There she was, a wisp of a woman all but lost within her insulated parka. A knit cap was pulled down to her eyebrows, the ear flaps turned down and the draw strings dangling past her shoulders.
She was standing at the edge of the road shining a halogen flashlight into the treeline where her Siberian Husky was well... trying to take care of business. The husky was glaring over its shoulder, apparently offended that the woman would not afford the dog an opportunity for some modesty.
Was the woman afraid the dog would wander off? Surely a dog nearly as big as its owner understood its protective role and would not leave the woman stranded.
Did the woman feel the dog needed the help of the halogen to find an ahhhh appropriate spot? If so the Husky had two reasons to be offended.
In the end I figured the woman simply needed the reassurance she was not alone on a dark December night.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Home is Where...
Home is where the hearth is.
I know that's not the traditional phrasing, but it came to mind tonight as I drove through a neighboring town that was dealing with a power outage. Nearly every window in town was dark with the exception of one of two homes showing signs of flickering firelight. With the wind howling and the temperature falling I found myself imaging what such a night would have been like back in the 1700's.
I pictured a secluded homestead on a moonless December night. Wind rushed down a winding lane, picking up a scrap of discarded parchment and sent it pinwheeling through the air. A certain carpenter hunched further down into his jacket and, though tired from a long day of work, struggled to pick up his pace.
Adding insult to injury, a snow squall quickly turned the hard-packed lane white. The carpenter wound his scarf an extra turn around his neck.
Fingers tingling, eyes watering, and nose running, the carpenter rounded the last bend in the lane to see his thatched roof cottage. Smoke rose from the chimney and warm yellow light flickered in the windows.
True, his heart lived in that cottage; but at that particular moment the hearth was what called out to him.
I know that's not the traditional phrasing, but it came to mind tonight as I drove through a neighboring town that was dealing with a power outage. Nearly every window in town was dark with the exception of one of two homes showing signs of flickering firelight. With the wind howling and the temperature falling I found myself imaging what such a night would have been like back in the 1700's.
I pictured a secluded homestead on a moonless December night. Wind rushed down a winding lane, picking up a scrap of discarded parchment and sent it pinwheeling through the air. A certain carpenter hunched further down into his jacket and, though tired from a long day of work, struggled to pick up his pace.
Adding insult to injury, a snow squall quickly turned the hard-packed lane white. The carpenter wound his scarf an extra turn around his neck.
Fingers tingling, eyes watering, and nose running, the carpenter rounded the last bend in the lane to see his thatched roof cottage. Smoke rose from the chimney and warm yellow light flickered in the windows.
True, his heart lived in that cottage; but at that particular moment the hearth was what called out to him.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
The Twelve Days
It occurs to me that Christmas itself is a lot like the meals we prepare during this season. The preparation seems to go on forever. Then in blink of an eye it's over.
Happily, the similarities end there. While overindulging at the dinner table leaves us uncomfortable and regretting our lack of self discipline, the hours spent with loved ones leave us with a spiritual fullness that we embrace and nurture.
Perhaps we should spend more time looking forward to the simply being together and less time fretting over finding the perfect gift. Come to think of it, we should transform the twelve days of Christmas into the twelve months of the year. Once every month we should make it a point to set aside some time devoted solely to sharing the company of those we love most. We should put the day on our calendar and schedule our other obligations around that date rather than trying to squeeze quality time into our agenda.
Happily, the similarities end there. While overindulging at the dinner table leaves us uncomfortable and regretting our lack of self discipline, the hours spent with loved ones leave us with a spiritual fullness that we embrace and nurture.
Perhaps we should spend more time looking forward to the simply being together and less time fretting over finding the perfect gift. Come to think of it, we should transform the twelve days of Christmas into the twelve months of the year. Once every month we should make it a point to set aside some time devoted solely to sharing the company of those we love most. We should put the day on our calendar and schedule our other obligations around that date rather than trying to squeeze quality time into our agenda.
Monday, December 26, 2011
The Two Sides of Clarity
It is one of those nights when the air is particularly clear, the stars particularly briliannt, and the difference from an ordinary night strikingly noticeable. - Sort of like throwing open the window sash and realizing how finger smudged the glass I've been looking through really is.
Hanging low beneath the stars was what looked to be a double moon - a brilliant white crescent overlayed by an orb of charcoal gray just bright enough to be noticeable against the blacker sky.
It occurrs to me that the clarity of this particular night is like the clarity with which life is seen when we take the time to step back and look at things objectively. And that being able to see two moons is akin to recognizing the two sides of every problem - the obvious and less obvious.
Clarity comes with the discovery that when we take the time to really look, the less obvious can turn out to be the bigger and better opportunity.
Perhaps we should all open our windows and see the world for what it really is more often.
Hanging low beneath the stars was what looked to be a double moon - a brilliant white crescent overlayed by an orb of charcoal gray just bright enough to be noticeable against the blacker sky.
It occurrs to me that the clarity of this particular night is like the clarity with which life is seen when we take the time to step back and look at things objectively. And that being able to see two moons is akin to recognizing the two sides of every problem - the obvious and less obvious.
Clarity comes with the discovery that when we take the time to really look, the less obvious can turn out to be the bigger and better opportunity.
Perhaps we should all open our windows and see the world for what it really is more often.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Holiday Wish
The warm embrace of family and friends.
The savory delight of favorite recipes.
Sharing of special memories bringing both laughter and tears.
My holiday wish for everyone is the opportunity to experience the magic of these simple joys.
Merry Christmas.
The savory delight of favorite recipes.
Sharing of special memories bringing both laughter and tears.
My holiday wish for everyone is the opportunity to experience the magic of these simple joys.
Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Happy Sun Days
Hallelujah, pass the sal... err... sunblock.
We've done it ladies and gentlemen; boys and girls.
Give yourself a high five, a pat on the back, and a long round of applause.
We have survived the day of the year with the least amount of daylight. It's all good news from here - a little more light each and every day. Before you know it we'll be sitting on the patio at 9:00 p.m. watching the sun drop below the horizon.
If you don't celebrate Christmas - you gotta at least celebrate the lengthening of the days. Happy Sun Days!
We've done it ladies and gentlemen; boys and girls.
Give yourself a high five, a pat on the back, and a long round of applause.
We have survived the day of the year with the least amount of daylight. It's all good news from here - a little more light each and every day. Before you know it we'll be sitting on the patio at 9:00 p.m. watching the sun drop below the horizon.
If you don't celebrate Christmas - you gotta at least celebrate the lengthening of the days. Happy Sun Days!
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Looking for Light
This time of year sometimes leaves me feeling as though I have been banished to a world of darkness.
Much like those who comprised the Fellowship of the Ring were forced to find their way through the long dark of Moria by senses other than sight, I find myself feeling as though I make my way from one day to the next by nothing more than instinct.
Rising in darkness; heading off to work in dim, gray light; returning from work in darkness - its a wonder I recognize the change from one day to the next.
All this darkness lulls the mind into lethargy. Brain synapses fire more slowly, "aha" moments come more rarely, and previously enjoyable puzzles become traps with teeth.
Thank goodness for holiday decorations that bring cheer and feelings of comfort into our homes. - Now if I could just convince Motivated Mom the Christmas Tree needs to stay up until the sun shines for longer than the working hours in the day.
Much like those who comprised the Fellowship of the Ring were forced to find their way through the long dark of Moria by senses other than sight, I find myself feeling as though I make my way from one day to the next by nothing more than instinct.
Rising in darkness; heading off to work in dim, gray light; returning from work in darkness - its a wonder I recognize the change from one day to the next.
All this darkness lulls the mind into lethargy. Brain synapses fire more slowly, "aha" moments come more rarely, and previously enjoyable puzzles become traps with teeth.
Thank goodness for holiday decorations that bring cheer and feelings of comfort into our homes. - Now if I could just convince Motivated Mom the Christmas Tree needs to stay up until the sun shines for longer than the working hours in the day.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Something About a Fire
There's just something about a fire. It's a comment frequently heard around campfires and from folks gathered in front of a hearth on a cold day.
I was thinking about this yesterday as I moved firewood up to the patio. And it occurred to me that while the opportunity to take the chill off is certainly an attraction, there's more than heat that calls to those huddled close.
The smell of burning pine and oak transfers us to familiar places in seemingly distant times when we last sat at our grandparents' feet or fell asleep in our spouse's embrace. The pulsing coals of a super-heated fire issue a primordial call, replicating our own pulse, grabbing our attention and wrapping us in an emotional cocoon. And dancing flames reaching for new wood make us think of our own joys and aspirations.
Yes, there's something about a fire. Something that allows us to focus on ourselves, hear only our own thoughts, and -for a little while at least - let the rest of the world go on as it may.
I was thinking about this yesterday as I moved firewood up to the patio. And it occurred to me that while the opportunity to take the chill off is certainly an attraction, there's more than heat that calls to those huddled close.
The smell of burning pine and oak transfers us to familiar places in seemingly distant times when we last sat at our grandparents' feet or fell asleep in our spouse's embrace. The pulsing coals of a super-heated fire issue a primordial call, replicating our own pulse, grabbing our attention and wrapping us in an emotional cocoon. And dancing flames reaching for new wood make us think of our own joys and aspirations.
Yes, there's something about a fire. Something that allows us to focus on ourselves, hear only our own thoughts, and -for a little while at least - let the rest of the world go on as it may.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
The Toddler Factor
Media Girl was babysitting today - occupational therapy for a young pregnant woman. The babysitting was taking place in our home which made for less than a totally relaxing Sunday afternoon. In fact the toddler's presence was enough to drive me into the all-too-chilly outdoors.
I made two observations during my trips indoors for hot refreshments. First - folks over 50 years of age should not be exposed to toddlers for more than an hour at a time. Extended exposure can impact mental wellness and lead to irrevocable loss of patience.
Second - a distressed toddler can be used for both glass recycling and canine control. Toddlers emit screeches at a decibel level that will reduce any unwanted glass to tiny crystals. Toddlers can also hit notes that will cause a misbehaving dog to excavate a hole large enough for its head - then bury its furry head in said hole until the toddler runs out of lung capacity. Once the shock waves pass, the dog will raise its right paw and promise to be good for all the rest of its days so long as it will never again be placed within a quarter mile of a screaming two year old.
I made two observations during my trips indoors for hot refreshments. First - folks over 50 years of age should not be exposed to toddlers for more than an hour at a time. Extended exposure can impact mental wellness and lead to irrevocable loss of patience.
Second - a distressed toddler can be used for both glass recycling and canine control. Toddlers emit screeches at a decibel level that will reduce any unwanted glass to tiny crystals. Toddlers can also hit notes that will cause a misbehaving dog to excavate a hole large enough for its head - then bury its furry head in said hole until the toddler runs out of lung capacity. Once the shock waves pass, the dog will raise its right paw and promise to be good for all the rest of its days so long as it will never again be placed within a quarter mile of a screaming two year old.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Changing Sets
Now that US troops are moving out, hotel chains are moving in.
That was the subject of a news report on Iraq the other day. Even before the last of US troops have left Iraq, three different hotel chains are breaking ground on new hotels in Iraq. The hoteliers sited world interest in archaeological artifacts to be found in the region (I guess these would be the ancient pottery and tools uncovered by the missiles, bombs, and artillery shells) as well as the desirable climate (yes it's 125 degrees - but its dry heat)
Hmmm... I don't know.... I wouldn't want to be the tourist strolling through desert ruins while the dust of retreating armies still hangs in the air.
I'm trying to figure out the business rationale on the part of the hotel chains. Perhaps the CEO's of these chains have been spending too much time streaming movies. We're not talking about a set change here. There is no director shouting that's a wrap and then instructing the stage crews to replace the battle backdrops with a nighttime skyline of the local restaurant district.
I think I'll just leave a visit to Iraq on my bucket list for now.
That was the subject of a news report on Iraq the other day. Even before the last of US troops have left Iraq, three different hotel chains are breaking ground on new hotels in Iraq. The hoteliers sited world interest in archaeological artifacts to be found in the region (I guess these would be the ancient pottery and tools uncovered by the missiles, bombs, and artillery shells) as well as the desirable climate (yes it's 125 degrees - but its dry heat)
Hmmm... I don't know.... I wouldn't want to be the tourist strolling through desert ruins while the dust of retreating armies still hangs in the air.
I'm trying to figure out the business rationale on the part of the hotel chains. Perhaps the CEO's of these chains have been spending too much time streaming movies. We're not talking about a set change here. There is no director shouting that's a wrap and then instructing the stage crews to replace the battle backdrops with a nighttime skyline of the local restaurant district.
I think I'll just leave a visit to Iraq on my bucket list for now.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Religion Contradiction
Songs, stories, and cards geared toward the Christmas season focus on peace and goodwill to men. We think of carolers in the streets, families gathered in cozy homes, neighbors and strangers alike greeting one another, presents under trees, jingling sleigh bells, and acts of compassion.
Yet in the corner of the world where the story of Christmas originates people war over the piece of land that our traditions hold in such high regard. The one thing sure to not be found in the place of Christ's birth is peace. Fear, suspicion, and violence reign supreme.
And what drives this war? Religion. The very thing people the world over celebrate at this time of year.
I found myself wondering how religion can be such a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. In one breath we name religion as the cause of peace and in the next breath the cause of war. I suppose we can draw parallels to other things such as diamonds that are associated both with rivalry and love or money which is the source of both comfort and despair.
In the end I suppose it is neither religion, diamonds, nor money that are the Jekyll and Hydes of the world - but men and women themselves. Perhaps true goodness and peace are to found only in the absence of everything else - including the absence of the religion we aspire to.
Yet in the corner of the world where the story of Christmas originates people war over the piece of land that our traditions hold in such high regard. The one thing sure to not be found in the place of Christ's birth is peace. Fear, suspicion, and violence reign supreme.
And what drives this war? Religion. The very thing people the world over celebrate at this time of year.
I found myself wondering how religion can be such a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. In one breath we name religion as the cause of peace and in the next breath the cause of war. I suppose we can draw parallels to other things such as diamonds that are associated both with rivalry and love or money which is the source of both comfort and despair.
In the end I suppose it is neither religion, diamonds, nor money that are the Jekyll and Hydes of the world - but men and women themselves. Perhaps true goodness and peace are to found only in the absence of everything else - including the absence of the religion we aspire to.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Shifting Roles
As I contemplate the upcoming quiet Christmas morning I find myself thinking back on Christmas visits to my grandparent's house and realize I'm on the cusp of having my home become the grandparents' house.
And while I'm totally okay with the quiet holiday morning, there's something about assuming the role of a grandparent at Christmas that I find just a little intimidating. Perhaps it's because, as a child, I viewed my grandparents house as the holiday anchor - a place where the presence of family was valued above the exchanging of presents.
My grandparents' house was not decorated with the same splashes of color as my own home, but it was decorated just right - a muted display of celebration that said welcome to the holidays but more importantly welcome to those who enter this house.
It is the atmosphere I wish for my children and upcoming grandchild to now find in my home. Deciding to accept this mantle of responsibility has me thinking of the phrase... your mission, should you choose to accept it.
I find that I do choose to accept it.... while at the same time acknowledging that if I see it as a mission it will never work.
And while I'm totally okay with the quiet holiday morning, there's something about assuming the role of a grandparent at Christmas that I find just a little intimidating. Perhaps it's because, as a child, I viewed my grandparents house as the holiday anchor - a place where the presence of family was valued above the exchanging of presents.
My grandparents' house was not decorated with the same splashes of color as my own home, but it was decorated just right - a muted display of celebration that said welcome to the holidays but more importantly welcome to those who enter this house.
It is the atmosphere I wish for my children and upcoming grandchild to now find in my home. Deciding to accept this mantle of responsibility has me thinking of the phrase... your mission, should you choose to accept it.
I find that I do choose to accept it.... while at the same time acknowledging that if I see it as a mission it will never work.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Why the Cookie?
As I watch the cookie tins accumulate on our kitchen counter I find myself wondering just what it is about the Christmas season that triggers a desire... no, a need..... to bake cookies.
Memorial Day, Labor Day, Fourth of July.... when these holidays approach no one races to the grocery store for bags and pounds of flour, sugar, chocolate morsels and colored sprinkles. No one spends hours on end in the kitchen slipping baking sheets in and out of the oven. And no one feels slighted if there's no oven-browned morsels for desert. No one shows up at a barbecue and says What - no cookies?
So why the need to generate and devour cookies by the peck and bushel at Christmas?
It suppose it means that we haven't moved as far from animal behavior as we like to think we have. As darkness lingers for better than half of each 24 hour day, as crops disappear from the fields, as fresh water turns to ice, our animal instincts kick in. Like squirrels stuffing their cheeks full of nuts, we humans stuff our bellies to the misshapen bursting point.
Yet there are far healthier foods we could cram into our mouths - foods that would leave us still feeling satisfyingly full hours later. Which brings me back to.... what is it about cookies at Christmas?
