Iris Ruth Pastor's Blog, page 10

Doodling Away in the Aftermath

It was the tail end of my visit with my three married sons and their families. And it had been a magical ten days. Why? Because we just hung-out – together.

I watched all eight of my grandchildren in their own element. Two had just gotten their driver’s licenses. Sitting beside them in the front seat brought back all the parental terrors of watching my own kids pull into traffic years before – and just wanting to grab the wheel away from them – for no discernible reason on their part. 

Fortunately, the next youngest batch of grandkids weren’t as mobile so their mother and father were still driving them around. I watched them being chauffeured to and from their friends’ houses, enmeshed in the drama of their lives. It was a joy to see them all engaged with their peers but clearly loving their families too.

The three youngest zapped my energy in a most delightful way – big smiles when I arrived, tears when I left and lots of hugs and begging to play with them non-stop in between.

And then – the day before I was leaving to return home – came a rather unpleasant incident unrelated to my sons, daughters-in-law and grandkids – one that upset my equilibrium. And not being in my own element, I had to find a way to both process it and cope with the onslaught of unfamiliar emotions I was experiencing. 

It was too late and too cold to walk off my angst when the news came into my inbox. My knitting needles and yarn were 1000 miles away. And the novel I had schlepped with me was no longer holding my interest.   

While my son and his family were sprawled on the couch absorbed in both their phones and a basketball game on TV, I absentmindedly began to hunt for something to calm me down.

I wandered into the basement and began exploring the arts and crafts closet my daughter-in-law had assembled  for her kids – replete with all weights and colors of construction paper and all types of markers and paint tubes.

I grabbed a thick pad of paper and an unopened plastic container filled with every imaginable color of paint marker and headed back upstairs.

I began to scribble. 
And scribble some more. And as I scribbled, I mulled over my emotions in relation to the disturbing news delivered to me hours before. 

The rhythmic motion of my unfettered line drawings allowed my mind to circle back to this most recent dilemma and think about it from many perspectives.

I looked up. An hour had passed.
I realized I was doodling to work through my frustration. I realized I was communicating in symbolic swirls, lines, patterns, and polka dots rather than the usual way of expressing myself – which is with words. 

Doodling is to absentmindedly scribble. And most importantly, a doodle is a drawing made while a person’s attention is otherwise occupied. I could relate.

As I created small drawing after drawing in bright neon colors on a variety of colors of construction paper, I noted my mood improved considerably. 

Researchers believe that doodling can allow individuals to work through and express their emotions. This healthy release frees up space in the brain and ultimately, has a calming effect. That evening, drawing aimlessly allowed me to express myself not only artistically but to examine the psychological and emotional undertones raging inside me. 

I drew a lot of polka dots that day
And swirly cues
And my name 
And flowers
And the name of my non-profit

The next morning, feeling quite cheerful and with an entirely more positive perspective, I took eight of the cards and wrote brief but heartfelt notes to each of my grandkids telling them how much I had enjoyed my time with them.

Then I did the same for their parents. 

These drawings represent a new way I have developed to deal with unpleasant things that happen in life, to losses not anticipated – and curve balls coming from unexpected places.

I recognize now more than ever the power of not just the pen, but the marker. 

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Finding Your Compass of Direction

Ann Kearney-Cooke is a provocateur. She appeals to those of us who are shackled by circumstances and overruled by rationalizations.

She tells this story:
There was a small town that had a zoo and the people of the town wanted a polar bear so the directors of the zoo raised the money to acquire a polar bear and build a habitat. The polar bear arrived early and so had to be confined in a cage until the habitat was finished.

When the habitat was ready, a ceremony took place to dismantle the cage and the polar bear was set free to explore his new living quarters – with all its nooks and crannies – but the polar bear kept moving as if the cage were still there.

“How many of us,” asks Dr. Kearney-Cooke, founder and director of The Cincinnati Psychotherapy Institute, “don’t get out of the cages of our own making? How many of us are doomed to get the same disappointing results because we confine ourselves to the same limited space?  How many of us hold onto outdated visions and unrealistic goals?”

