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Showing posts from March 11, 2011

Magical Moment 406, "Orange Irishmen"

When I was in elementary school, a woman asked me if I was Irish. I remember thinking, "What gave it away? The green eyes, freckles, reddish brown hair, or that my last name is Daugherty?" (Maybe I was a bit of a smart aleck?). In truth, I'm a bit of a mixed breed. The two main ingredients though are Irish and  Mexican .  My dad always told us that our ancestors changed their last name at Ellis Island from O'Daugherty to Daugherty. Which is too bad, I'd love to have that  O  still around.  O  well. I've always been proud of my name (now maiden). He also used to tell us that we're  O range Irishmen. And after nearly 28 years of hearing that, I finally decided to google what on earth that even means. It means....drum roll please. That we're protestant Irish. Simple as that.  "May your blessings outnumber The shamrocks that grow, And may trouble avoid you Wherever you go."  - an Irish blessing Happy St. Patty's Day! And a wee bit   o

Magical Moment 405, "Getting Flipped the Bird. Awesome."

Living near New York City definitely has it's perks, as well as it's draw backs. Perks: going to Broadway shows whenever you want, exposure to all different cultures, the finest art, the best music, and no shortage of interesting things to do. Draw backs: public transportation, cold winters, hot summers, rude people, dangerous traffic. It's a balancing act, but one that I've enjoyed for the year and a half we've lived here in northern New Jersey.  In that short amount of time, our family and friends have come to visit, and we've taken them all to the touristy, "must-see" spots such as Times Square, the Empire State Building, etc. Today, we took my mother-in-law to see the Lion King on Broadway. The show was mind-blowingly well-produced, with ingenious costumes, lighting, and set pieces. I don't want to give too much away because if you're ever in New York, you  must  see it. However, it is no secret that the show has managed to bring to life t

Magical Moment 404, "The Lighthouse"

We visited the charming, historic town of Sleepy Hollow, NY today with my mother-in-law who is visiting from Texas. We walked to this lovely little lighthouse near the Tappan Zee Bridge. Hours later, I realized that I had been humming the same tune all day long, one I hadn't thought of in years. Growing up very Baptist, I still have a special place in my heart for the old hymns . I recall hearing this particular one at week long revival meetings, belted out in four part harmony with a deep baritone voice bellowing the pick up notes. When I got home, I looked up the lyrics and began playing it. Soon the old song took on a new and personal meaning for me, and I wanted to share it with you all.  "The Lighthouse"  by Ronnie Hinson There's a lighthouse on a hillside That overlooks life's sea When I'm tossed, it sends out A light that I might see And the light that shines in darkness now Will safely lead us oer If it wasn't for The Lighthouse My ship would b

Magical Moment 403, "All 'er Nuthin'"

I told Eddie when we met, "I'm kind of an all or nothing girl." That's probably why we got engaged 2 months after we started dating. For some reason, maybe it's genetic, maybe it's a brain abnormality, maybe it's psychological. Either way, I can't seem to do anything half way. It can't be in between. It can't be now and then. No half and half of anything will do. I can't just be in the Army, I have to be paratrooper and an officer. I can't just apply to graduate school. It has to be law school. I can't just record my songs, I have to record them in New York City. Anything less to me, is substandard. It makes for some great experiences, some great personal goals, some great ambitions, but it really takes its toll in  pressure . How much can one person take upon themselves? How much is  too  much? When can I be satisfied with my choices? This struggle is nothing new for me if you've read much of this blog. For me, everything goe

Magical Moment 402, "Your Mark"

Everyone wants to leave an impression on the world in some way, large or small. We want someone to remember that we were here. We strive for an impressive career or family. Something,  anything  to carry on our legacy when we're gone. Some end up in the history books, their name in bold print under the category of "revolutionaries," or "inventors." Some end up with fame and glory, their name in lights, beloved and admired by their fans. Some pass on without the world ever knowing their name, quietly living their lives, unaware of the impact they have on others.  These people left their mark, like graffiti carelessly scribbled on a bathroom wall, "I was here." But oh what a wall they chose to write on. These are the walls of the immigrant processing center at Ellis Island. And now their doodle, their name, their mark, is forever displayed under a protective cover of Plexiglas for millions of visitors to look upon and marvel over. I thought about their

Magical Moment 401, "The Lost Hour"

"Don't count every hour in the day,  make every hour in the day count." My head is spinning lately with too many projects and not enough time to devote to them. Work, family visiting, a show to prepare for, life altering decisions to make, recording music...ah! As if 24 hours in a day weren't few enough, Sunday I have only 23!  I suppose I could stress, or complain about losing time. In fact I caught myself doing that today. While I was sitting on the couch. Watching an infomercial. Talk about lost hours. As soon as I realized it, I thought about the many other lost hours in past regular 24-hour days. Yikes. No daylight savings to blame there.  Time is constant. It is myself who either squanders or makes it count. Maybe realizing the truth about lost hours, will help me find many more in the future.

Magical Moment 400, "Then the Floods Came"

I, like many others, have been watching footage of the devastation in Japan today. The images are heart stopping and frightening, as I’m sure you know. I find myself wondering and worrying about those in the path of destruction, the ones missing, and the ones lost. And then, there have been stories. Stories of sacrifice, help, and rescue. And although those stories are fewer than the ones of ruin, they’re there. My own neighborhood received a heavy dose of water as well. In fact, our little town was on the local news today because of waist high waters near the grocery store where I shop. I walked around there today. The roads were closed off with barriers and police cars. The overflowed creek waters left muck and slop, hanging a horrible stench in the air when they resided. I took a few steps back to grasp the full scale of the mess, and noticed numerous puddles scattered across the earth. Like mirrors, they reflected the soft colors of the beautiful, after-storm sky with perfect cla