Haven’t worn a polo shirt since 2001!

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Ah, the summer of 2001. I was part of a team of lucky ducks from my company driving cross-country. Sort of like a promotional tour, but symbolic of the company's move west as well.

So much fun! 8 days. The only thing I had an issue with were the polo shirts we had to wear. I was given 5 white, and 5 blue; imagine that, getting two extra! The thirty or so of us would be advised the night before as to which color to wear.

Another part of our uniform was chinos or casual pants, preferably tan or off white, though I managed to sneak a dark blue pair into the mix. It wasn't the fact that we were all dressed in similar fashion that got to me. Nope. The way I see it, the combination of polo and chino has to be one of the most unattractive outfits known to womankind, not so much if guys are wearing it, but on a female body. This garb is especially distasteful when the chinos are pleated in the front, suggesting a bad attempt at hiding an bulky tummy. Nothing like looking as sexless as one can get, devoid of anything suggesting female, and having a balloon in place of your stomach area to boot.

After that trip, I vowed never again to wear such square-offed, ill fitting, unsightly clothing. Over the years, all the chinos have “left the building”, except for one pair. I will drop them off at Goodwill tomorrow, I promise. The polos are all still here, gathering close to a decade of dust, in a seldom opened closet. And on a positive note, those polos are rather unique, proudly projecting the corporation name and the fact that this was a special tour. Not only was this acknowledged discreetly on the front of the shirt, one of the arms was badged as such as well. Hmmmm….eBay maybe? I wonder what Stacy and Clinton from What Not to Wear would say about this style of dress?

Well, for this gal, it's bring on the ruffles, bell sleeves, soft lines, flowing tops, sort and slightly more sheer materials, girly flower patterns (but only the tasteful ones), mod 60's patterns and happy colors! It's been wonderful not being forced to wear a polo! Ahh....

Take a hike!

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Sunshine, and 50 clear sky degrees. Two good elements that contribute to a peaceful, gentle hike. Who says outdoor activity has to be grueling? That’s not for me. Feeling, breathing, seeing, hearing, and sensing all the beauty that’s been created. Ah, that’s what it’s all about. Welcome to Joshua Tree National Park.

Observing. Two climbers with serious equipment on top of a small mountain. I’m getting dizzy just looking up at them. One decides that it’s time to be “grounded”. I hold up my phone, and quickly put it in camera mode. I see him, there in the display, coming down. Fast. Maybe three seconds. I gently touch the “shoot” button. Ah, but not this time. The delay on my phone captures a beauty shot of steep rocks, but no human careening down a steep, rocky cliff!

Done with hike at this section of the park. Planned to move to another area, this time by a basin. Driving out, a ranger stops us. “Sorry, we’re in lockdown”, she said. “A helicopter is coming in. It’ll be a while.”

So, we parked the car. Sat there for a moment. What to do? We’ll let’s explore the area around the parking lot, since it will “be a while”. Luckily, there was plenty to see. Two brave daredevils at the top of a mountain of rocks, sans any equipment. I caught my breath every time they came close to the edge. In fact, looking at them made me dizzy too.

And, just behind another mountain, in a vast clearing, joshua trees as far as the eye could see; almost lined up like prickly soldiers. Snapped many photos with my trusty phone. Would have missed a lot of the beauty of the area if we had left when we intended to.

And did a helicopter arrive? Yes, indeed. Not sure what happened, but it appeared that a climber may have fallen down when up high on some rocks and injured himself. About 30 rescue people were there, most in bright yellow garb and screaming orange hats to carefully extract him and tenderly move him to the waiting helicopter. Wishing him well!

The "captivity" lasted over an hour. Though my peace of mind that I was seeking that day was jolted a bit, nevertheless, I did find much of what I was looking for that day. And surprises? Most certainly. The memories live on.

Precious ...and few.

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Okay, you thought I was going to write about a movie I haven’t seen yet? Nope. Yesterday, I had a large piece of food lodged in my windpipe. And, I experienced the Heimlich maneuver for the very first (and last) time. Only one person, just ONE, has been told the complete, second-by-second story.

Today, as I sit here nursing soreness, headache and a dry cough, I feel joy even while the memory of the panic and terror I experienced is still fresh in my mind. I am thankful that my lunch date knew what to do. I am thankful for the restaurant staff that quickly came to my aid, and their patience. I am thankful for the profound coolness that prevailed over the scene.

And, I’m rather surprised by my own behavior. Once my ordeal was over, standing there in bewilderment and relief, I started chuckling. Quietly and hoarsely at first, then louder. I’m certain my booming voice resounded and echoed against the smooth glass walls. In harmony with the laughter, I spewed out “I’m sorry” several times. I genuinely felt bad for the restaurant, worried that I might have lost customers for them. Don’t think that happened, fortunately.

