My New Life in Florida Update

Hot in Florida means  hotter than hell! But living here is anything but hell! Infact, it is downright fun and at times, pretty darn funny!

We made our way to Withlacoochee State Park, named after Indians.  It is named after the river that flows through it.  It is beautiful and located in Dades City, not that far a drive from us. On the route there, we had to pass the largest dump I have ever seen in my life. This dump literally seemed to stretch for miles, like the size of a large amusement park, except there was nothing amusing about a place emitting the worst odor 

There was a farm across the street with cows loitering in the fields. I couldn’t help but notice none, not a one, was remotely close to the fence near the road.  I told my husband even the stinky cows could not stand the stench! Now that is when you know how bad the odor was. I literally drove holding my nose. And if you think that was easy, did I mention the roads were not paved? Nope, it was all dirt roads and they were not smooth so it seemed at times, like driving on ice. Luckily I was apparently the only one, the fool, out on that road!

We arrived at the park and the joy was going to be seeing the Indian village. We thought it would be a blast for the grandkids so we first drove around and scoped out the park
looking for Indian Village signs. None existed so we assumed, they must be on the trail hikes.  Okay, we can handle that.  Parking the car we went on the first one. Off we trotted with excitement and ready for a sense of wonder. We made it to the end of the trail no village.   Wouldn’t you know we would pick the wrong trail and walk the entire path? 

We had two choices, leave in defeat or stay victorious and walk the other longer nature trail. So, like the troupers we are we painted on our smiles.  We can do this, we told each other, and off we went, only not
as fast this time steps more labored and breathing.  Okay, we got to the end, no Indians, no village, and the walk back was long, quiet and blistering hot.  We pulled out saying who wants to see a damn Indian village anyways!

Two days later, we got wind of the first tropical storm coming to Tampa bay area.  How exciting to us, never to have come remotely close to one.  Everyone seemed concerned but we were kinda pumped, wow a real tropical storm. The only thing bothering us was the wussy name, Colin. For our first one why couldn’t it be fiercer a name like Charge, Crush, or Creature.  Wow, was it something to see! It didn’t come as hard as they said but every two hours or so, like clockwork, it rained for two days!  And then an hour of complete silence.  I couldn’t sleep, I had to sit up and listen and watch. We had a toast, our first big storm, toasting many more!

I think one of our neighbors isn’t all that crazy about our lab Charley. She rolls past in her wheelchair and our dog thinks it is a bike, and he does not like  bikes.  So he begins his fierce sounding bark.  She seems to think he wants to tear her apart like a pit-bull. Mind you, we have told her first, he is old and second, can’t even chew hard bones anymore. Lastly,  he only likes to eat males.    

Well, the other night, again, she rolls by as we are sitting out front on our driveway by our garage.  This time, she would not roll quietly by.  She likes to talk, and talk, and talk.  But she is a sweetheart. I wish Charley would give her a chance to speak and not drown her out with his incessant barking.  So, in no time, as she is talking he starts up.

 Now, one of the first things she says is to ask us if he ever shuts up. We explain that most of his day is spent in the walk in closet sleeping so we need to get him outside some. As Charley goes back and forth between lying down quietly during the conversation and picking back up where he left off with his barkfest she starts getting more annoyed. She then says the one thing that makes our neck hairs stand on edge.  She wants to know if we have a muzzle and if we would consider putting it on him.   Now Jim joined in with the barking, right in sync with Charley.

Charley has a rough time with his legs still. Since they are still causing him issues getting up, he is still receiving acupuncture to help. It must be pointed out, the only time he seems to not have any problem at all is at feeding time, walk time and when he is supposed to lay for acupuncture.  We spend the entire time talking to him, taking turns with who gets the joy of sitting in a tiny padded room trying to tell him he is sleepy, do not go to the dark side and please cooperate. 

