Susan Boyle

I am not a big American Idol watcher. Oh, I watch it sometimes, but I don’t arrange my evenings around it. I had certainly never heard of the British version until the YouTube videos of Susan Boyle made the rounds this past weekend. I can’t stop thinking about it. If you have somehow missed this new hero on the pop scene, just Google Britain’s Got Talent or Susan Boyle, and take time it all in – from the moment this unlikely hero struts out on stage till the end of a performance that brings tears as well as a standing ovation and thunderous – I’m talking thunderous applause.

There is an initial feeling that everyone in the audience is either snickering under their breath or feeling painfully embarrassed for this plump little middle-ager who wants to be a star. The cynicism melts and the spirit in the room is transformed the minute she launches into “I Dreamed a Dream” with her absolutely magnificent Broadway voice. Even the cocky Simon had the most awestruck and almost tender look on his face. There was something in Susan’s performance that surpassed entertainment.

Her authenticity and an “I’m comfortable with me” message was pure refreshment. She was…well…pure. I think she moved us past the razzle dazzle because somewhere inside each of our souls we all want to be authentic.

She volunteers at her church, takes care of her mother, and thinks she may or may not have a “makeover” simply because “I’m happy the way I am.” Oh, Susan, Never change. The world needs to hear from you!

Family, Food and Skinny Jeans

Charles and I spent Easter in Birmingham with daughters Betsy and Jill. They are part of our personal “flock” of shared children. In my this-is-not-the-life-I-signed-up-for life, the shared children and grandchildren have been a very wonderful gift.

I drove over to Birmingham on Thursday for my oncology appointment on Friday morning. I got a good report and do not have to go back for six months! I had a whole day with Betsy before Jill and Charles came on Saturday. My doctor’s appointment was three hours long and I text messaged her to apologize. We had lots planned for the day.

Betsy’s reply was, “That’s okay. The grocery store stays open till midnight.” I did find myself in Wal-mart way past my bedtime. Strange, but somehow I rose to my daughter’s expectation. She tends to think of me in decades ago context. She did, however, look down at my legs on Sunday morning and let me know that panty hose dated me. I told her, “No. Varicose veins date me.”
Enjoy these photos. Betsy and Jill are both great cooks. Even though I am not, I have my certain recipes that make me look like I can cook, too. I did my famous squash casserole and this potato casserole that I had almost forgotten I had till Betsy asked for it. Betsy grilled the pork tenderloin from Helen Defrance’s At Home Cafe cookbook and Jill baked the rolls from scratch and a to-die-for chocolate cake. We ate well.

As I did my part on Saturday morning and mixed, stirred, chopped, etc. I had to open the refrigerator a thousand times, and I became very aware of Betsy’s refrigerator magnets. I decided you can tell a lot about a person from their refrigerator magnets. She had quite a few and they all make me smile. This is my favorite:

Miracles Happen. Keep the Skinny Jeans.