Memorial Day, Labor Day, Fourth of July.... when these holidays approach no one races to the grocery store for bags and pounds of flour, sugar, chocolate morsels and colored sprinkles. No one spends hours on end in the kitchen slipping baking sheets in and out of the oven. And no one feels slighted if there's no oven-browned morsels for desert. No one shows up at a barbecue and says What - no cookies?
So why the need to generate and devour cookies by the peck and bushel at Christmas?
It suppose it means that we haven't moved as far from animal behavior as we like to think we have. As darkness lingers for better than half of each 24 hour day, as crops disappear from the fields, as fresh water turns to ice, our animal instincts kick in. Like squirrels stuffing their cheeks full of nuts, we humans stuff our bellies to the misshapen bursting point.
Yet there are far healthier foods we could cram into our mouths - foods that would leave us still feeling satisfyingly full hours later. Which brings me back to.... what is it about cookies at Christmas?
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Is That You Santa Claus?
Over the weekend I had the privilege of hearing Santa talk about something that affects all of us at some time in our lives. What should children do when they find themselves doubting the existence of Santa Claus.
Santa's response was so wonderful that I felt compelled to share.
Doubt is a natural part of growing up. Doubt is part of learning about truth. When we doubt we discover two things about truth. There are times when others can prove to us that something is true and there are times when truth is found in our own hearts.
Sometimes when our friends have doubts about things, they tell stories about their doubts. And sometimes those stories can make us feel uncomfortable. Any time children find themselves feeling uncomfortable they should talk with a trusted adult - a parent, grandparent, teacher, or counselor. These adults can help children work through their concerns.
These days people want instant answers to their questions. The only thing instant about Santa Claus is the way he delivers his gifts. The rest of Christmas is magic, faith, and belief. The things that live in our hearts.
The true magic of Christmas is that at Christmas time even adults think like children - and when they think like children they discover the faith and belief that is Christmas.
Santa's response was so wonderful that I felt compelled to share.
Doubt is a natural part of growing up. Doubt is part of learning about truth. When we doubt we discover two things about truth. There are times when others can prove to us that something is true and there are times when truth is found in our own hearts.
Sometimes when our friends have doubts about things, they tell stories about their doubts. And sometimes those stories can make us feel uncomfortable. Any time children find themselves feeling uncomfortable they should talk with a trusted adult - a parent, grandparent, teacher, or counselor. These adults can help children work through their concerns.
These days people want instant answers to their questions. The only thing instant about Santa Claus is the way he delivers his gifts. The rest of Christmas is magic, faith, and belief. The things that live in our hearts.
The true magic of Christmas is that at Christmas time even adults think like children - and when they think like children they discover the faith and belief that is Christmas.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Imagine a Rewind
On this anniversary of the day John Lennon was taken from the world take a moment to.... Imagine.
Imagine being able to rewind time to 10:45 p.m. December 8, 1980.
Imagine the opportunity to delay either John Lennon or Mark David Chapman by just a few minutes so that they wouldn't meet in front of the Dakota in Manhattan.
Imagine John Lennon being with us today. Imagine his impact on music.
John spent much of his time trying to get us to understand that love and peace are of paramount importance.
I can't help but wonder if he would want us to love Mark David Chapman - to find peace within ourselves for Mark taking a life from us. Offering love and peace to John Lennon's killer would be a challenge for any of us I expect. But that would be in keeping with John's expectations - that we challenge ourselves daily to love unconditionally and give peace a chance.
.....And the world would be a better place.
Imagine all of us achieving what John strove to teach us.
Imagine being able to rewind time to 10:45 p.m. December 8, 1980.
Imagine the opportunity to delay either John Lennon or Mark David Chapman by just a few minutes so that they wouldn't meet in front of the Dakota in Manhattan.
Imagine John Lennon being with us today. Imagine his impact on music.
John spent much of his time trying to get us to understand that love and peace are of paramount importance.
I can't help but wonder if he would want us to love Mark David Chapman - to find peace within ourselves for Mark taking a life from us. Offering love and peace to John Lennon's killer would be a challenge for any of us I expect. But that would be in keeping with John's expectations - that we challenge ourselves daily to love unconditionally and give peace a chance.
.....And the world would be a better place.
Imagine all of us achieving what John strove to teach us.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Twisted Wire
We have those icicle Christmas lights hanging from the rain gutters on our house. I have decided the lights must be sentient and only play at being inanimate objects when brought out into the light.
I packed the lights away quite carefully last year - made sure there were no tangles, tied each string into a separate bundle, etc. Each bundle was carefully laid into a storage container with ample interior space. The container was then placed into storage where it remained untouched until this past weekend.
So there was no reason for the lights to be tangled when I opened the plastic container. And yet they were an intertwined mess. Strings were twisted together three times over. The only way that could have happened is for the lights to have been fraternizing over the past eleven months.
I am imagining one string reaching tenuously out to another - inviting more intimate contact. I'm also imagining the discussions that took place in that crate.
But Dad, he loves me! Cobalt Blue, number seventeen on the string. The one with cutest little bubble near the very tip.
Now, Susie, you know that can never work out - he's from the wrong side of the circuit.
I packed the lights away quite carefully last year - made sure there were no tangles, tied each string into a separate bundle, etc. Each bundle was carefully laid into a storage container with ample interior space. The container was then placed into storage where it remained untouched until this past weekend.
So there was no reason for the lights to be tangled when I opened the plastic container. And yet they were an intertwined mess. Strings were twisted together three times over. The only way that could have happened is for the lights to have been fraternizing over the past eleven months.
I am imagining one string reaching tenuously out to another - inviting more intimate contact. I'm also imagining the discussions that took place in that crate.
But Dad, he loves me! Cobalt Blue, number seventeen on the string. The one with cutest little bubble near the very tip.
Now, Susie, you know that can never work out - he's from the wrong side of the circuit.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
This Is A Strategy?
If you heard the sound of someone shaking their head in utter amazement today - it was me.
The U.S. Postal Service, faced with declining business, has decided to address this concern by.... providing LESS value for the money. Priority mail will no longer be treated as a priority. Rather it will arrive at its destination, well... when it get's there.
This less than astute business decision could be equaled only if the captain of the Titanic had said: Steer directly for that iceberg.
I'm considering investing in horse breeding operations and manufacturers of saddles and bridles since the Postal Service will no doubt next roll out the cutting edge idea of a pony express.
Perhaps, rather than laying off thousands of workers, the Postal Service would be better off giving some of the executives an unpaid leave of absence to read some of those how to succeed in business books that now get delivered by UPS and Fed-X.
The U.S. Postal Service, faced with declining business, has decided to address this concern by.... providing LESS value for the money. Priority mail will no longer be treated as a priority. Rather it will arrive at its destination, well... when it get's there.
This less than astute business decision could be equaled only if the captain of the Titanic had said: Steer directly for that iceberg.
I'm considering investing in horse breeding operations and manufacturers of saddles and bridles since the Postal Service will no doubt next roll out the cutting edge idea of a pony express.
Perhaps, rather than laying off thousands of workers, the Postal Service would be better off giving some of the executives an unpaid leave of absence to read some of those how to succeed in business books that now get delivered by UPS and Fed-X.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Hidden Progress
Coming home from work tonight I realized what it is about Standard Time in December, January, and February that's so depressing.
Well, actually, there's about a dozen things about this time year that fail to float my boat - but I'll focus on just one for right now.
When I'm driving in the dark there's no sense of progress being made. Most familiar landmarks are lost behind a black veil which leads to whole portions of the drive being the equivalent of being stuck in a bottomless pit.
Perhaps I need to order a pair of those x-ray glasses that used to be advertised on the inside of Bazooka Bubble Gum wrappers. Then, just like Bazooka Joe, I could see hidden objects all along the roadside and be able to chart my progress.
Or perhaps we should make it mandatory that every home and business display Christmas lights from the middle on November through the end of March. Then a commuter such as I could track progress by the Santa on the roof versus the snowman on the front porch versus the icicle lights hanging from the rain gutters.
Well, actually, there's about a dozen things about this time year that fail to float my boat - but I'll focus on just one for right now.
When I'm driving in the dark there's no sense of progress being made. Most familiar landmarks are lost behind a black veil which leads to whole portions of the drive being the equivalent of being stuck in a bottomless pit.
Perhaps I need to order a pair of those x-ray glasses that used to be advertised on the inside of Bazooka Bubble Gum wrappers. Then, just like Bazooka Joe, I could see hidden objects all along the roadside and be able to chart my progress.
Or perhaps we should make it mandatory that every home and business display Christmas lights from the middle on November through the end of March. Then a commuter such as I could track progress by the Santa on the roof versus the snowman on the front porch versus the icicle lights hanging from the rain gutters.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
To Read or E-read
I figured a Caribbean vacation would be the perfect opportunity to conduct an unofficial survey.
My survey involved e-readers (nooks, kindles, etc). I figured airline travel and the Caribbean beach scene would be a good indicator of the acceptance of e-readers. I was guessing no one wanted to carry more than than they had to when they traveled, and carrying one electronic device versus a stack of books would be viewed favorably by the general population. (I, myself, had purchased an e-reader just before vacation to avoid the need for a separate suitcase just for books.)
My unofficial survey was conducted by observing the airline passengers and the chaise lounge occupants. The results surprised me.
Of the folks who were reading, no more than 1 in 25 was using an e-reader. The rest had opted to carry good old fashioned books with them. The paperback exchange library at the resort was as active a gathering point as ever.
I had expected to find I was a technological dinosaur for having waited so long to buy an e-reader. Instead I discovered I was ahead of the curve.
Although I now own an e-reader, given a choice for recreational reading when I'm not traveling I'll still choose to hold an honest-to-goodness book in my hands. It feels good to know I'm in the majority on this.
My survey involved e-readers (nooks, kindles, etc). I figured airline travel and the Caribbean beach scene would be a good indicator of the acceptance of e-readers. I was guessing no one wanted to carry more than than they had to when they traveled, and carrying one electronic device versus a stack of books would be viewed favorably by the general population. (I, myself, had purchased an e-reader just before vacation to avoid the need for a separate suitcase just for books.)
My unofficial survey was conducted by observing the airline passengers and the chaise lounge occupants. The results surprised me.
Of the folks who were reading, no more than 1 in 25 was using an e-reader. The rest had opted to carry good old fashioned books with them. The paperback exchange library at the resort was as active a gathering point as ever.
I had expected to find I was a technological dinosaur for having waited so long to buy an e-reader. Instead I discovered I was ahead of the curve.
Although I now own an e-reader, given a choice for recreational reading when I'm not traveling I'll still choose to hold an honest-to-goodness book in my hands. It feels good to know I'm in the majority on this.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Programming Change
Motivated Mom and I are headed off for our annual November vacation - which means a change in the regularly scheduled programming for this blog. Look for a new post round about December 4th.
Traditions are unique to every continent, culture, and family. Part of what makes the holiday season so interesting is getting the opportunity to experience the wide range of traditions. For Motivated Mom and I, Thanksgiving has changed over the years from gathering with extended family around a food laden table to smearing on sunblock and napping under palm trees.
However you spend your Thanksgiving, here's hoping you find yourself with much to be thankful for.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING
Traditions are unique to every continent, culture, and family. Part of what makes the holiday season so interesting is getting the opportunity to experience the wide range of traditions. For Motivated Mom and I, Thanksgiving has changed over the years from gathering with extended family around a food laden table to smearing on sunblock and napping under palm trees.
However you spend your Thanksgiving, here's hoping you find yourself with much to be thankful for.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Helping the Heroes
In one of my very first blogs I mentioned the copy of the parenting handbook that Motivated Mom and I owned seemed to be missing a few pages. When Media Girl was diagnosed with a mental illness, it quickly became obvious our book was missing entire chapters.
Over the past six weeks Motivated Mom and I have been working to fill in the gaps of parenting books owned by other families. We have been teaching a course in helping parents of children with mental illnesses to understand and cope with the many faces of that illness. Had Motivated Mom and I known fifteen years ago what we have learned just in training to be instructors, our own family might have traveled a very different path.
Over the past six weeks I have come to appreciate that families affected by mental illness (the children who are ill, siblings, and parents) are the real heroes in the world. They start each day knowing only one thing - they have NO idea what the day will bring. There is no such thing as a typical day for these families, at least not in the way the rest of the world views typical. Yet these people put their feet on the floor every morning and resolve to do the best they can. They do this day after day, knowing that doing their best will tax them to their limit and beyond. Parents do it because the alternative is not an option. The children burdened with the illness do it in the hopes that this might be the day that brings a little sunshine.
If, by teaching this course I have made one day in one person's life just a little bit easier, then I can call the past six weeks a monumental success.
Over the past six weeks Motivated Mom and I have been working to fill in the gaps of parenting books owned by other families. We have been teaching a course in helping parents of children with mental illnesses to understand and cope with the many faces of that illness. Had Motivated Mom and I known fifteen years ago what we have learned just in training to be instructors, our own family might have traveled a very different path.
Over the past six weeks I have come to appreciate that families affected by mental illness (the children who are ill, siblings, and parents) are the real heroes in the world. They start each day knowing only one thing - they have NO idea what the day will bring. There is no such thing as a typical day for these families, at least not in the way the rest of the world views typical. Yet these people put their feet on the floor every morning and resolve to do the best they can. They do this day after day, knowing that doing their best will tax them to their limit and beyond. Parents do it because the alternative is not an option. The children burdened with the illness do it in the hopes that this might be the day that brings a little sunshine.
If, by teaching this course I have made one day in one person's life just a little bit easier, then I can call the past six weeks a monumental success.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
How Shall I Call Thee?
It seems there's no denying it.
Three months ago when I was gifted with the information that Media Girl, our daughter, had a positive test result on a home pregnancy test kit, I reacted as any level headed parent would. I clicked my heels three times and said: there will be no babies in this home, there will be no babies in this home, there will be no babies in this home.
Six weeks ago when Media Girl's stomach began to swell, I convinced myself she had used a packet of yeast rather than Good Season's Italian Dressing Mix in the marinade and the swelling was nothing more than the intestinal equivalent of rising bread dough.
But the dough hasn't fallen and now I'm being asked if I want to be called Grandpa or Granddad.
Which has me saying - just hold on one doggone minute. My hair might be a little thin on top, but the prefix of grand is not a fit for me in any way, shape or form. The math might say I'm fifty-five, but I'm sure those six pack abs I've been trying to develop for thirty years are right around the corner.
So while there may be no denying a baby is on the way, my identifier of choice is: Hey, Mister.
Three months ago when I was gifted with the information that Media Girl, our daughter, had a positive test result on a home pregnancy test kit, I reacted as any level headed parent would. I clicked my heels three times and said: there will be no babies in this home, there will be no babies in this home, there will be no babies in this home.
Six weeks ago when Media Girl's stomach began to swell, I convinced myself she had used a packet of yeast rather than Good Season's Italian Dressing Mix in the marinade and the swelling was nothing more than the intestinal equivalent of rising bread dough.
But the dough hasn't fallen and now I'm being asked if I want to be called Grandpa or Granddad.
Which has me saying - just hold on one doggone minute. My hair might be a little thin on top, but the prefix of grand is not a fit for me in any way, shape or form. The math might say I'm fifty-five, but I'm sure those six pack abs I've been trying to develop for thirty years are right around the corner.
So while there may be no denying a baby is on the way, my identifier of choice is: Hey, Mister.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Street Colors
Crooked Bend Drive, Red Barn Road, Chicken House Road. These road signs can all be seen in a rural town not too far from us.
It's a safe bet the names date back to a time when our area was mostly farm land with houses few and far between. No doubt folks gave directions by telling a traveler to turn right at the red barn or to watch for the first drive after the crooked bend. - Completely understandable.
Still, Motivated Mom and I couldn't help but brainstorm over new names that could be put to use. House With Broken Shutter Alley and Sagging Back Porch Drive were just a couple of the names we came up with.
Red Barn Road really bothers me though. Not because farm country is peppered with red barns, but because the name suggests that somewhere there has to be a Blue House Street or Yellow Farm Drive. Which means the people living in the houses connected to the road names are under a community obligation to keep their houses the same color - kind of takes the fun out of home ownership.
It's a safe bet the names date back to a time when our area was mostly farm land with houses few and far between. No doubt folks gave directions by telling a traveler to turn right at the red barn or to watch for the first drive after the crooked bend. - Completely understandable.
Still, Motivated Mom and I couldn't help but brainstorm over new names that could be put to use. House With Broken Shutter Alley and Sagging Back Porch Drive were just a couple of the names we came up with.
Red Barn Road really bothers me though. Not because farm country is peppered with red barns, but because the name suggests that somewhere there has to be a Blue House Street or Yellow Farm Drive. Which means the people living in the houses connected to the road names are under a community obligation to keep their houses the same color - kind of takes the fun out of home ownership.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Whispers and Promises
Just a few weeks ago Motivated Mom was pointing out the brilliant colors of post summer. Flowers were giving their all in a final blaze of color and trees sported richly hued patchwork cloaks.
