Bones

Forensic anthropologist and author, Kathy Reichs, has a series of mystery books that I've been reading lately. The last one I've finished is called Cross Bones. It deals with a skeleton from Israel that may be connected to the Jesus family. Identification of the bones could lead to ramifications for the Jewish, Muslim and Christian worlds alike. It was a good read. Interesting and fast paced without being overly technical. Although fiction, it was laced with enough current events to be intriguing. She has a tendency to do a little "social" summary at the end of her books. This one caught my attention. She said, in short...

According to something called the Gallup International Millennium Survey, researchers sampled populations in sixty countries representing one point two billion souls worldwide, trying to learn how people feel about God. Eighty-seven percent of the respondents considered themselves part of some religion. Thirty-one percent believed theirs was the only true faith...

"But they're wrong. Despite the rituals, the rhetoric, and even the bombs, every religion is saying mostly the same thing. Buddhism, Taoism, Zoroastrianism, Sikhism, Shamanism. It doesn't matter. Take your pick.The Torah, the Bible, the Koran. Each offers a recipe for spiritual contentment, for hope, for love, and for controlling basic human passions, and each claims to have gotten the recipe straight from God, but via a different messenger. They're all just trying to provide a formual for orderly, spiritual living, but somehow the message gets twisted, like cells in a body turning cancerous. Self-appointed spokesmen declare the boundaries of correct belief, outsiders are labeled heretics, and the faithful are called upon to attack them.

I don't think it was meant to be that way."

You know, I'm good with my "messenger". I know it's up to me to take care of the things for which I am a steward. When I get those taken care of it's a good thing to be of service elsewhere. But as another extremist tries to blow up a plane, an innocent child has needles pushed through his body by his whacked out stepfather, an African dictator commits genocide...I'm having a little moment. Just reading the newspaper can plunge you into depression. And I too, have to echo -

I don't think it was meant to be that way.

It's Not Rocket Science

I'm sure you don't mean to be thoughtless.  But FYI - when you are always "a day late and a dollar short," when you pitch a fit over the smallest inconvenience, and do a half as*!? baked job when you do get around to doing something, and then get in a snit if it's noted that it was a less than stellar performance...

One can't help but notice....

anyone, everyone, that is - except, apparently, you.
-

Straight From the CDL Manual

This morning we wake up to weather. School is delayed two hours. They had snow. Here...we had ice. Getting here to there - priceless?  Great opportunity tho to pass along some driving instructions to the one who will be in Driver's Ed this spring...

As we start out I demonstrate the lack of control one has on ice.  Wheeeee, that was fun. Can we stop and spin cookies? No.

Back to driving 101. I talk about tail gating being an absolute NO, also about looking ahead, getting the "big" picture, about keeping a cushion around you, about leaving a way out. Our half hour trip turns into 45 minutes. Lots of opportunities to point out driving errors along the way. And I distinctly remember telling him "it's not just about you or your ability to control the car, at least half of it is being able to anticipate and watch out for the other guy. Make sure you're aware not only of what is going on in front of you, but beside you and behind you."

Then we start down a hill.

"Okay, so we're going to go very slowly, we're going increase our distance from that car in front of us, and we're going to look for a way to get around him in case we can't stop at the bottom where everyone is waiting for the light to turn."

The Youngest gives me the old "yeh, yeh, yeh." I am boring him to tears. We proceed and I'm going to be able to stop at the bottom - barely. I look behind me.

Here come two teenagers in a white car. It, however, is not going to stop in time. I tap the gas and as they  skid toward us in agonizing, slow motion, our vehicle crawls to the right shoulder and beside the car that was in front of us. The "boys" slide to a stop in the very place I was 2 seconds ago.

"Yup," I say, "Just like that."

There were a couple more interesting incidents before we got to school.

But you know...he looked like he was listening now.
-

Bumper Snicker

I don't understand.

 I child proof my house but they keep getting back in!

-

They Are Watching You

'Nother little reality check. Got a text message last nite. Didn't recognize the number. It was one of those really long, mushy (aka annoying) pass along things. The kids have unlimited text messaging but I DON'T! Seriously, we pay a premium for cell phones and not all of us consider them toys.

Had to call back. And depending on who sent it was I was prepared to laugh and say...well thanks for thinking of me, or if it was someone with some common sense - kick their butt for passing junk "mail" along.  Sure glad I had decided to be flexible before I started because, of course, it was a really off the wall kind of thing. Gal I used to work with enthusiastically informed me she'd got religon and life was wonderful! Someone had sent the text to her, she thought it was really cool, but the only one she could think of to send it to who would appreciate it was me....

Ohhh okay.

You know, It's great she thinks that I'm a strong, wonderful woman, and that I'm a good example to her, and that God loves me....And I'm happy that she's happy. Truly.  Life hasn't always been easy for her. It was nice to talk to her again. But mostly I'm grateful I carefully considered my options on how I would respond before I called.

Obviously, I'm not always the most "politically correct" person on the planet. Unfortunately some eyebrows raise when my name is mentioned.

Fortunately there are also those to whom I have been able to present myself in a positive fashion. You know - the way that you'd like to be remembered for being at your funeral....

So note to self: When you think what you say or do, or the impression that you leave, doesn't matter... remember they are out there, and they are watching you.

As Maya Angelou said:

     People will forget what you said,

     People will forget what you did.

     But people will never forget how you made them feel.

And if you haven't got it right - there is no time like now to try and fix it...
-

Padwon

This is my beautiful Paddywon... She is a Haflinger and a classy little lady. But funny. Unique personality.

The green grass and leaves are gone.

The pretty golden girl is still there.

Staring at me through the window.

Wondering where her food is....

One of Each Please

It seems the female population is all atwitter over Twilight/New Moon's young, scintillating, ambassadors of unrequited love. #1 Daughter even caved and went to New Moon with her buddies. She said they tricked her into it - told her they were going to another movie and showed up at this one.

Oh. Okay.

Anyway that's her story and she's sticking to it.

But even the ultimate "jock" allowed that it wasn't too bad. Hmmm.

 I have to admit their publicity photos do seem to be getting, ahhemmm - better.

-

Making Headlines

Ahhh, poor Tiger. Why is everyone picking on him? Well....I know I'm unhappy because here was a young man with talent, with money, with a beautiful wife and two darling children, and I was so pleased that he seemed to be getting it right, was setting a good example (a rarity for sports figures these days), living what appeared to be a well deserved "good life", but...

Whoops, no, never mind.

One, two, three affairs that we know of and he's joining ranks with the rest of the entitled brats. His "friend" who employed Elin (as the family nanny) stated: I guess I owe Elin an apology for introducing Tiger to her....

So - you knew they'd be coming.  (And by the way Tiger, thanks for adding more fodder to the...don't worry if you can't get it right...list.)

Without further ado:

The New Tiger Woods One Liners

Tiger Woods is so rich that he owns lots of expensive cars. Now he has a hole in one.

What's the difference between a car and a golf ball? Tiger can drive a ball 400 yards

What were Tiger and his wife doing out at 2:30 in the morning? They went clubbing.

Tiger crashed into a fire hydrant and a tree...apparently he couldn't decide between a wood and an iron.

Since Tiger drives an Escalade, can he blame the accident on his caddy?

They tell us Ping just offered Elin an endorsement contract pushing her own set of drivers. They're going to call them Elin Woods..."clubs you can beat Tiger with."

