During the teenage years and somewhere into the twenties, a lot of us tend to think we know everything there is to know. We often don't ask questions about future times because we live in the now. Living in the now is a good thing, it's the only time we really have, but in most cases, life goes on and during that journey we stumble onto truths no one bothered to tell us. Here are my favorite top ten.......
1. Unless you have exceptionally wonderful genes, your hair will turn gray.......everywhere.
2. Not only will it gray, it will grow in places you never thought possible. Upper lip, chin, nose and yes, your ears. If you are at this stage in life and are in doubt as to whether you have removed all such hair, a small child will be more than happy to let you know if you missed some.
3. Noses and ears never stop growing. Please give careful consideration to this before putting those ear spacers in your lobes. Although, I guess you could put large baskets in them later on and carry your groceries, this will free up your hands for the cane.
4. You will not die from consuming something with a passed expiration date of two days. Most times you are safe even longer than that, but if it was milk and now looks like cottage cheese, feed it to the cat.
5. Looking at pictures of food for extended periods of time will give you gas.
6. Unless you are very thin, never run in corduroy pants. This can lead to spontaneous combustion.
7. If you are old enough to enjoy the senior citizens discount, avoid trying new things that require a helmet and pads of any kind. If you enjoy being the topic of entertainment at family gatherings, by all means, strap them on.
8. If you like to wear your jeans or slacks more than one day, always check to make sure your previously worn underwear, socks or pantyhose are not in the leg. If you do find such an object, please do not retrieve it in public. Mother did this once in the doctors' office. By the time she got her pantyhose pulled out from the bottom of her pant leg they were about twelve feet long. This did provide entertainment at the next family gathering.
9. Pouring salt in a wound hurts like hell. Please apply to yourself first before administering to someone else.
10. You are not a body with a soul. You are a soul with a body. That body does not come with an extended warranty or guarantees of any kind. It does, however, come with two devices for listening and one for speaking. Learn to listen twice as much as talking.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Sunday, September 29, 2013
For The Mothers of Boys
From now on, Sundays will be a day off from blogging. Instead I will use it as a time to reflect, gather and contemplate new ideas. I will let the universe instill in my head what it wants known and hopefully be paying attention when that happens. With that said, I would like to share my latest experience.
Last night we had our two oldest grandsons spend the night. Since they are getting older, this is a rare occurrence. Having raised girls, it is also a time to get a glimpse into the world of mothers who do raise them. You all deserve a gold star on your chart.
They are amazing creatures. They have the ability to open the refrigerator door, take a deep breath and inhale all of its contents in the matter of a few seconds, only to be starving thirty minutes later. They see absolutely nothing wrong with playing catch while standing next to the china cabinet. Body parts and functions are an endless form of entertainment and their attention span can go from intrigued to somewhere outside of the box, instantly. Example:
The oldest shows me a video. It is of a family that has found a baby rabbit. They are standing in their drive way and notice the mother rabbit is in the neighbors' yard. They bid farewell to the baby rabbit and send it off in the direction of its mother. Just before the bunny reaches its destination, a hawk swoops down out of nowhere and snatches up the baby rabbit. Our conversation of this follows:
Me: Rabbits scream when they are caught.
G'son: Yeah, I know.
Me: When you were little and lived in the country, your folks had a dog named Buster. Buster loved to catch baby bunnies. He would come out of the tall grass with one in his mouth, prance around a bit and then toss his head up and swallow the bunny.
G'son: Whole?
Me: Yes, and then he would head back into the tall grass and continue doing this until he had cleaned out the entire nest of bunnies.
G'son: So, they were still alive when he swallowed them?
Me: Yes, for awhile.
G'son: Do you suppose they were playing cards in there?
From that point on, the conversation went south. Hats off to the mothers of boys.
Last night we had our two oldest grandsons spend the night. Since they are getting older, this is a rare occurrence. Having raised girls, it is also a time to get a glimpse into the world of mothers who do raise them. You all deserve a gold star on your chart.
They are amazing creatures. They have the ability to open the refrigerator door, take a deep breath and inhale all of its contents in the matter of a few seconds, only to be starving thirty minutes later. They see absolutely nothing wrong with playing catch while standing next to the china cabinet. Body parts and functions are an endless form of entertainment and their attention span can go from intrigued to somewhere outside of the box, instantly. Example:
The oldest shows me a video. It is of a family that has found a baby rabbit. They are standing in their drive way and notice the mother rabbit is in the neighbors' yard. They bid farewell to the baby rabbit and send it off in the direction of its mother. Just before the bunny reaches its destination, a hawk swoops down out of nowhere and snatches up the baby rabbit. Our conversation of this follows:
Me: Rabbits scream when they are caught.