Weakened from their heroic displays of plumage, the flowers have now collapsed to the ground and trees have shed their leaves. Like athletes who have depleted the last of their energy reserves, the trees now stand with their branches hanging limp and barren.
Lined up along perimeters of dried and brown fields, battalions of trees stand shoulder to shoulder - their weary and skeletal arms linked with one another for the mutual support that will carry them through the gray and bleak days of the coldest months of the year.
I find myself wondering where trees find the stamina to survive the blustery cold for weeks on end. I suppose it is from the sap that runs deep in trunks and roots. A reassuring glue of life that carries whispers of unending cycles and promises of the return of warmer days.
Weakened from their heroic displays of plumage, the flowers have now collapsed to the ground and trees have shed their leaves. Like athletes who have depleted the last of their energy reserves, the trees now stand with their branches hanging limp and barren.
Lined up along perimeters of dried and brown fields, battalions of trees stand shoulder to shoulder - their weary and skeletal arms linked with one another for the mutual support that will carry them through the gray and bleak days of the coldest months of the year.
I find myself wondering where trees find the stamina to survive the blustery cold for weeks on end. I suppose it is from the sap that runs deep in trunks and roots. A reassuring glue of life that carries whispers of unending cycles and promises of the return of warmer days.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Tumblethought
I've been thinking about kaleidoscopes over the past few days. Mainly because my blog and story ideas have been tumbling around in my head the way the pieces of colored glass tumble in the end of those cardboard tubes.
And like those ever changing colored displays, my thoughts tumble and shift quicker than I capture any one. A story I thought I was writing tumbles onto a different path. The blog idea firmly fixed in my mind falls to pieces before I can get to the keyboard.
I know what you're thinking. The man is battling the onset of Alzheimer's.
I beg to differ (I think).
It all has something to do with the shift back to standard time. Ever since the clocks changed, my thoughts refuse to remain in focus. I think there's an important message here, but the message changes before I can finish interpreting what it is.
This was not the way today's blog post started. Today's blog was going to be about....... oh, never mind.
And like those ever changing colored displays, my thoughts tumble and shift quicker than I capture any one. A story I thought I was writing tumbles onto a different path. The blog idea firmly fixed in my mind falls to pieces before I can get to the keyboard.
I know what you're thinking. The man is battling the onset of Alzheimer's.
I beg to differ (I think).
It all has something to do with the shift back to standard time. Ever since the clocks changed, my thoughts refuse to remain in focus. I think there's an important message here, but the message changes before I can finish interpreting what it is.
This was not the way today's blog post started. Today's blog was going to be about....... oh, never mind.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
He Robot
Don't know if you were aware - but while we have been watching movies like I Robot and viewing them as science fiction, the Honda corporation has churned out the real deal.
Honda named their robot Asimo (I'm guessing that's an acknowledgment to Issac Asimov, the writer who took us into a world where humanoid robots interact with humans routinely).
Asimo can run, play kick ball, speak, respond to human voices, navigate down a crowded sidewalk - and perform tasks considered too risky for humans. That last item is one of Asimo's primary selling points - doing the jobs that would ordinarily put humans at risk - which I guess means new parents will soon be buying their own Asimo to take care of changing diapers.
In case you're as fascinated by this as I am. I'm including a link to the website here: http://asimo.honda.com
Honda named their robot Asimo (I'm guessing that's an acknowledgment to Issac Asimov, the writer who took us into a world where humanoid robots interact with humans routinely).
Asimo can run, play kick ball, speak, respond to human voices, navigate down a crowded sidewalk - and perform tasks considered too risky for humans. That last item is one of Asimo's primary selling points - doing the jobs that would ordinarily put humans at risk - which I guess means new parents will soon be buying their own Asimo to take care of changing diapers.
In case you're as fascinated by this as I am. I'm including a link to the website here: http://asimo.honda.com
Monday, November 7, 2011
Out of Sorts
Upside is down, inside is out, I wake before my alarm and fall asleep before bedtime.
Such are the struggles of the first few days of the return to standard time.
If it's standard why do I feel so out of sorts?
Such are the struggles of the first few days of the return to standard time.
If it's standard why do I feel so out of sorts?
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Signs of Hibernation
While running errands this weekend it occurred to me that humankind has its own form of hibernation. Front porches now stand empty - rocking chairs, tables, and wall decorations having been moved into storage. Likewise backyard decks are now empty platforms. Homeowners have abandoned outdoor living, moving their lives behind curtained windows.
Behind those curtains, fires blaze in wood stoves and fireplaces, soups simmer in five quart pots, and beds are covered with flannel sheets and down comforters.
It is humankind's acknowledgment that nature still rules supreme. While we cannot sleep the months away as the bears do, we can still snuggle in our dens once our workday obligations are complete.
Behind those curtains, fires blaze in wood stoves and fireplaces, soups simmer in five quart pots, and beds are covered with flannel sheets and down comforters.
It is humankind's acknowledgment that nature still rules supreme. While we cannot sleep the months away as the bears do, we can still snuggle in our dens once our workday obligations are complete.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
The Unexpected
What do you do when your boss comes to you and says you've been selected to give an hour and a half presentation to a hundred people?
Perhaps you raise an eyebrow.
When the boss says the presentation is the next day you might get a little concerned.
When he tells you the format for the presentation still needs to be developed....
....you get more than a little concerned
What I've learned in putting this education piece together today is... no matter how much I plan, no matter how organized I am, I will always encounter the unexpected.
Here's hoping the hundred people who gather in the auditorium tomorrow will never know I wasn't planning on being there.
Perhaps you raise an eyebrow.
When the boss says the presentation is the next day you might get a little concerned.
When he tells you the format for the presentation still needs to be developed....
....you get more than a little concerned
What I've learned in putting this education piece together today is... no matter how much I plan, no matter how organized I am, I will always encounter the unexpected.
Here's hoping the hundred people who gather in the auditorium tomorrow will never know I wasn't planning on being there.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Life's Mysteries
Another mystery to solve....
Six weeks ago nearby farmers harvested their fields of hay, bundled their hay into rectangles the size of small cottages, stacked these bundles like they were building condos - and still those towers sit untouched.
Is this the ultimate in building green? Are the farmers waiting for the bundles of hay to petrify so the bundles can be hollowed out, then doors and windows added?
Perhaps the farmers are waiting for the hay to turn so crispy dry that the bundles spontaneously ignite and provide the heat for a record setting marshmallow toasting event.
When (if) the hay disappears how will I ever know what use it was put to? It's a question that will linger in my mind till the end of my days.
Six weeks ago nearby farmers harvested their fields of hay, bundled their hay into rectangles the size of small cottages, stacked these bundles like they were building condos - and still those towers sit untouched.
Is this the ultimate in building green? Are the farmers waiting for the bundles of hay to petrify so the bundles can be hollowed out, then doors and windows added?
Perhaps the farmers are waiting for the hay to turn so crispy dry that the bundles spontaneously ignite and provide the heat for a record setting marshmallow toasting event.
When (if) the hay disappears how will I ever know what use it was put to? It's a question that will linger in my mind till the end of my days.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Thinning Homes
As soon as I crested the hill I knew something was different.
The neighborhood below had changed. The houses looked - less there - as though they were thinning and slipping from view. Slipping, perhaps, into a different dimension.
It took me a few moments to realize the unusually heavy frost had turned black roofs to white, green lawns to silver and car exteriors to opaque crystals. Perhaps when the sun rose everything would be sparkling bright, but in the dim light of almost-dawn the scene was of a community that had gone ghostly pale.
Perhaps fitting for Halloween morn, but disconcerting enough to make me wonder if the houses were truly as substantial as they had been the day before.
The neighborhood below had changed. The houses looked - less there - as though they were thinning and slipping from view. Slipping, perhaps, into a different dimension.
It took me a few moments to realize the unusually heavy frost had turned black roofs to white, green lawns to silver and car exteriors to opaque crystals. Perhaps when the sun rose everything would be sparkling bright, but in the dim light of almost-dawn the scene was of a community that had gone ghostly pale.
Perhaps fitting for Halloween morn, but disconcerting enough to make me wonder if the houses were truly as substantial as they had been the day before.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
The Latest in Costumes
Ding-dong.... Trick or Treat
Oh, and what do we have here? Are you the Pillsbury Dough Boy?
No ma'am. I'm a snowman.
Snowman! A little early for that isn't it?
Not according to Mother Nature.
And who's your friend supposed to be.
He's Al Gore.
Really? He looks like a court jester.
Well ma'am, the two kind of go hand in hand don't they - I mean the whole global warming thing and all.
Oh, and what do we have here? Are you the Pillsbury Dough Boy?
No ma'am. I'm a snowman.
Snowman! A little early for that isn't it?
Not according to Mother Nature.
And who's your friend supposed to be.
He's Al Gore.
Really? He looks like a court jester.
Well ma'am, the two kind of go hand in hand don't they - I mean the whole global warming thing and all.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Slipping Away
The patchwork colors rippled beneath me and a pair of birds with five foot wingspans swooped down from above.
Trees sporting post-summer colors were reflected in the surface of the lake. The paddle that I dipped into the water stirred the colors the way a heavy wooden spoon swirls ingredients in a mixing bowl.
The birds turned out to be herons that had come to inspect the person slipping across the lake. The subject of their inspection was yours truly.
Along with other family members, I spent a beautiful sunny Sunday kayaking in Marsh Creek Lake. The outing represented my first kayaking experience in quiet waters - an activity I heartily recommend,
Trees sporting post-summer colors were reflected in the surface of the lake. The paddle that I dipped into the water stirred the colors the way a heavy wooden spoon swirls ingredients in a mixing bowl.
The birds turned out to be herons that had come to inspect the person slipping across the lake. The subject of their inspection was yours truly.
Along with other family members, I spent a beautiful sunny Sunday kayaking in Marsh Creek Lake. The outing represented my first kayaking experience in quiet waters - an activity I heartily recommend,
Monday, October 24, 2011
Filling the Hole to China
I've found the hole to China.
There is a pothole in our development that refuses to be filled. Time after time road crews have attempted to make the mini-crater go away by filling it with asphalt, stones, and probably anything else the crews can get their hands on. And time after time the pothole reappears.
Enough stuff has been poured into that hole that on the other side of the earth, at a point directly opposite the Delaware pothole, a mound of earth must be continually forming from the building pressure.
I'm picturing a resident of Shanghai unable to achieve Zen. Every weekend he rakes the sand in his Zen garden smooth - and by the following weekend the center of his garden has bulged upward like a volcano intruding on his sanctuary of peace.
By now the stressed out man in Shanghai has called in garden experts, geologists... and probably psychologists. All to no avail. For every time peace is in sight, a guy in Delaware starts the pressure building again.
There is a pothole in our development that refuses to be filled. Time after time road crews have attempted to make the mini-crater go away by filling it with asphalt, stones, and probably anything else the crews can get their hands on. And time after time the pothole reappears.
Enough stuff has been poured into that hole that on the other side of the earth, at a point directly opposite the Delaware pothole, a mound of earth must be continually forming from the building pressure.
I'm picturing a resident of Shanghai unable to achieve Zen. Every weekend he rakes the sand in his Zen garden smooth - and by the following weekend the center of his garden has bulged upward like a volcano intruding on his sanctuary of peace.
By now the stressed out man in Shanghai has called in garden experts, geologists... and probably psychologists. All to no avail. For every time peace is in sight, a guy in Delaware starts the pressure building again.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Birthday Bash
People yelling and screaming - shouts coming from all directions. Groups of people pushing forward in tight spaces while larger crowds surge past in endless streams. The unceasing noise of machinery at work.
No, it wasn't a disaster, nor was it a haunted house or fight film. It was Hershey Park after dark.
Friends and family of yours truly gathered in Hershey PA for the third annual Bruce's Birthday Bash with a single goal in mind - to ride every roller coaster in Hershey Amusement Park.
While we fell short of our goal due to circumstances beyond our control we had a blast trying. This annual event seems to grow a little larger every year and every year I enjoy it just as much or a little more.
No, it wasn't a disaster, nor was it a haunted house or fight film. It was Hershey Park after dark.
Friends and family of yours truly gathered in Hershey PA for the third annual Bruce's Birthday Bash with a single goal in mind - to ride every roller coaster in Hershey Amusement Park.
While we fell short of our goal due to circumstances beyond our control we had a blast trying. This annual event seems to grow a little larger every year and every year I enjoy it just as much or a little more.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Morning Universe
The windshield wipers moved at the speed of a marathon runner's pulse. Tail lights ahead flickered from individual pairs to blurred groups of four and six, then back again between each swipe of the wipers. Tires threw water into wheel wells with hurricane force, the express spray fountaining into the air where it mixed with driving rain to further reduce visibility.
Familiar bends in the road came up by surprise, hidden in the early morning darkness and sheets of falling water. The radio was drowned out by the thump of wipers and drumming of rain. The 120 cubic feet within my car was a universe unto itself - somehow managing to slip along without incident.
It is on mornings like this that I think workdays should be governed by the rising and the setting of the sun - not the hands of a clock.
Familiar bends in the road came up by surprise, hidden in the early morning darkness and sheets of falling water. The radio was drowned out by the thump of wipers and drumming of rain. The 120 cubic feet within my car was a universe unto itself - somehow managing to slip along without incident.
It is on mornings like this that I think workdays should be governed by the rising and the setting of the sun - not the hands of a clock.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Noooooo Pockets?
It's not enough that I have to remember my sleeve length and collar size when I'm shopping for dress shirts - now I need to remember to check for pockets too.
I made this discovery when I went to put my eyeglass case in the pocket of a new shirt - and the case landed on the toe of my shoe.
What the h... I managed to clip off the worst of the statement to save myself looking any more of a fool. Notice I say more of a fool because ten people around the meeting table had watched me try to put something in a pocket that wasn' t there.
Never , ever should a dress shirt be produced without a pocket so far as I'm concerned. But if pockets are in fact destined to be optional, then the packaging should clearly indicate the absence of a critical component. - I'm thinking this labeling would be a great come-back opportunity for Mr. Bill (from Saturday Night live) Oh Nooooooo.... Noooooo pockets!
I made this discovery when I went to put my eyeglass case in the pocket of a new shirt - and the case landed on the toe of my shoe.
What the h... I managed to clip off the worst of the statement to save myself looking any more of a fool. Notice I say more of a fool because ten people around the meeting table had watched me try to put something in a pocket that wasn' t there.
Never , ever should a dress shirt be produced without a pocket so far as I'm concerned. But if pockets are in fact destined to be optional, then the packaging should clearly indicate the absence of a critical component. - I'm thinking this labeling would be a great come-back opportunity for Mr. Bill (from Saturday Night live) Oh Nooooooo.... Noooooo pockets!
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Contentment
The sky was a solid sheet of royal blue. Not a single cloud interrupted the blue expanse. Miles off shore the sky converged with a sea of glass. Two flat plains meeting in a seamless line.
Enter a sleek yacht racing across the ocean. Engines rumbling in a deep roar, the yacht was a sparkling white arrow churning up foaming white plumes of water. The sun turned the foaming froth to a spray of sparking crystals that settled into a white trail slowly dissolving back into the water.
All in all, a moment in time that sang of happiness and content.
Enter a sleek yacht racing across the ocean. Engines rumbling in a deep roar, the yacht was a sparkling white arrow churning up foaming white plumes of water. The sun turned the foaming froth to a spray of sparking crystals that settled into a white trail slowly dissolving back into the water.
All in all, a moment in time that sang of happiness and content.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Invention Needed
The growing hours of darkness have brought me face to face (or eye to light) with perhaps my biggest pet peeve - cars with misaligned headlights.
I'm sure every driver has suffered through the misaligned headlight experience. The car on the far side of a divided four lane highway that somehow manages to shoot a halogen beam directly into your eyes. Or the car coming up from behind that lights up the interior of your car like a stage on broadway.
So I'm putting out a call to mechanical engineers everywhere. With all of the technology available these days, one of your has to be able to design a self-aligning headlight. Come on folks, create the invention of the decade and I'll personally worship at your doorstep every December 21st (the day with the most hours of darkness) for the next ten years.
Until that invention rolls onto the scene, I'm thinking I need to keep a hand-held mirror in my car so that I can return the offending beam of light to it's source.
I'm sure every driver has suffered through the misaligned headlight experience. The car on the far side of a divided four lane highway that somehow manages to shoot a halogen beam directly into your eyes. Or the car coming up from behind that lights up the interior of your car like a stage on broadway.
So I'm putting out a call to mechanical engineers everywhere. With all of the technology available these days, one of your has to be able to design a self-aligning headlight. Come on folks, create the invention of the decade and I'll personally worship at your doorstep every December 21st (the day with the most hours of darkness) for the next ten years.