Today is a day of celebration for me. Yes, thoughts of "if I had died, who would come to my funeral”, and “I haven’t finished all I want to accomplish here" raced through my mind. Done with that. I know there's so much to look forward to. And forward it shall be. Back to “the usual” I go, changed somewhat. Now even more fine-tuned to appreciating everything around me, those around me are likely to witness a frequent, slight upturning of one side of my mouth into a grateful, goofy grin.

As the song by Climax says “precious and few are the moments….”

The Green Season

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I love driving around Southern California this time of year. It’s Spring, full-force. Seeing many photos from friends on Facebook showing umpteen inches of snow makes me appreciate the climate I live in even more. Now, that doesn’t mean that I don’t like snow, actually, I do like snow, for many reasons:

• Making snow angels is just plain fun, even if the back of my pants gets soaked.
• Simply driving in snow can be challenging but enjoyable, especially after being stunned when your car does a “180” and thankfully not hitting anything.
• Having heavy snow fly in a straight on frenzy into the windshield while windshield wipers flap; there’s an intense rhythm to it. A pulsing tune on the radio adds to the effect.
• Snow is pretty when it’s fresh; when it forms a hard top coat, it even glistens. Truly a visual delight.
• Watching snow coming down while sitting by a roaring fireplace can be mesmerizing. Great stress reliever too.
• The company you work for may declare a “snow day”. Ah, permission to stay home and pretend you’re working! As a former East Coaster, yes, I have experienced this!

While many of my friends are living in a snowy winter wonderland, I’m busy basking in a world of green. Driving around many areas near my home, distant green rolling hills surround me and make me suck in my breath, stirred by the feeling of peacefulness that stirs within. Yeah, it sounds corny, but it’s true. And all the while, I’m still in full control of a moving vehicle!

Now is the time of the year when suburban lawns are most vibrant, ranging from a darker “grass green”, to the more lemon-lime brightness of younger blades. As I stroll my neighborhood, I delight in the patchwork of living colors. How wonderful that there are so many hues of greens to enjoy!

Enjoy your seasons, whether they are intensely different each quarter, or just evolve slightly through the year. Soak in the colors, bask in the sun’s intensity, and be dazzled by the wonders, big and small. Pay attention to the details and the one-of-a-kind sightings. Go ahead; create a name for those short periods of time. And welcome to my "Green Season”.

In Appreciation of the Color Orange.

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By Gerry Wendel, Groovy Reflections Founder and Team Member

Take a trip back to the “Brady Bunch era”, when sunny, happy, flower power colors led the charge in fashion, furnishings, and fridges. Quick, what’s the first color you remember from that time? Orange? 


Okay, perhaps it wasn't the most prominent color of its time, but may be the most memorable. I’m saying this now, but a few years ago I would have responded with yellow. Or maybe avocado. Almost any color but orange.

I’m closing my eyes and imagining a Sears catalog from 1971. Let’s go shopping for kitchen artifacts! 
Page 529: A canister set with cheery, cartoonish mushrooms in green, sunshine yellow, and orange.
Page 384: Screaming orange vinyl upholstered club chairs. They’re a neat compliment to that smart, startling white dinette table, ready to make that corner nook most attractive for serving up those micro-rayed suppers! Why not throw in a harvest gold refrigerator plus more brown than necessary, and the room is rockin’!

Well, trends come and go. And sadly, orange probably suffered the most when feel-good sunshine colors faded away. It just simply vanished. However, I couldn’t help noticing that orange has slowly made a bit of a comeback, quietly weaving its way into our lives, and winning some admirers. Yes, styles and colors do come around again, some sooner, some later.

As for me, I always hated the color orange. But then something happened. Maybe I was inspired by these kitchens of yore or maybe it dazzled me through fashion. Suddenly, I was buying a blouse that was orange. No, not peach. Not coral or salmon. Not washed out pastel. 


Orange. Loud and proud like a ripe, juicy tangerine.

My yet-to-be discovered obsession became worse. I realized I needed a warm tone to liven up the green, blue and purple that was taking over the décor of my home. Fabric! Curtains, with orange, white, chartreuse and, yes, even a shade of avocado. I fell in love with that material, bought a $100 sewing machine, and began stitching straight lines. My dining room came to life! That started it, about five years ago. The room finally felt complete.

It didn’t stop there. An orange stirring spoon with a cut-out smiling face for the kitchen. Orange pillows scattered about. Orange accent tables for the patio. More shirts where yummy citrus tones are the featured hue. No orange pants yet, but it could happen.

But I hadn’t yet started shouting out “I like this color” to the world. Orange. Somehow it crept into my subconscious. I had no clue what had happened to me until I was tagged on Facebook for the list “25 things about me” back in February. My #1: “I have learned to love and embrace the color orange”.

