I was sitting in the shade of apple trees during lunch today when I noticed nearly two dozen dragonflies buzzing, darting, and swooping in the sunshine.
Watching the hyperactive dragonflies made me think of faeries. I could picture delicate little creatures hopping between blades of grass, leaping high into the air, and dancing circles around one another.
In fact, as I studied the dragonflies I saw that their seemingly random movements had a dance quality to them. Like tiny helicopters making choreographed vertical changes in direction, one dragonfly would zip upward just as another dropped three feet.
And I thought perhaps the movements really were choreographed. Perhaps faeries rode and directed the dragonflies just as knights of old rode their steeds. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed altogether possible that what I was watching was an intricate ballet marrying nature to myth.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Language Lass MAT
Congratulations to Language Lass who has earned the right to place letters behind her name.
Yep, the young lady can now order herself up a batch of business cards with the letters MAT - for Master of Teaching.
Language Lass' specialty is in the area of languages (hence the name). An infatuation I will never understand - as I'm still trying to understand English.
I cannot even begin to imagine the number of neurological synapses that have to be firing in order to conjugate verbs in four (or does she speak five) different languages.
Quite frankly I am awed.
But I do have to wonder - doesn't it get a little crowded inside her cranial cavity. I mean imagine carrying around four completes dictionaries and thesauruses in one head.
Ah, you may say. But she only has to access one at a time.
Yet... if she were to get in too close proximity to the United Nations and should overhear two or three conversations in different languages.. what then. I'm imaging a collage of words that would mix into the equivalent of mental paste.
Yep, the young lady can now order herself up a batch of business cards with the letters MAT - for Master of Teaching.
Language Lass' specialty is in the area of languages (hence the name). An infatuation I will never understand - as I'm still trying to understand English.
I cannot even begin to imagine the number of neurological synapses that have to be firing in order to conjugate verbs in four (or does she speak five) different languages.
Quite frankly I am awed.
But I do have to wonder - doesn't it get a little crowded inside her cranial cavity. I mean imagine carrying around four completes dictionaries and thesauruses in one head.
Ah, you may say. But she only has to access one at a time.
Yet... if she were to get in too close proximity to the United Nations and should overhear two or three conversations in different languages.. what then. I'm imaging a collage of words that would mix into the equivalent of mental paste.
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Sky MUST be Falling
Was it intergalactic weapons fire? Perhaps a more traditional surface to air missle launch. A comet streaking towards earth?
I gave momentary consideration to each of these scenarios because when the sun is blazing high overhead and vision is unrestricted for several miles the last thing on my mind is lightning.
Rubbing my eyes, I brought my focus back to the highway ahead while at the same time trying to keep an eye on the distant horizon. Another flash winked in and out of existence at the edge of my vision.
Seconds later another flash, this one straight ahead but twenty miles distant. Then another - and another. The jagged streaks hung in mid air for only milliseconds, but it was enough to make me believe that mighty Thor was hurling javelins earthward.
I was confused. Where were the dark thunderheads that should accompany such a display of raw energy? Surely the silver streaks should be originating from something more ominous than a hazy, barely gray, sky.
Truly my world has now been turned completely topsy-turvy. Not only is the summer sun setting in the North these days, but lightning is descending from an otherwise featureless sky.
I gave momentary consideration to each of these scenarios because when the sun is blazing high overhead and vision is unrestricted for several miles the last thing on my mind is lightning.
Rubbing my eyes, I brought my focus back to the highway ahead while at the same time trying to keep an eye on the distant horizon. Another flash winked in and out of existence at the edge of my vision.
Seconds later another flash, this one straight ahead but twenty miles distant. Then another - and another. The jagged streaks hung in mid air for only milliseconds, but it was enough to make me believe that mighty Thor was hurling javelins earthward.
I was confused. Where were the dark thunderheads that should accompany such a display of raw energy? Surely the silver streaks should be originating from something more ominous than a hazy, barely gray, sky.
Truly my world has now been turned completely topsy-turvy. Not only is the summer sun setting in the North these days, but lightning is descending from an otherwise featureless sky.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Lost Time
It was the sudden nearness of thundering water - the loud explosive force of a wave hammering against sand- followed by the hiss of swirling, dispersing energy that told me I had been asleep.
The sound was insistent - urgent - and loud enough to rush past internal filters.
The pounding came again, and this time I felt the tremor in the sand beneath me. The internal mute button of my mind switched off and tumultuous sound flooded my ear canals. Kids shrieking, people laughing, intermittent shouts, the shrill of a whistle.