Until that invention rolls onto the scene, I'm thinking I need to keep a hand-held mirror in my car so that I can return the offending beam of light to it's source.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Afraid of the Dark?
And you thought there was no reason to be afraid of the dark. You convinced yourself the boogeyman wasn't real, that no monsters lurked under your bed or in your closet. You laughed at yourself for ever having considered the old abandoned house on the dead end street might actually be haunted. Witches don't ride broomsticks, zombies don't dig their way out of graves, and vampires aren't waiting for your blood donation.
And then your whole belief system fell apart and you found yourself in mortal terror.
At least that's how it worked out for the family in Massachusetts who found themselves unable to escape a corn maze. Hopelessly lost in the terrifying world of dried corn stalks, the family used their cell phone to call 911.
Whose to say how they got so hopelessly turned around? Whose to say what evil was at work?
You just might want to get your feet off the floor as quickly as possible when you go to bed tonight.
And then your whole belief system fell apart and you found yourself in mortal terror.
At least that's how it worked out for the family in Massachusetts who found themselves unable to escape a corn maze. Hopelessly lost in the terrifying world of dried corn stalks, the family used their cell phone to call 911.
Whose to say how they got so hopelessly turned around? Whose to say what evil was at work?
You just might want to get your feet off the floor as quickly as possible when you go to bed tonight.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Thunder & Schedule
A quick programming note: I'll be teaching an evening class over the next few weeks which will impact my opportunities to visit the blogosphere. During this period I'll offer new musings as regularly as possible and hope that you will bear with me during this stretch.
Okay... on to why you tuned in.
I've been thinking more about that ghost crab (see yesterday's blog post) who had crawled out of his hole in the sand to study me.
I noticed the little critter scurried back into his hole with amazing speed anytime a person took a step or shuffled their feet within twenty feet of his home. And it occurred to me the crab must have been able to feel the vibrations running through the sand.
Which makes me wonder.... when a crab is nestled down it its den and a troop of children start running around do the sounds of those running feet echo like thunder below sand level? Do crabs click their claws, purse their lips, and swear to King Neptune that they're going to pinch the dickens out of those little human brats if they don't settle down?
Perhaps that's why the eyes of a ghost crab ride above the crab's shell. The subterranean thunder has popped those eyes loose.
Okay... on to why you tuned in.
I've been thinking more about that ghost crab (see yesterday's blog post) who had crawled out of his hole in the sand to study me.
I noticed the little critter scurried back into his hole with amazing speed anytime a person took a step or shuffled their feet within twenty feet of his home. And it occurred to me the crab must have been able to feel the vibrations running through the sand.
Which makes me wonder.... when a crab is nestled down it its den and a troop of children start running around do the sounds of those running feet echo like thunder below sand level? Do crabs click their claws, purse their lips, and swear to King Neptune that they're going to pinch the dickens out of those little human brats if they don't settle down?
Perhaps that's why the eyes of a ghost crab ride above the crab's shell. The subterranean thunder has popped those eyes loose.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Unwanted Attention
I had the feeling I was being watched.
It could have been any one of the hundreds of people sharing the beach with me today. I let my attention drift across the sunbathers nearest me. Not a single one seemed to be particularly interested in what I was doing. Drawing a cleansing breath, I returned to the book I was reading.
And had the feeling I was being watched.
I started to get to my feet in order to better survey the neighboring population when hurried movement caught my eye. There, just beyond my feet, were the jet black eyes of a ghost crab studying.... what? Surely the crab couldn't be interested in me. I certainly didn't represent a meal - unless the crab was planning a luau for it's thousand closest family members.
That thought was enough to cause me to get my feet back on the footrest attached to my camp chair.
Once again I returned to my book. And tried to ignore the unwanted attention.
It could have been any one of the hundreds of people sharing the beach with me today. I let my attention drift across the sunbathers nearest me. Not a single one seemed to be particularly interested in what I was doing. Drawing a cleansing breath, I returned to the book I was reading.
And had the feeling I was being watched.
I started to get to my feet in order to better survey the neighboring population when hurried movement caught my eye. There, just beyond my feet, were the jet black eyes of a ghost crab studying.... what? Surely the crab couldn't be interested in me. I certainly didn't represent a meal - unless the crab was planning a luau for it's thousand closest family members.
That thought was enough to cause me to get my feet back on the footrest attached to my camp chair.
Once again I returned to my book. And tried to ignore the unwanted attention.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Read This and Get Smart
It turns out I'm helping you expand your horizons- perhaps even get that promotion you want.
It seems reading blogs can increase both brain power and productivity. An article on the subject even goes so far as to suggest bosses would get more out of their employees if the employees were encouraged to read blogs whenever they feel their brainpower dwindling.
Of course there's the whole issue of just which blogs a worker might be found reading.... which makes Sea Zens the perfect choice. A quick shot of non-controversial brain juice.
I can straighten my shoulders and hold my head high knowing I'm improving the quality of lives everywhere.
It seems reading blogs can increase both brain power and productivity. An article on the subject even goes so far as to suggest bosses would get more out of their employees if the employees were encouraged to read blogs whenever they feel their brainpower dwindling.
Of course there's the whole issue of just which blogs a worker might be found reading.... which makes Sea Zens the perfect choice. A quick shot of non-controversial brain juice.
I can straighten my shoulders and hold my head high knowing I'm improving the quality of lives everywhere.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
A Gathering of Flies
Somehow I'm never prepared for the onslaught of fruit flies. I always expect to see them during... well... fruit season. And perhaps that's when they used to arrive, but lately they seem to fly in on the heels of the post-summer harvest.
I lifted the lid of the kitchen waste can tonight and a tornado of the microscopic insects rose to greet me. The cloud that followed me around while I tried to prepare dinner rivaled the dirt storm that follows the Peanuts character Pig Pen.
Someone once told me that if you put some apple cider vinegar in the bottom of a glass, fruit flies will inch down for a few sips - and then die.
Well the insects in our neck of the woods seem to thrive on the vinegar the way old grandpa Jake thrives on moonshine up there in the thickets of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I put the glass of apple cider vinegar on the counter and sure enough the fruit flies honed in - but only one or two succumbed. The rest seem to be spreading word there's good drinkin' in the local area. My glass of vinegar has turned into the local watering hole. Soon there will be enough of the critters to carry the glass off to wherever they want to set up party headquarters.
I'll be happy to transport the glass to wherever they want to go - I won't even charge a deposit.
I lifted the lid of the kitchen waste can tonight and a tornado of the microscopic insects rose to greet me. The cloud that followed me around while I tried to prepare dinner rivaled the dirt storm that follows the Peanuts character Pig Pen.
Someone once told me that if you put some apple cider vinegar in the bottom of a glass, fruit flies will inch down for a few sips - and then die.
Well the insects in our neck of the woods seem to thrive on the vinegar the way old grandpa Jake thrives on moonshine up there in the thickets of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I put the glass of apple cider vinegar on the counter and sure enough the fruit flies honed in - but only one or two succumbed. The rest seem to be spreading word there's good drinkin' in the local area. My glass of vinegar has turned into the local watering hole. Soon there will be enough of the critters to carry the glass off to wherever they want to set up party headquarters.
I'll be happy to transport the glass to wherever they want to go - I won't even charge a deposit.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Take a Right at Mt. Everest
I came home tonight through the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains. At least that's how it appeared.
Off to my right a landscape of towering mountains rose into the sky. The clouds were so thick, numerous, and low I could have sworn I was looking at shadowed valleys nestled between snow covered peaks.
The hidden sun illuminated the white peaks in such a way that they glowed from within - as though the snow had thinned to a veil over a bubbling volcano.
This has been one of the few benefits of the recent unseasonal weather - a slide show of varying terrains to be enjoyed at the end of the day.
Off to my right a landscape of towering mountains rose into the sky. The clouds were so thick, numerous, and low I could have sworn I was looking at shadowed valleys nestled between snow covered peaks.
The hidden sun illuminated the white peaks in such a way that they glowed from within - as though the snow had thinned to a veil over a bubbling volcano.
This has been one of the few benefits of the recent unseasonal weather - a slide show of varying terrains to be enjoyed at the end of the day.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
What Happened Here?
The brick chimney stood impossibly alone in the middle of the otherwise empty field. The house that had once been attached to the chimney had obviously been at least a two story affair. The still standing tower of brick made me wonder if gravity had chosen to ignore this patch of land.
As much as I wondered about the longevity of the chimney, I wondered even more about what had happened to the house. How could it be that a home attached to such a sturdy tower could not still be standing? I saw no scorching on the brick - which ruled out fire. Intentional demolition would certainly have leveled the chimney as well as the house. So just what had happened here?
As much as I wondered about the longevity of the chimney, I wondered even more about what had happened to the house. How could it be that a home attached to such a sturdy tower could not still be standing? I saw no scorching on the brick - which ruled out fire. Intentional demolition would certainly have leveled the chimney as well as the house. So just what had happened here?
Thursday, September 29, 2011
A Good Year for Soy
On those mornings when I start my day with a bowl of cereal I use soy milk. Studying the carton today I noticed for the first time that the carton says the product is made from North American soybeans.
... And I got to wondering. Are soybeans like grapes? Do soybeans from South America or Europe have a different flavor than those grown in the U.S.? Are there good years and bad? Should I be watching for an opportunity to pick a carton of milk distilled from the Carolina bean of 2010?
Now I'm going to have to study the labeling on competing brands - and perhaps start a soy milk tasting club.
... And I got to wondering. Are soybeans like grapes? Do soybeans from South America or Europe have a different flavor than those grown in the U.S.? Are there good years and bad? Should I be watching for an opportunity to pick a carton of milk distilled from the Carolina bean of 2010?
Now I'm going to have to study the labeling on competing brands - and perhaps start a soy milk tasting club.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Crying Uncle
Apart from momentary breaks in the cloud cover, we haven't seen sun here in twenty-four days.
When I walked out of the office building today and discovered the ground to be dry I actually started looking forward to going home and mowing the lawn - just because it meant being able to be outside.
Mow the lawn I did - and finished just before another rain front moved in.
Uncle! I give up already? Bring the sun back!
When I walked out of the office building today and discovered the ground to be dry I actually started looking forward to going home and mowing the lawn - just because it meant being able to be outside.
Mow the lawn I did - and finished just before another rain front moved in.
Uncle! I give up already? Bring the sun back!
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The Next Market Craze
I've discovered the makings of a cottage industry right in my own backyard. A product that's environmentally friendly, all natural, and affordable.
This epiphany came to me as I walked past the backyard pond and heard the surprised squeak of frogs as they leaped from stone outcroppings into the safety of the water.
You might never have noticed, but a surprised frog makes a sound that's a cross between a high pitched YIKES! and the squeak of an infant's toy.
... So why pollute the world with synthetic fabric, squeakers, and non-recyclable packing when you can just hand a kid a frog?
Yep... that's my business idea. A frog for every crib. And if a baby sticks its new toy in its mouth... well the frog is completely natural after all.
Now I just have to figure out how to apply food coloring to the frogs. Perhaps a few ponds with a different color of water in each. Color and size options. Yep, that will do it. Frogs for every occasion.
This epiphany came to me as I walked past the backyard pond and heard the surprised squeak of frogs as they leaped from stone outcroppings into the safety of the water.
You might never have noticed, but a surprised frog makes a sound that's a cross between a high pitched YIKES! and the squeak of an infant's toy.
... So why pollute the world with synthetic fabric, squeakers, and non-recyclable packing when you can just hand a kid a frog?
Yep... that's my business idea. A frog for every crib. And if a baby sticks its new toy in its mouth... well the frog is completely natural after all.
Now I just have to figure out how to apply food coloring to the frogs. Perhaps a few ponds with a different color of water in each. Color and size options. Yep, that will do it. Frogs for every occasion.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Night Life
It was a night when sleep lingered just out of reach. A night when the first hours of the new day were announced by the chiming of the mantle clock.. one o'clock, two o'clock.
Warm tea, hot totties, dry books, all failed to take me into the land of dreams.
The tiniest of noises competed for attention until it seemed I must be in the middle of some midnight workshop. LED displays on microwaves, cable boxes, and clocks put out megawatts of light. The shadows cast as I shuffled past these devices were misshapen things that had me wondering about my true identity.
Each mirror, window, and glass-framed picture presented an opportunity to catch a reflection of those ethereal creatures that slink about only in the deadest parts of the night. Not only the hairs on the back of my neck, but those on my arms and legs stood at attention. Nerve endings tingled with racing electric currents.
The hour hand of the clock was nearly on the three when I finally drifted off ... for my two and-a-half hours of sleep. I was roused not by the alarm but by the scraping scales of night creatures slithering from the light of false dawn.
Warm tea, hot totties, dry books, all failed to take me into the land of dreams.
The tiniest of noises competed for attention until it seemed I must be in the middle of some midnight workshop. LED displays on microwaves, cable boxes, and clocks put out megawatts of light. The shadows cast as I shuffled past these devices were misshapen things that had me wondering about my true identity.
Each mirror, window, and glass-framed picture presented an opportunity to catch a reflection of those ethereal creatures that slink about only in the deadest parts of the night. Not only the hairs on the back of my neck, but those on my arms and legs stood at attention. Nerve endings tingled with racing electric currents.
The hour hand of the clock was nearly on the three when I finally drifted off ... for my two and-a-half hours of sleep. I was roused not by the alarm but by the scraping scales of night creatures slithering from the light of false dawn.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Make Believe World
I'm starting work on a new children's book. It begins like this:
Tommy knew it was all make believe. Still he loved to listen to his grandfather's stories of a world where a yellow sun hung in the sky, green things grew tall and full, and people went out of doors without so much as an umbrella.
Tommy tried to imagine what it would be like to go outside without rubber boots on your feet or to feel sweat running down your back even when you were standing still. But no matter how hard he worked at it he just couldn't get those things to stick in his mind.
Then came the day that changed Tommy's life. His older sister, Rachel, got a job working in something called a greenhouse. Tommy went with his mother to pick Rachel up from work. A friendly man in blue overalls and a straw hat, a man Rachel called Boss, asked Tommy if he'd like to see where his sister worked. Tommy nodded and was out of the car faster than rain pouring out of a downspout.
Boss opened the door of a building shaped like the top half of a tunnel. Tommy stepped inside and nearly tripped over his own feet. Rather than a long dark tube, the inside of the building blazed with light from hundreds of bulbs. Long rows of low tables held more plants than Tommy had ever seen in one place. Granddad's imaginary world had come to life.
Tommy knew it was all make believe. Still he loved to listen to his grandfather's stories of a world where a yellow sun hung in the sky, green things grew tall and full, and people went out of doors without so much as an umbrella.
Tommy tried to imagine what it would be like to go outside without rubber boots on your feet or to feel sweat running down your back even when you were standing still. But no matter how hard he worked at it he just couldn't get those things to stick in his mind.
Then came the day that changed Tommy's life. His older sister, Rachel, got a job working in something called a greenhouse. Tommy went with his mother to pick Rachel up from work. A friendly man in blue overalls and a straw hat, a man Rachel called Boss, asked Tommy if he'd like to see where his sister worked. Tommy nodded and was out of the car faster than rain pouring out of a downspout.
Boss opened the door of a building shaped like the top half of a tunnel. Tommy stepped inside and nearly tripped over his own feet. Rather than a long dark tube, the inside of the building blazed with light from hundreds of bulbs. Long rows of low tables held more plants than Tommy had ever seen in one place. Granddad's imaginary world had come to life.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Mud Bog Morning
After a seemingly endless series of dreary and rainy days, my energy has drained into the already over saturated ground. Getting out of the house in the morning has been taking a little longer each day.
I usually arrive at work ten to fifteen minutes early. Today I just knew I was going to be walking through the front door of the office building without a moment to spare.
So I was surprised to find myself sharing the roads with the same delivery trucks, school buses, and memorably decorated cars that I see on a routine basis.
Apparently folks throughout are region are suffering the same mud bog effects. Regardless of our efforts, we just can't work ourselves free of mental muck.
I usually arrive at work ten to fifteen minutes early. Today I just knew I was going to be walking through the front door of the office building without a moment to spare.
So I was surprised to find myself sharing the roads with the same delivery trucks, school buses, and memorably decorated cars that I see on a routine basis.
Apparently folks throughout are region are suffering the same mud bog effects. Regardless of our efforts, we just can't work ourselves free of mental muck.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Bovine Weather Report
Seeing the two cows lying side by side made me think of the belief that cows lie down when it's going to rain.
But what about when they just plain get tired?
I can imagine the bovine conversations:
Millie my hooves are killing me - I've just got to lie down.
Pull yourself together, Myrtle. There isn't any rain on the way. The farmer will think you've lost your mind, or worse yet, have mad cow disease, if you lie down now.
But, Millie, they've been feeding us so much! I've gained twenty pounds in the past week!
That's the general idea, Myrtle.
