jong rings the gong

On Obama.

Erica Jong has long been a favorite fiction writer (Fear of Flying) and more recently, non-fiction (Fear of Fifty). I'm thrilled that she's writing political pieces on Huffington Post. A Hillary Clinton supporter like myself, she captures some of my cynical sentiments about the primary race, here.

I plan to rally behind Obama when, presumably, he is chosen as the official democratic candidate. I believe he has excellent political instincts and moving oratory skills. But he's fairly untested in the large scale arena and that's a worry during such challenging economic and international times and a curiosity that he would win more favor among voters.

freshly firthed

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Just saw Helen Hunt's directorial debut, Then She Found Me. I thought it was excellent, excellent, excellent. My kinda film. All the ingredients of authentic human drama: poignant, funny, heartbreaking, uplifting, disappointing, kind, thoughtless, smart and idiotic. My friend and I were laughing out loud throughout (when we weren't dabbing at tears). It was the right blend of quirky and emotionally touching. And Colin is awfully nice to look at (my secret boyfriend, Mrs. G). He had me with "you need to get some sleep." Plus a couple of my other favorite actors: Bette Midler (awesome) and Matthew Broderick.

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If you don't know what this movie is about, I suggest you don't read too many reviews. Maybe not any. There were critical plot pieces that I didn't know anything about and was happily surprised. I've been looking over reviews to link to but they all give away too much.

So I thought I would help you out. Here's a review by Marjorie Baumgarten, one that does the film justice, minus a few details I think you're better off not knowing:

Hunt's debut as a film director makes me glad she found us. This story about a 39-year-old woman whose biological clock is ticking loudly and whose life is not turning out as planned is a work of maturity – at least in its humanist perspective if not always its cinematic scope. The film delivers a nice blend of drama, comedy, and the unknown, in other words, an accurate reflection of life as we live it. Based on a novel by Elinor Lipman, Then She Found Me finds just the right tone for detailing its heroine's problems. It's neither a sob story nor a satire, which helps make the character's problems seem both genuine and worthy of exploration. Hunt also stars as April Epner, the story's central figure, a casting choice that was probably a necessity for getting the movie financed but a wearying position for a first-time filmmaker to find herself in. This factor no doubt contributes to the drab appearance of April, a plain-Jane New York schoolteacher who, on the verge of 40, marries a mama's boy from the neighborhood (Broderick) in order to start a family. Her own mother has advised her to adopt, but April wants a biological baby. April, having been adopted herself, rudely insists to her adopted mother that there's a discernible difference. In short order, April's husband abandons her, then her mother dies, leaving April a mother to no one and a daughter to none. During this time, two individuals enter her life – Frank (Firth), the single dad of one of her young students, and Bernice (Midler), the woman who blah blah blah.... Midler plays the character with lovely control, creating a realistic human being who also suffers from unrequited needs, rather than a cartoonish and self-centered busybody. Of course, one could look at the scenario and see blah blah blah and one ex-husband for the quintessential Mr. Darcy. However, the screenplay has more subtle complications to its credit and never strays far from what's realistic. (The film is especially satisfying in regard to April's expression of her Judaism.) Hunt's visual palette often looks as drab as the character she plays, but the film's rhythms are well-tailored yet pliant. A scene at a benefit for one of Midler's pet causes, River Keepers, rates a smile, but when blah blah blah shows up in the role of April's gynecologist, the odd casting may take a viewer out of the movie for a second. Some may dismiss Then She Found Me as a mere "women's film," but it's really a more honest and mature take on sex and the city.

thank you

california supremes

anonymous blog stalkers

Maybe some of the seasoned bloggers know about this, but I just heard about it for the first time. Around this time last year, a popular woman blogger shut down her site due to fear. Kathy Sierra was afraid for her physical safety after threats of sexual assault were written in anonymous comments and escalated to website posts. An example of negative comments gone nuclear.

When I first started looking for psych blogs and meandering around the blogosphere, I came across a feminst blog that took a pro-woman view of traditional bible interpretations. It just so happened that within a short week of me finding her blog, she posted that she had removed all personal information, and numerous entire posts. She explained to me that someone was anonymously leaving vile, personalized and threatening comments. She chose to withdraw and as far as I know, she hasn't posted to the blog again.