These sounds - the roar of water and the blend of hundreds of human voices - just minutes ago had me convinced I would never fall asleep.
Had it been only minutes ago? I lifted my head from the beach towel and saw the shadow cast by my umbrella had shifted nearly a full compass point.
How much time had actually passed? I started to push myself up from the towel - and found my arms and hands were too numb to complete the task. Rather than the softness of an over washed towel the only sensory experience provided by my fingertips was pins and needles.
Rolling lazily onto one side, I squinted at the blue sky overhead and smiled. A nap on the beach is like no other. There is no urgency to recover lost time, only the happy knowledge that there was time to be lost - and it was spent in the thrall of nature.
The sound was insistent - urgent - and loud enough to rush past internal filters.
The pounding came again, and this time I felt the tremor in the sand beneath me. The internal mute button of my mind switched off and tumultuous sound flooded my ear canals. Kids shrieking, people laughing, intermittent shouts, the shrill of a whistle.
These sounds - the roar of water and the blend of hundreds of human voices - just minutes ago had me convinced I would never fall asleep.
Had it been only minutes ago? I lifted my head from the beach towel and saw the shadow cast by my umbrella had shifted nearly a full compass point.
How much time had actually passed? I started to push myself up from the towel - and found my arms and hands were too numb to complete the task. Rather than the softness of an over washed towel the only sensory experience provided by my fingertips was pins and needles.
Rolling lazily onto one side, I squinted at the blue sky overhead and smiled. A nap on the beach is like no other. There is no urgency to recover lost time, only the happy knowledge that there was time to be lost - and it was spent in the thrall of nature.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Westward -er,ah,- Northward Ho!
Motivated Mom and I were driving home from dinner tonight. Rounding a bend in the road we found ourselves staring straight into an enormous, red-orange setting sun.
So striking was the sunset that we commented on it simultaneously (that's what happens when you've been married for 25 years).
In the next moment, the world changed forever.
"We're heading north," Motivated Mom pointed out.
Now I know nothing in life stays the same forever... but I sort of counted on the sun always setting in the west.
What had happened? How had such a fundamental thing as the sun setting in the west changed? Had the recent earthquake in Canada shifted the Earth's axis? Was the sky going to fall? Had Armageddon arrived?
Faced with having to consider such dire prospects I could think of only one course of action.
I hurried home and fixed myself a frosty Margarita.
So striking was the sunset that we commented on it simultaneously (that's what happens when you've been married for 25 years).
In the next moment, the world changed forever.
"We're heading north," Motivated Mom pointed out.
Now I know nothing in life stays the same forever... but I sort of counted on the sun always setting in the west.
What had happened? How had such a fundamental thing as the sun setting in the west changed? Had the recent earthquake in Canada shifted the Earth's axis? Was the sky going to fall? Had Armageddon arrived?
Faced with having to consider such dire prospects I could think of only one course of action.
I hurried home and fixed myself a frosty Margarita.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Travel Wisdom
Where has the evening gone - Oh, that's right I sat in traffic for two hours while the Dept. of Transportation dug up a section of major highway during rush hour.
Let me offer these words of wisdom.
Always carry a book in your car. In the event of a traffic delay, it is much better to read a good novel than to stare endlessly at the back end of an over-decorated pickup truck sporting a bumper sticker if you can read this kiss my ....
(fortunately I did have a book)
Let me offer these words of wisdom.
Always carry a book in your car. In the event of a traffic delay, it is much better to read a good novel than to stare endlessly at the back end of an over-decorated pickup truck sporting a bumper sticker if you can read this kiss my ....
(fortunately I did have a book)
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
The Unrespected Fruit
Consider the grape. We subject the fruit to few things we subject any other food to.
We leave the grape standing out until it dries to a wrinkled shadow of itself - then eat it. Would you eat a wrinkled cantaloupe or a dehydrated banana? Of course not - that's why rename the dried aftermath of a grape. We call it a raisin. And we convince ourselves the raisin is a dietary chewy delight.
I have to wonder - how did we ever get the word raisin from grape? I could see drape - a merging of the words dried and grape - but raisin, where did that come from?
We squish grapes too. Notice I didn't say squeeze. That's because we don't squeeze grapes for their juice - we mash them into a pulp. We stomp on and pulverize the grape. The resulting mash is then put into a container where it sits until it goes beyond sour. The mash ferments and morphs into alcohol. We then drink the alcohol - probably to come to grips with what we've just done to the grape.
If our kids leave milk or orange juice standing in a glass for days on end we accuse our children of being irresponsible. Yet we consider it perfectly acceptable to ignore a container of squashed grapes for months at a time.