But look at my legs - they're shaking from the strain!
Why don't you go lean against that post, Myrtle?
Millie! Have you lost your mind? The wire that gives shocks is attached to that post!
Hmmm. Yes. But it'll take your mind off of your tired legs.
But what about when they just plain get tired?
I can imagine the bovine conversations:
Millie my hooves are killing me - I've just got to lie down.
Pull yourself together, Myrtle. There isn't any rain on the way. The farmer will think you've lost your mind, or worse yet, have mad cow disease, if you lie down now.
But, Millie, they've been feeding us so much! I've gained twenty pounds in the past week!
That's the general idea, Myrtle.
But look at my legs - they're shaking from the strain!
Why don't you go lean against that post, Myrtle?
Millie! Have you lost your mind? The wire that gives shocks is attached to that post!
Hmmm. Yes. But it'll take your mind off of your tired legs.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Head East Young Man
It seems a reverse migration is under way. Here in Delaware I have been seeing an increasing number of cars with license plates from California, Utah, Nevada, and even Alaska.
I'm not sure if folks have come east in search of fortunes or if they've been transferred by their employers.
It it's fortunes they're after I'm afraid there's no gold in these here parts - unless of course this is just a rest stop on the way to Fort Knox.
We don't hear much about Fort Knox anymore. Perhaps because there's nothing left to lock up.
I'm not sure if folks have come east in search of fortunes or if they've been transferred by their employers.
It it's fortunes they're after I'm afraid there's no gold in these here parts - unless of course this is just a rest stop on the way to Fort Knox.
We don't hear much about Fort Knox anymore. Perhaps because there's nothing left to lock up.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
The Invisible Front
Motivated Mom and I were traveling this weekend. As we drove along the interstate, we watched drivers weaving in and out, side to side, fast and slow, all in hopes of making it to the front of the line. A line that had no front, for the steady lines of cars went on for as far as we could see.
Inevitably we ended up closing in on those same cars a few miles ahead - all the other drivers' boobing and weaving having been for naught.
While Motivated Mom and I had shared snacks and stories - those other anxious drivers had no doubt driven their blood pressures to the boiling point.
And for what?
Inevitably we ended up closing in on those same cars a few miles ahead - all the other drivers' boobing and weaving having been for naught.
While Motivated Mom and I had shared snacks and stories - those other anxious drivers had no doubt driven their blood pressures to the boiling point.
And for what?
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Risk Management
The company name on the back of the box truck read Basketville Casket Company. Higher up on the rear door was the message Please Drive Carefully.
Considering the nature of the business, it seemed to me the message would be to encourage risky driving.
Considering the nature of the business, it seemed to me the message would be to encourage risky driving.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Time Slip Confirmed
Some of you may remember that back in June (June 8 to be exact) I was postulating that seasons had gone out of whack and were changing a month or two sooner than the dates on the calendar.
Back then I was commenting that June felt like August and that when August finally rolled around we would be in a chill down.
I wasn't far off considering the early morning temperatures of the past week have driven me to the back of my closest in search of sweatshirts.
But I'm taking heart and looking at the positive side of things. The return of hot weather is two months closer than the calendar reports. I'll be breaking the shorts and sandals back out in late March.
Back then I was commenting that June felt like August and that when August finally rolled around we would be in a chill down.
I wasn't far off considering the early morning temperatures of the past week have driven me to the back of my closest in search of sweatshirts.
But I'm taking heart and looking at the positive side of things. The return of hot weather is two months closer than the calendar reports. I'll be breaking the shorts and sandals back out in late March.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Sun Embryo
If you believe everything you read in the Farmer's Almanac, then for every heavy fog that occurs during the season formally known as Autumn, there will be a snow event during the typically frigid months of the year.
So I'm grateful that we have not yet reached the Post-Summer equinox because I'd need an extra set of fingers to count all of the foggy mornings we've had recently.
More often than not it seems, the sun as been muted in the hours that it first breaks the horizon. Turned to rusty yellow by the damp air, the sun has looked like the yoke of a fertilized egg floating in watery lemon-lime jello.
So I'm grateful that we have not yet reached the Post-Summer equinox because I'd need an extra set of fingers to count all of the foggy mornings we've had recently.
More often than not it seems, the sun as been muted in the hours that it first breaks the horizon. Turned to rusty yellow by the damp air, the sun has looked like the yoke of a fertilized egg floating in watery lemon-lime jello.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Set a Course...Engage
What were you doing September 8, 1966? If you were at least eight years old at the time, there's a decent chance you were watching the first episode of Star Trek.
It seems scarily coincidental that mere days after the 45th Anniversary of Star Trek's first showing I should find myself reading about HD 85512 b - a planet that has been categorized as a super-earth.
It seems HD 85512 b lies 36 light years away in the constellation Vela. -- I can hear that sentence slipping out of the mouth of either Captain Kirk or Captain Picard. The only words missing are set a course and engage.
When I read that astronomers consider HD 85512 b to be relatively close to our own Earth, I did some investigating.
It would take a little over 76,000 earth years for a NASA space shuttle to travel 1 light year. Making HD 85512 b nearly 3 million earth years away. Mr. Scott really needs to get those warp engines on line.
It seems scarily coincidental that mere days after the 45th Anniversary of Star Trek's first showing I should find myself reading about HD 85512 b - a planet that has been categorized as a super-earth.
It seems HD 85512 b lies 36 light years away in the constellation Vela. -- I can hear that sentence slipping out of the mouth of either Captain Kirk or Captain Picard. The only words missing are set a course and engage.
When I read that astronomers consider HD 85512 b to be relatively close to our own Earth, I did some investigating.
It would take a little over 76,000 earth years for a NASA space shuttle to travel 1 light year. Making HD 85512 b nearly 3 million earth years away. Mr. Scott really needs to get those warp engines on line.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Turbulence
The day has rolled by like time lapse photography. Fog, sun, clouds, showers, sun, clouds, sun, showers, sun, thunderstorms - the weather has changed on half hour intervals.
Now a full moon hangs in a sparsely clouded sky. A calm after a long day of battles - or a quiet breath before the next transition.
It occurs to me today has been a snapshot of life. Turbulence with intermittent sunshine. Precious are the moments of peace.
Now a full moon hangs in a sparsely clouded sky. A calm after a long day of battles - or a quiet breath before the next transition.
It occurs to me today has been a snapshot of life. Turbulence with intermittent sunshine. Precious are the moments of peace.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Home or Mordor?
It was as though the world had turned upside down and the top of my car was pointing toward the ground. Below...errr... above me was a muddied stretch of landscape broken by a bright blue river weaving crookedly but nevertheless clearly differentiating north from south. The "river" ran from western to eastern horizon. To the south more of the muddied landscape disappeared into an early evening haze.
I was almost hesitant to continue on, reluctant to cross to the far side of the inviting blue. I felt a little like Frodo standing at the edge of The Shire and looking off toward Mordor. Still, to the south was home, so I ventured on.
I was almost hesitant to continue on, reluctant to cross to the far side of the inviting blue. I felt a little like Frodo standing at the edge of The Shire and looking off toward Mordor. Still, to the south was home, so I ventured on.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Perfect Zen
My friend sat on the floor with her legs crossed; her feet impossibly positioned on opposing thighs, soles of her feet facing upward. She sat with her back straight and arms extended, wrists resting on her knees. Her thumbs an forefingers, touching at the tips, formed perfect O's.
Halfway to the floor I had given up achieving a similar position, choosing instead to settle into the recliner.
Your body is a temple, my friend said. If the best you can do is lower your bulk into a chair what does that say about your spiritual health?
It says, I replied, that I have achieved perfect zen. I acknowledge that you are you, I am I, and all is as it is meant to be.
Halfway to the floor I had given up achieving a similar position, choosing instead to settle into the recliner.
Your body is a temple, my friend said. If the best you can do is lower your bulk into a chair what does that say about your spiritual health?
It says, I replied, that I have achieved perfect zen. I acknowledge that you are you, I am I, and all is as it is meant to be.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Bethany's Blues
The folks who frequent Bethany Beach, DE know there's only one thing to do when the last official day of summer vacation season winds down - schedule a funeral.
And that's just what they did. They held a funeral for Summer complete with open casket and tombstone. The mourners, may dressed in black, processed down the boardwalk to carry the casket to it's final resting place.
No one wanted to mothball summer's happy memories, so the funeral had a jazz-fest theme to give appropriate balance to the somber occasion.
While I'm far from ready to give up on the summer mentality, I can empathize with these folks. Though there are still plenty of warm summer days ahead, the recent evening chills are constant reminders that post-summer is knocking at the door. The handing off of the baton brings a mix of emotions that seem best expressed by the fluctuating moods of jazz and blues.
The reassuring thing about yesterday's funeral - it's guaranteed a successful exhumation and reincarnation are ahead.
And that's just what they did. They held a funeral for Summer complete with open casket and tombstone. The mourners, may dressed in black, processed down the boardwalk to carry the casket to it's final resting place.
No one wanted to mothball summer's happy memories, so the funeral had a jazz-fest theme to give appropriate balance to the somber occasion.
While I'm far from ready to give up on the summer mentality, I can empathize with these folks. Though there are still plenty of warm summer days ahead, the recent evening chills are constant reminders that post-summer is knocking at the door. The handing off of the baton brings a mix of emotions that seem best expressed by the fluctuating moods of jazz and blues.
The reassuring thing about yesterday's funeral - it's guaranteed a successful exhumation and reincarnation are ahead.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Measuring Memories
We spent the weekend creating resilient memories.
While each and every moment of each and every life becomes a memory, the strongest memories are those created from either a spike of emotion or a gathering of friends.
This weekend was filled with friends and family gathered in the kitchen, around the dining room table, and on the beach. Stories were shared, laughter was passed around, and comfortable yawns became contagious.
As the weekend drew to a close, each of us headed back to our schedules with our own special memories of the weekend - memories given strength by the number of people who shared them - memories crafted into far more than a fleeting remembrance.
While each and every moment of each and every life becomes a memory, the strongest memories are those created from either a spike of emotion or a gathering of friends.
This weekend was filled with friends and family gathered in the kitchen, around the dining room table, and on the beach. Stories were shared, laughter was passed around, and comfortable yawns became contagious.
As the weekend drew to a close, each of us headed back to our schedules with our own special memories of the weekend - memories given strength by the number of people who shared them - memories crafted into far more than a fleeting remembrance.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Costume Change
The early morning attire of dog walkers has changed from shorts and t-shirts to jeans and sweatshirts.
It is a sight I welcome about as much as a pig welcomes the sight of catering truck pulling a barbecue spit.
It doesn't seem right that the last "official" summer weekend should be one in which temperatures are projected to struggle to remain in the 70's during the day.
Speaking of the Labor Day weekend - here's wishing everyone a safe and happy holiday. For those of you who will continue to labor on hurricane cleanup, I salute your dedication.
It is a sight I welcome about as much as a pig welcomes the sight of catering truck pulling a barbecue spit.
It doesn't seem right that the last "official" summer weekend should be one in which temperatures are projected to struggle to remain in the 70's during the day.
Speaking of the Labor Day weekend - here's wishing everyone a safe and happy holiday. For those of you who will continue to labor on hurricane cleanup, I salute your dedication.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
The Chair That Wounds
You know how it is - you stub your big toe on the leg of a chair and for the next week you are ultra concious of all the furniture in your home. Just walking past the couch and realizing you forgot to put your sneakers on is enough to make you flinch. But ultimately the furniture fades into the background again, and you routinely forget to consider shoes again.
Right now everyone on the eastern seaboard is flinching over the word hurricane. The aftermath is still a fresh wound. We easterners need to let Irene fade into memory. But it seems that's not destined to happen with the news media shouting out to the world that another potential storm is forming in the Atlantic Ocean.
Could the news folks maybe just wait until there's a little more info before dragging that "chair" back out in front of us again?
Right now everyone on the eastern seaboard is flinching over the word hurricane. The aftermath is still a fresh wound. We easterners need to let Irene fade into memory. But it seems that's not destined to happen with the news media shouting out to the world that another potential storm is forming in the Atlantic Ocean.
Could the news folks maybe just wait until there's a little more info before dragging that "chair" back out in front of us again?
Monday, August 29, 2011
A Setting for the Zone
...and so everyone rushed to the shoreline to see what Irene had wrought.
But while most of the curious snapped photographs of the depleted beach, one gentleman turned his camera AWAY from the ocean. Looking over my shoulder I discovered what had captured his attention. On a Sunday morning in August the main drag in Rehoboth Beach was virtually deserted.
If ever there was a setting for the Twilight Zone this was it. Thousands of people gone overnight, turning a tourist destination into a ghost town. Which had me wondering if those few people around me were really there at all....
But while most of the curious snapped photographs of the depleted beach, one gentleman turned his camera AWAY from the ocean. Looking over my shoulder I discovered what had captured his attention. On a Sunday morning in August the main drag in Rehoboth Beach was virtually deserted.
If ever there was a setting for the Twilight Zone this was it. Thousands of people gone overnight, turning a tourist destination into a ghost town. Which had me wondering if those few people around me were really there at all....
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Travelling Show
I've had a glimpse of what it's like to work in a circus. Pack everything up - wait a day or two - and then unpack everything again.
Hurricane Irene had me packing up all of our outdoor furniture, screen room, flower planters, barbecue grill, riding mower, and more. I took the screens out of windows, filled coolers with ice, and filled buckets with water.
Two days later I dumped out the water and ice, put the screens back in the windows, and reestablished our outdoor living spaces.
I can check working in a circus off my bucket list - this weekend's small taste was more than enough.
Hurricane Irene had me packing up all of our outdoor furniture, screen room, flower planters, barbecue grill, riding mower, and more. I took the screens out of windows, filled coolers with ice, and filled buckets with water.
Two days later I dumped out the water and ice, put the screens back in the windows, and reestablished our outdoor living spaces.
I can check working in a circus off my bucket list - this weekend's small taste was more than enough.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Priorities
Just as I was leaving work today, notification came that the Governor was declaring a state of emergency due to Hurricane Irene. Which meant my first stop was going to be the grocery store to stock up on drinking water and canned meals in the event of an extended utilities disruption.
I put a call into Media Girl, explained the situation, and asked if there was anything in particular she wanted from the store working on the assumption we would be without electricity for three days.
The first item on her list.... Cool Ranch Doritos. I guess we all have our priorities.
Here's hoping we ride out the storm okay.
I put a call into Media Girl, explained the situation, and asked if there was anything in particular she wanted from the store working on the assumption we would be without electricity for three days.
The first item on her list.... Cool Ranch Doritos. I guess we all have our priorities.
Here's hoping we ride out the storm okay.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Buttoned Up
Tonight's setting sun was woven through the clouds like a button being pushed through the buttonhole of a garment. The yellow orb stood bright against the purple-gray clouds that spoke of more than just an ordinary sunset. Given the hurricane in the forecast I question whether the sun can keep the fabric of calm fastened.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Land or Sea?
One of the things I enjoy doing on a hot summer day is floating on my back in the ocean. So I'm fairly well acquainted with the rocking motion that comes from drifting over ocean swells.
If I spend a lot of time in the water on a given day, that sense of rocking sometimes reoccurs when I lay down in bed at night.
But never have I had an entire office rock back and forth.
That's exactly what happened today when the earthquake shook the east coast. The concrete floor rolled beneath me, the walls creaked around me, pencils on my desk fell to the floor. It was as though my office had been transported to the bridge of a ship.
It was quite an unnerving experience. One I hope never to experience again.
If I spend a lot of time in the water on a given day, that sense of rocking sometimes reoccurs when I lay down in bed at night.
But never have I had an entire office rock back and forth.
That's exactly what happened today when the earthquake shook the east coast. The concrete floor rolled beneath me, the walls creaked around me, pencils on my desk fell to the floor. It was as though my office had been transported to the bridge of a ship.
It was quite an unnerving experience. One I hope never to experience again.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Idle Time
Twenty miles north of me there is a stretch of road dotted by houses the size of postage stamps. The road is a four lane divided highway that was once a rural two lane thoroughfare. Well, rural by today's standards but back when it was first carved through farm country I'm sure the road was nothing short of impressive.
The houses that seem barley large enough to contain an eat-in kitchen, living room, bath, and one or two bedrooms reflect the fact that the area used to be farm land. I suspect the houses were once called home by working hands.
Today the tiny houses seem completely out of place; for as the roadway widened and traffic increased car dealerships and other business establishments bought up the crop lands. These cottages are now fronted by miles of asphalt and hundreds of high intensity sodium lights.
I can't help but wonder what the folks who used to sit in wooden rockers on the front porches of those homes would think if they returned today. Perhaps they would feel it was time to level the homes and move on 'cause inhaling gasoline and diesel exhaust ain't to way to pass whatever idle time you might be gifted with.