G'son: Yeah, I know.
Me: When you were little and lived in the country, your folks had a dog named Buster. Buster loved to catch baby bunnies. He would come out of the tall grass with one in his mouth, prance around a bit and then toss his head up and swallow the bunny.
G'son: Whole?
Me: Yes, and then he would head back into the tall grass and continue doing this until he had cleaned out the entire nest of bunnies.
G'son: So, they were still alive when he swallowed them?
Me: Yes, for awhile.
G'son: Do you suppose they were playing cards in there?
From that point on, the conversation went south. Hats off to the mothers of boys.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Small Town Living In A Big E-World
I've lived through lots of changes in this small town. No, I didn't ride a horse to school or have to walk on top of the fence posts when the snow was deep, my folks did that, but I can still remember my dad calling me in from the other room to change the channel on the TV. For those of you who don't remember, remote controls used to be human. The town has gone through a few changes too. Some for the better, some for the worse but we did feel a connection to the bigger outside world when the entire population, all five hundred or so households, received matching trash bins. Now the garbage truck driver has to only hook the bin to the truck and the truck empties the bin. Such technology!
With the age of technology came the internet and everything E. E-mail, e-shopping, e-traveling and e-friends. It's a wonderful thing because it allows me to connect with the outside world. It lets me go places I haven't been, meet people I never knew and still feel the comfort this small town provides.
A couple of months ago I decided to sell a lawn mower on a popular e-auction site. It was a huge self propelled push model and it was more than I could handle. When I listed it, I made sure that it was for 'local pick-up only'. No way was I going to ship this behemoth. That all changed when I met J.R.
J.R. lives in California, a place that is on my bucket list and J.R. wanted this mower. The first time we talked on the phone the conversation lasted almost an hour, with about seven minutes of that actually about the mower. We talked about everything from politics to civil war history. He assured me that the big California cities are not like they are portrayed in the movies and I assured him that I really could throw a rock and not hit my neighbors' house because of the distance between them. He's a collector of old things and old cars and when I see one I think he might like, I send him an e-picture. He in turn, being a history buff, sent me the picture at the top of this page. It's a picture of the 'up town' in my small town, what it looked like a long time ago. We get to share and connect through the e-world, discover new places and make new friends and yes, buy a used mower half way across the country.
Yes, it's a small town and you are more likely to see a raccoon or possum hit on the street than the neighbors' cat. You sometimes have to come up with your own form of entertainment like taking the trash out in the dark, flipping the lid over on the new fancy trash bin (it makes a really loud 'pop' when you do that) and listening to your neighbors scream "What the hell, was that a gun?!?" But the big e-world is just a click away.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Kind Words & Tattoos
During our tenure as curator of a small business, we were in charge of many children. That is a totally freaking awesome way of saying; during the fourteen plus years my husband and I owned and operated a fleet of fifteen school buses, we took care of a boat load of kids. In all that time, there was one incident that taught me a most valuable lesson.
When one of our drivers retired, I took over his route. On this route was a young man in his teens. He was an angry young man. He didn't like the previous driver and the driver didn't much care for him either. At the time, I'm not sure this kid liked anybody.
I always made it a point to tell each of my riders "Good morning!" and call them by name, because I truly believed that starting your day out on a happy note was better for the rest of the day. Plus, in some cases, I was the first adult they would see and I didn't want to be known as the mean ole' bus driver lady. So that is what I did with this kid. The first day, he scowled at me, gave me a look like 'what planet did you come from' and sunk into the depths of his bus seat.
I didn't quit. Everyday I greeted him this way and even began to ask him mundane questions about his particular neighborhood. By the end of the first week, my oldest daughter came home from school and said, "Mom, I don't know what you've done to Carl, (not his real name) but he's a totally different kid." I'm not going to tell you he had a fairy tale life from that point on, he didn't, but to this day, when I see him, his face lights up and his smile could melt the arctic ice cap.
There is an interesting study that was conducted on the effects words have on water. The scientific community poo poos this, but the results of the study are something to think about. Part of the experiments consisted of putting words on vials of water, freezing them and taking microscopic pictures of the frozen water crystals. The water with words such as love, peace, beautiful, Mother Teresa, showed beautiful structures to the ice crystals. The water with words hate, evil, ugly, etc. had broken patterns and there was nothing pretty about them. Part of the study also brought up the fact that since the human body is 70 to 80% water, words could have the same effect on us.