Go figure.
We leave the grape standing out until it dries to a wrinkled shadow of itself - then eat it. Would you eat a wrinkled cantaloupe or a dehydrated banana? Of course not - that's why rename the dried aftermath of a grape. We call it a raisin. And we convince ourselves the raisin is a dietary chewy delight.
I have to wonder - how did we ever get the word raisin from grape? I could see drape - a merging of the words dried and grape - but raisin, where did that come from?
We squish grapes too. Notice I didn't say squeeze. That's because we don't squeeze grapes for their juice - we mash them into a pulp. We stomp on and pulverize the grape. The resulting mash is then put into a container where it sits until it goes beyond sour. The mash ferments and morphs into alcohol. We then drink the alcohol - probably to come to grips with what we've just done to the grape.
If our kids leave milk or orange juice standing in a glass for days on end we accuse our children of being irresponsible. Yet we consider it perfectly acceptable to ignore a container of squashed grapes for months at a time.
Go figure.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Prototype
Yes sir, you can have your house and take it with you.
I'm not talking motor homes or campers here - I'm referring to an honest to goodness house.
It was during my drive home the other evening that I noticed a log cabin on the shoulder of the road. The little home, no more than eight feet by six feet, was permanently affixed to a trailer attached to the back end of a pickup truck.
The home was built of rough cut logs fit together in much the same way as the Lincoln Logs that kids use to build replicas of the Cartwright's Ponderosa homestead. The mobile cabin had a cedar shake roof, wooden shutters on the two windows, iron strap hinges on the one door, and a gleaming stainless steel chimney protruding through the roof.
I could picture the inside - a sturdy wooden bunk set against one wall, a compact pot belly stove at the base of the chimney, and a custom designed table anchored into one corner along with a ladder back chair hanging from a set of pegs on the wall.
I couldn't help but wonder if this home had first started rolling a couple generations back and if it might not be the original prototype for today's gleaming quarter million dollar coaches that have as much square footage as a Manhattan town house.
The only drawback I saw to the quaint little cabin was the lack of an outhouse.
I'm not talking motor homes or campers here - I'm referring to an honest to goodness house.
It was during my drive home the other evening that I noticed a log cabin on the shoulder of the road. The little home, no more than eight feet by six feet, was permanently affixed to a trailer attached to the back end of a pickup truck.
The home was built of rough cut logs fit together in much the same way as the Lincoln Logs that kids use to build replicas of the Cartwright's Ponderosa homestead. The mobile cabin had a cedar shake roof, wooden shutters on the two windows, iron strap hinges on the one door, and a gleaming stainless steel chimney protruding through the roof.
I could picture the inside - a sturdy wooden bunk set against one wall, a compact pot belly stove at the base of the chimney, and a custom designed table anchored into one corner along with a ladder back chair hanging from a set of pegs on the wall.
I couldn't help but wonder if this home had first started rolling a couple generations back and if it might not be the original prototype for today's gleaming quarter million dollar coaches that have as much square footage as a Manhattan town house.
The only drawback I saw to the quaint little cabin was the lack of an outhouse.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Double Down on Summer
So here it is, June 21st, the longest day of the year. Thanks to the marvels of wireless technology, I'm able to access the internet while sitting on my back patio watching the lowering sun, listening to the waterfall in the pond, and enjoying the scent from dozens of blooming lilies.
The summer equinox is bittersweet. Just when summer people such as myself are ready to spend endless hours outdoors, the amount of daylight available begins to shorten.
Oh, there are still plenty of lengthy days ahead, but it seems like days should continue lengthening well into August.
A thought has just occurred to me - we should have a second phase of daylight saving time. On June 21st we should move the clocks ahead a second hour.
Imagine - sitting on the beach until ten 0'clock on a hot summer night - wouldn't that be great?!
Maybe I should start a grass roots campaign - DDOS - Double Down On Summer.
Who's with me?
The summer equinox is bittersweet. Just when summer people such as myself are ready to spend endless hours outdoors, the amount of daylight available begins to shorten.
Oh, there are still plenty of lengthy days ahead, but it seems like days should continue lengthening well into August.
A thought has just occurred to me - we should have a second phase of daylight saving time. On June 21st we should move the clocks ahead a second hour.
Imagine - sitting on the beach until ten 0'clock on a hot summer night - wouldn't that be great?!
Maybe I should start a grass roots campaign - DDOS - Double Down On Summer.
Who's with me?
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Happy Father's Day
There are few things in life that are both as challenging and rewarding as being a father.
When a child first enters the world, it is humbling and frightening to think that as a father you are responsible for another life.