And last but not least...

Tiger just changed his nickname but he's still keeping it in the cat family - his new name: Cheetah.

Bah da Bing!

That's it for tonight folks.

-

All Better

This started out as a draft that had been sitting in the files waiting to be published. I had issues. I tinkered with it trying to succinctly express my ire. It wasn't cute, funny or bitingly witty. Nor was it profound, philosophical, etc. Started with taking a swing at Tiggger who, as we know, ended up on the wrong end of a nine iron the other night and commented that he might want to re-examine some of the choices he's been making lately, then moved on to my job and some choices that other people had been making that were effecting me negatively.

That's when the tinkering, twinking and such began. I just wasn't happy with what I was writing. Didn't want to let it all hang out. Couldn't not let it all hang out. And after revisiting it for several days I finally realized I was through. All done. Not that I was going to change the situation but I had worked through it, virtually beat it to death, changed my reaction to the problem and could now just let it go.

I figuratively borrowed Elin's nine iron and whacked it into submission and deleted the rest of the post.

One issue down, 999 to go.

-

Bumper Snicker

Farm Boy calls today on his way to work. He has found a bumpersticker that I think we're going have to copy for one of our vehicles...

I'd tell you to go to hell, but I work there

and don't want to see you every day.

-

A Little Ditty 'bout Jack & Diane

 Dead dog tired tonight. LONG day at work. Woof.

And running thru my mind..."oh yeahhh, life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone."

Thanks John, I think.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow is another day.
-

AWWKKK!

Great speaker last Sunday. Major slap in the face tho.Was talking about Zion being where we are. Now. Not someplace we're going to eventually. Or somewhere we are going to arrive at and everyone will be perfect, and kind and loving. Looked at us and said, "You need to be more friendly. The people sitting right here with you are the guys who are going to be in heaven with you."

The look on people's faces was priceless. I can imagine mine was an absolute study and I'm glad there weren't any cameras because - Right. Directly. In. Front. Of. Me. was the queen of dragon ladies. Oh no, no, no, no. I ain't going anywhere with her. It strains my resources to be marginally polite. Eternity. Mono y mono? That let's me out.  I need to talk to the travel agent. What else is available?

Wow.

You know, I'm not dumb.  I understand the concept of love thy neighbor...but people, if I have to learn to have a true Christ like love for this sister plus learn to really like her...

Man, I've got some serious work to do.
-

Monster

She's spoiled. She's beautiful. She thinks she should be my one and only.

 She drools...

Next!

-

Button, Button. Who's Got the Button.

My hand mirror is gone again. Let me emphasize the MY part. I use it everyday. I'm not vain. I don't stare at my image for hours on end, just use it to put on my makeup and pluck errant chin hairs. (More information than you wanted right?) Life will go on. I can live without it, but....why should I have to???

Let me tell you the tale of two mirrors. One belonged to the princess and had been in her family for many, many years. It was a lovely mirror, with gold gilt and two sides. (One with a nifto keeno magnified side.) The other mirror was an estate cast off. Functional. A mirror. It ended up in the garage where the man of the house used it to get a better look at things when he was working on his vehicles. This should have been a "and they lived happily ever after each with their own mirrors" kind of story, but...

Have you ever noticed how handy that little word "but" is???

The man was covetous of the magnified mirror. The princess would open her cupboard only to find her lovely gold mirror gone. He needed it, he said. It worked better, he said. And finally after he had taken her lovely gold mirror out to the garage enough times that he had mucked it all up he proposed a trade. His mirror was much nicer now to look at and wouldn't the princess like it instead?

"Fine," she said. It wasn't her gold mirror but it worked and maybe this one would stay in her cupboard.

And now it too is gone. For the last several weeks it has come and gone and now finally it's just gone. He is using it and can't be bothered to put it back where he found it.

This does not surprise the princess.

The fact that he has apparently lost or broken her gold mirror (neccessitating the theft borrowing on a no return basis of the other mirror) does not surprise her either.

The princess does wonder though, where the good surprises in life went?
-

Breakfast is Served!

Orange Cream Cheese Strata with Cranberries and Walnuts

Something new. Being computer illiterate I wasn't sure if this will work, but had to try. And presto chango! A link to "Three Many Cooks"  Orange Cream Cheese Strata.  Just click above and it takes you to their site. Yum! Can substitute evap. milk for half-n-half.
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Kid Wars

Anyone remember the "Daisy Kingdom" dresses that were so popular around 1990?

 I do.

The memories involve two young mothers, their daughters, and a "I can put more ruffles, bows, lace, cutsie buttons, fabric and anything else you can think of on a dress than you" competition. One little girl would show up on Sunday in a cute little dress. Everyone would ooh and ahhh over it while Mom modestly demurred..."oh, it was nothing, just sometime I whipped up last nite..."

The next Sunday the other mother would trot her daughter out with a slightly more elaborate outfit.

And the next Sunday....until eventually the ladies were glaring at each other, everyone else was laughing and the little girls staggered under the weight of their costumes or tripped over the frills. Their poor little legs poked out like sticks underneath the voluminous skirts.  Victims of their mother's ambition.


I have seen "Kid Wars" played out time and time again. Apparently "we" can feel better about ourselves if our kid is better looking, smarter, faster....(fill in the blank) than anyone elses. I try to avoid that particular game but occasionally you can just feel yourself getting sucked in...

So - without going into particulars, there is a couple we know who's oldest children have provided some parenting challenges that have lead to a series of embarrassments that leaves the "My kid is better than yours" scoreboard, to the mother's intense dismay, not balancing in her direction. Their youngest son has become the "shining hope" in their quest for social redemption. Unfortunately he too has developed a few glitches.

Enter the Youngest. Mine that is...the kid has that Ferdinand the Bull thing going on. Y'know just happy to hang with whoever is happy to be with him. Likes sitting there in the sunshine, in the meadow smelling the flowers. He's just part of the "get along gang." Gets decent grades, B student (could be an A student but not overly motivated.) Understands it's a good thing to render service, doesn't complain much, never whines. (Big no no in our house and while we're at it, let's be perfectly clear. I. do. not. whine. I BITCH. Thank you very much, now back to our regular programming...) Becoming proficient in karate and piano. Not really a jock but growing into a tall, good looking kid.

Cue up the Star Kid Wars sound track.  Seems there isn't enuf room for both kids. Over the last couple of years some truly stupid stuff has gone on including having a brand new tent that we'd bought destroyed. Nasty rumors and innuendo spread about, and a classic incident occurred when the Youngest had cracked his arm during sports. Doctor put a heavy duty brace on it and 1st period of the school day "Psycho Boy" decided that the Youngest was faking the injury to get attention. (Guess he should have brought the x-ray with him.) So Psycho Boy walked up to him, took his fist and slammed it down on the brace as hard as he could. Pain just about dropped the Youngest and Psycho Boy took off. They don't see each other again until right before lunch. Psycho Boy was surprised that the Youngest hadn't taken off the brace and quit faking so to prove a point he charged up again and took another swing...

Oh dear.

I'm conflicted.

My fingers are starting to clench as I type. 

