A Single Step

Beth Pepoy:

Just a Monday morning thought…

Originally posted on Operation Discovering Me:

With a single step I can move forward.
I can move towards a destination.
I can overcome obstacles of pain or dismay.
I can move past hurt and distain.
I can forgive and forget.
I can celebrate joy.
With a single step I can give and receive.
I can honor and love.
I can embrace and give hugs.
I can let go of the past.
With a single step I can start a journey.
I can have an adventure.
I can take a chance.
I can receive blessings.
With a single step I say no to fear and hello to life.
I can be the who I long to be.
No one can take that single step but me!

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From Cleveland with Love, Thanks LeBron

Beth Pepoy:

There is no place like home!

Originally posted on Stiletto Stomping Sports:

ClevelandCleveland, Ohio– 41° 29′ 57″ N / 81° 41′ 44″ W ,  Area code 216

On the shores of Lake Erie, County seat of Cuyahoga.

Being from Cleveland has been the greatest experience of my life.  Since the beginning of 2014 a strange event has been happening– the winds of change have finally hit the North Coast rolling up on to the shores of Lake Erie.  For nearly 50 years Cleveland has been starved for a return to greatness.  Anyone from here, no matter where they live now are the loyalist of a city that has seen more ups and downs from every aspect that life can throw faster then a Heater from Van Meter, a Bob Feller’s fastball.

People from outside of the area do not understand and sit in shock over the announcement from LeBron James. For those born after 1964 in the city will not remember the great days, nor do they care to…

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Dad’s Newpaper and His Portable Man Cave

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In the modern world a man has his special room called a man-cave.  Placed and held in high esteem, usually scattered everywhere are all the precious pieces of “junk” (as Mom calls it) that he endears and has stored. These new modern caves with the 60 inch flat screen LCD, HD, gaming systems and internet access televisions, that include enough sports paraphernalia to inundate the masculine senses with a euphoric high, grants the man of the house a lion’s den pride amongst all the modern reveals of interior design. Long before the modern standard in boys with toys comfort, there were a few simpler precursors that where once en vogue, well sort of.

Men, while they were still boys were a little more primitive in their needs and mud grimed clothes were the utmost in their fashion attire.  After all, “throw some dirt on it” is still a boys best medical lament.

Those early man-caves were called forts, tree houses and club houses. Incredible early marvels of construction made with used nails, scrap wood and a lot of “junk” (hmm Mom maybe onto something) they found from everywhere. Mother’s back in time believed that Tide, Whisk, All-Tempa-Cheer and Clorox  would relieve the stained fabrics of the newly bought starch white church shirt of  beastly grass, oil and dirt from their precious angel’s clothes.  Secretly, they counted on stains to catch little sweet Johnny in a lie of his where abouts.  Ah the days of innocence that forge a boy’s soul to manhood and the expectation for youthful males to demonstrate skills for the future.

I suspect boys, who grew up when my Dad did, never quite imagined what a discarded cardboard box, broken fence parts, mud splattered spackle and rusty nails of engineering could evolve to.  For once Dad was groomed to my mother he discovered all things male would be placed in the garage.  Yes the garage, tool bearing, oil smelling, trash can holding pre-modern versions of the Man-cave.  The other high-end domicile of masculinity was…wait for it…..wait for it……

“The John” why else would it be called with a male gender name? Oh yippee, (sigh) the pride of Charmin and the Sears’ catalogue. Do something wrong in our house and a stiff punishment could be having to clean up after a recent visit by the only male in our home.  If you saw Dad enter with the newspaper it could be awhile, better grab a clothes pin, Windex, scrub brush and gloves.  I looked more like a mad scientist preparing for a new experiment then someone who just hacked off Mom for not getting my book report done.

These two places varied in size and structure, both places did however, make Spanky and the gang’s He-man Women Haters Club look far more luxurious and, grand in splendor with the added bonus of being in a really cool tree.  I am also willing to bet to this day, Dad quietly wished over an hourglass for a Delorean that would transport him back to his first cave once my sister and I started driving.