A child's first steps are a joy to watch - but when that child uses newly learned motored skills to unexpectedly disappear from sight, as a father you learn a new level of anxiety.
Sitting on the floor building towers from blocks, dressing dolls in an endless array of clothing, reading books, shaping Play Dough, bath times, bed time rituals, all of these things build a bond that, as a father, you are certain will last forever.
Then come the first day of school, the first job, the first car, the first apartment... and physical distance tests the strength of the bond thought to be unbreakable. Suddenly it seems there had been too few towers built, too few stories shared, too few good night kisses.
To those fathers with babies and toddlers at home - value every minute shared.
To those fathers with children soon entering school - be sure to continue to make time available to them.
To fathers with children going off to college, jobs, and apartments - don't look back - what's done is done - hopefully you gave your best along the way - be proud of your child for even the smallest of his or her achievements.
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!
When a child first enters the world, it is humbling and frightening to think that as a father you are responsible for another life.
A child's first steps are a joy to watch - but when that child uses newly learned motored skills to unexpectedly disappear from sight, as a father you learn a new level of anxiety.
Sitting on the floor building towers from blocks, dressing dolls in an endless array of clothing, reading books, shaping Play Dough, bath times, bed time rituals, all of these things build a bond that, as a father, you are certain will last forever.
Then come the first day of school, the first job, the first car, the first apartment... and physical distance tests the strength of the bond thought to be unbreakable. Suddenly it seems there had been too few towers built, too few stories shared, too few good night kisses.
To those fathers with babies and toddlers at home - value every minute shared.
To those fathers with children soon entering school - be sure to continue to make time available to them.
To fathers with children going off to college, jobs, and apartments - don't look back - what's done is done - hopefully you gave your best along the way - be proud of your child for even the smallest of his or her achievements.
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Apologize to BP?
As a rule I stay away from politics in my blog.
But when someone exhibits exceptional - no, beyond exceptional- poor choice I just have to comment.
I cannot even begin to comprehend what was going through the mind of Congressman Joe Barton when he apologized to BP for the company having to take ownership of its actions leading to a disaster of monumental proportions.
If, as a kid, you spilled a gallon of chocolate milk all over the kitchen - and if that spill was the result of ignoring house rules such as don't stand on a chair to reach the top shelf of the refrigerator - and if your Mother then made you clean up the mess and pay for the gallon of milk - what are the chances your Father would come home and say Gee I'm sorry Mom made you clean up the mess and pay for the loss?
The chances would be absolutely zilch - right?
So why - I mean really, WHY, is Joe Barton apologizing for BP being forced to pony up?
I can think of only one reason. Mr. Barton's lifestyle is supported by BP and he's deathly afraid that he might have to start living on some kind of realistic budget.
But when someone exhibits exceptional - no, beyond exceptional- poor choice I just have to comment.
I cannot even begin to comprehend what was going through the mind of Congressman Joe Barton when he apologized to BP for the company having to take ownership of its actions leading to a disaster of monumental proportions.
If, as a kid, you spilled a gallon of chocolate milk all over the kitchen - and if that spill was the result of ignoring house rules such as don't stand on a chair to reach the top shelf of the refrigerator - and if your Mother then made you clean up the mess and pay for the gallon of milk - what are the chances your Father would come home and say Gee I'm sorry Mom made you clean up the mess and pay for the loss?
The chances would be absolutely zilch - right?
So why - I mean really, WHY, is Joe Barton apologizing for BP being forced to pony up?
I can think of only one reason. Mr. Barton's lifestyle is supported by BP and he's deathly afraid that he might have to start living on some kind of realistic budget.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Evening Portrait
It's been the perfect summer evening on my back patio.
Trails of wispy clouds catching the yellow and orange hues of the setting sun turned into party streamers draped across the sky.
A quarter moon peeked into the hazel sky like the edge of a button being pushed through a buttonhole.
Trees seemed to glow from within as fluttering leaves danced in the day's final sunbeams.
Birds hopped and scratched through undergrowth in search of a last tasty tidbit before retiring for the night.
Fire flies sent messages in Morse Code.
You just can't beat this time of year.
Trails of wispy clouds catching the yellow and orange hues of the setting sun turned into party streamers draped across the sky.
A quarter moon peeked into the hazel sky like the edge of a button being pushed through a buttonhole.
Trees seemed to glow from within as fluttering leaves danced in the day's final sunbeams.
Birds hopped and scratched through undergrowth in search of a last tasty tidbit before retiring for the night.
Fire flies sent messages in Morse Code.