These scenerios got me thinking: what to do if you feel afraid of someone's threatening, stalking or otherwise harassing comments? I looked around and Bloggingfeminism covered most of the suggestions I found:

1. moderate comments. delete as needed.

2. bloggers can help each other by outing authors of anonymous threats and harrassing emails: track their IP or email addresses of threatening commenters and notify the targeted blogger; post the harasser's email address

3. talk about it with other bloggers, "out loud" - identify the comments as threatening and harrassing

4. pool resources and create a site for public outing: join with other bloggers, collect harrassing commenters IP addresses as a means of identifying their origin or identity and post this information. prosecute whenever feasible.

All suggestions worth considering.

Missing from the suggestion list, however, was advice that I imagine Gavin DeBecker, author of The Gift of Fear might give. I read his book as a means of coping with a personal stalking experience. I had received mixed advice, including, from my local misguided police officers, the exact thing DeBecker said NOT to do: face my stalker and tell him to stop contacting me. Which was exactly the thing I did do. Theh result? The stalking escalated.

So I read The Gift of Fear and followed advice to victims of stalkers, which, in a nutshell, is to minimize contact with the perpetrator, to zero, when at all possible. No conversations, no rebuttals, no arguements, no bad mouthing in return, no requests, no talking to those in contact with the stalker -- there's a chance it will get back to the stalker, which is an indirect form of contact. Because, according to DeBecker, the stalker wants to have a dialog with you and get a reaction from you. Any forms of communication are feeding the stalker's desire to interact.

So given DeBecker's recommendations, it seems to me that the best advice of all is to delete and ignore (which moderating can accomplish). Elevating a threatening post to a public discussion may, in some cases, give the hate-commenter exactly what he's looking for -- attention. He gets to learn that his post had it's intended impact -- fear. Shutting down a blog is one way to ignore and become unavailable and in the case of the blogger mentioned, she was so fearful she felt this was her only way of coping. But deleting and giving no "airtime" to these hate mongers is something to consider first.

Credit goes to Ezra Klein at The American Prospect, where I first learned of this story. Because Sierra became the subject of much scrutiny, and in some cases, criticism for shutting down her blog, Slate published a defense of her reaction, explaining why women bloggers needn't apologize for feeling fearful of these kinds of attacks. Picture of the anonymous blogger was lifted from Chamber Music Today.

ooops

One morning over the weekend I finished showering and noticed my bedroom door was wide open. My husband was doing yardwork, my son was sleeping and my other kids were at a neighbor's house playing. So, still nekkid, I walked across my bedroom to close the door and finish dressing.

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Just as I reached the door, my teenage son turned the corner. There we stood, facing each other, for what seemed like the longest millisecond in the history of time and space. In a futile gesture, I did the two handed cover-up and grabbed the door shut. Once hidden, I peeked around to croak, "Sorrrrrry!"

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Just in time to see him turn his back, raise his face to the ceiling, and groan, "ewwwwwww."

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Yeah, he nailed it. On so many levels. Poor kid.

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The above image snagged from one of my favorite pick-me-up blogsites bitsandpieces.

compliments that count

I'm reading about the debate on complimenting our kids. The controversy involves educator Alfie Kohn 's assertions that some forms of praise used by parents and teachers are harmful. I don't agree with a lot of Kohn's tenets and arguements but I do agree with him that there are preferred ways to use compliments as positive motivators.

And I hope Paula Abdul is reading this. As an American Idol viewer, I cringe each time it is her turn to give constructive criticism and feedback to the contestants, especially those who know they didn't give such a great performance. Her gushing, global praise, "You are just you and you are beautiful!" is an excellent example of what not to do.

So for Paula and parents and teachers who are trying to be a help and not a hindrance to the emotional wellbeing of those we are granted influence, here are some tips.

(1) Be sincere. Find something, even if its the smallest, most seemingly insignificant behavior that you believe belongs in the plus column of life skills and praise that with a genuine feeling of joy. Find that joy and convey it in your words and voice tone. It's there, even if its buried beneath a pile of frustration, fatique and disappointment. If its phony, stale or token praise, its not effective.

"Thank you for telling your sister there is gum on her seat. I feel so much pride and relief when I hear you looking out for your sister."

(2) Praise about a specific behavior or intention, not larger, global aspects or traits:

"This hand stitching on the hem is so neat and even."

NOT: "This skirt looks wonderful! Good job!"