The houses that seem barley large enough to contain an eat-in kitchen, living room, bath, and one or two bedrooms reflect the fact that the area used to be farm land. I suspect the houses were once called home by working hands.
Today the tiny houses seem completely out of place; for as the roadway widened and traffic increased car dealerships and other business establishments bought up the crop lands. These cottages are now fronted by miles of asphalt and hundreds of high intensity sodium lights.
I can't help but wonder what the folks who used to sit in wooden rockers on the front porches of those homes would think if they returned today. Perhaps they would feel it was time to level the homes and move on 'cause inhaling gasoline and diesel exhaust ain't to way to pass whatever idle time you might be gifted with.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Lone Walker
Gusting afternoon winds were sending sheets of sand swirling down the beach. There were times when visibility was reduced to less than a hundred feet.
Beach goers had erected wind breaks of all kinds: chairs turned on edge, towels stretched between chairs, boogie boards set like pickets in a fence. Motivated Mom and I had tilted our umbrella on its side and placed our chairs within the striped shelter.
From out of the swirling sand came a bikini-clad woman strolling casually down the beach. She appeared from the "white out" the way Clint Eastwood appears from the heat vapors on a barren desert. While everyone else was huddled in shelter from the stinging sand this one woman strolled the beach without so much as a pair of sunglasses to shield her eyes.
I watched as she approached, passed, and then disappeared back into the blowing sand - wondering at her ability to withstand the onslaught.
Beach goers had erected wind breaks of all kinds: chairs turned on edge, towels stretched between chairs, boogie boards set like pickets in a fence. Motivated Mom and I had tilted our umbrella on its side and placed our chairs within the striped shelter.
From out of the swirling sand came a bikini-clad woman strolling casually down the beach. She appeared from the "white out" the way Clint Eastwood appears from the heat vapors on a barren desert. While everyone else was huddled in shelter from the stinging sand this one woman strolled the beach without so much as a pair of sunglasses to shield her eyes.
I watched as she approached, passed, and then disappeared back into the blowing sand - wondering at her ability to withstand the onslaught.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Frogestra
The recent rains have led to the resurrection of the amphibian orchestra.
Hot, dry, quiet nights are thing of the past now that water loving creatures of the night have something to sing about. The concert builds nightly from a simplistic overture to amazingly complex sets of music.
The beginning act consists of the bullfrog section sending base notes vibrating into the dusk. Then the tree frogs join with their enthusiastic staccato mid-range. As the darkness deepens the fluctuating chirping and buzzing of a multitude of pond dwellers brings the night fully alive.
The layers of sound become tangible things that I feel I could almost pull apart. Of course do to that I'd have to get right up to the edge of the pond, and by the time I got that the close the decibels would have set my ears ringing and the gradients of music would be lost to me.
I'll just have to settle for being a distant aficionado.
Hot, dry, quiet nights are thing of the past now that water loving creatures of the night have something to sing about. The concert builds nightly from a simplistic overture to amazingly complex sets of music.
The beginning act consists of the bullfrog section sending base notes vibrating into the dusk. Then the tree frogs join with their enthusiastic staccato mid-range. As the darkness deepens the fluctuating chirping and buzzing of a multitude of pond dwellers brings the night fully alive.
The layers of sound become tangible things that I feel I could almost pull apart. Of course do to that I'd have to get right up to the edge of the pond, and by the time I got that the close the decibels would have set my ears ringing and the gradients of music would be lost to me.
I'll just have to settle for being a distant aficionado.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Homeward Imaginings
Straight ahead of me the mare leaping over a hedgerow changed into a shark gliding near the surface of the ocean before morphing into Sonic the Hedgehog burying his way into shadows.
While all of those changes were going on, off to my left a dark cauldron of boiling and bubbling liquid transitioned to a blindingly bright bouquet of marshmallows.
Such was the entertainment provided by the rapidly shifting clouds during my drive home. A drive that seemed to go by in a fraction of the normal time given my wandering attention. While I appreciated the opportunity to let my imagination run wild, I was sorry I couldn't have spent the day lying on my back and wholly losing myself to the sky.
While all of those changes were going on, off to my left a dark cauldron of boiling and bubbling liquid transitioned to a blindingly bright bouquet of marshmallows.
Such was the entertainment provided by the rapidly shifting clouds during my drive home. A drive that seemed to go by in a fraction of the normal time given my wandering attention. While I appreciated the opportunity to let my imagination run wild, I was sorry I couldn't have spent the day lying on my back and wholly losing myself to the sky.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Double Your Pleasure
It's nice to know that in this age of video games, cell phones, and fast food people of all ages can still be wowed by nature.
Such was the case when the double rainbow appeared in the sky yesterday afternoon. The event was cause for everyone in the house to troop down the front steps and stare in fascination.
Stories slipped from everyone's lips - nearly all the stories beginning with: I remember the last time I saw...
I had been present for more than one of those last times and my mind replayed the scenes in vivid detail.
Which served as a reminder to me that the human brain remains the most amazing computer of all. Couple that natural memory chip with Mother Nature's inspiration and you get unsurpassable pleasure.
Such was the case when the double rainbow appeared in the sky yesterday afternoon. The event was cause for everyone in the house to troop down the front steps and stare in fascination.
Stories slipped from everyone's lips - nearly all the stories beginning with: I remember the last time I saw...
I had been present for more than one of those last times and my mind replayed the scenes in vivid detail.
Which served as a reminder to me that the human brain remains the most amazing computer of all. Couple that natural memory chip with Mother Nature's inspiration and you get unsurpassable pleasure.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Inside Voice Please
I realized immediately I should have used my inside voice.
The immediate and extended family was spending the day at the beach. Somewhere around high noon, Media Girl and I ventured into the surf for a reprieve from the building heat. After diving into a series of breaking waves, we got our feet under us.
By a pure stroke of luck, we found ourselves looking out toward the horizon when a seven foot long creature leapt straight out of the ocean. The breathtaking event happened some hundred yards off shore, but I was still able to recognize the distinctive shape of a sand shark.
Did you see that shark? I asked Media Girl. That was awesome!
Voices sounded all around me. Shark? Where? Do we need to get out of the water?
I knew a sand shark wouldn't be a threat to the swimmers, but no one stuck around long enough for me to explain that.
Yep, I definitely should have used my inside voice.
The immediate and extended family was spending the day at the beach. Somewhere around high noon, Media Girl and I ventured into the surf for a reprieve from the building heat. After diving into a series of breaking waves, we got our feet under us.
By a pure stroke of luck, we found ourselves looking out toward the horizon when a seven foot long creature leapt straight out of the ocean. The breathtaking event happened some hundred yards off shore, but I was still able to recognize the distinctive shape of a sand shark.
Did you see that shark? I asked Media Girl. That was awesome!
Voices sounded all around me. Shark? Where? Do we need to get out of the water?
I knew a sand shark wouldn't be a threat to the swimmers, but no one stuck around long enough for me to explain that.
Yep, I definitely should have used my inside voice.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Bread Distortion
You've seen them, those "recent search topics" that show up as lists on various websites. I generally pass right over them but tonight one topic caught my eye - vending machines for bread.
They have to be kidding. I can't even get a loaf of bread from the store shelf to the checkout line without squishing it. Imagine bread coming out of a vending machine.
Notice I didn't ask you to imagine the vending of a loaf of bread. Even if it did start out as a properly shaped loaf in the deep recesses of the machine, by the time it rode through the steel spiral drivers, fell two feet, and then was yanked through a narrow plastic opening the bread would like either like a cinnamon twist doughnut or the belly of the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
Would you like your bread cream or jelly filled?
They have to be kidding. I can't even get a loaf of bread from the store shelf to the checkout line without squishing it. Imagine bread coming out of a vending machine.
Notice I didn't ask you to imagine the vending of a loaf of bread. Even if it did start out as a properly shaped loaf in the deep recesses of the machine, by the time it rode through the steel spiral drivers, fell two feet, and then was yanked through a narrow plastic opening the bread would like either like a cinnamon twist doughnut or the belly of the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
Would you like your bread cream or jelly filled?
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Location, Location
They say location is everything when it comes to home value.
Apparently the same does not hold true for billboards - or if it does there a twisted logic to the location.
In our area, positioned so it can be seen as travelers head away from the water is an advertisement for a marine supply establishment "just 80 miles ahead".
80 miles - just - really? After 80 miles the only thing I'm going to remember is that I need to find a rest stop.
Apparently the same does not hold true for billboards - or if it does there a twisted logic to the location.
In our area, positioned so it can be seen as travelers head away from the water is an advertisement for a marine supply establishment "just 80 miles ahead".
80 miles - just - really? After 80 miles the only thing I'm going to remember is that I need to find a rest stop.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Baffled By The Wear
I've tried - I really have - but I just can't grasp the concept of displaying underwear.
I'm not talking about underwear seen in advertisements, on clothes lines, or on fashion models. It's the men and boys' boxers appearing in everyday life that has me baffled.
Somewhere along the way it became fashionable to let the waistband of boxers show above the pants. Then belts were discarded to allow for the daring "oops" of a little more exposure.
Gradually the street urchins, as I call them, decided there was no need for underwear to be under anything anymore. Giving full disclosure meant lowering pants to a level where gravity should have taken over but somehow didn't. Why bother with pants at all at that point?
Today I saw an adult (I use the identifier questioningly) crossing a city street with the tops of his pants stretched across his thighs; leaving no question as to where the boxers stopped. This - person- had found it necessary to return his belt to service as the only way to keep his pants above his ankles.
Was I wrong to want to jump out of my car and tighten his belt to the point where the next attempt at a step would have landed him face first on the asphalt?
I'm not talking about underwear seen in advertisements, on clothes lines, or on fashion models. It's the men and boys' boxers appearing in everyday life that has me baffled.
Somewhere along the way it became fashionable to let the waistband of boxers show above the pants. Then belts were discarded to allow for the daring "oops" of a little more exposure.
Gradually the street urchins, as I call them, decided there was no need for underwear to be under anything anymore. Giving full disclosure meant lowering pants to a level where gravity should have taken over but somehow didn't. Why bother with pants at all at that point?
Today I saw an adult (I use the identifier questioningly) crossing a city street with the tops of his pants stretched across his thighs; leaving no question as to where the boxers stopped. This - person- had found it necessary to return his belt to service as the only way to keep his pants above his ankles.
Was I wrong to want to jump out of my car and tighten his belt to the point where the next attempt at a step would have landed him face first on the asphalt?
Monday, August 8, 2011
Surprised?
First of all - why is anybody surprised by the news the U.S. may not be a good investment?
The only surprise should be that a country struggling to climb out of a seemingly endless Great Recession and getting by on a wing and a prayer would have continued to be viewed as a credible place to invest some cash.
Speaking of credibility - Standard and Poor lost theirs (from my perspective) when they owned up to a 2 trillion dollar error in their analysis documents but said that didn't change things. 2 trillion seems like a pretty significant number to me.
Apparently being a financial analyst is a lot like being a weatherman, you can be wrong - big time wrong - and still keep your job.
Which leaves me surprised that... anyone, anywhere is believing any economic news they hear.
Apologies for straying into the political arena. I promise to get back into a stress-free zone with future blog posts.
The only surprise should be that a country struggling to climb out of a seemingly endless Great Recession and getting by on a wing and a prayer would have continued to be viewed as a credible place to invest some cash.
Speaking of credibility - Standard and Poor lost theirs (from my perspective) when they owned up to a 2 trillion dollar error in their analysis documents but said that didn't change things. 2 trillion seems like a pretty significant number to me.
Apparently being a financial analyst is a lot like being a weatherman, you can be wrong - big time wrong - and still keep your job.
Which leaves me surprised that... anyone, anywhere is believing any economic news they hear.
Apologies for straying into the political arena. I promise to get back into a stress-free zone with future blog posts.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Concocting the Recipe
With a relatively good garden harvest this year, Motivated Mom and I have been "putting up" pickles, cauliflower, salsa, and spaghetti sauce. Well, okay, it's been mostly Motivated Mom doing the putting up but, hey, I grew the vegetables.
We found a new pickle recipe on the internet this year and have been excited by the results. Some of the ingredients are familiar - sugar, onion, vinegar. Others are a little more unique - such as one inch of cinnamon stick and 6 allspice berries.
And I got to wondering... What in the world inspired someone to try putting a cinnamon stick in the pickling mix - and how did the person decide one inch of cinnamon stick was better than two inches? And then there's those berries. Six. Really? I mean, why not five or ten?
It would have to be a dedicated "putter upper" to come up with such precise counts.
We found a new pickle recipe on the internet this year and have been excited by the results. Some of the ingredients are familiar - sugar, onion, vinegar. Others are a little more unique - such as one inch of cinnamon stick and 6 allspice berries.
And I got to wondering... What in the world inspired someone to try putting a cinnamon stick in the pickling mix - and how did the person decide one inch of cinnamon stick was better than two inches? And then there's those berries. Six. Really? I mean, why not five or ten?
It would have to be a dedicated "putter upper" to come up with such precise counts.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Budget Balancing
I received an e-mail today. I don't know if the content was factual, but I definitely liked the message so I thought I'd share.
According to the e-mail, the following statement is attributable to Warren Buffet.
I know how the U.S. budget could be balanced quickly. Pass a law that anytime the national debt goes beyond 3% of the GDP, any seated U.S. Senator or Representative is ineligible for reelection.
According to the e-mail, the following statement is attributable to Warren Buffet.
I know how the U.S. budget could be balanced quickly. Pass a law that anytime the national debt goes beyond 3% of the GDP, any seated U.S. Senator or Representative is ineligible for reelection.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Just How Did You Come By Your Trade?
The book stood out in sharp contrast to the others on the library bookshelf - Hair Styling for Dummies.
With that title, I just had to look. I pried the book loose and, with mingled surprise and horror, observed a great many dog eared pages.
Just how many people, I wondered, had been using this book to learn how to cut and style hair?
I decided then and there that the next time there's a new employee in the local barber shop I'm going to take the time to scrutinize his barber license.
With that title, I just had to look. I pried the book loose and, with mingled surprise and horror, observed a great many dog eared pages.
Just how many people, I wondered, had been using this book to learn how to cut and style hair?
I decided then and there that the next time there's a new employee in the local barber shop I'm going to take the time to scrutinize his barber license.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Fish Wisdom.
Fish are smarter than some people might think. Take the free smorgasbords that go untouched on a daily basis along the Delaware beaches.
Every pleasant weather day during the summer hundreds of fishermen stand at the water's edge and cast hundreds of rods bearing fishing line fitted with hundreds of hooks loaded with hundreds of bite sized morsels into the ocean. You might think the nearest fish might yell free food thereby triggering a feeding frenzy.
Not so. Every half hour those hundreds of fishermen haul in their hundreds of lines and shake their heads as they worry over why the ocean's inhabitants don't find the offered bait appetizing.
I don't think appetizing has anything to do with it. I'm convinced fish live by the same adage as our own learned ancestors. If it seems to good to be true, it probably is.
Hmmmm. Perhaps if the fishermen baited their hooks with beets.....
Every pleasant weather day during the summer hundreds of fishermen stand at the water's edge and cast hundreds of rods bearing fishing line fitted with hundreds of hooks loaded with hundreds of bite sized morsels into the ocean. You might think the nearest fish might yell free food thereby triggering a feeding frenzy.
Not so. Every half hour those hundreds of fishermen haul in their hundreds of lines and shake their heads as they worry over why the ocean's inhabitants don't find the offered bait appetizing.
I don't think appetizing has anything to do with it. I'm convinced fish live by the same adage as our own learned ancestors. If it seems to good to be true, it probably is.
Hmmmm. Perhaps if the fishermen baited their hooks with beets.....
Monday, August 1, 2011
Express Dining
Move over Burger King, Wendy's, Arby's, and McDonald's. I've got the ultimate in express dining.
I pick a vegetable combo from my garden and deliver it directly to my dining room table. No traveling, no lines, no preservatives - and bursting with fresh flavor.
Tonight I had the tomato and cucumber combo with an unsweetened tea.
Tomorrow it will be green pepper and tomato. Perhaps I'll splurge with a side order of cucumber and an icy cold soda.
I pick a vegetable combo from my garden and deliver it directly to my dining room table. No traveling, no lines, no preservatives - and bursting with fresh flavor.
Tonight I had the tomato and cucumber combo with an unsweetened tea.
Tomorrow it will be green pepper and tomato. Perhaps I'll splurge with a side order of cucumber and an icy cold soda.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Daughter Nature
The creativity of kids leads to a seemingly endless number of ways to enjoy a day at the beach.
This past weekend I watched a blond haired girl about five years of age filling her plastic blue and yellow watering can with sea water. Once filled, the watering can must have weighed nearly as much as the girl herself but she resolutely carried if up to the sun-bleached sand and sprinkled circles around the feet of her parents, brothers, and grandparents.
