in my opinion, prodigious. My attempt to express my feelings, at this time of year, is not an easy task.

I am grateful!! I am grateful that Jesus was born, and lived and died and came back from the grave to prove there's something beyond.  I'm soooo grateful that 2013 has been very good to my family.  I am grateful for ever so much! 

With that, I hope you all have wonderful Christmas and I hope that 2014 will be as good to you as 2013 was to me.  Let's raise a glass of red to that.  If you're reading I'm sending a huge amount of love to you.  I hope you feel it.