I, of course, key in immediately to what she is alluding to. For years, I bowed down and paid daily homage to the little black numbers that jumped into view every morning (and sometimes more than that) when I tentatively stepped on that bathroom scale.  What I weighed not only determined what I ate that day, but how I felt about myself, the world, my abilities and my value.

When I finally unattached myself from this neurotic mind-set, I found myself in a state of disorientation and confusion. How could I gauge my mood without the little black numbers to keep score?  How did I know whether to be energized, inspired, depressed or disappointed if THE BATHROOM SCALE wasn’t there to access my sense of self-worth?

Finally I came to the stunning conclusion that I was entitled to be happy in spite of what the scale said – not because of it, but the transition from weighing myself obsessively to not weighing myself at all was a tough one.  I needed other mile markers and there were none to be found.

“Transitions, both short-term and long-term,” says Kearney-Cooke, “are tough and we tend to overeat (or drink too much, or smoke too much) when we are not making transitions in a healthy way. That’s when our resources are low and the demands are high, so we develop a symptom to re-fuel us – and too often it is one that is not good for us.”

The challenge is to create rituals that make transitions easier. Observe the lobster, who, when he outgrows his shell, discards it and goes into hiding until the new shell is fortified against predators.

We all could use a specified amount of time-out to grow a new and more resistant shell – that fits better and feels right. One woman, who has a tough time making the transition from mealtime to the end of mealtime, brushes her teeth at the end of each meal – thus depicting to herself that the meal is finished. Another woman, when she returns home from work each evening, symbolically sheds her entrepreneurial mind-set by lighting a scented candle and hovering close to take in the pleasant aroma. She has put a stop to rushing in the door, flinging off her coat and immediately zoning in on collecting her phone messages, retrieving the mail and accessing her E-mails.

As Kearney-Cooke concluded, “Become the director, not the actor of your life. And allow the ‘compass of direction’ to slowly shift until it rests where it should have been in the first place – inside yourself.”

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

My Whole Blue Print for Being Over 75

With age hopefully comes some privilege, some wisdom and a whole host of revelations and resolutions.  Here’s what I’ve picked up along the way……..

I’ve finally decided that now that I am over the age of 75, I AM NEVER GOING TO:
     Chew gum after the flavor has gone out
     Eat fat-free mayonnaise, no-fat salad dressing and cheap ice cream
     Eat more than I want just to make the hostess happy
     Repress my anger
     Refrain from giving someone a compliment the moment it pops into my head     
     Force myself to use up my cheap perfume before I start on the good stuff
     Be afraid to use the guest towels in someone else’s home
     Not visit my sister on her birthday
     Keep on display “tchotchkes” I’ve been given that I really don’t like
     Pass up an opportunity to buy lemonade from a kid selling it from a homemade stand     
     Stop licking the bowl after I make a cake
     Start sitting like a lady
     Dress conservatively
     Choose sensible shoes over sexy ones
     Do for someone else what he is capable of doing for himself
     Begrudge doing for someone else what he truly needs help doing for himself
     Pass up a chance to slow dance with my husband
     Resent someone else’s easy success

I have finally decided now that I am over the age of 75, I AM GOING TO:
     Continue to flirt, wear black mascara and dress funky
     Talk dirty in the appropriate situation
     Tell it like it is/how I see it
     Laugh like hell
     Sing in the shower/dance in my living room in front of the open windows
     Eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches weekly    
     Drink an ice-cold beer at a ball game
     Work my arms with weights so I can still wear sleeveless dresses
     Fantasize to my heart’s content
     Continue my policy of answering the phone at my own convenience – after all, they called me at theirs    
     Go out to eat even if there are leftovers 
     Accept that even shadowy and incomplete memory fragments have meaning
     Nurture ties that bind rather than lines of discord that separate
     Eavesdrop shamelessly when stuck waiting in line

I have finally decided now that I am over the age of 75, IT’S ABOUT TIME I:
     Learn how to use the remote, pick out a cantaloupe and figure out how to read a stock statement
     Take a photography course
     Stop gagging at the site of raw tofu
     Lower my expectations for others and raise my own for myself
     Try harder to return phone calls promptly – not just when I feel like it
     Stop agonizing over my poor memory and inability to remember details
     Quit paying dues to groups in which I have no interest in maintaining membership
     Stop using the calculator to figure my checkbook and exercise elementary school math subtraction skills instead
     Listen instead of talk so much
     Listen instead of interrupt so much
     Listen instead of thinking about my next witty retort
     Admit I love romance novels with a passion
     Figure out how to give a seamless dinner party
     Nourish my intoxication with ideas
     Realize that when God takes away, he often gives back – but in another form

And finally, I have decided that even though I am now over the age of 75, I can still express myself freely, adamantly, often and with vigor.  How about you?   