This time the dreaded happened. There was a dog fight in the waiting room! Do you know what it is like to hold back a 105 lb dog and keep him lying still when two dogs are
growling and barking at each other and adults are yelling right outside the door he is in?  Well, I screamed louder than them, JIM HELP ME!  In came my husband, and he body slammed him to the floor, well not exactly but he did manage to get him down.  Charley was hooked to electrodes this time so needed to be still so as not to shake out the wires.  And there we sat, two grown adults on the floor holding him down, trying to not make eye contact because every time we did, we cracked up laughing.

When the vet came in, which seemed like eternity and back, she said “Oh Charley you were such a good boy this time.”  She says that every time and we both think we would pay double if she would sit in with him just one time to see what we go through.  As she was moving needles from his body, he got pretty frisky. Then she broke her past protocol and gave us her reality check, the words we wondered if we would ever hear from this new vet, the words we have heard so many times before,

“Charley you are a wild boy.  You are the wildest dog I have ever met. Even old, you act just like a puppy, I have never met a lab like you ever in my years of practicing.”

 Join Charley’s fan club, no fees needed.   
Charley is at home in Florida now.  


Clique Out

I have always hated cliques. They remind me of pecking orders. When I use to read Dr. Dobson’s books when my kids were little, he used to say better hope your child isn’t on the low end of the pecking order in school or he/she may have problems and definitely suffer with self-esteem issues.  And that is what pecking orders are as adults, cliques and just as detrimental mentally.

We are all born with innate sense of venerability. We all need to be held, fed and loved. As we are fostered and nurtured, if we are lucky, much of the desperation for those needs to be met immediately and substantially in large quotas goes away. We grow up and mature and do not need to scream, bang our fists and stomp our feet to get our needs met.  Though we all see the occasional exception to the rule, invariably, this is true.

Hitting middle and high school years, the pecking order is so much a part of the norm you can walk into any high school USA and know who is in what group. It usually goes something like this, sports jocks, cheerleaders, popular, band members, goody-too-shoes, science/math majors; we don’t fit in and don’t care, smart-ass kids, drug users, drop-outs, and then a few others. The ones on the top groups of the popularity list get major boosts in their esteem building in high school. It isn’t because they have anything at all over anyone else.  It is simply because of their association with the right group.  It really is an unfair unjust system and schools should work harder to not allow the lines to be drawn so tightly. It alienates kids who need the added lift at school who might not be getting it at home or anywhere else.

Reaching adulthood, all the sudden 18 year olds are thrown into the “real world.’  Supposedly high school is left behind. In many senses it is. In college, if attending a commuter college, there isn’t too much of this nonsense. Big name colleges with fraternities and sororities, you have that acceptance piece again if joining clubs.  Everyone will do everything to get accepted, outside of reason infact.  So many cases have been documented whereby stupidity supersedes logical thinking.  Even with the sports athlete on an all paid scholarship, for the hopes of gaining acceptance and admiration into the right group, no holds are barred. 

We, as a society, long to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.  Somehow this must be imparted onto our youth. We harbor that vulnerability that just us, by ourself, is simply not enough and we need to belong, even if the norm is not right. We even pull back and say nothing if we see others hurt by our participation and their exclusion.

In the working world for years, in several different roles, I saw this play out continually. It was much more prevalent with women than men. This stage of the game, they are called cliques. These are groups of people that find niche areas where they seem to fit together well.  Work is obviously a connection.

Men seem to realize independence shows confidence and esteem whereby women seem to equate power with belonging to a power group, popularity.  And many times, that popularity, I have seen firsthand, is not used in a positive way.  There is cat-fighting, gossiping, down-grading, and back-stabbing to get ahead.   Men seem to be much more upfront with the confrontations and thus, resolve them a great deal quicker and without mental stress.

The cliques extend to so many areas of life, including sports teams, churches, and clubs for various ailments that mutual folks suffer from, e.g. cancer.  All of these groups and organizations are for a soul purpose usually, connecting people for a common mission.  And yet, within it, there seems to be an innate human nature to have mini groups form where some folks feel they are over and above others. They use that self-proclaimed power to influence members they deem worthy in a negative way, a select few. It gives them a greater feeling of pride in themselves at the expense of others, other’s hurt feelings.