Some twenty minutes later I looked back and saw the girl was still transporting water from ocean to sand with limitless energy. I nicknamed the girl Daughter Nature. Though on a much smaller scale, she was copying what Mother Nature does on a tireless basis - lifting moisture from bodies of water and raining it down on land.
This past weekend I watched a blond haired girl about five years of age filling her plastic blue and yellow watering can with sea water. Once filled, the watering can must have weighed nearly as much as the girl herself but she resolutely carried if up to the sun-bleached sand and sprinkled circles around the feet of her parents, brothers, and grandparents.
Some twenty minutes later I looked back and saw the girl was still transporting water from ocean to sand with limitless energy. I nicknamed the girl Daughter Nature. Though on a much smaller scale, she was copying what Mother Nature does on a tireless basis - lifting moisture from bodies of water and raining it down on land.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
7 O'clock on a Thursday
7 o'clock on a weeknight- the changing of the guard at the shoreline.
It's a gradual procedure because when you're on the beach time is never finite. But during the 90 minutes between 6:00 and 7:30 there is a definite change to the beach. Sunbathers and skim-boarders cede there places at the water's edge to dog walkers and treasure hunters.
I'm not sure if it's the lowering of the sun or rumbling of stomachs but on unspoken cue darkly tanned boys with hair swept back by wind and sea salt lose interest in the waves and head inland. Mom's gather up a dozen beach towels, six pairs of sunglasses, three bottles of sunblock, tuck them all in a cloth bag, and begin their mental rundown of the dinner menu as they call to three of their own children and half a dozen friends that it's time to go.
In their place come folks in cargo shorts, tee shirts, and sneakers with dogs on the end of twenty foot retractable leashes. Tennis balls are thrown into the waves and the dogs dutifully fetch the prize. While the dog sports are underway, folks armed with metal detectors, shovels, and cloth bags of their own work their way across grids of sand in the hopes of uncovering a unique gem.
The next shift change comes at moonrise. Perhaps we'll peek in on those folks another time.
It's a gradual procedure because when you're on the beach time is never finite. But during the 90 minutes between 6:00 and 7:30 there is a definite change to the beach. Sunbathers and skim-boarders cede there places at the water's edge to dog walkers and treasure hunters.
I'm not sure if it's the lowering of the sun or rumbling of stomachs but on unspoken cue darkly tanned boys with hair swept back by wind and sea salt lose interest in the waves and head inland. Mom's gather up a dozen beach towels, six pairs of sunglasses, three bottles of sunblock, tuck them all in a cloth bag, and begin their mental rundown of the dinner menu as they call to three of their own children and half a dozen friends that it's time to go.
In their place come folks in cargo shorts, tee shirts, and sneakers with dogs on the end of twenty foot retractable leashes. Tennis balls are thrown into the waves and the dogs dutifully fetch the prize. While the dog sports are underway, folks armed with metal detectors, shovels, and cloth bags of their own work their way across grids of sand in the hopes of uncovering a unique gem.
The next shift change comes at moonrise. Perhaps we'll peek in on those folks another time.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Going Home Again
There's a saying that you can't go home again.
The truth is... we can go home again. It's just that home isn't there anymore. Oh sure, we'll find the roof and the four walls. We may or may not find the tree the rope swing was tied to or the honeysuckle bush where the robins nested.
But the memories - the events and emotions that made the place home - those left when we did. They're the weight that pulls on us after we leave, calling out in hopes we'll remember. The problem is we put so much effort into making the new place feel right we forget there's more than just clothes and furniture to unpack.
If we'd only take the time to spend time with our memories we'd find that home has come right along with us.
The truth is... we can go home again. It's just that home isn't there anymore. Oh sure, we'll find the roof and the four walls. We may or may not find the tree the rope swing was tied to or the honeysuckle bush where the robins nested.
But the memories - the events and emotions that made the place home - those left when we did. They're the weight that pulls on us after we leave, calling out in hopes we'll remember. The problem is we put so much effort into making the new place feel right we forget there's more than just clothes and furniture to unpack.
If we'd only take the time to spend time with our memories we'd find that home has come right along with us.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
First Generation Air Conditioning
The sign in front of the hardware store announced a sale on garden hoses and box fans.
I flashed back to my childhood years when the combination of those two items equaled climate control. We would hook up the sprinkler in the back yard, run and jump through the streams of water, and when we were totally saturated head into the house to lie down on the hardwood floor directly in front of a twenty four inch box fan.
I wonder why no one ever thought of moving the fan on to the porch, directing the hose at the fan, and creating a continuous high velocity spray?
Oh - I guess the whole electricity thing had something to do with it.
I flashed back to my childhood years when the combination of those two items equaled climate control. We would hook up the sprinkler in the back yard, run and jump through the streams of water, and when we were totally saturated head into the house to lie down on the hardwood floor directly in front of a twenty four inch box fan.
I wonder why no one ever thought of moving the fan on to the porch, directing the hose at the fan, and creating a continuous high velocity spray?
Oh - I guess the whole electricity thing had something to do with it.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Melting Hot
Much as I love summer, I have to admit the last couple days have been over the top.
Every time I opened the patio door and stepped onto the deck I found myself thinking: This is what a piece of glass feels like when first thrust into a furnace by a glassblower.
Visits to the beach were out of the question. Instead I developed an intimate relationship with my air conditioner.
What I wouldn't give to go back in time and meet the inventor of air conditioning. I'd kneel down and kiss his feet.
Every time I opened the patio door and stepped onto the deck I found myself thinking: This is what a piece of glass feels like when first thrust into a furnace by a glassblower.
Visits to the beach were out of the question. Instead I developed an intimate relationship with my air conditioner.
What I wouldn't give to go back in time and meet the inventor of air conditioning. I'd kneel down and kiss his feet.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Defiant Cicada
One lone cicada continued to buzz defiantly. The rest of the world had gone silent.
Trees that had been rustling in the waves of stifling heat now stood silent and unmoving.
Apart from the single buzzing insect, all other forms of live held their collective breaths.
Just a few miles distant a boiling wall of purplish-black clouds moved relentlessly forward - periodically throwing out silver-white daggers of challenge and sounding the rumbling drums of invasion.
The fountains of ornamental grass first took up the whisper - catching the breezes of advancing lines and alerting all to the imminent storm. Then the trees bestirred themselves and bent beneath the onslaught of wind as the first heavy raindrops fell.
The lone cicada finally abandoned hope of being able to continue to sing of heat mere seconds before the wall of water rushed over everything.
Trees that had been rustling in the waves of stifling heat now stood silent and unmoving.
Apart from the single buzzing insect, all other forms of live held their collective breaths.
Just a few miles distant a boiling wall of purplish-black clouds moved relentlessly forward - periodically throwing out silver-white daggers of challenge and sounding the rumbling drums of invasion.
The fountains of ornamental grass first took up the whisper - catching the breezes of advancing lines and alerting all to the imminent storm. Then the trees bestirred themselves and bent beneath the onslaught of wind as the first heavy raindrops fell.
The lone cicada finally abandoned hope of being able to continue to sing of heat mere seconds before the wall of water rushed over everything.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
New Generation Entertainment
There we were sitting in a booth in a restaurant: Motivated Mom, Media Girl, and I. At the end of our booth, in a wooden high chair sat.... a baby (well, the girl is 18 months but close enough to baby status to be identified as such).The baby was the charge of Media Girl who continues to provide babysitting services for fun and profit.
We adults dutifully stuck food in the baby's face - and the baby dutifully consumed the offered food, giggling all the way. The giggling having a Pavlovian effect on the adults who offered still more food which led to still more giggling.
And it occurred to me... a baby who's not your own is a source of free entertainment. Why should I go to the movies when I can watch a mini-person paste herself with french onion soup while regurgitating the unexpected crouton?
We adults dutifully stuck food in the baby's face - and the baby dutifully consumed the offered food, giggling all the way. The giggling having a Pavlovian effect on the adults who offered still more food which led to still more giggling.
And it occurred to me... a baby who's not your own is a source of free entertainment. Why should I go to the movies when I can watch a mini-person paste herself with french onion soup while regurgitating the unexpected crouton?
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Life Is Like a Box Of Chocolates
The phrase made famous by Forrest Gump - Life is like a box of chocolates - was a subject of discussion in our writing group tonight.
As happens whenever a group of people get together, there were as many interpretations of the phrase as there were people.
Perhaps the most telling interpretation was... the person who ponders which pieces in the box are most likely to provide the greatest and least satisfaction is a person who has experienced more than his (or her) share of trials in life.
As happens whenever a group of people get together, there were as many interpretations of the phrase as there were people.
Perhaps the most telling interpretation was... the person who ponders which pieces in the box are most likely to provide the greatest and least satisfaction is a person who has experienced more than his (or her) share of trials in life.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Nature's Sentinels
It occurred to me the other day that I spend a lot of the year anxious for leaves to appear on the trees and bemoaning the falling of the leaves - but rarely do I stop and say Wow look at all of those trees in full leaf.
So I've been making a point of studying the trees an appreciating the depth they add to the landscape. In fact one of the first thoughts that came to mind as I looked out across acres of forest was that area looks so three dimensional.
Yeah, I know - DUH!
But as I studied the way older trees towered over younger growth and the stout trees filled in the gaps between their narrower brethren, the layers of all that growth challenged my eyes to stay in focus. I found myself looking right past the nearest trees, searching out the distant giants that grew five feet taller followed by others five feet taller yet, until the difference narrowed to inches (at least from my perspective).
It gradually registered on my sometimes slow moving brain that those older trees were miles away and that the front lines I normally noticed took up only the smallest piece of the land that I whiz past every day.
And it occurs to me that beyond stopping to smell the roses I need to spend more time walking beneath nature's sentinels.
So I've been making a point of studying the trees an appreciating the depth they add to the landscape. In fact one of the first thoughts that came to mind as I looked out across acres of forest was that area looks so three dimensional.
Yeah, I know - DUH!
But as I studied the way older trees towered over younger growth and the stout trees filled in the gaps between their narrower brethren, the layers of all that growth challenged my eyes to stay in focus. I found myself looking right past the nearest trees, searching out the distant giants that grew five feet taller followed by others five feet taller yet, until the difference narrowed to inches (at least from my perspective).
It gradually registered on my sometimes slow moving brain that those older trees were miles away and that the front lines I normally noticed took up only the smallest piece of the land that I whiz past every day.
And it occurs to me that beyond stopping to smell the roses I need to spend more time walking beneath nature's sentinels.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Book Zen
I've decided I'm going on a buying spree. I'm going to buy books while they can still be bought. Real, honest to goodness books.
My decision is spurred by Borders Books going out of business - apparently because electronic books have pushed demand for the real thing lower than low.
While I understand the convenience of one of those electronic book reading gadgets, there is a loss associated with those things. Absolutely nothing is more relaxing than being in a place filled with bound volumes of paper; nothing more comforting that than the feel of heavy paper beneath your fingertips; nothing more Zen than sitting with a hardback book in your lap.
I envision the furniture in my home office being moved out one piece at a time until all that is left is a small writing place and a comfortable chair. Everything else will be sacrificed for floor to ceiling bookcases. Bookcases along the walls. Bookcases back to back in the center of the room. Bookcases filled with books of various sizes and shapes. Bookcases providing a retreat where, after a long day, I can inhale the scent of print on paper, run my finger along creased spines, grasp a favorite book just as I would shake hands with an old friend. There in my office I will know that at least in one corner of the world the rightness of things still remains.
My decision is spurred by Borders Books going out of business - apparently because electronic books have pushed demand for the real thing lower than low.
While I understand the convenience of one of those electronic book reading gadgets, there is a loss associated with those things. Absolutely nothing is more relaxing than being in a place filled with bound volumes of paper; nothing more comforting that than the feel of heavy paper beneath your fingertips; nothing more Zen than sitting with a hardback book in your lap.
I envision the furniture in my home office being moved out one piece at a time until all that is left is a small writing place and a comfortable chair. Everything else will be sacrificed for floor to ceiling bookcases. Bookcases along the walls. Bookcases back to back in the center of the room. Bookcases filled with books of various sizes and shapes. Bookcases providing a retreat where, after a long day, I can inhale the scent of print on paper, run my finger along creased spines, grasp a favorite book just as I would shake hands with an old friend. There in my office I will know that at least in one corner of the world the rightness of things still remains.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Vacation Biking
For those of us who live in a tourist destination, our source of entertainment is - watching the tourists.
Oh sure there are days when we "locals" curse the gridlock brought about by the influx of transients, but such frustrations are offset by watching those same visitors when they're on foot - or on bikes.
The beach seems to favorite place for bike riding. For those tourists who don't ride two wheeled conveyances on a regular basis - a pedal powered surrey eliminates the necessity to maintain balance.
For those of you unfamiliar with the four wheeled surrey - it's essentially an adult size version of the pedal cars toddlers ride in. Only adults seem to lose the common sense children are born with. As evidenced by the foursome who took their pedal car down the main drag of our beach town today.
To avoid being driven to the curb by traffic, the foursome in the surrey were forced to pedal as furiously as nasty old Almira Gulch in the Wizard of Oz. Hunched over, legs pumping, brows dripping with perspiration, the "sensible" adults were in danger of collapsing from heat stroke.
I thought the idea of vacation was to get out of the rat race.
Oh sure there are days when we "locals" curse the gridlock brought about by the influx of transients, but such frustrations are offset by watching those same visitors when they're on foot - or on bikes.
The beach seems to favorite place for bike riding. For those tourists who don't ride two wheeled conveyances on a regular basis - a pedal powered surrey eliminates the necessity to maintain balance.
For those of you unfamiliar with the four wheeled surrey - it's essentially an adult size version of the pedal cars toddlers ride in. Only adults seem to lose the common sense children are born with. As evidenced by the foursome who took their pedal car down the main drag of our beach town today.
To avoid being driven to the curb by traffic, the foursome in the surrey were forced to pedal as furiously as nasty old Almira Gulch in the Wizard of Oz. Hunched over, legs pumping, brows dripping with perspiration, the "sensible" adults were in danger of collapsing from heat stroke.
I thought the idea of vacation was to get out of the rat race.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Memories - Old & New
I'll be away from the internet for a few days and offer the following for your consideration:
Trying to relive a golden moment from the past is like trying to scoop water with a colander.
Relish the moment for what it was - and live each successive today with the hopes of creating a new special moment.
Trying to relive a golden moment from the past is like trying to scoop water with a colander.
Relish the moment for what it was - and live each successive today with the hopes of creating a new special moment.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
The Original Facebook
Sitting in a chair near our community pool, I was watching a girl of about ten hanging on the pool's metal steps and trying to get her mother's attention.
Mom, come into the pool with me.
Mom, come ON!
Mommmm, you promised!
Finally the girl climbed from the pool, stalked across the concrete, and with hands on hips stood in front of her mother. MOM what is taking so long.
Her mother raised a cautioning finger. I'm taking dear.
Talking? All this time? How boring is that?
The person talking with the girl's mother looked at the young girl and said. "Dear, swimming pools are the adult version of Facebook."
Oh, the girl said - the peevishness gone from her voice. Well send my Mom over as soon as you're done.
Mom, come into the pool with me.
Mom, come ON!
Mommmm, you promised!
Finally the girl climbed from the pool, stalked across the concrete, and with hands on hips stood in front of her mother. MOM what is taking so long.
Her mother raised a cautioning finger. I'm taking dear.
Talking? All this time? How boring is that?
The person talking with the girl's mother looked at the young girl and said. "Dear, swimming pools are the adult version of Facebook."
Oh, the girl said - the peevishness gone from her voice. Well send my Mom over as soon as you're done.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Severing the Cord
How long has it been since wireless internet connectivity became a household standard? Surely no more than seven years and already we take it for granted. At least I do anyway.
Tonight I sit on the back patio sending typewritten words sailing through the air and remember back to when even a telephone conversation required an umbilacle cord - that curly elastic cord that connected the handset to the black box hanging on the wall. The same cord that teenagers tied in knots as they dared to ask someone out on a date. The same cord that parents swore over when they struggled to untie the knots their kids had tied - and discovered in the midst of the coils the two #2 pencils that had disappeared from the kitchen message center days before.
What will the "standard" be seven years from now I wonder.
Tonight I sit on the back patio sending typewritten words sailing through the air and remember back to when even a telephone conversation required an umbilacle cord - that curly elastic cord that connected the handset to the black box hanging on the wall. The same cord that teenagers tied in knots as they dared to ask someone out on a date. The same cord that parents swore over when they struggled to untie the knots their kids had tied - and discovered in the midst of the coils the two #2 pencils that had disappeared from the kitchen message center days before.
What will the "standard" be seven years from now I wonder.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Weebles Wobble
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down.
That jingle from a television commercial has been running through my head recently - resurrected from the memory vaults by a young'in that has been roaming our house recently.
Media Girl has been doing some babysitting to put some extra money in her pocket. One of the tykes she's been watching eats anything - whether it moves or not - and consequently has the physical appearance of a two foot tall Buddha.