Now there are a lot of things that could be done. But there are eternal consequences. And while I grit my teeth, that old WWJD thing keeps coming back. These are people who have issues. The ward tries to support and encourage them and rightly so. No one should tear someone else down. (Unless they're blogging to try and defuse their intense irritation.) Meanwhile I know the Youngest can take care of himself. He has enough self defense technique under his belt to lay Psycho Boy out but we're not trying to start WWIII here. So what's to do? Obviously they are not going to be great, good friends. Conversely we'd be pretty small people to return what they've been dishing out so we're left with...counselling him to be polite? If he can't actively fellowship the boy, then at least stay away from him, allow him his little patch of earth, find something else to do, hang out with other kids, lots of them that The Youngest gets along with. Basically the old "they cause themselves enuf misery, we don't need to add to it."

Which works.

Kinda.

So last week:

And I may (or may not have) expressed my strong displeasure about the following situation to Farm Boy....

The guys were in the gym playing a game. About 12 boys, not a girl in sight. The Youngest had put on a clean pair of pants before going but was a bit rushed and didn't get his belt on. When he bends over the top of his shorts show. Apparently there is a "Your shorts are showing" song. Psycho Dad starts singing it. The Youngest gets a piece of twine and ties his britches up. Still a small portion of the band of the shorts can  be seen if he bends over. Psycho Dad continues to sing his song, harasses him about his attire and informs him that his shirt is too short. (Not.) Plus Psycho Dad also decides to revisit (for the third time) a scouting issue that has previously been resolved and informs the Youngest that he needs to take care of it and not his "mommy".

 ?????

Here, let's do that again.

?????

Ummm, I'm not even going to get into the scouting thing.

Meanwhile, The Youngest does the best he can, is trying to be polite, doesn't talk back (which probably translates into withdrawing.) Time to go. I pick him up. Kid is quite and tense. "What's up?" He relates his story.

What do I tell him? I mean, really. He has backed up, gone around...what is this? Seven times seven??? I guess. So...

"Well", I finally say, "what was your initial problem tonight?"

He's ticked, no response. So I help..."Belt, right?" "You know not to leave the house without it. Bet you don't forget next time, huh?"

"But Mom, he just went on and on with his stupid song and wouldn't quit. He's an adult but he acts as bad as his kid!"

I start laughing. I couldn't help it.

"Son, you've heard the old story about the acorn not falling far from the tree? With Psycho Boy and his dad as examples you now know what not to do. Eh?"
-

God Rocks!

Sometimes the youth of today get a rap for not being humble enough, polite enough...and their language. Oh my. But then again, sometimes their slang nails it right on the head.

Farm Boy was working on the pickup this morning. Had it all torn apart. Reassembling it has been....interesting. He needed help but the Youngest was at school. So he asked me to help hold the stand he was using.  I could do that. Unfortunately it wasn't helping that much, more like moral support. He was frustrated and said if the Youngest were here the boy could climb under the pickup and....

Sigh. Okay. I could do that.

No, he says.

Yeah I say. Just get me a piece of cardboard to lay on.

So I'm under the pickup.

Farm Boy is valiantly trying to piece everything back together, but it's awkward, at the wrong angle, just not  fitting. It's hard on him to try to reach, his breathing is labored. Time passes. I know his muscles are protesting. (I'm with him! My back has seized up a while ago, they'll need a crane to get me out from under here.) Sweat is dripping off his face. He takes a break. Tries again. No bueno. Gets his breath. (Insert Jeopardy watch ticking music score here.)  Oh dear...

A silent prayer. "God - a little help??"  Seconds later a truimphant "Got it!"

YES! This is sooooo awesome!

Now the next one. Fiddle, twink....

Start that clock running again.

Farm Boy, (tired and just wanting it to be over) "Okay, I'm going to put a wrench on it."

"Now, now. Take your time. It's okay. We've got all day. Remember you said we don't want to cross thread it."

Farm Boy, "I'll know when I start it if it's going to go..."

Cringe.

"Please, please, please. Steady his hand and clear his mind..."

Farm Boy, "Alright!"

Coincidence?

Okay, if you insist.

But I'll tell you what I do know.  I am no one. Really. In the grand scheme of things - nothing special. But I do know that He listens to us. He is mindful of each and every one of us. He answers our prayers. Big or small. So you go ahead and stick with the stuff happens thing, however, after one hundred plus "coincidences" I'm just going to go with...

God - You ROCK!
-

HEY!

Was showing Farm Boy where I'd saved a file for him on the computer...As he walked away I noted the date and told him..."Nov. 17 - it's Ren's birthday." (Ren, poor boy, holds the title of Family Screw Up).

"Hmmm, another year older." I say.

Pause.

"And hopefully.....another year wiser."

Farm Boy..."I was wondering how you were going to handle that."

"Brought to you by the new, kinder me..."

Farm Boy..."ahh, yaaaa."
-

Tucannon Ridge Runners

Went to bed. Rolled over looked at the clock. 9:57pm. Closed my eyes. Then 10:23pm. 10:45pm. 11:17.

Oh yeah. We've all been there. Wide awake. The hamsters were running their legs off in their little wire exercise cages. Too cold to go for a walk. Watching TV or riding exercise bike would wake everyone else up. Go for a drive? Where? And do what?

So I lay there. The breeze wafting in the window. Listening to the sounds of the night. Then totally random thought. Hank and Zora Snow. Friends of my parents who lived up the Tucannon River Valley from us. They had two kids - Ginger & Hank Jr. I remembered going over to their place. My sister Jo & I used to play w/Hank Jr. Ginger was quite a bit older and I never remember her being around much, although there was some whispered talk about her, a jockey passing thru town and pregnancy. But you know how adults always dummy up when they think the kids are listening... Hard to get the low down on the good stuff when they won't squeak up! At some point in time I became infatuated with Hank Jr. He was almost three years older than me, same age as Jo, and while she thought he was a dweeb I thought he was marrrrr...velous. I remember horses, sunshine, the lazy river rolling by, playing hide and seek in the cattle pens and an occasional dirt clod fight.

The folks got divorced. Ma and us kids left the ranch. Years passed. I was down at the BBT w/some buddies. Playing pool and dining on their famous fried chicken. Good looking kid comes in and we start talking. He's from Dayton. Yeah? I'm from Dayton...Hank? 

Wow.

We reminisced. When it was time to go he walked me to my car. It had been really nice spending the evening with him. He opened the door for me and waved farewell, but as I started to back out of the parking lot he pounded on the window. I was startled but opened it, then he grinned and launched himself through the opening to kiss me.

Romantic? A dream come true?  Ummm, no.

Now's probably the time to mention that Hank had had just a "bit" too much to drink and as charming as he'd been we were nowhere near being on the same page about getting a little closer. Apparently the evening was ending too early for him tho. It was one of those "Oh, I don't think so Tim." kind of moments. I kinda laughed and pushed him out of the car.

Thirty years ago. Last time I ever saw him.

I still remember the sadness I felt that night. My childhood - you know, the Father Knows Best, TV show kind was short. It was tied up in a six year span of time when I was grandpa's "Little Sunshiner," and daddy's favorite child. When our family was still together and the five year old mud pie maven had more horses noses to kiss than she could ever hope for. It was an age of innocence when a little girl loved a boy named Hank.

Reality is a lot harsher. I realize that that particular fairy tale existed mostly in my mind but I kinda of liked the picture I held of a young Hank sitting on the corral fence with his shirt tail hanging out of his jeans, boots hooked over a rail, and a big ol' grin on his face.