 The outcome is the members not on their goody goody list fall on the short end of the stick and get left out. They are the ones that have little input, are talked about, not included as much and truly show the group is not operating as a group but as multiple cliques, like high school and not mature adults.  Any of this sound familiar?  These groups often create more esteem issues for members on the outs who are less confrontational and are less willing, over time, to want to get involved.  Infact, they just may walk away. There is no magical age when people enjoy being left out and treated badly. 

It amazes me that some folks just don’t see this pattern, even in organizations that are geared solely for supportive purposes, the good of all that participate.  One bad seed in a group where someone has issues can build up a clique of people in a snap.  They can create an image of themselves in a favorable light and get all those around them to literally leave others out in the cold. 

This happens without folks questioning the motives or the reason the cliques have formed in the first place. These usually always form because the ones that are in charge are truly the ones that are creating this type of environment or the ones leading the cliques are spear-heading it.  Remember, the least confidant person will use others to gain a false sense of importance by manipulating others to join them and by putting others down, excluding them.  Your silence is your acceptance of this behavior.

Not being inclusive with all beings, whether it is with children or adults, in a work setting or play, is never okay.  We all deserve to be treated and respected with dignity. Leaving others out and not working equally hard to make everyone feel a part of whatever they are participating in is making an organization weaker and more doomed for failure.  Think of the things you tell your children when they are not included. Be sure you are practicing these principles in your own activities as an adult. So many adults are not.

If you are part of a group and desire success, encourage members to build each other up and not tearing each other down.  You can be the catalyst for change and redirect energy away from cliques and towards inclusive unions and improve everyone’s esteem and productivity by helping everyone click. 


Don't Rain on my Fair

We were told right now, in June,  is the best prices you can get on cruises. Oh, that was
before our neighbors got to know us!  Then they said the hurricane season in Florida runs from June to November so you might want to wait till January to go cruising! I suppose that means we are in the 'in crowd'!

We've also been told that having grandkids down here in the summer months isn't the best time. It rains regularly in the summer, infact almost every afternoon. It is like clockwork, around 3 or 4:00 p.m. It is hot so the advantage is it does cool you down. However the neighbors say lots of young grandkids don't enjoy the rain and getting wet.  Well, they never met ours or heard of the County Fair we took our two grandkids to years ago in Tennessee or they would never have bothered telling us that!

The day started off beautifully, sunny warm and two excited children in the backseat.  We were on our way to the fair, something we had done every year with our granddaughter and lately with her younger brother.  Sometimes the third brother was with us but this year, just the two of them were going.

It was two years ago and it feels like yesterday when I reflect back on the experience. The traffic back up was so bad we must have sat in the car well over an hour to get a parking spot. Jake had to have been around 3 and Ava was 6.  We were so far away, the lot we were directed to was on the other side of a main road right off the interstate. It was so far out the golf cart rides did not even come over that far to pick up walkers coming into the circus!  Now that is far out indeed!

We walked quite a distance to get to the closest golf cart pick up spot and breathed a sigh of relief when we finally got over to that side of the road. We were finally within the area they had roped off and were picking up passengers. And off we went to what we thought would be a fun filled adventure at the fair! 

After a few hours of some festivities, we noticed how dark the sky was getting and it was obvious storms were brewing. We decided we better head home before the rain hit, we had a long way back to the car, even once we got the cart ride back.   So, as we made our way out of the large enclosure area where we were touring farm equipment for my grandson and eating dinner. All of the sudden we heard storm sounds, thunder and people making a commotion and yelling it was raining hard.