What if we did that same experiment on ourselves or our children? I'm not suggesting we all run out and get tattoos. I grew up in an era when the belief was tattoos were bad and only for bad people. I know now this is not true, but Mother always told me not to write on my skin. I did that once, once being the key word. I came home from school one day and had inked up my entire arm, obviously because I didn't think I had anything better to do in study hall and I was quite proud of my artwork. She nearly scoured my skin off to the bone, I think the hack saw would have been less painful. But, what if we put words on our self, or the child that has a rough home life, or all children for that matter, that said things like 'I love you', 'you're beautiful', 'yes you can', 'special', 'healthy'?
I think it will work and I'm going to try it myself. There's a few issues I have so I'm going to write the outcome I want on my skin. I will put them where they can't be seen, but I will know they are there and Mom won't be rolling over. Recently I had to renew my driver's license and I did something I thought I would never do, I changed the weight. What's on there still isn't true but that is one of the things I'm going to write on my self. It will be up side down, but unfortunately, when I sit down it no longer will be.
So go ahead, give yourself some kind words and be sure to give them to someone else.
When one of our drivers retired, I took over his route. On this route was a young man in his teens. He was an angry young man. He didn't like the previous driver and the driver didn't much care for him either. At the time, I'm not sure this kid liked anybody.
I always made it a point to tell each of my riders "Good morning!" and call them by name, because I truly believed that starting your day out on a happy note was better for the rest of the day. Plus, in some cases, I was the first adult they would see and I didn't want to be known as the mean ole' bus driver lady. So that is what I did with this kid. The first day, he scowled at me, gave me a look like 'what planet did you come from' and sunk into the depths of his bus seat.
I didn't quit. Everyday I greeted him this way and even began to ask him mundane questions about his particular neighborhood. By the end of the first week, my oldest daughter came home from school and said, "Mom, I don't know what you've done to Carl, (not his real name) but he's a totally different kid." I'm not going to tell you he had a fairy tale life from that point on, he didn't, but to this day, when I see him, his face lights up and his smile could melt the arctic ice cap.
There is an interesting study that was conducted on the effects words have on water. The scientific community poo poos this, but the results of the study are something to think about. Part of the experiments consisted of putting words on vials of water, freezing them and taking microscopic pictures of the frozen water crystals. The water with words such as love, peace, beautiful, Mother Teresa, showed beautiful structures to the ice crystals. The water with words hate, evil, ugly, etc. had broken patterns and there was nothing pretty about them. Part of the study also brought up the fact that since the human body is 70 to 80% water, words could have the same effect on us.
What if we did that same experiment on ourselves or our children? I'm not suggesting we all run out and get tattoos. I grew up in an era when the belief was tattoos were bad and only for bad people. I know now this is not true, but Mother always told me not to write on my skin. I did that once, once being the key word. I came home from school one day and had inked up my entire arm, obviously because I didn't think I had anything better to do in study hall and I was quite proud of my artwork. She nearly scoured my skin off to the bone, I think the hack saw would have been less painful. But, what if we put words on our self, or the child that has a rough home life, or all children for that matter, that said things like 'I love you', 'you're beautiful', 'yes you can', 'special', 'healthy'?
I think it will work and I'm going to try it myself. There's a few issues I have so I'm going to write the outcome I want on my skin. I will put them where they can't be seen, but I will know they are there and Mom won't be rolling over. Recently I had to renew my driver's license and I did something I thought I would never do, I changed the weight. What's on there still isn't true but that is one of the things I'm going to write on my self. It will be up side down, but unfortunately, when I sit down it no longer will be.
So go ahead, give yourself some kind words and be sure to give them to someone else.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
The Heritage Bracelet
For as long as I can remember, I've always thought I must have been a man in a past life. I was introduced to power tools in my teens and somehow knew how to use them with little instruction. I love to build things and the bigger, the better. I hate to carry a purse and when I do I'm usually calling the restaurant or what ever business I was at to see if that is where I left it. Shower invitations make me cringe and the last one I attended I didn't get to participate in the game. The game was to see how many unusual items you had in your purse. I despise shopping. My sisters and I gather each Mother's Day weekend for a shopping excursion. They can spend the first 6 hours in two stores, my saving grace is that there is a tool store in this particular outlet mall. "But you make jewelry", someone said. Yes, but I'd rather make it than wear it. I love the ocean and I've always had a strange fascination with ships. Big tall ships with lots of sails. So, maybe I was a pirate.
Sometimes when working on my jewelry, if I'm beginning to lose my focus, I push back and try something new. A couple of days ago this happened and I began to scan my work space, which gets really small by the end of a project, for something different to do. I thumbed through a catalog and came across a gadget for knitting wire. I had seen this before, but the very word 'knitting' always scared me. After a brief internet search I decided I could make my own gadget for this and tried my first attempt at knitting with wire.