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

I Get By – With A Little Help From My Friends

Remember the song “With A Little Help From My Friends” by The Beatles? 
That could be my tagline.

How could I possibly get through life without the advice, guidance and ongoing suggestions from my buddies? They have proven not only highly helpful, but, in some cases, truly life altering.

Because. . .

Dealing with massive bags under my eyes
Wondering whether to go gray
Confused by all cosmetic enhancements available, not to mention supplements and vitamins
Needing to vent about weight gain, saggy upper arms, bloat and a bad haircut
Feeling irrelevant at times by kids and grandkids and just trying to get through the daily grind. . .

Is a whole lot easier when you have friends who you can count on to be there for you… even if you happen to “sing out of tune!”
 
After All. . .

That’s why I’ve teamed up with the Tampa JCC and Federation to present a very special event:
The Art of Female Friendship
Friday, April 12 at the Tampa JCC at 11:30am
Women of all ages will have an opportunity to learn a little, laugh a lot and meet some new friends over lunch.  

               CLICK HERE TO REGISTER

But even if you don’t live in the Tampa area or aren’t able to attend the event this time around, you can still benefit from all the great resources I am gathering from and for women like you!

I’d like to learn who you follow on social media, what websites, podcasts, TV shows, movies and YouTube channels you frequent, the books and columns you read, and other resources you turn to that that focus on concerns and interests to women. 

As soon as I compile the responses, I will share a comprehensive list with you and all my readers, so please consider taking part in this easy and very valuable project!  

Just click here to email me your suggestions. After all, can we ever have enough go-to places for help, advice, support and guidance as we navigate life’s tricky terrain? 

As always, a huge THANK YOU in advance for your responses, your ongoing support, your encouragement and friendship. It has undoubtedly enabled me to continue to bloom. And I hope this weekly newsletter has allowed you to do the same.

And who knows… If you aren’t able to make it to this event, there’s a chance I could be coming to your town next. But no matter where you live or where you are in your journey, I hope you will never stop blooming. . . 
Because –  
WHAT GOOD IS GROWING, IF YOU NEVER GET TO BLOOM?

The Intrusive Visitor

Sometimes something appears in an unexpected place that I absolutely must pass along. The unexpected place was a posting on “next door.”
Below is the unexpected copy.

A strange old lady has moved into my house. I have no idea who she is, where she came from, or how she got in. I certainly did not invite her. All I know is that one day she wasn’t there, and the next day she was.

She is a clever old lady and manages to keep out of sight for the most part, but whenever I pass a mirror, I catch a glimpse of her. And, whenever I look in the mirror to check my appearance, there she is hogging the whole thing, completely obliterating my gorgeous face and body. This is very rude! I have tried screaming at her, but she just screams back.

Food seems to disappear at an alarming rate-especially the good stuff like ice cream, chips, and sweets. She must have a real sweet tooth, but she’d better watch because she is really packing on the pounds. I suspect she realizes this, and to make herself feel better, she is tampering with my scale to make me think I am putting on weight, too.

For an old lady, she is quite childish. She likes to play nasty games, like going into my wardrobes when I’m not home and altering my clothes so they don’t fit. And she messes with my files and papers so I can’t find anything. This is particularly annoying since I am extremely neat and organized.

She has found other imaginative ways to annoy me. She gets into my mail, newspapers, and magazines before I do and blurs the print so I can’t read it. And she has done something really sinister to the volume controls on my TV, radio, and telephone. Now, all I hear are mumbles and whispers. 

She has done other things – like make my stairs steeper, my vacuum heavier and all the knob and taps harder to turn. She even made my bed higher so that getting into and out of it is a real challenge.