As we maneuvered close to the doors we saw it was coming down pretty good but realized we had no umbrellas as there had been no sign of rain, no prediction of any either when we had left our house.  So, we were, at the time creative.  My granddaughter I had let buy a collection of Barbie items that were inside of a cardboard flat board. I told her to hold that over her head. My husband gave his ball cap to our grandson Jake making him an official Spartans fan with a hat that covered his ears, nose and practically throat! He was non-to-thrilled but we kept telling him without he would get water in his face.

Off we ran in the direction of the line for the golf cart pick-ups. As we approached it, we looked at each other in sheer horror. Not only at the rain picked up in intensity, the line had quadrupled.  And there was no cover there, no cover anywhere!  All of the people in line, and now us, were flat out standing in a torrential rain fall waiting for golf carts, mind you, that could hold no more than 4 people at a time.  At this point, the kids and I were mortified and Jim was trying to maintain some degree of control as if this was just a minor flaw to the day.

As we waited, it became painfully obvious, especially as Jake insisted on being held as opposed to being in  ankle-deep  muddy water, there were not enough workers that had showed up to do pick-ups that Sat. night. It appears that, due to the rain, many had not shown up. Imagine that, not wanting to work in the rain, when they had the luxury of being undercover while driving as opposed to be standing out among the elements for like an eternity in pouring down rain.

By now, we were soaked completely through, were getting nowhere and decided, perhaps we should start walking towards our car. We saw others doing that. Our thoughts were, especially with two young children, certainly someone would see us waterlogged, and offer us a ride to our car.  We explained to the grandkids what we were doing and I was shocked as they laughed finding it all very funny, as humorous as I was displeased by how we all looked, like drowned rats.

So we began our process, slowly but surely walking through the long never-ending parking lot. We tried to avoid puddles the best we could but there were many times, they were simply unavoidable and we would all have to walk smack dab in the center of a pond.  Jake was held most of the way but was having such a good time; he would have preferred to be put down. Ava’s cardboard quickly became limp and we only made it about a quarter of the way through the parking lot and Barbie’s items started following out to the ground as one by one, I grabbed them and stuck them in my backpack. The inside of the backpack was the only thing between the four of us that was dry!

Jake started really getting into the idea of a water party as he began taking off the hat and using it to collect water so as to drink. We had no idea how anyone could be thirsty in these circumstances, we were drowning and my son’s boy was feeling parched.  More and more cars started pulling out by this time as we drudged along with water pooling off of every inch of our bodies. The cars were literally lining up beside us and yet, not one offered to give us a lift. Infact some seemed annoyed at times that we were in their way. It was as if we were supposed to apologize for walking in their way in this torrential rainfall with these two small children.  Looking back, perhaps I should have tapped on someone’s window and apologized.

I kept getting flustered about it and finally decided, oh heck, Ava was right. She had said numerous times to me Grandma it’s all right this is fun!  And then, it was! It was hysterical! We were waterlogged like you would not believe. We felt like we could spit fish out of our mouths. We all four had water pouring off of every part of our body, our shoes were squeaking. When we finally made it to the lot on the other side of the main street, we agreed with the kids, off with the shoes, why not, they were coming unglued and useless! Our feet hurt with rubbing on wet shoes and walking for so long.

We stood outside the car, the four of us, cracking up!  I went to hug my granddaughter to tell her what a great good girl she was and she told me not to or I would get her wet and we all burst out laughing again!  And then came the quick thinking part, what about getting into the car…… 

As the first stroke of luck of the day, there was a huge doggie blanket in the trunk.  So right by the car, in the darkness, since hardly any cars were left, none by us and only the lights of the police cars, the kids removed most of their sopping clothes done to undies. We literally picked one up on each side of the car and threw them in the backseat and then snuggled them up like two bugs in a rug in that prickly old doggie blanket and turned on the heat, mind you this was in the dead of summer.  We got in the car, drove home and laughed the whole way.

So when my grandkids come to Florida this summer, if it rains, do you really think it will stop them or us from doing anything? Infact, Ava and Jake would think nothing of it if they got caught in a downpour with Grandma and Grandpa! My grandkids are up for downpours! 