I immediately enjoyed it. As I was working the wire into small loops and weaves, the realization of what I was doing hit me like a ton of bricks. I was knitting wire, I was doing the Viking knit......Holy crap! I was a Viking in my past life! What a revelation! I finished my first knitting and had just enough to actually do something with it.
The idea was already in my head, The Heritage Bracelet. I gathered everything I needed and began to piece it together. The turquoise represented the American Indian blood that is somewhere down the family tree. The Celtic swirls remind me of my Irish roots and the Viking knit chain that holds it all together makes me smile. Yep, a viking, it all makes perfect sense now. I'm thinking I need one of those pointy metal hats with the horns sticking off each side. Oh, my girls are going to love this.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
A True Inheritance
I come from a weird bunch, with an even weirder sense of humor. My husband will eagerly attest to this fact, so know up front, it's not his side of the family.
I'm not sure where our weirdness originated from but it must have come mostly from Mother. She always did weird things. Like the time she chased the car down the alley after it had jumped out of gear. Just as she got to it, she fell in the gravel. Just before it ran over her, it turned to the right and careened into the neighbors' garage. Dad asked her what she thought she was going to do with it once she caught it. Another time I watched her chuck an entire turkey carcass out the kitchen window after Thanksgiving dinner. She figured the cats would find it one way or another. So yeah, it must come from her.
Another thing she was famous for was never having a kitchen utensil that didn't have a burnt or partially melted handle on it. We would all make fun of the gnarly spatulas and spoons and tell her she should get some new ones, but I believe she took much pleasure at our disgust because she never replaced them, ever.
Several years ago, I had some weird idea come over me that I needed to clean under the stove. As I was raking out small toys, a fork and a lot of dust a true treasure emerged. It was a plastic lid that had gone missing for quite awhile. It was dirty with said dust but the best part was, it was melted. I stopped all cleaning and washed the lid, happy that some of the dust was permanently embedded into the plastic. I put it into a large envelope along with a certificate of authenticity and mailed it to my oldest sister. I dubbed it the Lucky Duck Lois Award and she still has it.
After Mother passed and we were going through some of her things, I found her kitchen timer. It was one of those inexpensive plastic ones that was self winding. As I turned it over in my hand, I realized I had stumbled onto yet another of her 'never get rid of anything' jewels. The timer was yellow, but the backside was so melted it had curved inside itself and the edges were now a lovely burnt orange color. The following Christmas I gift wrapped the timer and gave it to my oldest niece. She recently moved and sent me a picture of the timer sitting happily in her new home.
I would like to say that my own cooking utensils are free from any blemish, but alas, that would not be the truth. I recently melted the handle of my favorite spatula by turning on the wrong burner. I dislike electric stoves, at least if I'd had a flame I could have saved the spatula a little sooner, but no, now it has it's own gnarly handle. I shall keep it forever. Plus my plastic spaghetti server looks like a spider on drugs and my kids get a lot of entertainment from it. That's OK, their time is coming.
I'm not sure where our weirdness originated from but it must have come mostly from Mother. She always did weird things. Like the time she chased the car down the alley after it had jumped out of gear. Just as she got to it, she fell in the gravel. Just before it ran over her, it turned to the right and careened into the neighbors' garage. Dad asked her what she thought she was going to do with it once she caught it. Another time I watched her chuck an entire turkey carcass out the kitchen window after Thanksgiving dinner. She figured the cats would find it one way or another. So yeah, it must come from her.
Another thing she was famous for was never having a kitchen utensil that didn't have a burnt or partially melted handle on it. We would all make fun of the gnarly spatulas and spoons and tell her she should get some new ones, but I believe she took much pleasure at our disgust because she never replaced them, ever.
Several years ago, I had some weird idea come over me that I needed to clean under the stove. As I was raking out small toys, a fork and a lot of dust a true treasure emerged. It was a plastic lid that had gone missing for quite awhile. It was dirty with said dust but the best part was, it was melted. I stopped all cleaning and washed the lid, happy that some of the dust was permanently embedded into the plastic. I put it into a large envelope along with a certificate of authenticity and mailed it to my oldest sister. I dubbed it the Lucky Duck Lois Award and she still has it.
After Mother passed and we were going through some of her things, I found her kitchen timer. It was one of those inexpensive plastic ones that was self winding. As I turned it over in my hand, I realized I had stumbled onto yet another of her 'never get rid of anything' jewels. The timer was yellow, but the backside was so melted it had curved inside itself and the edges were now a lovely burnt orange color. The following Christmas I gift wrapped the timer and gave it to my oldest niece. She recently moved and sent me a picture of the timer sitting happily in her new home.