 Never did care for the one of the drunken cowboy that replaced it.
-

Talking To Myself

A while back (Sept.?) there was a little dust up between Atlanta TSA (airport security) and a mommy blogger. The metal detector went off when she and her son went through and after that we have two different stories. TSA posted video tapes to back their side of the story, mommy blogger claims they're 1) incomplete or 2) edited and don't show that her young son was taken from her. Her blog was very emotional and created quite a stir. But in the end it appeared mommy may have fudged a few facts for journalistic impact. She's standing by her blog entry tho. Creative license she says. Doing the old "that's my story and I'm stickin' to it."

Many were outraged. "Why would you lie?" they asked. Why indeed. Someone else printed off the hits on her site. The site which has advertising. The site which had a minimal amount of traffic. The site which then zoomed to over 200,000 hits in one day.

Oh.

Call me a cynic. But money talks. Always has. Always will.

Fast forward. This morning. Farm Boy was sitting in his easy chair, reading the newspaper while the TV was on. I was listening to the news/morning show and they were talking about waiting in lines...grocery store lines, traffic jams, airport security lines...TSA.

Ahh, good ol' TSA.

So, just as he was finishing with his paper and started to lay it aside I began to recount the story above. But the poor man... for the life of him he could not focus on me for more than one second.

 Did I mention the TV was on?

So, no newspaper, but now his eyes darted from me to the TV. Back to me. Back to the TV...

TV just isn't that fascinating.

Is it?

But then obviously neither was I. So I quit talking. It took him a few moments to notice. Then he impatiently said, "yeh, and...TSA and something..." I just shook my head. "No", I said, "I'm through." He got this really annoyed look on his face and got all snitty. Apparently I was being difficult.

"Really, it wasn't that important." I said.

But thanks for making sure I understood that.
-

A Well Trained Man

A little quip from the morning newspaper:

A man writes, "My wife and I have a system for settling arguments. We discuss the matter objectively and at length until she's right."
-

Should Be Dusting

I have to ration my time at the local library. If I go there too often, I pick out a lot of books and if you have books you have to read them, right???? If one spends too much time reading, other things go by the wayside and my family for some reason thinks they need clean socks in their drawers, food on the table. That's my job, I work part time out of the house but my full time job is riding herd on the...herd.

So back to the books. Reading a western. Mind candy. I seldom tackle the kind of books that involve getting out a dictionary to figure out what the heck that big word means or ones where I have to read a page at a time and then take the rest of the day off to digest it and figure out what the author is trying to tell me. Sorry, just not a War & Peace fan. (Unless, of course, I can't get to sleep.)

I like the simple, hit you in the face, type of stuff. Today, for instance, our young hero, Hardy, has had a difficult and trying experience. He recounts the story to a friend, trying to understand "why me?" His friend, Sgt. Stebbins, answers:

"Look here...I've seen some strange things, heard of more, too. Probably was fate...Maybe it was like the Last Supper. Whatever it was, you won't forget it, I'll tell you this. Things like that never go away."

Hardy knew all about that. He was already toting a burdensome pack of memories, some good, some bad, and for certain, they never went away. Lately, the load seemed to be getting heavier. Well, he felt a little better after telling his story to Sgt. Stebbins. A man just couldn't go on mumbling to himself all of the time.

But then again, he knew a man had to give trouble a good kick in the ass and get on with his life - grab life by the throat and shake the heck out of it. That was the gumption Grandfather was always talking about.

Maybe I like the "mind candy" because it so often mirrors my simplistic view of life. Give it a good kick in the ass and get on with it. Occasionally you're going to get bogged down with the detritus of life and it helps to have someone who will listen to you vent, or a journal so you can line your thoughts out or...

blog, anyone???
-

Beauty & the Beast

Sometimes life is all about focus. What we choose to deal with/focus on determines our attitude. That attitude helps determine our quality of life.

Yesterday I just about died when a snotty 20 something trucker decided his right to exceed the speed limit overrode any concerns for my safety. It's a considerably longer story but the end analysis is (and this is a true "hat's off to road rage" moment)... if I'd had a handgun in the glove compartment you might be reading about me in the newspaper today, but (thankfully) I didn't - so you won't.

However, shortly after that, while running an errand I stopped by a small hardware store that has operated in our area for years and years. I cruised in with minutes to spare before their closing time. Was greeted with a smile, a polite 17 year old salesman, and a watchful boss. I spent a pleasant five minutes as the young man guided me through the aisles, found my part for the flashlight, offered to remove the shattered bulb, cleaned everything up, replaced the bulb and packed up the spare for me. All the while being charmingly conversant, helpful and when I commented on some of their displays and mentioned that they'd be great stocking stuffers - with the ease of a born salesman he pointed out other items that I might be interested in as he walked me to the door. Granted, my young man was probably the owners son but for the $3.57 spent I got the full meal deal. I was impressed by him. I was a very happy customer. I'll be back for those stocking stuffers.

Two young men.  Both doing their "jobs." Night and day. I could focus on my desire to mangle the first one's stiff middle finger or let it go and let my heart swell with hope for tomorrow because of a 17 year old boy.

I choose the latter.
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Bumper Snicker

         "I love you more today than yesterday." 

 

                                          "Seriously...

                       Yesterday you annoyed the hell out of me."
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I'm In Love

Ummmmm ....

The container from Costco is labeled: McCormick Gourmet Collection, Table Grind, Malabar Black Pepper. Vine Ripened on India's Tropical Malabar Coast, these peppercorns have a clean, bold bite and fruity aroma that complement savory and sweet foods.

What?

You know, I've bought pepper and other spices in bulk from Costco for a long time. Never had any complaints about them. They're functional and cost effective. And other than identifying what's in the jar, can, etc. I seldom read the entire label.

This time though, I looked at the label and wondered "what's Malabar?" Humph. Opened it, looked at it, tasted it. Yup, looks and tastes like pepper and then the smell....

Oh my heavens. What is that glorious smell. It was rich, it was fruity, it was - it's hard to describe the complex delight that hit my olfactory senses, it was....my!

Pepper?

Yup, pepper. Not just any pepper mind you. Malabar Black Pepper or Pimienta Negra Malabar Molido De Mesa, if you will.

Excuse me if I don't get up when you come in. I'll  be a little busy sniffing my pepper. I think it's  going to be my new favorite hobby.
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Rudolph, Is That You?

Wednesday nite. Mutual. I'm up @ the Ward Bldg. doing geneology. The Teachers & Priests are playing Capture the Flag. My son wants to borrow the church keys so he can open the utility areas so they can hide.   ?????    Ummm, no. See son, they are locked for a reason. People on one side, mechanical stuff, wiring on the other...both sides safe. (Especially the side that has the: 14-17 year old, I can't remember where I left my brain today, male types...)

15 minutes later. The echo of heavy, running footsteps reverberate through the ceiling. Didn't make it into the utility areas. Noooooo. Instead they're on top of the building. The tall building. The one with the steep chapel. Then a loud thwump & scuffle as they trip followed immediately by all three computers crashing.

BISHOP!!!!  "Please get your young men off the roof."

The poor man gets this look on his face and goes to track down our intrepid teens. Then  thump, thump, thump, the miscreants clomp back to the side to get down. Bishop comes back and reports..."they're okay, nothing happened, they didn't fall or trip or anything..."

????

"Uh, yeah they did. We heard them stumble, plus it appears they took out the satellite wire for the internet."