Whose Sock Was It?

I do not like socks with holes in them.  Who does? I am sure she put the hole in it.  I’ll be damned if I am getting stuck with it!  When the partner sock shows up, I will get stuck with the pair permanently. If she thinks because she is the older one that is going to happen, Miss Bossy has another thing coming! This time I am going to win the Sock War.  I gave in the last time with the Stare Contest! 

So, when she had the nerve to stick it in in the middle of my clothes pile, that holey sock and have it in my laundry pile, I just about lost it. I barely could hold my scream inside. I only did it so I would not get in trouble. I waited till she went downstairs to her bedroom in the basement.  I slipped down the steps from upstairs and quickly opened the basement door as quietly as I could and thus began another  Sock War installment. God only knows what version we were on now. I was getting tired of this shenanigans.    Being the younger sister sometimes just plain sucks. I don't care if she does let me tag along with her sometimes, I want to win some in-house fights. She should let me win for my self-esteem, at least that is what my friends say. She is going to scar me for life.
I yelled downstairs, quickly, so as she wouldn't be there, at the bottom of the steps. Aha, upper hand! She taught me that, now she gets a dose of her stuff!  I knew she'd be madder than hell. I screamed loudly like there was a fire in the house "Terri, this is not my sock" and pitched that holey sock  proudly down the steps slamming the door behind me.  Then, I ran like a bat out of hell up the set of stairs to be out of site when she ran like a track star back up after me.  
Like clockwork, here she came. I got my door closed in the nick of time and heard her tread up the steps. Then in a split second it seemed she was outside my bedroom door with that damn sock, threw it to the floor as I was holding my door shut as tightly as I could so she couldn't throw it in.  She said something not nice, loudly outside my door.  The nerve of that bully!

Sisters are ridiculous. How can people say they love them?  I could not understand, at that time, how people say they are their best friends.  No one had a sister who threw holey socks at them like mine did. How dishonest to not claim she had put her toe through that sock and falsely put the blame on me. I didn’t want that damn sock.  

But even I have to admit, we fit together in many ways. We are sisters, with the same mother and father. She was born first. I was born two and a half years later. My sister was named Theresa.  I was named Veronica.  Good Catholic names we had. Maybe they were chosen because of our father’s heritage though I was told it was for other reasons.   

Our dad was Italian. His parents came from Italy and were Catholic. Our mother was a convert to Catholicism.  I have always been told Italians have strong tempers and we sure did, especially towards each other. We either love or hated each other and our fighting sure brought out the worst in each other. But other times, the love bond was pretty darn strong.  So maybe it is true, Italians love you or hate you, and feel that way about each other because my sister and I, back in those days felt that way about each other.  I wonder if other siblings do.

Though our names were beautiful saint names,we were always called tomboy names, her Terri and me Ronni. It somehow seemed fitting, looking back. We were raised by our father, after our parents divorced and I am not sure either of us was ever really girly. I remember taking ballet classes for a time and let’s just say tutus never quite felt right on either of us. We practiced in  pink leotards and tights.  Getting us to practice those darn moves was real hard work. We would both rather do anything else!  Speaking for myself, I had an aversion for wearing pink for years.  I bet it had to do with those stupid ballet classes!  I still hate tutus! I kinda think they look funny.

Our differences have always been striking for years.  Terri has always been the creative one.  She had the ability to sing. She entered singing competitions in middle school and I can recall her singing quite well. There were times, as kids, I would sit on the front porch of our home and she would belt out songs for me on that porch at dusk and I would sit there mesmerized by how well she sang, so envious as my voice was so flat.  