You just can't beat this time of year.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Ocean Blue
I had been reading the news articles about the 16 year old girl attempting to sail around the world. For that short period of time when it was thought she might be lost a sea, I got to wondering what that would be like.
Actually I got to wondering why anyone would want to get in a boat all by themselves with no land in sight.
I get panicky when I dive under a wave, come up facing the wrong direction, and think I have somehow been swept to sea. Fortunately a 180 degree spin allays those fears.
But if you're out in the middle - I mean really in the middle - of the sea, you can spin on your toes all day and have absolutely no chance of spotting land. The very thought sends chills up and down my spine.
There are creatures out there in the cold, dark, depths that could swallow you in one bite and use your leg bone for a toothpick.
Obviously the young mariner in the news had never watched Moby Dick, Jaws, or The Abyss.
I'm all for setting high goals, but if I run into difficulties I want to be able to put my foot down on terra firma - not something wet, slippery... and moving.
Actually I got to wondering why anyone would want to get in a boat all by themselves with no land in sight.
I get panicky when I dive under a wave, come up facing the wrong direction, and think I have somehow been swept to sea. Fortunately a 180 degree spin allays those fears.
But if you're out in the middle - I mean really in the middle - of the sea, you can spin on your toes all day and have absolutely no chance of spotting land. The very thought sends chills up and down my spine.
There are creatures out there in the cold, dark, depths that could swallow you in one bite and use your leg bone for a toothpick.
Obviously the young mariner in the news had never watched Moby Dick, Jaws, or The Abyss.
I'm all for setting high goals, but if I run into difficulties I want to be able to put my foot down on terra firma - not something wet, slippery... and moving.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Overlooked or over pitched?
The entrance to the new development was elaborate. Raised flower beds were filled with day lilies sporting orange blossoms, hyacinths with purple flowers, and pansies displaying all of the primary colors. On opposite sides of the entrance, gracefully arched walls faced with field stone rose up behind the flowers. In the center of each wall was a bronze plaque with the words Overlook Estates.
My curiosity was piqued. I flipped on my right turn signal and followed the curving drive into the development.
I was no more than twenty yards in when I slammed on my brakes, shifted into reverse, and backed up far enough to double check the name of the development. Yep, Overlook Estates.
Thing is, the area surrounding the elaborate houses was farm country. From the second floor of their homes folks would have an unbroken view of the horizon some twenty miles away.
Which left me wondering just exactly what the estates overlooked. Groundhog dens? Rabbit burrows? Underground springs? Those were the only things I could think of that would be lower than the homes themselves.
I guess Cornfield View just doesn't work well for a sales pitch.
My curiosity was piqued. I flipped on my right turn signal and followed the curving drive into the development.
I was no more than twenty yards in when I slammed on my brakes, shifted into reverse, and backed up far enough to double check the name of the development. Yep, Overlook Estates.
Thing is, the area surrounding the elaborate houses was farm country. From the second floor of their homes folks would have an unbroken view of the horizon some twenty miles away.
Which left me wondering just exactly what the estates overlooked. Groundhog dens? Rabbit burrows? Underground springs? Those were the only things I could think of that would be lower than the homes themselves.
I guess Cornfield View just doesn't work well for a sales pitch.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Dogercise
Media Girl's dog understands human speak, specifically English - I'm convinced of it.
At least the dog understands when it wants to. Yell come back here when the dog runs out the door and the dog hasn't a clue what's been said.
But tell the dog she's getting fat and the dog understands completely. Why else would the dog decide she needs to exercise with me?
I was exercising tonight when the dog burst into the room, cocked her head to one side, and tried to figure out why I kept trying to push myself up off of the floor. Once the dog figured out it was obviously a game, she decided to join in.
Getting any range of motion in push ups is impossible when a dog is doing a sniper crawl underneath you.
I almost laughed at the impossibility of the situation until the dog rolled over on her back. Doing push ups while going belly to belly with a dog is just too weird - so I switched to dumbbell curls.
Problem was - the dog wanted to participate. Trying to curl your arm when one end of the dumbbell is lodged in a dog's mouth is next to impossible.
Scratch the curls - on to the bench press.
Here's a tip - never put yourself in a position where you need to hold eighty pounds of weight overhead if there's a chance a sixty pound dog might leap onto your stomach.
Did I mention how slim and fit our dog is? I mentioned it to the dog - and she left the room in a flash.
At least the dog understands when it wants to. Yell come back here when the dog runs out the door and the dog hasn't a clue what's been said.
But tell the dog she's getting fat and the dog understands completely. Why else would the dog decide she needs to exercise with me?