Whoa. Nothing like getting hit between the eyes. You’ve heard it here first; my passion for orange officially came out of the closet that day.

Tastes change. What was positively revolting one day can be seen as pleasing and energizing the next. Orange. It represents vibrancy, and shows off all its glowing glory via tasty fruit, sunsets, basketballs, “uranium red” Fiestaware, marigolds, cheddar cheese, pumpkins, the packaging of the perfume Happy and cape honeysuckle. Oh yeah, and the front door of my house.

Restoration Blues.

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I have vintage patio furniture that needs restoration. A garage sale bargain: 12 “regular” chairs, 2 gliders, 2 chaise lounges, and a large table, all matching, for $50! Nothing like being green and giving these pieces a new life, right?

So, my husband and I went to a “famous brand” home improvement store the other day to pose some intelligent questions to people who, unfortunately, don’t know anything about the products they sell! Sorry to say this, but several years ago, it appeared to me then that the employees at the big boxes could indeed answer your DIY questions.

It wasn’t rocket science: I simply wanted to know if there was a spray paint that would stick both on vinyl and metal. All the vinyl slats on these chairs are in good condition, and really don’t need to be replaced, but alas, the metal is not.

The first fellow I asked told me to tape off the vinyl slats. Sure, there’s only at least 24 of them per chair, hmmm, times 16, equates to a time-consuming proposition. I said no, that’s not an option. He immediately grabbed a canister of spray point and started reading the fine print on the back, looking for that golden nugget hidden in the directions that would make me go away.

Alas, the nugget wasn’t there; so he put a call in to another “expert” in the store. Funny but this guy wouldn’t speak directly to me; he used helpful employee #1 as a go-between! I noticed that we both spoke fluent English, however, perhaps he heard a sampling of my Jersey accent, and this being California, my diction may have been alien to him.

My husband shot a “you’ve got to be kidding” look at me. I shot back an “oh, be hopeful” stare, complete with eyes that pleaded “have a little patience”. I wasn’t ready to give up hope…yet.

Well, hope went out the window. Helpful home improvement store employee #2 gave me a once-over, and deciding that I was insane, boldly spoke to me without going through his buffer. “The only solution is to remove the vinyl slats. Vinyl slats are flexible, they move, unlike plastic. Paint will chip off because of movement. You said plastic, but they’re actually vinyl slats.”

Oh. Good point. When you put your fanny on them, yes indeed, they flex. But hey, doesn’t plastic “flex” too? Guess it doesn’t.

I walked out of there with my head hanging down. Defeated. And all I want to do is restore and reuse. And do it myself. For now, those chairs will remain in the garage. Maybe I’ll call Steve the powder coating guy. And order new slats on-line, pre-cut, no less. My $50 bargain just had another zero added to it. Sigh.

Lady, you are an inspiration!

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I took a nice long walk this morning; had to hurry, before the sun was fully out. It was a bit toasty and humid anyway. But that’s OK. Walked over to my local park; just a few minutes from my home.

It was similar to a crowded freeway there. My observations included a varied bunch of folks: Several runners, a woman with very long black hair (past her butt) jogging while pushing a baby carriage, a very old half bent-over man with his 60 something daughter holding his arm, a couple with 2 cute little white dogs, an old gent with a baseball cap and thick, dark, wrap around glasses so you couldn’t see his face, a father with three young very blond boys, and a very large fellow, probably 300 pounds or more, with thicker than thick legs.

I said “hello” or “good morning” to all of them. Sometimes my greeter was louder, sometimes softer; got a response almost every time. Ah, but some said hello to me first…gotcha! It’s a most friendly place.

One woman this morning truly inspired me. She had short brown hair, glasses, a brown shirt, and brown slacks. The first time I saw her, she was walking towards me. I said “hello”. She didn’t return the greeting. Maybe it’s because she was concentrating so hard on walking. Being severely knock-kneed and with a body slightly bent towards her left, each step looked painful. During some of those steps, her knees brushed against each other.

I continued on my walk, all the way to the end of the trail, then turning around. After about four minutes, I caught up to her again. This time, viewing her walking from behind, her steps took on a special meaning to me. I started thinking about people who just don’t try, whether it be exercising, reaching for the next step on the corporate ladder, getting along with people, eating right, and well, the list goes on.

Not only that, she had no fear about being out in the world with her disabilities. I’m sure she’s doesn’t waste time thinking about what people’s perceptions are of her. “Are people looking at me and thinking I’m weird?” Nope, she’s just not going to dwell on that. Her determination on getting that fresh air and that walk has overcome any qualms she may have about her appearance. She is trying.

Well, lady dressed in brown, you are a symbol of perseverance to me. I hope to see you at the park soon, and I will again say “hello”. I’d be honored to receive a “hello” in return.