He gets that look on his face again...Leaves. Clomp, clomp, clomp on the roof again. When he finally reappears he asks, "Everything good here?"

"Yeah, but...I thought it had been made clear to them that the roof wasn't a play place???"

"Yes. We have to keep reminding them though. They forget."
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Cynic

Oh goodness. I just cruised some Mommy Blogs. They are so happy. So full of hope.  So impossibly ...young.

And then there is me ... and my editorials:

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Crab Cakes

My. I have been crabby lately. But the upside is - letting off steam here makes me able to be sooooo much sweeter there. Yes, I'm batting my eyelashes and going all Southern Belle on y'all.

LOL

Kittens. Let's talk about kittens. Is there anything sweeter than a 6 week old kitten???

So we found homes for five of One Ear's babies and are currently keeping two - Blackie & Tippers. (If you look close, you'll find all seven. Blackie has crawled on top of one of his siblings and the only thing you can see is an extra Siamese ear sticking out by Tipper's head.) Have been bringing them inside to play with them and socialize them. They are hilarious to watch. Tipper's has a little size on Blackie. Blackie is kinda like the scrawny street tough and Tippers is the chubby nerd.

I pulled them both up into my lap. Blackie was tormenting Tippers. Finally just sunk his teeth into Tippers ripe, juicy bottom and liked to tear a big ol' hunk out of his hind end. I pulled Blackie off and Tippers immediately turned to face him, reversed until his vulnerable backside was firmly snugged down in the crook of my arm, opened his mouth and CHOMPED down on Blackie's tail.

Never mind the saying about "revenge being a dish best served cold."  Immediate gratification appears to be the watch word phrase of the day!
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Really?

During scripture reading this morning I highlighted 1 Thessalonians 5:15 which says: 

"See that none render evil for evil unto any man; but ever follow that which is good, both among yourselves, and to all men."

Okay, quit laughing. Obviously I spend a fair amount of time thinking about letting the air out of peoples tires, BUT I DON'T DO IT. Still I get no points, in my book,  because I figure if I were a really good person the thought wouldn't cross my mind...sigh.

Unfortunately it does. But! I usually get over myself on the way to getting even. Hopefully Heavenly Father appreciates (cringe) my restraint. Still, I've spent some time this week shaking my head at people and their antics so... why stop now?

Last night attended a seminar by a local gal named Kathy James. She is always very informative and I look forward to learning about the subjects she presents.

There were ~ 80 people in attendance. She wasn't quite set up and was asking for help to complete small tasks so we could get under way. You've seen in a large group, I'm sure, when a request is made, people kinda look at each other and it takes a few seconds for someone to pop up and volunteer. That's normal. There was a small space of time so I got up to work on the first task and one or two other people started on others. No big deal.

It was a very nice program and at its conclusion she requested additional help with cleanup,  so I put my supplies and papers in a pile and went to do my part. One of those many hands make light work.

Now in every group you've always got the folks who have other obligations and they hit the door running. Too hip, gotta go. I understand. Totally. I, myself, have nothing better to do with my time than pick up after you so - why not?

However, what really chapped my hide was when I went back to my belongings.....the handout that I had carefully place underneath/with, the rest of my stuff was gone. No, it hadn't fluttered to the floor or been accidently misplaced. It was gone. Here we were in a throng of good, church going women and someone has sticky fingers.

Really?  

Yes, I know there weren't any more handouts left on the table but the paper you stole borrowed was so obviously already taken ....

Excuse me while I take a moment to hyperventilate...

ARGGGH!  What's up with some people?  Okay, fume, rant, rave.

I'm thru now.

Really.

Except...

Hey.  You. Yeh. I'm talk to you. The one who has my orignial handout?  

 Ummm, you wouldn't know where my 9x13 pan from the last church function is??????????
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Musings From the Blueberry Patch

Pick up the newspaper. Turn on the radio. Every day, another senseless death. There is a collective sigh. Especially when it is a child. Who among us expects a son or daughter to predecease us? And yet, stillbirths, illness/disease, accident, or that time honored favorite - the tragic teenage mindset that "it could never happen to me!" are replayed again and again. And then the tears, the pain, the loss. The mind numbing emptiness.

When one has a grasp of the Plan of Salvation it helps, but still, in the dark of the night, hope & faith sometimes seem a poor substitute for a warm child in your arms. I know that sounds...what? Maybe like I've missed the whole point of the gospel? I haven't. Truly. But for those who have wrapped their arms around a little body and promised that you'd never let him go. That you'd protect him, that you'd...

Oh.

It can just take time.

Time - and prayer will bring comfort if you allow it.

You learn that life goes on...even if you think you can't bear for it to go on. It does.

 Not the way you expected or planned perhaps.

 But life does go on.
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I'll Just Be Over Here - In My Corner

Okay. Cruising the 'net. Waiting for the laundry to get done. Wow. People have issues.

Barack Oboma - Nobel Peace Prize. Ummm, what already? Hope is a wonderful thing, but ask my kids...I'm a little bit more goal orientated. Show me the money. Let me see that "A", then we'll talk about rewards. So, I'm thinking a little premature.  I didn't vote for him, and I know he doesn't want my pity, but I do think people need to give him a break...How anyone could stagger along with the weight of the great black hope on his back I don't know. He is a man. He could be a lovely shade of purple for all that matters and I'd still bet he puts his pants on one leg at a time. We'd be better off focusing on his politics and the integrity (or lack thereof) behind the politics rather than the rest of the minutiae that surrounds him.

But whether Obama, abortion, mommy blogs, Michael Jackson or even sci fi fan gatherings. Boy! You blog something, someone else finds it and doesn't agree and the gloves come off! All kinds of nasty cat fights out there. It's fine to disagree and obviously I tend to be a bit heavy handed with the sarcasm but do we have to be vulgar or crude about it??? And really if a pro lifer decides to comment on the blog of a woman's rights type (my life, my body etc.)....do you think there is anything one could say that would bridge the gap between the two? Abortion proponents say it's all about them, their body, their choice....I agree. Your life, your body, your choice until you create another person. Then they have a right to be heard too. Your choice came into play before you conceived....abstinence, birth control etc. My opinion but, just because I happen to be right, doesn't mean they agree. The only thing we're going to agree on is that we're going to disagree.


Today, in particular, I wandered across the blog of someone who had been to a sci fi conference and the more charitable comments about the attendees were that they were fat, lazy, white women and it got a lot worse from there. Even posted pictures on her site of people that were most...unflattering. Wow! The enraged sci fi folks are firing back. Both sides are pretty much out of control. Yikes! They're not content to verbally spar in cyberspace, they want a face to face, NOW!


And people wonder how the holocast happened....


Woof!


I never cease to be amazed by people. And I'm taking a moment to reassess the way I do things. Yes, I can improve. I need to be kinder. I need to have more charity. To find more opportunities to serve. In the same breath, I don't want to be a push over, or enable someone else's poor behavior. I'm a big fan of the saying about teaching people to fish so they can eat for a life time and do not want to be one of those guilty of encouraging a welfare state as they hand out fish to the needy on a daily basis. 


I've been accused of being too impatient, too abrupt....Undoubtly... Sometimes. But then again (and this is why I love my little brother)...one time I was talking about someone who had issues with me and thought I was too hard on people, he said:  "Oh I don't know. You've always been pretty good about firing a warning shot or two over the bow...."


Yes.