I was exercising tonight when the dog burst into the room, cocked her head to one side, and tried to figure out why I kept trying to push myself up off of the floor. Once the dog figured out it was obviously a game, she decided to join in.
Getting any range of motion in push ups is impossible when a dog is doing a sniper crawl underneath you.
I almost laughed at the impossibility of the situation until the dog rolled over on her back. Doing push ups while going belly to belly with a dog is just too weird - so I switched to dumbbell curls.
Problem was - the dog wanted to participate. Trying to curl your arm when one end of the dumbbell is lodged in a dog's mouth is next to impossible.
Scratch the curls - on to the bench press.
Here's a tip - never put yourself in a position where you need to hold eighty pounds of weight overhead if there's a chance a sixty pound dog might leap onto your stomach.
Did I mention how slim and fit our dog is? I mentioned it to the dog - and she left the room in a flash.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Families Chillin'
When parents head to the beach the top item on their agenda is rest and relaxation.
When kids head to the beach the top item on their agenda is perfecting perpetual motion.
The result - battle lines drawn in the sand. I witnessed these battles and skirmishes over and over this weekend.
Johnny sit down. Sally don't throw sand at your brother. Beth we're getting ready to eat, don't put your hands in the ... oh, nooooo, Beth - not in the sand!!! No, we're not going in the ocean, it hasn't been an hour since we ate.
And in this battle that has been been going on for decades the kids always win because... the other camp is divided.
John, I need twenty minutes of peace. You need to watch your children.
I need to watch the children? I worked twenty extra hours last week so that I could take this vacation. I need quiet time as much as anybody.
While the parental contingent seeks to establish leadership, Jimmy throws a jellyfish and the slimy globule lands in his sister's hair.
...Ahhh yes, family vacations at the beach.
When kids head to the beach the top item on their agenda is perfecting perpetual motion.
The result - battle lines drawn in the sand. I witnessed these battles and skirmishes over and over this weekend.
Johnny sit down. Sally don't throw sand at your brother. Beth we're getting ready to eat, don't put your hands in the ... oh, nooooo, Beth - not in the sand!!! No, we're not going in the ocean, it hasn't been an hour since we ate.
And in this battle that has been been going on for decades the kids always win because... the other camp is divided.
John, I need twenty minutes of peace. You need to watch your children.
I need to watch the children? I worked twenty extra hours last week so that I could take this vacation. I need quiet time as much as anybody.
While the parental contingent seeks to establish leadership, Jimmy throws a jellyfish and the slimy globule lands in his sister's hair.
...Ahhh yes, family vacations at the beach.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Smoke Out
My apologies for the recent inconsistencies in posts. I have been struggling with inconsistent service from an internet provider. Hopefully the issues will soon be resolved. If not, I'll resort to smoke signals.
Earlier forms of communication have been on my mind a lot the past few days.
Imagine today's population trying to communicate by smoke signals. There would be no end to mixed up communication - because there would be no end to smoke rising into the atmosphere.
The puffs of smoke announcing the birth of a baby would drift into a smoky message regarding a protest on animal cruelty.
Grandma Jane would be horrified to read that three hundred people were descending on her niece's house to protest newly arrived baby Diane being confined in a cage and exposed to electric shock behavioral therapy.
And as news organizations sent up a stream of smoke signals announcing a cooling of the Earth's climate - well, the haze in the sky would continue to thicken until society suffered from a communication blackout. You can't communicate by smoke if the only thing to be seen is a wall of smoke.
Outlandish as those examples are, I wonder if the equivalent hasn't occurred as a result of the rolling dropped signals from my internet provider. Did someone receive just a portion of the e-mail I was working on right before my link was lost? Is someone reading the words I need responses to the following before noon tomorrow or else.... and thinking I am threatening retaliation when in fact the rest of the message (the part that they perhaps didn't get) read ... we will have to reconvene the committee in two weeks?
If my next post originates from behind the bars of a state penitentiary, you'll know that's exactly what happened.
Earlier forms of communication have been on my mind a lot the past few days.
Imagine today's population trying to communicate by smoke signals. There would be no end to mixed up communication - because there would be no end to smoke rising into the atmosphere.
The puffs of smoke announcing the birth of a baby would drift into a smoky message regarding a protest on animal cruelty.
Grandma Jane would be horrified to read that three hundred people were descending on her niece's house to protest newly arrived baby Diane being confined in a cage and exposed to electric shock behavioral therapy.
And as news organizations sent up a stream of smoke signals announcing a cooling of the Earth's climate - well, the haze in the sky would continue to thicken until society suffered from a communication blackout. You can't communicate by smoke if the only thing to be seen is a wall of smoke.