(3) Praise what your child is actually doing, not what you believe she is overall or personality wise.

"You are picking such pretty colors for your painting! I'm so excited to see how it all comes together"

NOT: "Well done! You're a wonderful little artist!"

(4) Compliment about growth and process, about the small steps and effort toward an achievement.

"Its great seeing you studying in your room with your door closed. You are really putting in some effort on doing well on your test tomorrow. Hooray for you."

NOT: "You are so smart. You are going to ace the test tomorrow!"

(5) Avoid praise that induces competition.

"What a nice dive! Your legs were straight that time."

NOT: "What a dive! You're almost as good as your big brother!"

(6) Praise something you believe is important to the child. Something meaningful to THEM. Sometimes we focus too much on things that mean very little to the child but mean a whole lot to us. The bookworm who is praised for their batting average, for example. Again, we're not helping the child increase their feelings of positive self worth when we make it clear something they are NOT doing is more valuable to us. In an indirect way our message conveys, "you're not good enough the way you are."

(7) Try indirect praise. Start by asking a question instead of issuing a statement. "What did you do differently to make the eyes in this drawing look so real?" Again, the effort and progress is noted.

I know that my kids have picked up on my distracted attempts and phony praise and have let me know it. "You don't really mean that, Mom." Or "Yeah right, Mom! You didn't even look at it!" This happens more often than I'd like to admit.

Kids may feel demeaned when they are given a half-hearted, blase "good job" instead of our full attention. And the goal is not giving our child our full attention at all times. Not at all. We parents have busy lives with our own interests and obligations. Kids can get saturated with or grow too dependent upon too much attention. So for those times when we cannot (and don't need to) give our undivided attention, we can instead say, "I don't have time right now to appreciate what you've done. Please show it to me later when I'm able to look more closely at it."

A nod to Coert Visser for his Solutions Focused suggestions on complimenting effectively.
In addition, Carol Dweck, PhD at Stanford University has also researched and written about the effects of praise.

your blog as graph

Have your url address handy (http) and try this.

I don't understand all the color points and what they mean, but its fascinating anyway.

finding mona

Sometimes Mondays require some artsy color to chase away the work week gloomies. So here's a little art and a little fun. Can you find Mona Lisa in this painting, titled Mona's Heartstrings, by ebeckartist?

It took me several takes, the final take through my google reader, to finally see that elusive smile.

Here are two more art illusions, evoking springtime and womanly images (found here):

Still feeling too Monday? Dr. Deb's HiddenTiger is another fun art puzzle. And if you're looking for some crystal ball inspiration, check out Woman and Child's vintage pick of the day.

And one more before I go full forth into my Monday (Is it obvious to anyone but me that I'm procrastinating?).

what a difference two months makes

Taken in mid-March on our last trip,
here's a shot of the cypress trees
that line the Pedernales River:

And here's a shot of the same cypress trees

just two short months later:

Oh wait, I didn't take any pictures this past weekend. Why? Because, oh yeah, I LOST my camera. Focking arghghg! Left it behind Thursday as I sat beside Barton Springs Pool slurping prickly pear cactus margaritas with my friend, B, of 30 years who was visiting from New Jersey. Guess I was feeling a bit too prickly to remember to take
(1) a picture and
(2) my camera with me when I left.

So, the above is a picture of Cypress trees in their full greenery taken last year along a different Central Texas river, the Frio. Oh well, you get the gist of my contrast here. The Pedernales was every bit as green and beautiful this past weekend.
And lots of skipping stones fun was had by all.

And just so you get an idea of where some lucky visitor found a perfectly decent camera with several saved pictures of a happy, smiling, vacationing family that apparently didn't make said finder feel guilty enough to turn it in to lost & found (I checked), here's a picture that someone else , presumably sober, had the good sense to take of Barton Springs Pool.



For the record, our view was every bit as lovely.

lecko my gecko

Spring means romance, even for little Iguanidae. At first I thought the big lizard was eating the smaller one and then, duh, it dawned on me, they're bumpin' uglies. For the record, she didn't look like she was enjoying the ride.

Scientific note: they aren't gecko's, they're called Green Anole lizards, or Anolis carolinensis for the true naturalists among us.

