A drop in the bucket.

[In response to today's Plinky prompt: "You have to give away a million dollars. How?"]


Photo by Gnerk at Flickr.



One million dollars is not enough!

After nearly ten years, the church where my orchestra plays its concerts is kicking us out. They claim that they are not going to host any more "outside organizations". (We'll just see how loosely that's interpreted though, when certain choirs come to town!) The problem is, this church is by far the best venue (almost the only venue) in our part of town; most places around here aren't nearly big enough to accomodate the size of audience we usually draw, let alone seat a 100-piece orchestra.



It has long been a pipe dream of mine to build a performing arts center here, so that's where my million dollars would go, as the first drop in that (very large) bucket. I can see it all so clearly in my imagination: the grand entry, the acoustically-perfect concert hall, the more intimate recital hall adjacent, the drawing room for receptions (complete with caterer's kitchen), the green room, the staging area backstage, the music library and offices in the back...

But that's typically the problem with my visions (though I'll admit this one is more altruistic than most! LOL): vintage wine taste and a Miller Lite budget.

I have to choose just ONE?!

[In response to Saturday's Plinky prompt: Name a children's book that makes you nostalgic.]

Growing up, I was allowed to watch only 1 hour of TV a week. (Seriously!) Of course I felt myself terribly deprived at the time, and it was occasionally awkward when everyone else was in on a joke or a story that I couldn't share, since I wasn't up to speed on all the latest episodes of Full House (or whatever LOL). So instead of spending all the empty hours of my childhood sitting spell-bound in a trance in front of the TV, I buried my nose in a book (to me there is nothing like the smell of a library full of old books!).

Which brings me back to the title of my answer: How can I possibly choose just ONE book that takes me back??? I read hundreds, and I saved dozens for my kids to read. But Cinderella has been there by my side since I was at least 3 years old. And it didn't have to be the Disney version, either - even to this day I own at least 4 different editions of the Cinderella story, that I can think of off the top of my head. Cinderella was my favorite. I liked to cast my mom as the evil stepmother, and my little brother as the evil stepsisters... Of course I was Cinderella, waiting for my prince to come and "rescue me"; and when I became a princess, sitting high on the throne I so rightly deserved, I'd finally be able to watch all the TV I wanted...

But like I said, there are tons of other books that take me back to my childhood, and each of them holds a special place in my heart. Some of my favorites are:

• the Ramona Quimby series by Beverly Cleary
• Judy Blume books
• The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
• Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
• the Bobbsey Twins series by Laura Lee Hope
• fairy tales by Hans Christian Andersen and the Brothers Grimm
• Black Beauty by Anna Sewell
• My Friend Flicka, and the sequel, Thunderhead by Mary O'Hara
• Sideways Stories from Wayside School by Louis Sachar
• A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett
• the Curious George series by H.A. Rey
• The Poky Little Puppy by Janette Sebring Lowrey
• The Little Engine that Could by Watty Piper
• Charlotte's Web by E.B. White
• Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
• the Madeline series by Ludwig Bemelmans (with more recent stories by John Bemelmans Marciano)
• the Mr. Men and Little Miss series by Roger Hargreaves
• Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter
• Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls
• Hank the Cowdog by John R. Erickson

...and on and on. Those are the ones that come to mind at the moment; if I think of more I'll add them to this post. My copies of Little Women, My Friend Flicka, Thunderhead, two compilations of fairy tales, and some Bobbsey Twins books were actually given to me from my mom; she had enjoyed them as a girl and saved them. I can't wait to share them with my kids!

Just call me a diva.

Photo by Matt Coats at Flickr.

[In response to today's Plinky prompt: "Give us your unreasonable demands. How does your backstage rider read? What will it take for you to release the hostages?"]

Trivial or serious, theoretically possible or totally outrageous: my [short list] of unreasonable demands. (Those hostages aren't going anywhere for a long, long, time!)

No more money worries.

The standard answer would be a million dollars, but sadly that just doesn't buy much anymore. So I was going to say a billion dollars, but with inflation and the stock market crash, I don't think a fixed sum is going to cover me for the rest of my life. So I want $250,000 a year, retroactive to the day I was born, with an annual 10% cost of living increase.

Forgiveness of all my credit card debts.

The mortgage and the car loan I don't mind so much, and the student loans are almost paid off, but the credit card companies just SUCK!!!

A new Toyota Camry.

Really not such an unreasonable request, but my husband needs his own damn car already!

No end to the Outlander series!

But all of the sequels have to be just as good as (or better than) the 5 that are already out...

Goodie's, come back!

Stores and restaurants that I love never to go out of business, products that I love never to be discontinued, TV shows I love never to be cancelled (caveat: see previous demand).

No more TV sales hawks like Billy Mays!

STOP YELLING AT ME!!!!!!

Professional assistants to do my hair, makeup, and nails everyday.

And most importantly, to take my makeup off at the end of the day ('cause I hate doing that). And while we're at it, a personal shopper to make sure that I stay up-to-date in the latest fashions (but only the things that look fabulous on me). Better add a cleaning crew for the house, too, so it always looks as good as I do. Oh and a personal chef, so it's as easy for me to maintain my ideal weight as it is for the celebrities.

My ideal vacation home.

A big, gorgeous old house in the town where my dad grew up, complete with a fully-stocked scrapbook studio. Also a kindly old caretaker couple to live on the property full-time, so I don't have to worry about the place being vacant all winter.

My own traffic lane wherever I go.

I love to drive, but I really hate traffic.

Time on my side.

Enough hours in every day to get done everything that needs to get done!

Something new.

Somehow it's been another year already. What is it about this time of year that compels me to write in my blog? LOL I think in some ways that spring, with its spirit of all things fresh & new, is a bigger motivator for life-change for me than New Year's Day. What is January 1st, after all, than an arbitrary date on the calendar?

But I digress. What's new (this time) is that, in my annual effort to revive my blog, I've signed up at Plinky. It's an online social community, like Twitter, only less... inane. (Don't get me started on Twitter - that's for another post!) Each day, via email, Plinky sends a prompt for me to answer; my answer is then pushed here, to my blog. On their website, I can also see how other members answered, leave comments, follow specific people, etc. Mostly, what I hope to accomplish with this is to get in the habit of daily (or at least weekly) blogging, record bits and pieces of my life for future scrapbook pages, and of course share a little of myself with the half-dozen people who actually read my blog. LOL

So without further ado, my first Plinky post: today's question was, "Is it trampy or fun?" which I have to admit that I didn't totally understand (as a question without any context it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me) but most people on Plinky were taking the discussion in the direction of what defines and/or differentiates being sexy from being slutty. Here's my answer:

Against Light II, originally uploaded by Marcela P..

It's what's inside that makes the difference.
Sexy is alluring wihout even trying. It's a way of being. Some people have it, and some people don't - it has to do with attitude, and confidence, and very little to do with sexuality. It's when someone that doesn't understand that *tries* to be sexy that the line is crossed and they are perceived as being slutty. And some people are just naturally slutty; no matter how conservatively they dress, there's still a vibe they project. It's insecurity, it's desperation, it's trying too hard. Sexy is none of that. Sexy is subtle: it's intelligence, and manners, and self-confidence, and carriage (posture), and elegance. It's not about the way you are on the outside. It's about the way you are on the inside.