Outlandish as those examples are, I wonder if the equivalent hasn't occurred as a result of the rolling dropped signals from my internet provider. Did someone receive just a portion of the e-mail I was working on right before my link was lost? Is someone reading the words I need responses to the following before noon tomorrow or else.... and thinking I am threatening retaliation when in fact the rest of the message (the part that they perhaps didn't get) read ... we will have to reconvene the committee in two weeks?
If my next post originates from behind the bars of a state penitentiary, you'll know that's exactly what happened.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Milestone
Tuesday evening was one of those life event milestones. Media Girl graduated from high school.
For me, such momentous events serve as triggers to consider the path that has led to the present.
As the procession of graduates entered the stadium, Media Girl's steps in that procession took me back to the first tentative steps she took as a toddler.
Those shaky first steps soon evolved into confident strides. Strides became a fast paced gate which quickly led to sprints across the backyard
Eventually foot travel wasn't fast enough and so began the first attempt to pedal a bike. A bike eventually led to a car and a car led to - foot travel.
Foot travel across a high school sports field on a chilly June night. Dressed in a gold cap and gown, Medial Girl strode across green grass to accept the piece of parchment that confirmed her achievement.
Media Girl is taking some time off to evaluate the options in front of her.
And while I wait to learn what her next milestone will be, I know the steps leading there will be in a direction that leads away from me.
For me, such momentous events serve as triggers to consider the path that has led to the present.
As the procession of graduates entered the stadium, Media Girl's steps in that procession took me back to the first tentative steps she took as a toddler.
Those shaky first steps soon evolved into confident strides. Strides became a fast paced gate which quickly led to sprints across the backyard
Eventually foot travel wasn't fast enough and so began the first attempt to pedal a bike. A bike eventually led to a car and a car led to - foot travel.
Foot travel across a high school sports field on a chilly June night. Dressed in a gold cap and gown, Medial Girl strode across green grass to accept the piece of parchment that confirmed her achievement.
Media Girl is taking some time off to evaluate the options in front of her.
And while I wait to learn what her next milestone will be, I know the steps leading there will be in a direction that leads away from me.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sun Relativity
A busy schedule will have me away from the blog world for a day or two.
Amidst the rush I offer a meditation.
One who watches the last moments of a sunset witnesses the beginning of a sunrise for another.
Light is never lost, merely found anew.
Amidst the rush I offer a meditation.
One who watches the last moments of a sunset witnesses the beginning of a sunrise for another.
Light is never lost, merely found anew.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
August Orchestra
August arrived early this weekend. With temperatures in the low 90's the only place to be was the beach.
Waves methodically pounding against the sand, and seagulls shrieking overhead are the sounds that first come to mind when the beach is mentioned.
But there's a whole orchestra of supporting sounds to go along with waves and gulls.
The metallic clang of beach chairs banging together as folks trek across the sand, umbrellas fluttering in the wind, rubber flip flops slapping against the soles of feet, the hiss of soda cans being popped open, shrieks in the upper octaves from folks braving the chilly waters, lifeguard whistles trilling at absent minded swimmers, kite tails rattling in the wind.
Yes, the August orchestra was in full swing these past two days,
Waves methodically pounding against the sand, and seagulls shrieking overhead are the sounds that first come to mind when the beach is mentioned.
But there's a whole orchestra of supporting sounds to go along with waves and gulls.
The metallic clang of beach chairs banging together as folks trek across the sand, umbrellas fluttering in the wind, rubber flip flops slapping against the soles of feet, the hiss of soda cans being popped open, shrieks in the upper octaves from folks braving the chilly waters, lifeguard whistles trilling at absent minded swimmers, kite tails rattling in the wind.
Yes, the August orchestra was in full swing these past two days,
Friday, June 4, 2010
All Fizzle No Pop
Imagine going to a fireworks display and having every single rocket launch be a dud.
The disappointment would hang as heavy as a proverbial wet blanket.
Such was my disappointment last night when the thunderstorm I was looking forward to fizzled before my very eyes.
Lightning was flashing to the north, west, and south. The winds that had quieted suddenly returned at a velocity one might expect in a wind tunnel. Thunder rumbled endlessly all around.
And then... nothing.
Clouds that had formed an imposing wall simply dissipated in seconds. The lightning stopped as though a switch on the voltage supply had been thrown to the off position. The rumble of thunder was replaced by the chirping of crickets.
I stood in the back yard with my mouth hanging open in the manner of a young boy who had just seen a baseball personally autographed by Mickey Mantle snatched from before his eyes.