It seems impossible that a child with a belly big enough to hold the face on a grandfather clock doesn't topple over on her own face. Yet somehow, despite an occasional wobble in her step, the little girl manages to remain upright.
I'm very nearly convinced that were I to tap against the back of her head, the baby would fall forward only to bounce right back to her feet.
That jingle from a television commercial has been running through my head recently - resurrected from the memory vaults by a young'in that has been roaming our house recently.
Media Girl has been doing some babysitting to put some extra money in her pocket. One of the tykes she's been watching eats anything - whether it moves or not - and consequently has the physical appearance of a two foot tall Buddha.
It seems impossible that a child with a belly big enough to hold the face on a grandfather clock doesn't topple over on her own face. Yet somehow, despite an occasional wobble in her step, the little girl manages to remain upright.
I'm very nearly convinced that were I to tap against the back of her head, the baby would fall forward only to bounce right back to her feet.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Meal Menu
Ah, the summertime diet: garden salad, fruit salad, cucumber salad, potato salad, and seafood salad.
Yes, we had a saladfest this weekend. It seemed the kitchen counter was perpetually littered with squeeze bottles of mayonnaise, assorted spices, piles of chopped onion and celery, and of course mixing bowls filled with garden-fresh blends.
You might think we had a house full of people but that wasn't the case. It was just Motivated Mom, Media Girl and I. It wasn't until we reached to the back of the bottom kitchen cabinet for the very last tupperware container that we thought to ask ourselves - whose going to eat all this stuff?
Forget the meat and bread - this week's meal menu is salad alacarte. The eating doesn't get any better that this.
Yes, we had a saladfest this weekend. It seemed the kitchen counter was perpetually littered with squeeze bottles of mayonnaise, assorted spices, piles of chopped onion and celery, and of course mixing bowls filled with garden-fresh blends.
You might think we had a house full of people but that wasn't the case. It was just Motivated Mom, Media Girl and I. It wasn't until we reached to the back of the bottom kitchen cabinet for the very last tupperware container that we thought to ask ourselves - whose going to eat all this stuff?
Forget the meat and bread - this week's meal menu is salad alacarte. The eating doesn't get any better that this.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Happy Fourth
When College Dude and Media Girl were still young children, our home was the gathering place for extended family on the Fourth of July. A day of swimming and barbecued food was capped by a column of children marching around our yard to the music of John Phillips Sousa. Each child had a kazoo to toot, a flag to wave, and a cardboard hat of red, white, and blue. The parade ended with "legal" fireworks - cardboard tanks, smoke bombs, and sparklers.
Those days are long past with all of the nieces and nephews having moved on to their own lives, but the Fourth of July remains a day to reflect on the value of family and the gift of freedom.
Whatever stage of evolution you're family is in, I wish you a Happy Fourth of July!!
Those days are long past with all of the nieces and nephews having moved on to their own lives, but the Fourth of July remains a day to reflect on the value of family and the gift of freedom.
Whatever stage of evolution you're family is in, I wish you a Happy Fourth of July!!
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Thoughts About You
Busy day - so I'll share this brief reflection:
The next time you find yourself worrying about what someone might think about you...
Remember the only opinions that matter are those your friends have..
And if they're really your friends you don't need to worry about what they're thinking.
The next time you find yourself worrying about what someone might think about you...
Remember the only opinions that matter are those your friends have..
And if they're really your friends you don't need to worry about what they're thinking.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Telling What to Who?
I noticed a Pro-Life (anti-abortion) banner hanging on a chain link fence. The fence was at one end of a high school athletic field.
Maybe I'm missing something, but it seems to me the advertiser has mismatched the message and the audience.
Shouldn't the message to high school students be about avoiding having to make an abortion choice in the first place?
I'm thinking maybe banners for chastity belts and steel codpieces would be more appropriate.
Maybe I'm missing something, but it seems to me the advertiser has mismatched the message and the audience.
Shouldn't the message to high school students be about avoiding having to make an abortion choice in the first place?
I'm thinking maybe banners for chastity belts and steel codpieces would be more appropriate.
Monday, June 27, 2011
The Smell of Citronella
Citronella - the smell that screams summertime and sends skeeters screaming into the night - supposedly.
Of late it seems to me that those buzzing, blood sucking insects have become immune to, and perhaps even learned to savor the smell of citronella.
Or maybe it's just that my blood has fermented over the years and the bouquet now overrides the citronella barrier.
I'm told if I plant Marigolds around my patio, the smell of those flowers will deter mosquitos. As I see it, the problem then becomes I have more garden space to weed.
Perhaps if I planted Marigolds and poured hot citronella wax on the weeds...
Of late it seems to me that those buzzing, blood sucking insects have become immune to, and perhaps even learned to savor the smell of citronella.
Or maybe it's just that my blood has fermented over the years and the bouquet now overrides the citronella barrier.
I'm told if I plant Marigolds around my patio, the smell of those flowers will deter mosquitos. As I see it, the problem then becomes I have more garden space to weed.
Perhaps if I planted Marigolds and poured hot citronella wax on the weeds...
Sunday, June 26, 2011
The Next Step
As a movie progresses in the unveiling of one scene after another, so do we progress in life by stepping from one stone to the next.
College Dude and Language Lass took such a step this weekend. The energy they generated in moving to the next phase in their life was such that it drew nearly a hundred people along with them.
The newly opened door led to a grotto shaded by a tree that has witnessed the passing of some ten generations and sweetened by tumbling water that has nurtured those same generations and more. There, in that place of ages, College Dude and Language Lass became man and wife.
A score of people witnessed the exchange of personalized vows that will be heard over and over again in the splashing of the waterfall and the rustling of leaves. For the emotion filling that grotto this past Saturday evening was such that it will remain a part of the land forever.
College Dude and Language Lass took such a step this weekend. The energy they generated in moving to the next phase in their life was such that it drew nearly a hundred people along with them.
The newly opened door led to a grotto shaded by a tree that has witnessed the passing of some ten generations and sweetened by tumbling water that has nurtured those same generations and more. There, in that place of ages, College Dude and Language Lass became man and wife.
A score of people witnessed the exchange of personalized vows that will be heard over and over again in the splashing of the waterfall and the rustling of leaves. For the emotion filling that grotto this past Saturday evening was such that it will remain a part of the land forever.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Of Music and Youth
There are those times when the cosmic gods smile and everything comes into alignment.
Times when I find myself alone in the house, the lighting is dim, the sound system is turned up to 387 decibels and the music becomes - a physical thing. It is at such moments that I enter the music as though I were stepping into a room. Rather than four walls I found myself surrounded by base notes, vocals, drum beats, and guitar chords.
The everyday world is gone, driven away by the same vibrations that run through the floor, into my feet, and up through my body. It is a special and wondrous opportunity that I know will be all too fleeting.
As I look at what I have just typed (while the music pulses around me) I find myself saying: My god did I really just write that? It sounds like something that would have spilled from my mouth in my late teens.
... And I realize that music just might be the fountain of youth.
Times when I find myself alone in the house, the lighting is dim, the sound system is turned up to 387 decibels and the music becomes - a physical thing. It is at such moments that I enter the music as though I were stepping into a room. Rather than four walls I found myself surrounded by base notes, vocals, drum beats, and guitar chords.
The everyday world is gone, driven away by the same vibrations that run through the floor, into my feet, and up through my body. It is a special and wondrous opportunity that I know will be all too fleeting.
As I look at what I have just typed (while the music pulses around me) I find myself saying: My god did I really just write that? It sounds like something that would have spilled from my mouth in my late teens.
... And I realize that music just might be the fountain of youth.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Got'ta Love the Name
Rumpelstiltskin. You've got to love the name. Can you imagine learning to spell that name in the first grade? You would have to memorize half the alphabet.
Was that his last name or first I wonder? It was long enough that perhaps it counted for both. Though for some reason I can't help thinking Theodopolous came into play.
Theodopolous Rumpelstiltskin. With a name like that I'd have gone into hibernation too.
Was that his last name or first I wonder? It was long enough that perhaps it counted for both. Though for some reason I can't help thinking Theodopolous came into play.
Theodopolous Rumpelstiltskin. With a name like that I'd have gone into hibernation too.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Step Right Up
Drum roll please.
Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the first day of summer.
Step right up and enjoy the show as the Star of our festivities dazzles you with more light than you'll see in any other single day.
Don't forget to ogle the liquid and digital displays of those dedicated to presenting the temperatures as they labor to hold themselves above the eighty degree mark solely for your benefit.
No ladies and gentlemen, those are not manufactured smells that are tickling your olfactory nerves. Those euphoria producing odors come from nothing less than the bulbs and seeds that exhibit herculean strength in supporting greenery and flora many times their own weight.
Truly the day is full or marvels you won't want to miss. Hurry up boys and girls, time's a wastin'. Push your way through those doors and marvel at the great outdoors. Though it seems the day will last forever, the curtain must fall eventually.
Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the first day of summer.
Step right up and enjoy the show as the Star of our festivities dazzles you with more light than you'll see in any other single day.
Don't forget to ogle the liquid and digital displays of those dedicated to presenting the temperatures as they labor to hold themselves above the eighty degree mark solely for your benefit.
No ladies and gentlemen, those are not manufactured smells that are tickling your olfactory nerves. Those euphoria producing odors come from nothing less than the bulbs and seeds that exhibit herculean strength in supporting greenery and flora many times their own weight.
Truly the day is full or marvels you won't want to miss. Hurry up boys and girls, time's a wastin'. Push your way through those doors and marvel at the great outdoors. Though it seems the day will last forever, the curtain must fall eventually.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Roadside Deer
It happened during my bike ride this evening. I was pedaling along checking out the flora and fauna when my attention was captured by a doe standing at the roadside some seventy feet ahead. I was in a sub division so it wasn't like the deer had been camouflaged by a treeline. There was a significant amount of grassy area to all sides of her (except for the street of course). Which made me wonder how I could not have seen the deer sooner.
Apparently the doe was wondering the same thing for she was staring at me as though I had just descended from the heavens.
Deciding the best course of action was just to keep pedaling, I got close enough to see the deer's nostril twitching and her rear flanks tighten. With my own eyes locked on the black saucer-like eyes of the deer I thought perhaps I would get right up beside her.
Twenty feet, fifteen feet, ten... and then the doe simply wasn't there anymore. I never saw her eyes so much as blink, never saw her head turn away from me, yet somehow she was halfway to the distant trees before I could cover those last ten feet.
Had I blinked? I could have sworn not but obviously I had. Yet how, in a single blink, could the deer have covered forty feet?
Though I was disappointed not to have actually made it to within touching distance, I was thrilled to have come so close.
Apparently the doe was wondering the same thing for she was staring at me as though I had just descended from the heavens.
Deciding the best course of action was just to keep pedaling, I got close enough to see the deer's nostril twitching and her rear flanks tighten. With my own eyes locked on the black saucer-like eyes of the deer I thought perhaps I would get right up beside her.
Twenty feet, fifteen feet, ten... and then the doe simply wasn't there anymore. I never saw her eyes so much as blink, never saw her head turn away from me, yet somehow she was halfway to the distant trees before I could cover those last ten feet.
Had I blinked? I could have sworn not but obviously I had. Yet how, in a single blink, could the deer have covered forty feet?
Though I was disappointed not to have actually made it to within touching distance, I was thrilled to have come so close.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The 400 Year Miracle
The Virginia license plate on the car in front of me had included something about 2007 being the 400th birthday of Jamestown.
And I got to thinking about how in only 400 years American's have gone from log huts with earthen floors to cell phones and personal computers.
As a kid, 400 years seemed an eternity to me. Now that I'm fifty-some years of age, I'm looking at 400 years being only a couple of generations. Now I realize that in the days of early Jamestown a generation could come and go in 40 years. But if the average lifespan from then to now had been consistently 75 years, well - that would put crossing the Atlantic in sailing ships only four generations prior to crossing space in a rocket powered shuttle.
Looked at in that light, mankind's accomplishments are nothing short of miraculous.
And I got to thinking about how in only 400 years American's have gone from log huts with earthen floors to cell phones and personal computers.
As a kid, 400 years seemed an eternity to me. Now that I'm fifty-some years of age, I'm looking at 400 years being only a couple of generations. Now I realize that in the days of early Jamestown a generation could come and go in 40 years. But if the average lifespan from then to now had been consistently 75 years, well - that would put crossing the Atlantic in sailing ships only four generations prior to crossing space in a rocket powered shuttle.
Looked at in that light, mankind's accomplishments are nothing short of miraculous.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Sweet Blooms
One hundred and five blooms on the plants, one hundred and five blooms, bend deep down and...inhale... one hundred and five blooms on the plants.
The Easter lilies in my garden are in full bloom with some plants displaying four and five blossoms. The air around the lilies is heavy with a fragrance so sweet it seems I could take a bite out of the very air and be energized by a sugar rush.
No wonder bees spend so much of their time buzzing within blossoms. To a bee, diving into a recently opened blossom must be like a person falling into a vat of of M & M's. And if an average flower is attractive to a bee them, it seems to me, the nectar within an Easter lily must be the equivalent of rich gourmet chocolate - or perhaps a spoonful of straight-up maple syrup.
The Easter lilies in my garden are in full bloom with some plants displaying four and five blossoms. The air around the lilies is heavy with a fragrance so sweet it seems I could take a bite out of the very air and be energized by a sugar rush.
No wonder bees spend so much of their time buzzing within blossoms. To a bee, diving into a recently opened blossom must be like a person falling into a vat of of M & M's. And if an average flower is attractive to a bee them, it seems to me, the nectar within an Easter lily must be the equivalent of rich gourmet chocolate - or perhaps a spoonful of straight-up maple syrup.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Mirror on the Wall
Tonight's writing class tapped out my creative inspiration so I'm going to cheat here and reuse something I started in class:
Margaret stared into the mirror and watched as swollen fingers explored the creases in her face. Not her fingers. The fingers of a stranger. Her fingers were slender and smooth, not miniature sausages. Now that she thought about it, the face wasn't her's either. Oh, the face was attached to her body - sure enough- but it failed to reflect the still girlish personality that was the real Margaret.
"You did this to me," she said to her husband. "You infected me with children who grew up and stole my last nerve. And what did you do to stop those crimes? Nothing."
Her husband said nothing of course. Margaret would have died on the spot if he had. Once again she considered what the total taxidermy bill had been. Once again she assured herself the stuffing of her husband had been worth every penny.
Margaret stared into the mirror and watched as swollen fingers explored the creases in her face. Not her fingers. The fingers of a stranger. Her fingers were slender and smooth, not miniature sausages. Now that she thought about it, the face wasn't her's either. Oh, the face was attached to her body - sure enough- but it failed to reflect the still girlish personality that was the real Margaret.
"You did this to me," she said to her husband. "You infected me with children who grew up and stole my last nerve. And what did you do to stop those crimes? Nothing."
Her husband said nothing of course. Margaret would have died on the spot if he had. Once again she considered what the total taxidermy bill had been. Once again she assured herself the stuffing of her husband had been worth every penny.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Jogging Priorities
I've always considered jogging to be a questionable pursuit and have often stated the only time anyone would see me running farther than 100 feet would be if a carnivorous wild animal was hot on my heels.
During my drive home tonight I spotted a decidedly human form make a running dash from the shoulder to the grassy meridian of a divided four lane highway. After a pause to wait for a break in traffic coming from the north, the person hurried across another two lanes of asphalt.
The average vehicle speed on this particular highway is sixty-miles-per hour. As mine was one of the cars heading south at that speed, I was closing on the sprinter fairly quickly. By the time the running man reached the safety of the shoulder, I was near enough to make out all the details of his - jogging suit.
Just beyond the shoulder of the road was an athletic field. After putting two and two together I really had to question the priorities in the jogger's mind. How does one weigh the health benefits of running laps around a football field against the health risks of dashing across four lanes of high speed traffic and decide the benefits outweigh the risks? Cause when you really come down to it the options are - come home tired and sweaty or don't come home at all.
Personally, I'd go for option 3 - the cold beer
During my drive home tonight I spotted a decidedly human form make a running dash from the shoulder to the grassy meridian of a divided four lane highway. After a pause to wait for a break in traffic coming from the north, the person hurried across another two lanes of asphalt.
The average vehicle speed on this particular highway is sixty-miles-per hour. As mine was one of the cars heading south at that speed, I was closing on the sprinter fairly quickly. By the time the running man reached the safety of the shoulder, I was near enough to make out all the details of his - jogging suit.
Just beyond the shoulder of the road was an athletic field. After putting two and two together I really had to question the priorities in the jogger's mind. How does one weigh the health benefits of running laps around a football field against the health risks of dashing across four lanes of high speed traffic and decide the benefits outweigh the risks? Cause when you really come down to it the options are - come home tired and sweaty or don't come home at all.
Personally, I'd go for option 3 - the cold beer
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