Here's an actual gecko taking an evening stroll in my kitchen sink. I think she was admiring her own reflection, given how clean and shiny it is, thanks to tips from FlyLady (ignore the globbish smudge in the right hand corner of the photo, its an aberration, I assure you). We're packing for a camping weekend, or, rather, my husband is doing the bulk of it, while I am sneaking a blog fix, and he's shooting me subtle evil looks. So more on FlyLady later, an excellent site (though a bit cheesy) for the chronically disorganized, house cleaning haters of the world.

serious question and a request

Dear American Idol fans,

Whychuleta Brooke go home ...

and not the elfish little David?

I mean, stick a pair of plastic ears on the boy

and send him to Mousketeer land.

Please?

PSA wednesday

How often do you say,

"That's so gay" ?

Think its okay?

Not after PSA Wednesday:

Read three more essays on the offensiveness of "You're so gay" here.

just do it - talk to yourself

Professional athletes get advice from personal coaches and sports psychologists. A few weekend warriors do too, but most of us can't afford such a luxury. Try convincing your health insurance company of the medical necessity of improving your serve.

I'm lucky in that I get to take my own personal psychologist along with me to every tennis match. Some days she sleeps on the job. But lately I've been getting my money's worth. I've actually been practicing what I preach: Focus. Breathe. Plan. Positive self-talk. Win.

You can bring along your own personal coach too. If you follow Nike's three little words: Just Do It.

Do what, exactly? Here are a few of the tools of the sport psychology trade, basics that can help bring out your best performance:

1. Positive self-talk. Remember the Little Engine that Could? He was one smart little locomotive. He was using positive self talk. The rules of self talk that I recommend are The Three P's: Keep it Positive, in the Present, and Personal.

*Keep it Positive means giving myself encouragement. Saying nice things to myself instead of negative criticisms. But it also means telling myself what I want to do (sink this putt), instead of what I want not to do (don't miss this putt); telling myself what my plan is (move forward) instead of what I'm afraid I'll do (plant my feet). And positive talk is telling myself encouraging messages: "This jump shot will be nothing but net" instead of "Don't hit the backboard this time."

*Keep It in the Present means talking in the now, not the later, and definately not in the past. The most common mistake I see my partners make and hear in my own head is talking about our last mistake, our failed strategy, our goofs and our lost points. "What is wrong with me today?" "Here I go again." "What is my problem?!" Instead, decide what you are going to do next. What you will do to improve on the next shot. "I will breathe and I will keep my eye on the ball." Change it from, "I don't know why I did that!" to "I can do this." "I am turning this around NOW." "The game starts here."

*Keep it Personal means simply, use "I" language. People often talk to themselves using "you" statements. "You need to focus!" But replacing "you" with "I" helps your brain follow through better. Its that simple. When your brain hears "you" it doesn't always respond. It thinks you're talking to someone else. It tends to be a better listener when it hears "I can do this." "I will hit straight down the fairway." "I will hit a line drive." "I can win this point."

Here are several examples of the do's and don'ts of self talk:

DON'T: "Oh no. We're going to lose."

DO: "I can win."

DON'T: "Watch me double fault."

DO: "I am going to put this serve in the box."

DON'T: "Don't look up."

DO: "Keep my head down."

DON'T: "Why did I DO that?!"

DO: "I can put the ball where I want it."

DON'T: "Stop being so tense!"

DO: "Breathe. Stay loose. Shake it out."

DON'T: "Do not hit the ball so hard!"

DO: "Nice and easy. Keep the ball in play."

2. Absolutely no name calling. This includes telling yourself, "I'm such a LOSER," asking yourself, "Why are you so STUPID?" or the eloquent, "You SUCK!!" This kind of talk is the best way to guarantee your worst performance. So drop the negative labels, period. Clear your head. Look ahead to your next move. Look at your raquet. Ever notice how often professional tennis players look at the strings of their raquets between points? They've been coached to use their strings as a visual focus point. Look at my raquet - clear my head - let that last point go - what am I going to do next?

Focus on something else, anything else. A strategy. A game plan. It doesn't have to be a complicated one. Sometimes my strategy is simply, "keep my eye on the ball... eye on the ball... eye on the ball." Preferably something pleasant. Refer back to #3.

Almost anything is better than beating yourself up.

3. Breathe. Full inhales followed by long, full empty-your-lungs exhales. This helps relax and loosen your muscles. Relaxed muscles work better. When you are tight, your serve will make a bee-line for the net, your free throw will fall short, your baseball bat will swing and miss. So before each swing, serve, foul shot or chip shot, breathe.