She was always telling me how vivid my imagination was and how wonderfully animated I was. In time, I learned she was correct but I loved her art skills. Terri could also draw. She use to carry a sketch pad of her artwork.  It showed her emotional side though I was always the one that wore her heart on her sleeve; she was the one that captured it in song and in artwork.  I was the one that captured it in writings and in tears.  
Saint Theresa of Avila

In time, I learned some more about our names. Saint Theresa of Avila was a remarkable saint who was known as a woman of reform, compassion and prayer.  She faced a lot of adversity for her time and yet pushed forward in spite of it.  She was supposedly very courageous and compassion and yet, quite misunderstood by many.  Through all the opposition she faced, she held tight to her faith in God.  One of her most famous lines is “God is enough.”  
Saint Veronica
Saint Veronica is the woman that offered her veil to Jesus on his route to Calvary and upon holding it to his face, his image in blood was left on the cloth.  The word “vera” is the Latin word meaning Truth or Truthful thus the veil is considered the true image of Christ. Her act of moving out of the crowd to Jesus is considered a true act of charity.   
I like that thought. I think of myself as charitable and being willing to help others. Infact, I have done a lot of work with non-profits and still continue to do so. I think my parents did a good job picking the name, I grew in to it pretty well. Theresa suits my sister well too. She is very prayerful and has always been misunderstood by many, even me.  I also think she is the one that has never been afraid of change, of creating changes and is independent like Staint Theresa was.  There is an irony that we have traits of those Saints.  
My sister and I have always had a deep abiding faith in God.  I find it an honor and a blessing to carry a name of someone so close to Jesus on his route to the cross.  I also was touched to learn my sister has a name to match a Saint that has some parallels to her.  It makes me prefer the name Veronica to Ronni and sometimes wish she went by Theresa verses Terri.  

I have remained Catholic knowing this religion  was so important to my grandmother. I have found my home in this faith also.  It was a crucial part of her life.  I have always remembered a beautiful rosary she brought back from Italy years ago on a visit, one for each of her grandchildren. Unfortunately, I lost mine and it has always been a sore topic for me, such a strong connection to my grandmother, her faith and also mine.  
We sister and I fight less as we age. We find now we have more similarities than we realized. Funny how age shows you that.  We find perhaps those fights might have had to do with more in common instead of less.  Gone is the hate and now I don't think it was ever was really there. I think it was about life, our life,  about our frustration with our parents divorcing and not understanding what was going on in our home. She was an easy target for me and me for her. When that is put aside, there is a lasting bond that has survived much change, controversy and years of trials.
A year ago, my sister went to Italy. She was certain to visit Vatican City, something she always wanted to do for a variety of reasons.  We had wonderful memories of Grandma sharing pieces of her faith with us as little girls when she babysat us on visits up to her city.    Upon her return, my sister visited me. She held out a box and told me she had a gift for me . I could tell it was something very special.
As I held it in my hands, I thought I saw a tear in her eye. It was one of those moments where you have a feeling what you are about to see, experience will stay with you forever but you are not quite sure why, yet. I opened the box, slowly.  There lay a beautiful sparkling rosary, even more beautiful than the one I lost all those years ago from my beloved Grandmother, blessed by the Pope she brought me back from Italy to replace the one I had lost.

I then begun to realize, that sock was holy.


Empowerment with the Right Person

Women are thriving, but barely at times, being pushed and pulled in so many directions.
There never seems to be enough hours in the day to get all the tasks completed at work 

and home.  Somewhere in this mix, their identity can get lost, you!  And then personal identity, self-improvement, decreasing anxiety, addressing long-standing issues affecting your life are pushed aside as each day, and month, year goes by.  Well, you are just too important for that to continue!  I did the same thing when I was working. But that was before I met Beverley Glazer.  Now she is an active part of my life and I hope you make the same choice.  Here’s why:

Beverley has an exceptional background in counseling, therapy and coaching for self-development and a multitude of issues for women.  It is not that easy to find someone with such a diverse background. The advantage of this is the extra insight she can bring to any situation. You may come to someone for direction/opinions with one thought in mind and easily it may cross over completely into another area. With Bev, she can spot it pretty quickly and work with you on everything. 