Lately, she has been fooling with my groceries before I put them away, applying glue to the lids, making it almost impossible for me to open the jars. 

She has taken the fun out of shopping for clothes. When I try something on, she stands in front of the dressing room mirror and monopolizes it. She looks totally ridiculous in some of those outfits, plus, she keeps me from seeing how great they look on me.

Just when I thought she couldn’t get any meaner, she proved me wrong. She came along when I went to get my picture taken for my driver’s license, and just as the camera shutter clicked, she jumped in front of me.

I hope she never finds out where you live!

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Why We Need Female Friends and What I Did About It

There isn’t a woman I know who hasn’t had to navigate through some pretty tough terrain at various times in her life. My life has had joyous surprises, daunting challenges and lots of twists and turns in between. Ups and downs don’t have to define us – or stop us from living the life we crave. . .

That’s why I started Preserving Your Bloom – a non-profit organization offering opportunities for women at every stage of life to keep learning, connecting and  flourishing. After all, what good is growing if you never get to bloom? 

Get ready to get your bloom on! Why? 

On Friday, April 12th, our very first program, ”The Art of Female Friendship”, will debut in partnership with the Tampa JCC and the Tampa Jewish Federation. (Please note this is a secular event.) Guests will have a chance to learn, laugh and meet new friends and mingle with old ones over lunch from 12:00 to 1:30 PM at the JCC at 522 N. Howard Avenue. Doors open at 11:30 AM.

And I’ll be delivering the keynote address that will answer the burning questions:
Friendships: Why we need them, how to find and keep and keep them, when to fix them, and when to let them go!

The event will also include a box lunch, program, mini-market place of ideas and resources and some super surprises.

If you live in the Tampa Bay area, I hope you will consider joining me as we embark on this journey – a journey that will include other engaging programs throughout 2024 in our fascinating exploration of female friendships. 

In the meantime, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me at preservingyourbloom47@gmail.com 

And you can get a flavor of what our non-profit is all about by going on our new website: https://www.preservingyourbloom.org/

Feel free to invite other fabulous women – just like yourself – to enjoy a day of fun and friendship in full bloom!  It would give me great pleasure to share this day with you!

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

If you live elsewhere, we are amenable to taking this show on the road!

Meeting my Cousin Jack for the Very First Time

The vehicle: Ancestry.com
The initiator: My second cousin Jack
The recipient: Me
The outcome: When we realized we lived only four hours from each other, we arranged for an overnight visit. 

Jack and I literally spent 12 hours talking non-stop from 2pm until 2am.

Jack, like me, is VERY verbal. 

I learned about his marriages and children (multiple).
I learned about his career in public education (extensive).
I learned about his talents (many and varied, including professional dancer and chef extraordinaire).

I learned about his favorite saying: OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS ONLY IF YOU KEEP DRAGGING YOUR DOOR WITH YOU.

And, of course, I learned even more when we shared articles which had left a vivid impression on us. Below is one Jack saved in his computer many years ago:

WHEN YOU THOUGHT I WASN’T LOOKING 
(Written by a former child) 

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator, and I immediately wanted to paint another one. 
 
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you feed a stray cat, and I learned that it was good to be kind to animals. 
 
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you make my favorite cake for me and I learned that the little things can be the special things in life. 
 
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I heard you say a prayer, and I knew there is a God I could always talk to and I learned to trust in God. 
 
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you make a meal and take it to a friend who was sick, and I learned that we all have to help take care of each other. 
 
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you give of your time and money to help people who had nothing and I learned that those who have something should give to those who don’t. 
 
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you take care of our house and everyone in it and I learned we have to take care of what we are given. 
 
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw how you handled your responsibilities, even when you didn’t feel good and I learned that I would have to be responsible when I grow up. 
 
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw tears come from your eyes and I learned that sometimes things hurt, but it’s all right to cry. 
 
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw that you cared and I wanted to be everything that I could be. 
 
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I learned most of life’s lessons that I need to know to be a good and productive person when I grow up. 
 
When you thought I wasn’t looking, I looked at you and wanted to say, “Thanks for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn’t looking.”

The former child’s identity is unknown. Too bad. That person struck a real and lasting chord.

And thanks to cousin Jack and his lovely friend Nelly for taking the time to visit and engage.