One breathing strategy: Exhale as you make contact with the ball. Do you wonder why Venus Williams and Maria Sharapova grunt so loud when they hit the ball? This is a way of breathing, or forcing an exhale, upon contact. It helps them hit the ball harder and improves their accuracy. Again, the muscles will follow the brain's intent better when the muscles are loose.

4. Visualize. I admit, this is my least favorite exercise. I'm not good at visualizing. I have trouble holding an image in my mind, let alone seeing myself doing a sequence of things. But I'm working on it. Because it works.

Many have heard of the landmark visualization study. It was conducted at the University of Chicago. Researchers divided basketball players into three groups: those who practiced free throws, those who visualized themselves making free throws, and those who did nothing. The group who visualized improved as much as those who practiced. The group who did nothing, as expected, did no better.

Studies have repeatedly shown that the brain does not know the difference between what you imagine and what you're actually doing. If I visualize myself hitting the ball the correct way, my brain makes neurological changes as if I AM doing it the correct way. Pathways that help me "Just Do It" next time. Does it get any easier than this? Improving without lifting a finger?

5. Smile. Enjoy yourself. One of my favorites is to look up, focus on the beautiful blue sky, smile as I think about what a wonderful feeling this is, being outside, away from my desk, away from housework, playing my favorite sport. Life is good.

So it turns out, you can be lucky, too. The best instructor, the best coach, and the best psychologist resides right inside your own head. So bring her along and Just Do it.

peeps, yo

Because it did not feel like Easter back in March and it feels like Easter weekend now, here are some peep shows. My favorite is Amy Winepeep. I wanna go to her Rehab.

And to think, a few short weeks ago I had to ask my friend who was knitting peeps, what the heck a peep was.

you know you want me

and my husband




saw first on susie bright's journal

man talk

It seems like a day does not go by in my office without hearing the lament, "He won't tell me how he's feeling!" or "How can I get him to talk to me?" And if I don't hear it in the office, I hear it at home, in my own head.

Likewise, male clients, in my experience, present more of a challenge than female clients because "He won't tell me how he's feeling!" So take comfort women: it isn't you. He won't even tell his therapist how he's feeling.

And of course, the all important disclaimer. Not "all" men fall into this feelings-communication paradigm. Just as not all women are comfortable sharing their feelings.

Its amazes me, though, the variety of ways so many men dodge stating how a distressing incident made them feel. It also amazes me how persistent I am in the unlikely pursuit of extracting such a deeply rooted male taboo.

"That's a thinking statement, Mr. Client. Remember, I'm asking you to focus on how the event made you feel. We're looking for a feelings label."

Occasionally we get there, but pretty frequently we don't and I'm left scratching my head.

On my better days I rely on the work of Deborah Tannen, a linguistics professor at Georgetown University. When I read her book, "You Just Don't Understand," a light bulb bigger tan Dallas lit up. Ah. So that's why.

Tannen studied communication patterns in males and females and concluded, "For males, conversation is the way you negotiate your status in the group and keep people from pushing you around; you use talk to preserve your independence. Females, on the other hand, use conversation to negotiate closeness and intimacy; talk is the essence of intimacy, so being best friends means sitting and talking. For boys, activities, doing things together, are central. Just sitting and talking is not an essential part of friendship. They're friends with the boys they do things with."

So often women use language to get closer, to connect, to relate. Men most reliably use language to establish their independence and know-how, to set themselves off from others.

With a fervor akin to a sales rush at Filene's, many women engage in what Tannen calls "troubles talk." Picture yourself having lunch with one of your closest friends. How long does it take you to confide what is bothering you? Before the server brings out the water? We almost can't wait to get at the heart of our troubles.

Now picture your man and his friend. How long does it take for them to get beyond talk of sports, work and lawncare? And what is it about this sports talk, this exchanging of scores and stats. What does this serve? Tannen says it's a form of establishing status and dominance. Here's what I know about the high status team. Here's the player I admire, the team I like, who I think will win. I'm on the side of winners.

So back to the man on the couch. I have to reach for something different. Focus more on what he can do differently, what his plan of action will be. How he's been successful in similar situations in the past. What his strengths are. Let go of the feelings talk, at least until I gain more traction.