What was truly ingenious of Dad was his portable man-cave.  Yes my dad, that wryly creative soul, discovered by carrying a newspaper everywhere, he could camouflage his secret desires to stealthily sneak off to see a man about a horse or tinker around in the garage with the other pioneers of pre-cave amenities for a quick beer and never being able to remember to take out the trash.  Simply said, this mild manner male figure of patriarchy, once seated at the dinner table in one smooth motion could miraculously disappear behind the Cleveland Plain Dealer. Never to be heard from unless a disagreement between the females ensued, the female gender canines begged too much or I said and did something that either invoked humor or evoked Mom, usually I could do both at the same time.

The black and white pages of boring stuff (as I referred to it) would shake up and down from his laughter.  If you need to get his attention just knock on the printed pages and you would hear a drawn out “yeeeesss?”  Sometimes if he was really deep into the man-cave of published fish wrap you might have to knock harder or comeback later, which usually meant he was going to stay out of it, or how much was it going to cost to replace.

The portable man-cave was Dad’s method of choice over the garage and the bathroom.  His deployment of the paper gave him the ability to listen to the on goings of his home, afforded him the title of king of the selective hearing and gave the appearance of being present.

Then he would always with out delay, fold the newspaper and comment on everything he heard.  He offered suggestions, asked questions and cautiously warned me to stop cutting up the paper for school until he had a chance to read it.  Many great moments with my Dad have and still are sitting around the kitchen table when I return home for the holidays.

Perhaps the greatest conversation was when I had pushed my luck too far with Mom.  His words have stayed with me like the coffee cans in the garage filled with rusty old nails.

“My darling child remember this; the choices you make now are the lessons you will learn later. Cherish each lesson the way that I cherish and love you.”

Just like a coffee can of old nails you don’t know why you have them but you never know when you are going to need them.  His words on that day didn’t make me feel better nor get me out of trouble, further I didn’t understand why he said what he said. All I knew was he loved me and wished me well in my choices.  Years later, those words can still bring me solace and have been a constant mantra while raising my own family. Like the old nails in the garage his words were waiting for me to use when I needed them.

Today the newspaper for Dad has been replaced by an IPad, he has his own study (still filled with junk according to Mom), he has more male support in the house with the dogs and grandsons who reside there.  Yet in his real cave, (his inner self) is the most precious gift that he gives to all of us regularly. The gift of his generous, loving and brilliant heart.

Happy Father’s Day Dad!  I love you with all my heart!

PS I am thinking of redoing the bathroom any suggestions?  Just kidding!

 

The Sun, Moon and the Stars..From My Slumber to Reality

Beth Pepoy:

Dreams and the encrypted messages tell the story of you.

Originally posted on Operation Discovering Me:

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The night was misty and sleep was not arriving with the usual exhaustion I had grown to expect.  It was another day when I was faced with not enough time, too much on my plate and a brain that just didn’t want to rest.

The pang in my heart was repeatedly asking why I didn’t have the right person in my life to share moments like this, to distracting my thoughts and redirecting my brain to, hunting for the missing sock that probably was enjoying coffee with my safe place that I put stuff I don’t want to lose.  You know that place that is so safe you forget where it is.

Dreams have often been described by experts as the place where the subconscious speaks through beautiful but odd imagery and horrifies to the point of  facing the denials the conscious self is willing to ignore.  I had spent the day…

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The Debate Wages On with PolitiJim! Join in if You Dare!

Beth Pepoy:

Yep that green bird and I are still at it!

Originally posted on Stiletto Stomping Sports:

Oh Yes PolitiJim and I have a debate going! Join in the discussion if you dare!

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Yes. The debate DOES continue.

Clearly some of the Fukushima radiation has made it to the Louisiana coast and become a glowing garnish for your gumbo. Now hang on, I don’t want you to fall off of your stiletto sneakers, but here is my rebuttal to your rebuttal to my rebuttal.

First, you didn’t address the core of my argument. Previous Triple Crown winners WON! Many against even worse situations. (like Seabiscuit) IT IS WHAT MADE THEM GREAT. Lowering standards so that more can win is a principle that is far beneath a woman of class and intelligence such as yourself.

Second, the “rules” interference, drug testing and blocking are not being put in place so that a “favored” horse can win. They are put in place so that all have a fair chance…

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Wagering on The Rules of The Triple Crown Will Change? Don’t Be a Dumb A**!