I would like to say that my own cooking utensils are free from any blemish, but alas, that would not be the truth. I recently melted the handle of my favorite spatula by turning on the wrong burner. I dislike electric stoves, at least if I'd had a flame I could have saved the spatula a little sooner, but no, now it has it's own gnarly handle. I shall keep it forever. Plus my plastic spaghetti server looks like a spider on drugs and my kids get a lot of entertainment from it. That's OK, their time is coming.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Breaking the 4.5 Average
It took me five days to coax her out from underneath the neighbors' shrubs with a saucer of milk. I would leave it and then have to leave, she would drink it and then the process would start all over again. Finally she let me touch her and that started a life long bond.
Pussy Cat, until recently, was never a people cat. She was my cat. She had to stay outdoors because of cat allergies so she had no worries that my daughters were going to touch her. She didn't like my husband and since he wasn't cat friendly anyway, they were fine with that arrangement. When the grandsons came along and came thundering into the yard like a small herd of elephants, she could pull a disappearing act that rivaled Houdini.
Pussy Cat has outlived Lady, Emma, Bishop and Tommy Boy. Tommy Boy was her only true love. Even though he was neutered, he never missed the opportunity to jump her bones on occasion. Though she bellowed like a banshee, she must have gotten some enjoyment out of it because afterward he would lick her head and ears so I figured it was an even trade off.
Then Max, my little gray buddy, came along. She despised him from day one. He was way too frisky a cat for her taste and was always jumping out from some hidden spot scaring the cat poop out of her. Max mysteriously ended up four miles from home at a place in the country. He had been there for almost three months before I found him. I made the monumental decision to leave him there as he was quite happy and had a plethora of birds and small woodland creatures at his disposal, plus his new family loved him. I don't know how she did it, but I'm sure Pussy Cat paid someone a lot of cat chow to get rid of him.
Pussy Cat prefers the mulched path through my garden for a litter box rather than the always left open sand box that sits amid the sunflowers. My granddaughter appreciates this. She usually makes her way to the garden pond, like a lion to the watering hole, for her morning drink but since the seasons have changed she now prefers the smaller water tank that houses cattails and water lilies. She must have tired of the fish taunting her while she drank. It is said that animals have no sense of time like we do. That must attribute to the fact that a pet is as glad to see you whether you've been gone all day or two minutes, but you can set your watch by this cat. She is always at the food dish at 5 o'clock and it only takes her a couple of days to adjust to daylight savings time.
She has mellowed in her old age. She now lets the grandchildren pet her and on two occasions has set in a chair next to my husband. On these two occasions he has petted her. Either the world is about to end or Hell has frozen over, let's hope it is the latter.
I believe that much of her longevity stems from the fact that not only has she never smoked or taken to liquor, she has rarely left the yard. It is her sanctuary and her kingdom and now it is hers alone. She is the queen of the yard and can rule with her furry fist to her hearts' content. Long live the queen, long live Pussy Cat.
Monday, September 23, 2013
The Learning Curve
As parents, when our children are little, we witness all the things they begin to learn from day one. We take great delight in first words, first steps and teaching them how to learn these things. As they get a little older, we send them to school for more learning. We expect them to learn all the things that we did, well maybe there are a few things we would like for them not to learn, but we expect the fundamentals.
As a grandparent I've come to realize something I missed when my own children were in that learning stage of their life. The newness of it. When they have been in school for a while, the delight we took when they learned something new as a small child is sometimes lost. As a parent when the kids come home and tell you something like "Did you know the earth revolves around the sun?!" We usually answered with "Sure, I knew that."
Now that I'm older, I take great delight in hearing something my grandchildren tell me that, to them, is brand new news. Answering them with "Are you kidding me?!?" gives them an opportunity to pass on their new found wisdom with an air of authority.
Somewhere along their timeline of learning though, they begin to discover that parents really don't know a whole lot. When this happens the grandparent, or anyone they deem to be old (aka ancient), seems to become the much smarter person. They tend to think since we have been around since the beginning of time, we should know more. I learned this truth from a young boy as we were having a discussion about are very old oak tree. I told him since the tree was so large it was probably old enough to have been growing when the Indians still lived on the land. He thought about that for a moment and said, "I'll ask Grandma if she remembers."
I discovered I had passed into this ancient realm of wisdom and knowledge when my grandson asked me the question most parents are never ready for, "Where do babies come from?" I hesitated for just a second before I answered him and said, "I tell you what, you ask your Mom and Dad. If they won't tell you, then ask them if I can tell you." He looked at me with complete disbelief and said, "Geez Grandma, they wouldn't know!"