Yes I am. You know I was dragging my tail pretty low when Billy told me that. Appreciate him. Probably more than he'll ever know. We all can use a little support now and then.


But meanwhile, I'll just be over here - in my corner. Don't expect me to always keep my mouth shut tho. Like someone famous once said... "Don't worry if you can't do things right. You can always be used as a bad example." You screw up... I may mention it to my kids. Not to be unkind but, if they can learn some of life's hard lessons without having to go there themselves....I'm all over it.


So I'll keep blogging here in blissful anonymity. Talking to myself, keeping my head straight. The daughter was all curious and wanting to find this...hmmm, good luck with that. Not saying there is anything here she couldn't read but this is for me. Working on my issues - on a gentler, "kinder" level,  of course.
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The Privileged Few

Roman Polanski....what part of drugged, raped & sodomized do people not understand? 13 years old yet. He admitted it. Plea bargained and took off before sentencing because he thought a cranky judge might try to impose a stiffer penalty than what he & his attorney weaseled.

And Whoopie. "It's not rape rape?"

Ahhhh, c'mon girlfriend. Let's have a couple of minutes of silence for a true, what the ???? moment. Yes, I've heard that many men have fantasies about having sex with very little girls young women. Does this mean you would have volunteered your daughter???

So, let me see if I understand. If one has money, a certain amount of talent, a foreign country that won't extradite, can avoid capture for x amount of time, or simply have the ability to lie like a dog, then all bets are off. You win. You're special. There are no consquences for your actions. Congratulations, you are not one of Leona Helmsley's "little people."

And our victim. She wants the publicity to go away. Wants to get on with her life and has been "compensated" already and is more than willing to forgive and forget. Great. Good for her. I know I'd like it to go away too if I were her. Forgiveness is hers to grant.

But not justice.

Justice should be served. Justice must be served. This isn't OJ and the Civil Court. Polanski was convicted in Criminal Court. You know, we can't catch them all. We don't catch them all. Not by a long shot. But when we do they should line up with the rest of the little miscreants and take their medicine. Regardless of sex, creed, color, religon, political persuasion, sexual perversion or Hollywood connections.
-

Rich

Sitting and looking out the window. And you know, in the Disney movie Bambi where the rainstorm starts? It was Bambi, right? Anyway, one big, fat drop of water plops down on the earth, then another, until...

I watched the magnolia tree as the rain hit the leaves one at a time. They are big, thick leaves and the raindrop would land, push the leaf down and it would pop back up like a bungee jumper. Then the tempo of the rain on the roof increased and the leaves began to dance. And in that peculiar way that happens sometimes, rays of sunlight streamed through the tree...It was green and beautiful. Breathtaking really. But I didn't know whether, today, God was sprinkling the earth or crying.

You see, my friend Rich and his wife are getting divorced. When they were young, they had made a covenant to be together, forever. We do stuff like that when we're young. It is all sunshine, light and green leaves dancing in the rain. Then life happens.

Let me make my standard disclaimer. I know Rich isn't a perfect person, but ya gotta love the guy. Has a sense of humor and a way about him that can light up any room. And when he gets obnoxious you just kick him in the shin or point out that he's being a butt head, and while he's usually fairly unrepentant about it he generally stops. Pretty cut and dried. I can deal with his personality.

Kaye. Don't get me wrong. She is a nice person. A decent person. And (like so many of us) when you are doing what Kaye wants, she is a dynamic, happy, charming person. But uhh, when you're not doing what Kaye wants...Woof!! She is a force to be reckoned with.



So there they are. A life, a history, children... But the time has come, as in so many marriages that, they're done. They are through trying. Maybe can't even remember at the moment why they tried in the first place.

I want to pick up the phone and call him. Tell him...what? Is there anything I can add that various relatives, church leaders, and assorted other folks haven't already said. Could I even talk to him without crying, because crying always makes everything better worse, right?

I'm just left with this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Ugghh. It won't go away. Not today, maybe not for a long time.

He'll be the one to leave. Kaye and the kids will stay. We'll be polite and supportive. Rich will come back occasionally, but probably not often. If we're lucky we'll catch a glimpse and then he'll be off again.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo....don't leave us.

I'm an idiot. Sitting here sobbing. Okay, really, I have abandonment issues.

Rich.

Just so you know... I miss you already.
-

20 Something

Okay. Last Flughum section. While vast age certainly does not make us immune to making mistakes still, I think this piece is a classic tribute to the subject of being young and stupid.

"The first funeral service I ever performed left a bad taste in my mouth. First year in the ministry. Twenty-four years old. Knew it all. No need to seek advice about anything. Which is why I so easily agreed to help a lady scatter the ashes of her husband from an airplane flying over Bellingham Bay. No problem. Go up in the plane. Open the door. Pour out the ashes. Say a few comforting words about death. Go home.

The pilot assumed I knew what I was doing. The widow assumed I knew what I was doing. And I was certain I knew what I was doing. So up we went. I even wore my brand-new black clerical gown for the occasion.

Over the middle of the bay, at about five thousand feet, the pilot held the cockpit door open, and I took the top off what looked like a two-quart ice-cream container and poured the ashes out the door.

The slipstream poured the ashes right back in the door.

Filling the cockpit with the final dust of Harry, the deceased husband.

Covering the widow, the pilot, and me.

The results of intensive cremation are kind of like flour. Clean flour, though. Purified by fire. Which is why you wouldn't be harmed if you happened to get a lot of it in your mouth and nose. As I did. Also the pilot. And the widow.

The conventions of behavior are not clear in these circumstances. You're not really sure if spitting or blowing your nose is respectful of the deceased.

We flew back to the field in silence.

There's not a lot to say at such a time.

This situation was not covered in seminary training...

The widow was nice and calm and cool about the whole thing. "This will be...funny...someday," she said, and drove off alone in her own car with Harry's ashes beside her in the vacuum-cleaner bag.

I don't know what finally happened to Harry. I'm still too embarrassed to inquire. But I do wonder sometimes what else was with him in the bag and what happened when they poured Harry out the next time.

NOTE: It is very important first to put a clean bag into the vacuum cleaner - something you may forget to do in your haste."
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More Robert Fulghum

Okay, so the story is that as a young man Robert Fulghum worked at a small resort hotel. They were fed lunch but the cost was deducted from their paychecks. One week, he says, they had two wieners, a mound of sauerkraut and a stale roll every day. After a difficult week he found the final straw was a menu for the following two days with, you guessed it, sauerkraut and wieners. That was it, he was quiting. The only person around to vent to about the food, the boss, and life in general was the night auditor, who's name was Sigmund Wollman. What follows is profound:

"...I'm sick and tired of this crap and insulted and nobody is going to make me eat wieners and sauerkraut for a whole week and make me pay for it and who does he think he is anyhow and how can life be sustained on wieners and sauerkraut and this is un-American and I don't like wieners and sauerkraut enough to eat it one day for God's sake and the whole hotel stinks anyhow and the horses are all nags and the guests are all idiots and I'm packing my bags and heading for Montana where they never even heard of wieners and sauerkraut and wouldn't feed that stuff to pigs.

I raved on in this way for twenty minutes and needn't repeat it all here. You get the drift. My monologue was delivered by blows on the front desk with a flyswatter, the kicking of chairs, and much profanity. A call to arms, freedom, unions, uprising, and the breaking of chains for the working masses.