And that's what I suggest to many of my women clients (and my slow learning married self). Understand that often, a man's communication style is fundamentally different from ours. More importantly, respect it. Respect that troubles talk and feelings talk isn't something he's going to be good at. Certainly not something he's going to be eager to do.

Years of patience, practice and concrete examples of how you want him to respond to you, these are your best bet (depressing, I know). I've seen brain scan research that supports the notion that the male brain does not have near as many or as rich connections between the language center and the emotional center. So when they get emotional? They don't feel all fired up to talk about it. Often they want to distance from people, get their feelings under control, and then go hit some golf balls. Or mow the lawn. Or pop open a cold beer and watch the game. The Men Are From Mars guy called this "going into his cave." Whatever. He's not letting us in. He doesn't want his feelings on parade.

Ask me how I know this. It took me a long time, and a reading of Tannen, no, several readings of Tannen and a few bangs of the head against the brick wall to finally figure out I may as well have been asking for something in ANSI/ISO SQL programming language. You know how you ask your computer tech friend why you keep getting those virtual memory messages? And then he answers (because it's almost always a "he," isn't it?), you knod in feigned understanding, and then go home and call Computer Geek anyway? Well, its like that. He doesn't "get it." If Tannen's work has merit, and I believe it does (wish she was wrong) he's not going to like it at all if you insist he stumble around in a coversational domain in which he has little competence. In a language he can't establish dominance in. Instead he may just turn the Astros game up louder.

So if you're aiming for more quality talk with your man, start out with conversations he is comfortable with. Ask what he did today at his job. What basketball team he thinks is going to dominate in the NBA championship. How he is going to conquer his nemesis, the grass fungus.

Typically it's you and your women friends that have the need for troubles talk, not him. So help yourself fulfill your need with a receptive audience, your girlfriends, and often. Prioritize get togethers and phone calls. Take walks and go to lunch. Write in your journal. Email. Blog. Blog some more.

For a longer summary of Tannen's book, read here.

hillary and the nonconvertible truth

I heard her apology the other night on the televised Philadephia debate. Which was good of her to offer and I accept it readily. Because I know that as years go by, the details get a little fuzzy. And generally, we like to reminisce about things in a way that improves the story.

I've been thinking about this from the start of this Bosnia Blunder. A recent email from a friend illustrates my point perfectly. She was recalling a time when she flew down to visit me from NYC where she lived at the time. We took a long drive out in the Texas Hill Country, winding up in Luckenbach. The place that Waylon Jennings made famous in the song by the same name. Her email said,

"Thinking back on see'n Willie [Nelson] in Luckenbach... Remember we drove Sam's big 'ole convertible?"

Two minor points.

1. The car wasn't a convertible. It was a '57 Ford Fairlane. Here is the actual car, on the very day of our road trip. A cool old car, but not the convertible version. Not as cool as that.


2. We didn't see Willie there, at least not the living, breathing Willie. There is a lot of Willie paraphrenalia about the place, and reverent Willie-talk among the visitors, as it used to be a favorite hangout of his and others in the "progressive country" movement. So we did technically "see" Willie, but didn't see him singing with his guitar (which she was implying in the email, as we were talking about the Stones and other concerts we saw together way back when). We did sit on the grass at Luckenbach, along side the creek, listening to a guitar picking, cowboy-hat-wearing, boots-tucked-into-pants songwriter sing "Down by the Aquiferrrrrrr." Sadly, very much not Willie. Below is a typical day at Luckenbach. Cowboy hats and guitar strumming. But no Willie.

So while Hillary made a major gaffe, I don't think its necessarily a deliberate misconstruance. She very well may have done what my friend did and what I undoubtedly have done myself. Remembering it better than it actually was. Remembering how it could have been, or in Hillary's case, how we feared it might turn out.
I talk a little bit about this on an earlier post about the slippery effects of memory as years go by, here. Eventually, the way you talked about it last time, becomes how you remember it.

not disappointed

This evening my simply amazing man, Sam, and I went to see the Rolling Stones Imax movie, Shine a Light. It was excellent. I was transported back nearly three decades (damn, has it been that long?) And sap that I am, had to blink away tears. Sitting in a movie theatre. I don't get out much.

It was what I hoped, though. Seeing them up close from the quality of seats I never could afford when I used to see them for real. The Imax sound system made me feel like I was there. I had to resist clapping. Kept looking around to see if the Imax audience was clapping (they weren't).