There is a verse that says 'there is nothing new under the sun'. Maybe not, maybe it's always been there from the very beginning, just waiting to be learned. Some learning curves are just starting, some are in the arc and some on the down hill slope, but there is so much more out there to learn. Take the time to learn something new, but better yet, take delight in the newness of it.
As a grandparent I've come to realize something I missed when my own children were in that learning stage of their life. The newness of it. When they have been in school for a while, the delight we took when they learned something new as a small child is sometimes lost. As a parent when the kids come home and tell you something like "Did you know the earth revolves around the sun?!" We usually answered with "Sure, I knew that."
Now that I'm older, I take great delight in hearing something my grandchildren tell me that, to them, is brand new news. Answering them with "Are you kidding me?!?" gives them an opportunity to pass on their new found wisdom with an air of authority.
Somewhere along their timeline of learning though, they begin to discover that parents really don't know a whole lot. When this happens the grandparent, or anyone they deem to be old (aka ancient), seems to become the much smarter person. They tend to think since we have been around since the beginning of time, we should know more. I learned this truth from a young boy as we were having a discussion about are very old oak tree. I told him since the tree was so large it was probably old enough to have been growing when the Indians still lived on the land. He thought about that for a moment and said, "I'll ask Grandma if she remembers."
I discovered I had passed into this ancient realm of wisdom and knowledge when my grandson asked me the question most parents are never ready for, "Where do babies come from?" I hesitated for just a second before I answered him and said, "I tell you what, you ask your Mom and Dad. If they won't tell you, then ask them if I can tell you." He looked at me with complete disbelief and said, "Geez Grandma, they wouldn't know!"
There is a verse that says 'there is nothing new under the sun'. Maybe not, maybe it's always been there from the very beginning, just waiting to be learned. Some learning curves are just starting, some are in the arc and some on the down hill slope, but there is so much more out there to learn. Take the time to learn something new, but better yet, take delight in the newness of it.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Being Connected
When I was first told of the existence of a hummingbird moth, years ago, I thought my delightful wise neighbor, Mr. Professor, had flipped his lid. After all, I'd lived in this neighborhood all my life and considered myself pretty smart to the outdoors and its many inhabitants. I listened carefully as he told me, but on the inside I was thinking, "Yeah, right."
About two days later I walked onto the back porch and to my amazement, there it was. The hummingbird moth in all its glory. There was no doubt as to what it was because when it was in flight, yes indeed, it looked just like a hummingbird. Mr. Professor was not a lunatic after all.
A few days ago I had been watching this elusive creature in my garden. Having my phone with its amazing camera at the ready, I was eager to catch a picture of it. Finally it took a great interest in the large pot of purple petunias and I had my chance. He was in a most compliant mood and the picture turned out great. The next morning as I was flipping through the daily newspaper, I turned to the very back page. The back page always has a birthday column of celebrities and other famous people. I have a grand time amusing myself with this column because I've discovered I only know the ones who are over 50. There is always a picture on the back page too. It might be a local picture someone has sent in or something from a far away place. When I turned the paper over, the picture was the first thing I saw. It was a picture of a hummingbird moth, almost identical to the one I had taken the evening before.
Some would refer to that as a coincidence, something that just apparently happened at the same time for no particular reason. A random act of chance or luck. I don't believe in coincidences.
I believe there is a greater lesson to be learned from such happenings. I believe we are all connected, not only to each other on this physical plane, but on a spiritual level and to a much higher power. I believe that our thoughts are much more than stuff just whizzing through our gray matter. How many stories have you heard of the power of prayer? How many times have you thought of someone you haven't seen or talked to in a long time and then that person calls you on the phone? How many times have you experienced the "tension in the air"? How many times has your spouse, or significant other said "I was just thinking...." and you were thinking the same thing?
Our thoughts can create and destroy and we need to pay attention to them. We need to understand that sometimes our thoughts are not our own, but a message to be heard. We need to tune our thoughts to the greater good of humanity, the planet and all its many creatures and wonders. The next time you encounter that 'random act of chance or luck' stop and take the time to really listen, because I believe it is the higher power tapping us on the shoulder and saying "I'm listening. Are you?"
About two days later I walked onto the back porch and to my amazement, there it was. The hummingbird moth in all its glory. There was no doubt as to what it was because when it was in flight, yes indeed, it looked just like a hummingbird. Mr. Professor was not a lunatic after all.
A few days ago I had been watching this elusive creature in my garden. Having my phone with its amazing camera at the ready, I was eager to catch a picture of it. Finally it took a great interest in the large pot of purple petunias and I had my chance. He was in a most compliant mood and the picture turned out great. The next morning as I was flipping through the daily newspaper, I turned to the very back page. The back page always has a birthday column of celebrities and other famous people. I have a grand time amusing myself with this column because I've discovered I only know the ones who are over 50. There is always a picture on the back page too. It might be a local picture someone has sent in or something from a far away place. When I turned the paper over, the picture was the first thing I saw. It was a picture of a hummingbird moth, almost identical to the one I had taken the evening before.