Beth Pepoy:

The debate continues

Originally posted on Stiletto Stomping Sports:

My good friend PolitiJim response to my blog Rust on the Chrome, All or Nothing!
Now I don’t normally post like this and I hope PolitiJim is cool with it. The point is that these debates or discussions will end in dead heat.

PolitiJim’s comments:

I’m of a differing opinion. As it turns out there are more horses that qualified for the Derby racing these past years than in era’s before. When Affirmed won the Triple Crown in 1978, he faced four horses in the Preakness that had not run in the Derby.

Affirmed faced two horses in the Belmont that skipped the Preakness, one of which didn’t run in the Derby either.

Since when did horse racing suddenly get kindergarten self-esteem syndrome? You know the one that says we have to give everyone a medal so they feel good. The corrosion of the value of merit.

Isn’t one of…

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Keep Calm and Carry a Fairy Godmother

Originally posted on Operation Discovering Me:

I never cared for Mary Poppins telling Mr. Bank’s children that when the wind changes she would know when to leave. I also much preferred a magical Fairy Godmother that could turn my rags to silk, place glass slippers on my feet, and tell me that I need to go and enjoy the ball.

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However, I better remember my curfew, or else everything around me will turn into the mess just like the day after Halloween–smashed pumpkins on the doorstep, toilet paper in the trees and that loving Fairy Godmother suddenly appears to be the disgruntled parent ready to pounce and hand down a sentencing.  After all, the vandalism (which is never confused with modern art) had to have been done by friends.

Over the last 10 years I have been in a hunt for my Fairy Godmother and I want to let her know this; Prince Charming wasn’t a prince, my kids…

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Heat Turned Up Again in San Antonio

Beth Pepoy:

I may never be able to go back to Cleveland after this blog post. LOL

Originally posted on Stiletto Stomping Sports:

The AC was up full blast but the Heat was on fire in the final 8 minutes of the 4th quarter. The #LeBroning may now die a twitter death.

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LeBron is not Michael Jordan, he’s LeBron James and tonight he showed why comparisons are silly. Each generation has a standout, the playmaker or the go to guy. Love him or hate him, his play in each quarter became stronger and hotter, yet smart . He’s this generation’s elite and continues to prove it.

35 points tonight vs the 25 points in game 1 is the tale of the court. LeBron turned it up when superstar elite players do, right when it matters and victory is achieved.

I am not a doctor and I will never pretend to be one.  But after spending years playing tennis in the southern Louisiana heat leg cramps are real and will cause even the most hydrated players…

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Rust on the Chrome! All or Nothing?

Beth Pepoy:

I am a Triple Crown Romantic

Originally posted on Stiletto Stomping Sports:

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Triple Crown romantics everywhere are screaming about June 7th, 2014 and the 146th running of the Belmont Stakes.  Personally I am probably the loudest in the group next to Steve Coburn.

”That’s the coward’s way out,” he said. ”It’s not fair to these horses that have been in the game since day one. If you don’t make enough points to get into the Kentucky Derby, you can’t run in the other two races. It’s all or nothing.”

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The last 12 attempts that had any chance of winning were defeated by horses that ran 1 or none of the first two legs.  What quality of a race is it if Tonalist wins the race without ever qualifying for the Derby?

Money.  Simply put there isn’t a horse owner or trainer that has a romantic notion of the Triple Crown but enjoy sticking their fresh horse in to capitalize on the inflated purse and bets…

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Nadal’s Dance Wins 9th French Open

Beth Pepoy:

Check out my new blog…Stiletto Stomping Sports

Originally posted on Stiletto Stomping Sports:

Tennis has a glamour to it. Stroke by stroke, serve by serve the movements when performed correctly showcase an athletes talents with as much grace as a prima ballerina at the Bolshoi.

Nadal owns the clay courts of Roland Garros as the Mona Lisa holds court in the Louvre. A masterpiece for the visual senses.

Nadal may have had a slower then expected start losing the first set 3-6 to Novack Djokovic. Djokovic was solid and appeared to use most of his energy in the first two sets leaving the #2 seed empty and struggling in sets 3 and 4 in heat of Paris.

Nadal playing on what could be called his home court became stronger and more sure footed in movement and strategy. His surge for tennis dominance became clear in taking the second set 7-5 and his grace and strength was starting to emerge while Djokovic was becoming…

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