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Tidbits of Minutiae

Every week has 168 hours.

Theoretically: 
     If you sleep away 56 of them
     If you work 40 of them
     That accounts for 96 of them

This leaves 72 hours each week to do with them what you so desire.
Meaning: If you really want to do something, you’ll find time to do it sometime within those 72 hours.

I couldn’t figure out why my roasted veggies turned out so soggy.  My daughter-in-law consistently makes THE BEST roasted broccoli and cauliflower. I’ve watched her closely, taking detailed notes. She washes the veggies and cuts them in uniform shapes. She dries the array and lightly coats it with oil, then proceeds to shake garlic powder and salt on the mass of veggies. She then arranges them in a shallow pan and slips it into a 425 degrees oven for 15-25 minutes.
They come out perfectly roasted and toasted – every time. 
Mine never get roasted or toasted.
Only mushy  – every time.
Avidly I search the Internet to clear up the mystery of mushy roasted veggies.
A missing detail emerges: SPACE THE VEGGIES!
It is the one thing I never did. I’m going to use a portion of my 72 hours to experiment.I’ve figured out the key to staying in my two-story house as I age. I hold on tight to the stair bannister no matter what as I go both up and down the 18 steps – at all times. And if I do take a minor or near-miss tumble, I never, ever mention it to my kids or I could end up in assisted living way too prematurely!
If you want to get a good night’s sleep, don’t imbibe caffeine after 3 pm
Don’t eat after dinner 
Don’t use your phone after dinner 
Don’t watch TV after dinner 
Don’t turn on your computer after dinner
Don’t read a stimulating book after dinner 
You will be so bored, you will naturally fall asleep at a reasonable hour.

Family gossip can serve as a coping mechanism. Don’t feel guilty for indulging in this past time, to pass on juicy tidbits of info or chat about a family member’s annoying behavior. Studies show venting helps solidify family relationships and get us through crises and difficult intervals –  utilizing some of those 72 hours to do so. 
Collagen powder is supposed to promote hair growth – I throw a scoop into my smoothie every morning – so far I’ve seen no results. 

Ditto for my expensive under eye cream to minimize my bags, my oily yellow serum to lighten my facial sun spots and my lash thickening mascara to plump up those suckers. 

With 72 hours to fill at my discretion, that means practically speaking I should have time to exercise, read the newspapers that are delivered daily to my door, and fully participate in tracking my food and reading the entries in Noom that I pay for each month. 

That means practically speaking I should have time to  return phone calls in a timely fashion and remove the embarrassing volume of expired bottles of salad dressing lining my refrigerator shelves .

You would think. 

Just one more thing:
As I drifted off to sleep last night, I thought of a dozen more things I could implement with those 72 hours of unaccounted time – none of which I could recall this morning. 
So I have nothing left to say, but Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

The Case of the Almost Emerging Nipples

My husband was reading in the living room. I was sprawled out on the family room couch watching the 81st annual “Golden Globe” awards highlighting individual stellar performances and work in both television and film in 2023.

I started shrieking.

My husband quickly ran in to see what was wrong. 

“Look, look,” I excitedly pointed to the screen. 

“OMG,” he responded. “What if they fall out on national television?”

We watched mesmerized as Da’Vine Joy Randolph walked toward the Beverly Hilton stage to accept a trophy for her work in “The Holdover” as best female actor in a supporting role. 

Her speech was moving, but all I could focus on was her chest – praying her bosoms and nipples would stay covered and in place. 



It got me thinking.

It got me thinking about “The Gilded Age,” a television series I watched recently reflecting the very rigid mores of the day. It was a window into how wealthy women’s wardrobes reflected a narrow view of the world and of each person’s place in it:
The detailed dresses
The physically constraining under garments
The multiple layers
The hats, the gloves, the jewelry painstakingly accessorized even when relaxing at home

OY!

It got me thinking.

Yes, the world has chaotic hot spots, UFO’s, creeping climate change and more than one war zone. But at least if I choose to go out in public adorned in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, my social standing will not be appreciably  reduced nor my femininity and womanliness heavily scrutinized. 