Some would refer to that as a coincidence, something that just apparently happened at the same time for no particular reason. A random act of chance or luck. I don't believe in coincidences.
I believe there is a greater lesson to be learned from such happenings. I believe we are all connected, not only to each other on this physical plane, but on a spiritual level and to a much higher power. I believe that our thoughts are much more than stuff just whizzing through our gray matter. How many stories have you heard of the power of prayer? How many times have you thought of someone you haven't seen or talked to in a long time and then that person calls you on the phone? How many times have you experienced the "tension in the air"? How many times has your spouse, or significant other said "I was just thinking...." and you were thinking the same thing?
Our thoughts can create and destroy and we need to pay attention to them. We need to understand that sometimes our thoughts are not our own, but a message to be heard. We need to tune our thoughts to the greater good of humanity, the planet and all its many creatures and wonders. The next time you encounter that 'random act of chance or luck' stop and take the time to really listen, because I believe it is the higher power tapping us on the shoulder and saying "I'm listening. Are you?"
Saturday, September 21, 2013
The One Step Relationship Guide
If you go to the Amazon web site and type in books on marriage and relationships you'll end up with over 50 thousand books to choose from. That's a lot of reading. I'm not sure how long it would take to read that many books but I bet there are a lot of people who, had they taken the time to read say maybe half of them, they would have saved themselves a bunch of grief. Most of them would still be reading, so there wouldn't have been much time left for a relationship in the first place.
So rather than have to read all those books, I compiled my handy 1 step guide for those contemplating a relationship, those already in a relationship and those who are in the "What the hell was I thinking" stage of a relationship.
Step 1: Guys don't think like girls.
This is of the utmost importance and a universal truth. They never have and they never will. They are like a box of primary colored crayons, actually two crayons would probably sum it up, black and white.
Their thoughts are not cluttered with matching comforters and bed skirts. They do not care what pattern is on the dishes or if their socks match. It is their God given right to sleep with the remote control to the TV gripped in their hand, while the other is tucked in the top of their pants. If you try to change the channel while it is in their grip, they will wake immediately but will still be able to sleep soundly if the smoke alarm goes off.
They have no area in their brain geared for drama but on rare occasion they may show emotion such as when a bird craps on the hood of their freshly waxed chariot. They truly believe the neon bar light that flashes 'cold beer' looks great in the living room. If you don't believe that, I'm willing to bet there is a "man cave" located somewhere in your house. They do not care if the candle smells like apple cinnamon strudel because candles are something to use when the electricity goes out and they will have no idea where the candles are when this happens.
They give one word answers that should be sufficient for conversation. That word is usually "what?" If they ask you "what" and you answer, "nothing", they are fine with that. Please be specific. They also have a completely different concept of the translation of certain words. Dirty clothes hamper and towel bar can be, if it's within a ten foot radius of said object, it's good.
Their bodies are much different than ours. That, of course, seems rather obvious, but it is important to understand guys have "man eyes". Man eyes are eyes that cannot find the shirt you laid out for them on the bed, their razor that is behind the bottle of shampoo or the remote that has fallen into the depths of the recliner. We come in very handy when this affliction raises its ugly head.
They most generally do not like to shop unless you convince them to go to the grocery store with you. When this happens your cart will be filled with chips, nuts, cookies, snack crackers and an assortment of kitchen gadgets they think you will have fun using. This is usually the last time you will ask them to go and it ingrains their lack of shopping enthusiasm.
A good way to avoid arguments is to just let them relish in the fact that their belief of which way the toilet paper hangs off the roll is the right way. If you need to get their attention for a serious matter, either change the roll to the other direction or go squeeze the toothpaste tube in the middle.
Understanding these things will help attribute to a good relationship. Remember, if guys thought like girls, there would be nothing but women on the planet and that would be very boring indeed.
So rather than have to read all those books, I compiled my handy 1 step guide for those contemplating a relationship, those already in a relationship and those who are in the "What the hell was I thinking" stage of a relationship.
Step 1: Guys don't think like girls.
This is of the utmost importance and a universal truth. They never have and they never will. They are like a box of primary colored crayons, actually two crayons would probably sum it up, black and white.
Their thoughts are not cluttered with matching comforters and bed skirts. They do not care what pattern is on the dishes or if their socks match. It is their God given right to sleep with the remote control to the TV gripped in their hand, while the other is tucked in the top of their pants. If you try to change the channel while it is in their grip, they will wake immediately but will still be able to sleep soundly if the smoke alarm goes off.