As I pitched my fit, Sigmund Wollman, the night auditor, sat quietly on his stool, smoking a cigarette, watching me with sorrowful eyes. Put a bloodhound in a suit and tie and you have Sigmund Wollman. He's got good reason to look sorrowful. Survivor of Auschwitz. Three years. German Jew. Thin, coughed a lot. He like being alone at the night job - gave him intellectual space, gave him peace and quiet, and even more, he could go into the kitchen and have a snack whenever he wanted to - all the wieners and sauerkraut he wanted. To him, a feast. More than that, there's nobody around at night to tell him what to do. In Auschwitz he dreamed of such a time. The only person he sees at work is me, the nightly disturber of his dreams. Our shifts overlapped for an hour. And here I am again. A one-man war party at full cry.

'Fluchum, are you finished?'

'No. Why?'

'Lissen, Fluchum. Lissen me, lissen me. You know what's wrong with you? It's not wieners and kraut and it's not the boss and it's not the chef and it's not this job.'

'So what's wrong with me?'

'Fulchum, you think you know everything, but you don't know the difference between an inconvenience and a problem.

'If you break your neck, if you have nothing to eat, if your house is on fire - then you got a problem. Everything else is inconvenience. Life is inconvenient. Life is lumpy.'

'Learn to separate the inconveniences from the real problems. You will live longer. And will not annoy people like me so much. Good night.'"

He goes on the say that later when he heard someone describe a moment of enlightenment he knew exactly what that meant...

"There in that late-night darkness of the Feather River Inn, Sigmund Wollman simultaneously kicked my butt and opened a window in my mind...for thirty years now, in time of stress and strain, when something has me backed against the wall and I'm ready to do something really stupid with my anger, a sorrowful face appears in my mind and asks: "Fulchum. Problem or inconvenience?"

"I think of this as the Wollman Test of Reality. Life is lumpy. And a lump in the oatmeal, a lump in the throat, and a lump in a breast are not the same lump. One should learn the difference."

Robert Fulghum

Reading Robert Fulghum's book "Uh-Oh, Some Observations From Both Sides of the Refrigerator Door."

I like his writing. Most of the time I find him mildly amusing. Occasionally he goes all flower child/hippy on me, and I find myself thinking he went a little too far. I'm a big fan of one's right to swing their fist as long as it stops before the other person's nose. He doesn't always share that sentiment. Years ago I was particularly irritated with a dandelion story he told. In fact, this is the first time I've read one of his books since and I still find I really want to tell him...JUST SPRAY THE DAMN WEEDS!!!!

Oh! Glad I got that off my chest!!!! Amazing what you'll find in the deep dark recesses of your mind.

Back to the here and now. Maybe you have to be 50+ to appreciate this but I find myself in agreement with this excerpt of his:

"There are clues that my life is entering a new stage. My children are beginning to look middle-aged, and they pat me in a patronizing way for no apparent reason. I don't want to ask why they are patting me - I'll take all the affection I can get from them in any form they want to dish it up. But I'm not used to being patted yet."

Yup.

My children would, of course, be offended to be referred to as middle aged, (they are beginning to put on a little extra weight though and one can see a hint of what they'll look like 10-15 years from now.) But I do understand the patting thing. They're already starting to do that. The absent minded, fond pat one reserves for a faithful pet or the favorite over stuffed chair... Just makes you want to say, Hey! HEY! I've got a lot of good years left in me. Where's a motorcycle. I'll show you!

I know why someone came up with that bumper sticker that says:

Avenge yourself. Live long enough to be a problem to your children.

And then one gets a little reality check. Just walking into the house yesterday, caught my toe and took a massive spill on the front porch. Hands were full: mail, purse, pop, keys...and in a second I was face down on the cement. Landed hard. Hard enough that, even though my first thought was a mortified, "Oh, no, did anyone see?" I knew it was prudent to lie still and assess the damage. That there would be blood was a given, but I was unprepared for the fact that my body was not going to obey my mind and just "pop up" when commanded. Great. So, I decided to try to crawl into the house but the body disassociated itself and took a siesta in full view of the world. I finally managed to roll into the shrubbery and get myself upright and going again and while it only took minutes it seemed forever...

Motorcycle indeed.

The only avenging I'll probably do is late night prank calls to the kids from my nursing home room.
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Duhhhhrrrrr

So, got a shipment of some 100+ hour liquid paraffin emergency candles. Of course I had to make sure they worked! Pulled the top off of one, lit it, realized it needed more wick, figured out how to...blah, blah, blah, blah.

Then I delivered remaining candles to friends who had ordered along with me. Stopped at friend Shirley's and started to share "things I had learned" with her. The conversation, in part, went:

Me. "Remember it's 'liquid' paraffin. Don't tip it without the cap on!
And always put the cap back on after you use it, also uh, make sure not to touch the metal part until it's cool..."

Shirley (busts out laughing), "This is where I don't ask how you know that, right?"

Pause. "Right."
-

Perspective

This parable has a lot of different variations but, I'm just going to go with the version that says:

There was an elephant and three blind men. The blind men had never seen or known an elephant before. So each agreed to examine the elephant to see what they thought it could be...

The first blind man felt the elephant's trunk and ran his fingers over the long, smooth, curving muscles. He jumped back in fear for he thought it must be kin to a python. The second blind man laid his hands on the elephant's ear and smiled to himself for he thought he was holding the wing of some exotic bird. The third blind man picked up the end of the elephant's bristlelike tail and frowned in puzzlement because he thought he'd picked up a bottle brush!

Dean Koontz is an interesting writer. He lives on the fringe of where I don't like to go and yet makes any number of dead on observations about the human condition. His comment on the above was:

"So it is with any experience that human beings share. Each participant perceives it in a different way and takes from it a different lesson than do his or her compatriots."

Yup.

That sounds about right.
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Kind Words of the Heart

Ran across a blog written by a woman about her mother-in-law. She wrote for several months from last spring to the middle of this summer. And. Wow. Did she have issues with the MIL.

You know, it happens. I understand many of her frustrations and it was almost funny but rapidly became distressing, especially in how the blogger expressed herself. The WTF's absolutely flew. She apparently was way past being able to simply distance herself from the problem or seek a higher plane. It appeared the MIL couldn't breath and do it right. The DIL was at the point where a simple invitation for the grandchildren to come and swim was reason to engage in major tactical warfare. And then the blog stopped.

Uh-oh...

Wanna bet someone found the blog?

Ouch.


You know if you're going to put stuff out here in cyberspace, you are going to have to be prepared to own it because you never know who will find it and read it. If you're going to bitch about someone you might not want put down anything you wouldn't say face to face...Yes, it could be quite the interesting little discussion but still, just saying...

Anyway, I did find one gem amongst the ranting. In an amusing "pearl of wisdom," (it was a comment in response to some hard feelings left over from a deceased MIL) Whoopie Goldberg was quoted as saying:

"Don't say nuthin bout the dead, lessen it's good. She dead. Good."

Hopefully, my DIL(s) won't be laughing as hard at that as I am...
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Oophs!

So the boss is toying with the idea of early retirement. He goes home to discuss it with the wife.

Comes back to work and reports that she said, "Okay, now let's see if I've got this straight. Early retirement. I get twice the man for half the money. Hmmm, let me think........................No."

Guess he'll be staying for a while.
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Who's got your back?