It wasn’t always like this. We didn’t just have clothing restraints. We also had tightly bound social constraints, which I learned all about from a link my good buddy Lynne sent me:
https://historyfacts.com/arts-culture... (https://historyfacts.com/arts-culture...)

Here are some highlights:

In the 19th century, etiquette manuals flourished both in Europe and in the U.S. Emily Post published her first book on etiquette in 1922, focusing on how proper men and women should behave in both social and professional settings.

Here’s a smattering of do’s and don’ts: 
Wives should defer to one’s husband as the head of the household.

A man who is obviously subordinated to a dominating woman is a pathetic and foolish figure.

The most important rule for a child was obedience. Emily Post wrote that “by teaching a child that it can’t stay with mother’ unless it is well-behaved, it learns self-control in babyhood.”
(I love the way she refers to a child as “it.”)

Flirting was a sign of ill breeding. And one guide actually suggested that “a married flirt is worse than vulgar.”

A man couldn’t speak to a woman unless she spoke to him first.                                                                                                             
Our lives aren’t perfect. In spite of that, I’m so grateful to have freedom of wardrobe, freedom of self-expression and freedom to implement a personal parenting style I choose. (My son Sam said it best: ”My mom had few rules, but high expectations.” I think it worked out pretty well, but that’s a whole other column.)

We are free to be who we want to be in wardrobe style, accoutrements and accessories.
We don’t wear girdles anymore. 
Nor panty hose. 
Nor modest maternity attire. 
Exposed pregnant bellies are now the norm.

Maybe flagrantly exposed cleavage and nipples will soon join the ranks of acceptable appearance.

Maybe Da’Vine Joy Randolph will soon get an award for best dressed actress. Stranger things have happened.
Who knows? 

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Hope Springs Eternal

Four days ago, on January 1, we slid into home plate on the tails of the old year, 2023. In baseball lingo, I liken the first day of any new year to Opening Day of baseball season.

No one would argue with the statement that 2023 was a challenging year and that those challenges will, unfortunately, probably be following us into the new one:
     The Middle East conflict
     The Ukrainian plight
     The continuous surge of Illegal immigrants across our border
     The upcoming election

There are some bright spots amid the chaos: 
     Inflation is being contained
     Crime rates have actually fallen
     The Supreme Court upheld America’s toughest animal cruelty law

World peace and our own personal inner peace aren’t easy to come by these days. But if you look to the world of sports – and baseball in particular – an abundance of feats not easy to come by are on a regular basis being achieved nevertheless. 

For instance:

In 1969, the New York Mets had never finished higher than 9th in the 10 team National League. And they never had a winning season.

But the Chicago Cubs, which led their division with a stellar line-up and amazing talent that year, had a late season collapse and the Mets ended up finishing 8 games ahead of the Cubs to clinch the National League East title.

And they didn’t stop there!

The Mets defeated the National League West champions, the Atlanta Braves, three games to none in the National League Series. The Mets then defeated the American League champions, the Baltimore Orioles, in five games to clinch the coveted title of World Series Champions.

The Mets became known as the “Miracle Mets.”
WHY? Because the Baltimore Orioles at that time were considered to be one of the finest teams ever assembled and had star players at almost every position. The Mets? Those guys were considered “very mediocre.”

And yet, The Mets won!

My husband and I are baby boomers. When coming of age, no game reflected and captured our anguish and our aspirations more accurately in the world of sports than the game of baseball. And this strong affinity for bats, balls, strikes and homers continues today down to our kids, grandkids and extended family.

The announcers shout out at every Opening Day “Play Ball.” And no matter how illusive victory may be, we secure our tickets, we gather our friends and family, we argue over trades and plays and umpire calls. Why?  Because hope springs eternal and every spring in every new year is another opportunity to “get it right” by outplaying and out witting our opponents. 

If the New York Mets could win against such great odds, perhaps by some unforeseen miracle the world’s ills can also be reversed and we all emerge “victorious.”

https://www.mlb.com/video/mets-win-1969-world-series-c1889909583

I fervently hope in the year ahead that our team – our citizens, our nation, and our world – sees peace and harmony blanketing our playing field.

Miracles happen to those who believe in them. And I believe in miracles. 

Play Ball and Keep Preserving Your Bloom,