They played several of my favorites from the Some Girls album. Just My Imagination: kick ass.

And definately not disappointed in Mick. He is still the cock 'o the walk, same stage prancing. I felt riveted. Kept wanting the camera on him. Wanting to see more. He hasn't lost that animated showmanship.

I thought Keith Richards guitar playing could have been tighter, but my goddess, the man is all but deep wrinkles on a stick and arthritic hands. There's this must see shot of him spitting away his cigarette butt. Worth the ticket price.

Never my idol, Ron Woods was amazing, too. He played the steel guitar

on Faraway Eyes, a treat. Some excellent acoustic guitar work, too. He wins my award for best belt on stage. Man belts: a most important criteria.

Saw some new eye candy, too. Jack White, III doing a duet with Jagger, "Loving Cup."

Gotta find him on youtube.

Even spotted Bruce Willis in the audience. A fellow South Jerseyian taking in the show from the real life good seats.

So all you Stones fans, if you're not up for the crowds and big venues, see them on the big screen. Even if you are up for the crowds, the up closeness of the film and old interview clips are bonus you won't see anywhere else.

artful wednesday

e.beck.artist was reminiscing and asked us to show her a piece of art
we made a long time ago. Do we still love it?

Yes to this beaded bracelet I made several years ago. My mom brought me these handmade beads from a gulf coast artisan's shop. I love the earthy brown/black colors and the chunky beads.

Since taking up so much tennis over the past year, I've let my creative outlets slide. Want to get back into it. But I need someone to let me borrow a few extra hours from their week. Time anyone?

electric zombies

Speaking of research that states the obvious a la Mrs. G (my new favorite blog parking space), what are your predictions about the effects of excessive TV viewing on kids?

If you guessed poorer health ratings and lower academic performance you've either got excellent parenting instincts or you've been paying attention to the news. Additonal problems include sleep disturbance and an increased risk of smoking (even without cigarette ads).

So what percentage of kids would you guess have TVs in their bedrooms? 10% ? 20% ?

Now, let me preface this discussion by saying that I'm not a TV nazi. My kids have a small TV in their playroom. They watch their fair share and I'm fairly defensive about that. Cognitive dissonance isn't just a figment of social psychologists' imagination, afterall.

But I am a strong believer in moderation which is not to say I'm always a staunch defender of my own beliefs. But I am pretty sure my neighbors will tell you (maybe complain) that my kids see plenty of fresh air and sunshine.

And I don't want to leave the impression that prefrontal cortex abuse is something I reserve for my kids. I watch my fair share of TV, too. Life as I know it, afterall, would lose its meaning without The Office to remind me why I got my PhD in the first place (we all know a real life Dwight) and Jon Stewart's Daily Show to remind me why I need to vote every single election.

But there is one shining notation in my reluctant TV habits. I was over 40 before I "agreed" to have one in my own bedroom. This only happened because hubby, Sam, convinced me we needed a flat screen, and a "resting spot" had to be found for the old family room dinosaur. It found a permanent home on the master bedroom cedar chest which was conveniently positioned next to the cable plug. Voila. A third brain sucker is born.

Ok, so what percentage of kids have a TV in their bedroom? Studies say 50%. Maybe even as high as 70% for 3rd graders! As a mental health clinician, I often say "nothing surprises me" and this doesn't surprise me either -- it shocks me. Especially given the uber parenting age we live in and repeated warnings from children's advocacy groups (such as the American Academy of Pediatrics).

So at what age are kids getting TVs in their rooms, would you say? Try 30% in the 3-6yr age range. Wow.

Researchers and teachers have begun referring to the "zombie" effect: kids who come to school showing minimal emotional reactivity. Sadly, little television drones are being created in this great land of wealth and opportunity and 500 channels but nothing on.

So whatcha gonna do about it, Willis? Not much. Except maybe participate in and pass on the word about TV Turnoff Week beginning April 21st. Who else is game?

Thanks to the Anxiety, Addiction and Depression Treatments site for posting this summary of recent findings about kids and television viewing.

And in case you've noticed, I have only figured out how to insert one picture into my blog piece. When I try to add a second image (Arnold from Diff'rent Strokes), it sits right on top of the other, instead of in the midst of the text, where I want it. Anyone up for yet another tutorial?