The evening was a disaster, a total bust. There was nothing to do but head inside for a shower and ready myself for bed.
The disappointment would hang as heavy as a proverbial wet blanket.
Such was my disappointment last night when the thunderstorm I was looking forward to fizzled before my very eyes.
Lightning was flashing to the north, west, and south. The winds that had quieted suddenly returned at a velocity one might expect in a wind tunnel. Thunder rumbled endlessly all around.
And then... nothing.
Clouds that had formed an imposing wall simply dissipated in seconds. The lightning stopped as though a switch on the voltage supply had been thrown to the off position. The rumble of thunder was replaced by the chirping of crickets.
I stood in the back yard with my mouth hanging open in the manner of a young boy who had just seen a baseball personally autographed by Mickey Mantle snatched from before his eyes.
The evening was a disaster, a total bust. There was nothing to do but head inside for a shower and ready myself for bed.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Stormticipation
There's something about the approach of a ground shaking thunderstorm that captures my attention and incites a state of anxiety similar to what I used to experience on Christmas morning as a child.
I sit in such a state of anxiety now. To the west the sky has the varying shades of black and gray similar to a piece of paper that has been covered with charcoal smudges.
The breezes that sent scraps of paper tumbling along curbs just minutes ago have suddenly stopped. An expectant quiet permeates everything - the calm before the storm.
Ahh, the first distant rumbles have just reached my ears. My mother used to explain thunder as angels were bowling in heaven. To me it sounds more like an approaching stampede - or a collection of empty 55 gallon metal drums tumbling down a staircase.
The lightning will soon follow. I love the brilliant jagged streaks that span the gap between heaven and earth, but equally captivating are the lightning flashes that leap and flicker between one thunderhead and another - the original laser light show.
I'll meet you on the flip side - I'm off to enjoy the entertainment,
I sit in such a state of anxiety now. To the west the sky has the varying shades of black and gray similar to a piece of paper that has been covered with charcoal smudges.
The breezes that sent scraps of paper tumbling along curbs just minutes ago have suddenly stopped. An expectant quiet permeates everything - the calm before the storm.
Ahh, the first distant rumbles have just reached my ears. My mother used to explain thunder as angels were bowling in heaven. To me it sounds more like an approaching stampede - or a collection of empty 55 gallon metal drums tumbling down a staircase.
The lightning will soon follow. I love the brilliant jagged streaks that span the gap between heaven and earth, but equally captivating are the lightning flashes that leap and flicker between one thunderhead and another - the original laser light show.
I'll meet you on the flip side - I'm off to enjoy the entertainment,
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Tree Options
I am fortunate to work on a campus that affords me the opportunity to sit outdoors in park setting during lunch. Today I was beneath a spreading apple tree, seated in a lawn chair that I keep in the trunk of my car.
A cooling breeze was blowing across an expanse of freshly mowed lawn, rustling the leaves of the tree above me. I was taken back to childhood memories when a tree presented endless possibilities.
The towering gum tree behind the house I grew up in sometimes served as the mast of a sailing ship. Three branches that shot out next to one another some thirty feet above the ground formed a crow's nest. In the winds of an approaching thunderstorm, the tree rocked much as a main mast might sway in open water.
In a field near our home was an ancient willow tree that was frequently put into action as an army command post. The branches were wide enough to accomodate crudely sketched maps and battle plans.
Then of course there was the maple tree that leaned across the stream in a nearby park. A couple lengths of heavy rope and a weathered board turned the tree into a swing. Sometimes a swing and nothing more - sometimes a launching platform for ungainly splashes into the stream below.
All of these memories flashed through my mind in seconds - and reminded me of the importance of taking the time to explore the many options presented by the world around us.
A cooling breeze was blowing across an expanse of freshly mowed lawn, rustling the leaves of the tree above me. I was taken back to childhood memories when a tree presented endless possibilities.
The towering gum tree behind the house I grew up in sometimes served as the mast of a sailing ship. Three branches that shot out next to one another some thirty feet above the ground formed a crow's nest. In the winds of an approaching thunderstorm, the tree rocked much as a main mast might sway in open water.
In a field near our home was an ancient willow tree that was frequently put into action as an army command post. The branches were wide enough to accomodate crudely sketched maps and battle plans.
Then of course there was the maple tree that leaned across the stream in a nearby park. A couple lengths of heavy rope and a weathered board turned the tree into a swing. Sometimes a swing and nothing more - sometimes a launching platform for ungainly splashes into the stream below.
All of these memories flashed through my mind in seconds - and reminded me of the importance of taking the time to explore the many options presented by the world around us.
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