My primary draw to Beverley is the passion she brings to her work. Even after 25+ years of working in the field, she still approaches what she does with the love and caring of making a difference in other’s lives.  An example of this scheduling. She opened her practice to now be worldwide. No longer do women have to be tasked with leaving home or the office to work with her. If you view her site, and contact her, she works with your schedule and makes it work around your life even offering online courses. 

The fact that a woman with her experience would create a one hour, sixty minute course you can take by telephone or skype speaks volumes. Who does this? You have the opportunity to talk with a unique woman about your needs and not be dissected by someone with an agenda of questions and diagnostic tests to keep you coming back for more. So many of us detest that!

We all need to make changes. Talking to friends is great, reading articles and getting on the internet is good legwork. But nothing replaces having a tour guide. Without it, it is like going to Paris on a vacation without a guidebook or a map.  So much time will get wasted and the visit may be a lesson in frustration.  Having a tour guide will help you get the max out of the trip or a great guide book can get you right where you want to go. Many of us have found Beverley is like that with women’s lives.  She helps create and direct your steps for where you want to go, what you want to change, and she gets you there a whole lot quicker and easier. The best part is you get a supportive coach cheering you on every step of the way.

We all have our own goals, at least we should. Too many friends rely on each other to solve them. And honestly, it gets old getting dumped on.  Objectively listening and expert advice far exceeds the later. Take your time and put it to productive use with someone who has a proven track record with folks.  Read Beverley’s blogs and see her mentality about life, it is not necessary to take my word for it.  

To quote Beverley, “Making changes does not have to be painful or frustrating. It should be elevating and transform you.”  And yes, we can all do it, and move our lives forward far better than we imagined. Life should not be a rut.   
Women focus too hard on being mothers to those around them, somehow falling into that nurturing role.  Also, it becomes culturally acceptable for us to work on changing people with dysfunctional behavior or ‘saving them’.  What about us, who is saving us?   Without even realizing it, we become part of the problem and we need saved. And we need to focus on doing it, now, sooner not later!

Stress and anxiety needs to decrease. Hitting personal goals should be on your agenda and actively worked on. Accomplishing this is proven to lead to a more joyful fulfilled life. Beverley is honestly one of the few coaches that actually enjoy being a part of your progress, your success and your ability to move on beyond her reach. A Beverley ism: “I’d love to offer you insights and advice so that you can attain your happiest and highest self. “

Do yourself a favor and follow her website below or any of her other forms of social media boards.  Too many people I know have given up hope on being able to reduce their weight, their stress or improve their morale. They have issues in their life and have a hard time seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.

Beverley is the one that can help you find and fill those gaps and approach life with a new
attitude!  You will find, like me, her wonderful sense of humor will leave you smiling. Her caring nature will make you feel you are not alone. Her directional signs will empower you and guide you to be and go in the direction you desire.  The only thing stopping you is putting the key in the ignition and starting the engine.  

On a personal note:  I connected with Beverley over a year ago or more. I can’t remember a pre-Beverley time. I learned that her ideal clientele seemed to fall in the range of +50 women. Furthermore, these women all had one thing in common. All seemed to be going through transitions of one sort or other and had issues associated with them.  That was a good definition of where I was.

Most of us push those issues aside trying our best to deal with them on our own but yet not really making measurable progress, if any. I saw her writing about working on career, life, health and family challenges. Her blog covered topics on self-esteem for women and empowerment, and I saw issues on women during the aging process. This, in particular, peaked my interest as here was someone speaking to me. Here was out there who had specific concrete ideas of how to approach this successfully. 

She had a map, so to speak and I wanted it!  Having someone help me navigate the waves and redefine who I am has made a monumental change in my life and those around me. I wish those I know and those I don’t struggling that renewed vigor and love of life Beverley has given me and continues to give me.   


You can contact Beverley on Twitter at @BeverleyGlazer


Best Hand Cream Around!