Watched the show NCIS last nite. And yes, I know it's TV, duh... Anyway situation had a team member leave and the final scene showed the rest of the group looking at her empty chair. The actors did an good job of conveying a very real sense of loss, a void that would be difficult if not impossible to fill.

Fast forward to 'real life'. The average person doesn't deal with James Bond thriller situations: murder, espionage, or intrigue on a regular basis, if ever. . Back in the 'burbs we all hope/assume we have people around us who care for us, who love us in spite of ourselves. People we can trust. Y'know - the people we can always count on to 'have our back'.

My cousin Joe spoke at his father's funeral about a conversation they'd once had. His dad, Rod, told Joe that he considered him to be his best friend.

Joe recounted that Rod told him, "You know, I don't have many friends".

That remark brought the house down, everyone started laughing - because the place was packed. Literally. Standing room only. People were hanging in the chapel doors and backed up outside! Now, Rod was not a perfect man but, he was a charming man, fun loving, thoughtful. The entire community turned out for his passing and we laughed because we all loved him - no friends indeed! I, for one, know his passing left an empty place.

Unfortunately I know exactly what Rod meant.

There are acquaintances, friends and then there are 'best friends'. Related or not. The handful of people you trust with your fragile beating heart. The ones who hold your soul. The ones you love unconditionally. The ones you'd throw yourself in front of a truck to save. The ones you give everything you've got to. The ones you care enough about to be honest with..."

And then, you find it's not enough. It's "thank you very much, but ...no, to all of that. However, you can hang around as long as you make yourself useful..."

God, it's a lonely world.
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Shoot Me Now

You know, I would say it's a guy thing...

Farm Boy takes his dinner plate, sits in front of the TV, and using questionable manners, eats his food. Then puts the plate on the floor for the cat to lick. Now, most of the time he just leaves the plate and the maid gets it but tonight he picks it up and brings it to the kitchen where I (yeah, okay the maid) am doing dishes and waits in the doorway, and waits, and waits. I pretend I don't notice. 'Cause you know what he's doing????? Waiting for me to move so he can scrape his leftovers into the garbage. Isn't that sweet? Not really. He saved a few noodles and (standing not more than 5 feet from me) tried to push them over the top of his vegetables to disguise them so I "couldn't" see that he hadn't touched them, which of course necessitated him scraping the plate so I didn't uncover his stealth tactics.

Does he know how to say peripheral vision?

Fussy aren't I? Leave him alone already, right? Unfortunately this five year old behavior is being exhibited by a 50+ year old man. A man who is overweight, has a tendency toward high blood pressure, joints that ache so bad that he has an ibuprofen habit that should take his liver out any day now...the list goes on.

His life right? Hey, I'm with you, I have a lot of weight to lose myself, but....

We're back to that 'unfortunate' part again. When he sees the doctor he comes home with, "I've got to lose weight, now. You have to help, you need to change the way you cook, you need to..." So I do and then his problem becomes my problem. But he's a meat and potatoes kind of guy, along w/a chocolate kind of guy, a heavy on the carbs/starch kinda guy so he'll stick w/the program for a good 24 hours and then I get to watch him play juvenile games like...let's hide the vegetables! Hey, I like chocolate too but ultimately we're responsible for ourselves, right?

So okay, don't eat your vegetables, have 4 slices of toast & jam 30 minutes after you've just had a full dinner and rummage the frig again 30 minutes after that. But quit with trying to make me the fall guy because he says, wait for it...

"well... you knew."

Deep cleansing breath.

So is now the time to start on the bit about the newspaper? I need to talk to him. He assures me he's listening even tho I can see his eyes move back and forth as he reads. Then when he doesn't pick up the kid, blows by the appointment, doesn't return the call I told him about... it's "you never told me."

Ummmmm, no, now is not a good time.
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Bumper Snicker

VEGETARIAN - old Indian word for lousy hunter.
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Take Me Back to 1902 - Not

I hate electronics. Love electricity, refrigerators, washing machines, dryers....but I think the guy who invented panty hose is probably related to the fellow that put all the little buttons on every VCR, DVD, computer, remote, digital camera, etc. etc. Can nothing be simple and user friendly? I don't even want to admit how long it took for me to find the cord to plug my digital camera into the computer, transfer the information, save it and then find it again. Okay, never did find part of the pictures and had to start all over again. Arggh! You know, Farm Boy had best get himself to work and hustle up a raise so I can hire a house boy to handle the annoying details that my aged brain refuses to grasp ...or I'm voting we head for the hills, turn back time and live in a gentler, kinder era.

Hold it, I think Rhett Butler tried that...didn't work. Fine! Then back to the house boy. I'm taking applications. He who looks like Brad Pitt may have the first interview.
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Meat on the Hoof

Quite some time ago, I was looking for a recipe and ended up staying for Ree Drummond's life at http://www.thepioneerwoman.com/. She is an upbeat, down to earth Oklahoma ranch wife. She was a city girl, but the last 14 or so years of her life have been spent learning which end of a horse to hang a halter on, figuring how to keep cattle out of her yard (or not) and admiring the way her husband looks in his wranglers (and from what I can see of his pictures...not a bad past time!) Today she posted snap shots of some of their herd bulls and made some humorous comments about them "loving" their jobs! Funny girl. Gorgeous bulls. Oh baby! Throw one of those steaks on my dinner plate! The internet makes the world so much smaller. Her site has entertained me and brought Oklahoma to my doorstep. How much fun is that? Thanks Ree!
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There is Sunshine In My Soul Today

Wow...just got off the phone. Woof.

Long story short - friend asked me to help her with a project at church. My job was to phone people. Most folks I contacted mentioned that it hadn't necessarily been on their "to do" list but they were willing to spend a half an hour and give it a whirl.

Not so Sister X. Called her and asked her if she'd be interested in getting involved. Basic yes or no kind of thing. Apparently she felt obligated and didn't want to say no but certainly didn't want to commit to the project so she started on a litany of excuses of why not... that went on and on and... Woof! Shoot me now. Twenty minutes later...

Now I've been known to complain occasionally. There have been days when I've been (fill in the blank) depressed, sad, irritated etc. Haven't we all? My buddy, Wendy, gives me a certain amount of time to vent and when she's done listening to me whine she just changes the subject. It's one of those,  "Oh, okay, got ya, I'm thru here, eh???"  Gotta love the woman.

But Sister X... Known her for 25 years and life just 'happens' to her and she "can't" seem to do anything about it. There is a lot to be said for figuring out what you have no control over, what you do have control over and learning to know the difference. Unfortunately X. has been a victim of circumstances for as long as I've known her.

It isn't my intent just to pick on her, although, really I do know better than to call her...but there is a lesson to be learned here. Stuff happens. Sometimes it takes a while to get our ducks in a row but ultimately we get to decide who we want to be and how we want to go about doing things... having a decent attitude, striving for learning to be a life long process, making a difference where you stand etc. You know it's valid to say you don't want to do something, but can't? Climbing the empire state building... I'll give you that one. Sorry, not spider man, really can't. But for a lot of the rest of the stuff, hey I may be too lazy but technically it's within reach. I just need to find a way to make it happen, organize, plan etc. But first let's get that attitude adjusted!!!

So today - while I won't be saving the world, just picking up my little corner (and that's a whole 'nother rant about if we'd all just take care of our own space what a wonderful world it would be...) there is going to be sunshine in my soul!

As long as I stay off of the phone...
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