Working for a chemical company, my ex-husband found hands are something that take a beating. Daly Company in Ludlow, Kentucky where he worked for years,  had a chemist on staff who was looking for solutions to this on-going issues for employees. He was conducting several tests on a wide range of products to determine which hand cream was best for the employees on staff. This product was to be used for employees in both the warehouse and those working directly with chemicals. 

My husband came home from work one night and told me about this testing going on. I was an Avon Representative. I had been using and selling quite a lot of Silicone Glove as I personally found it to be the best hand cream on the market and quite affordable. I suggested he take in a few tubes to the chemist on staff to test. 

Within several weeks, all testing was done and it was determined the Silicone Glove was the best product for their company to use. Daly Company in Ludlow, KY,  from then on ordered all their hand cream from me. It became so popular that all the employees in the company were utilizing it.

If you have not tried this product or any of their other hand creams, give it a try! If it is good enough for them, it is certainly good enough for your hands!

Click for Direct Link to my Page


Suicide is So Often Misunderstood

I read a post on a close friend's Facebook page recently that touched my heart. It was a short but powerful post she about suicide.

Many that follow my page know that I have lost a step-son through suicide. My friend has lost a dear brother in the same way. It is a much more complex issue than what those without the experience frequently think.
Dan Bronold
Society often quickly jumps to false conclusions. In our case, we read many posts on the media page that said Dan deserved to die, good riddance. there was no human compassion, no knowledge or interest in who he was, he had not even had a trial yet, he was guilty by public opinion.  

This post by friend made bears posting here, on my blog, to the many follower. I hope it will be shared and discussed. My hope is it will enlighten those unfamiliar with the topic, reinforce what those of us know and help spread some more information that might be helpful. IT is uncomfortable to discuss but needs to be out in the open and better understood by everyone. 

When I was younger, I had a session on this topic with a group of teens through my local church. Half way through the class, several teens broke down crying, including the tough males who never seemed bothered by a thing.  Most had experienced a loss of someone in this manner.  Wrapping your head around suicide is hard, at any age.  

I have made very few edits to my friend's words only to make it pertinent to the blog, more generic to everyone.

"Can't say it enough...Many people think that a suicide attempt is a selfish move because the person just does not care about the people left behind. I can tell you that when a person gets to that point, they truly believe that their loved ones will be much better off with them gone.This is mental illness not selfishness. 
TRUTH: Depression is a terrible disease and seems relentless. A lot of us have been close to that edge, or dealt with family members in a crisis, and some have lost friends and loved ones. Let's look out for each other and stop sweeping mental illness under the rug. May I ask my family and friends wherever you might be, to kindly pass this information on and give it a moment of support to all those who have family problems, health struggles, job issues, worries of any kind and just need to know that someone cares.

Do it for all of us, for nobody is immune. 

Hope to see this on the walls of Facebook, Social Media locations everywhere, all my family and friends just for moral support for myself and so many others I don't know names of, faces, circumstances. I know some will!!! I did it for a friend and you can too. No personal information needs to be shared. Thank you."

Special thank you to my dear friend for posting this on their page,as a reminder to all of the loss we suffered that is with us forever. When she shared her story, I never dreamed in just a year or so, I would be in a similar
situation but only mine would be my husband's only child, my step-son.  The scars remain and society's reaction is not what you would expect. We must be compassionate and better comprehend what is behind this. Only then can be begin to prevent it also.  Mental illness and health is not a nasty topic or a sign of weakness. 

My husband and I  started a fund at a camp for troubled youths to help prevent teens from continuing down a self-destructive path after our son's death. This Camp is Christian-based and is focused on preventing attendees from meeting a similar fate, helping them get on a path where they can reach adulthood and then not destroy their adult lives. If you choose to research it or donate it, it is listed below.  There are just too many successful stories of lives impacted to even know where to begin. 

May your eyes be open and you open someone else's eyes to the beauty of life and the outreach for those needing help! 

Midcourse Correction Challenge Camp
Attn: Dan Bronold Memorial Fund

833 E. Grand River Ave