They have no area in their brain geared for drama but on rare occasion they may show emotion such as when a bird craps on the hood of their freshly waxed chariot. They truly believe the neon bar light that flashes 'cold beer' looks great in the living room. If you don't believe that, I'm willing to bet there is a "man cave" located somewhere in your house. They do not care if the candle smells like apple cinnamon strudel because candles are something to use when the electricity goes out and they will have no idea where the candles are when this happens.
They give one word answers that should be sufficient for conversation. That word is usually "what?" If they ask you "what" and you answer, "nothing", they are fine with that. Please be specific. They also have a completely different concept of the translation of certain words. Dirty clothes hamper and towel bar can be, if it's within a ten foot radius of said object, it's good.
Their bodies are much different than ours. That, of course, seems rather obvious, but it is important to understand guys have "man eyes". Man eyes are eyes that cannot find the shirt you laid out for them on the bed, their razor that is behind the bottle of shampoo or the remote that has fallen into the depths of the recliner. We come in very handy when this affliction raises its ugly head.
They most generally do not like to shop unless you convince them to go to the grocery store with you. When this happens your cart will be filled with chips, nuts, cookies, snack crackers and an assortment of kitchen gadgets they think you will have fun using. This is usually the last time you will ask them to go and it ingrains their lack of shopping enthusiasm.
A good way to avoid arguments is to just let them relish in the fact that their belief of which way the toilet paper hangs off the roll is the right way. If you need to get their attention for a serious matter, either change the roll to the other direction or go squeeze the toothpaste tube in the middle.
Understanding these things will help attribute to a good relationship. Remember, if guys thought like girls, there would be nothing but women on the planet and that would be very boring indeed.
Friday, September 20, 2013
The Awesomeness Of It
The pre-fall early morning sky in the great mid-west is quite impressive. I'm talking about the up before the crack of dawn sky, so I'm sure there are a few people who never see this.
Jupiter is rising in the east and shines brightly as it reflects the sun which is still hidden behind the horizon. The constellation Orion, the hunter, can be seen a little to the left of Jupiter. Saying 'a little to the left' while gazing at the vastness of space is kind of silly, but it's the best terminology I have at my disposal.
Below Orion, and more to the east is Sirius, no, not the satellite radio station. Sirius is a star, a sun. It's much like our sun, only bigger. It is in a solar system that is closest to our solar system, and it's about 8 light years from us. That figures out to be about 50 trillion miles away, so the next time you realize that your missing one ingredient to finish fixing supper and have to run to the store, thank your lucky stars, no pun intended, you don't have to drive to Sirius.
While I was looking at Sirius, I thought how cool it was to be looking at another sun. It made me think about the time my young grandson and I were doing a little star gazing and I pointed out the planet Jupiter to him and explained it was a planet in our solar system. He looked up at me and asked, "What are the people like there?" The innocence of a child. I answered him simply, "I don't know." His honest question is what makes the world turn. It's what dreams are made of and why we have rocket scientists and spaceships. It's the core of humanity, to "be yee like little children", and we forget that when we let life get cluttered with so much stuff that doesn't matter.
The universe is a wonderful, awe inspiring place. It amazes me that the ancients were able to map out the stars and planets and did it without high technology, telescopes or the Google Sky Map app. Say that 3 times, really fast, and if you don't have that app on your smart or not so smart phone, you don't know what you're missing.
The next time you feel overwhelmed, take a trip out the back door, look up into the night sky, or better yet, haul your butt out of bed early, and take the time to really look at the panoramic view that lies in front of you. When you do, may you be blessed with the understanding that there really is a plan being followed. A grand design that was set in place a long time ago and you are a part of it.
You have a place here, a purpose, keep looking and you'll find it.
Jupiter is rising in the east and shines brightly as it reflects the sun which is still hidden behind the horizon. The constellation Orion, the hunter, can be seen a little to the left of Jupiter. Saying 'a little to the left' while gazing at the vastness of space is kind of silly, but it's the best terminology I have at my disposal.
Below Orion, and more to the east is Sirius, no, not the satellite radio station. Sirius is a star, a sun. It's much like our sun, only bigger. It is in a solar system that is closest to our solar system, and it's about 8 light years from us. That figures out to be about 50 trillion miles away, so the next time you realize that your missing one ingredient to finish fixing supper and have to run to the store, thank your lucky stars, no pun intended, you don't have to drive to Sirius.
While I was looking at Sirius, I thought how cool it was to be looking at another sun. It made me think about the time my young grandson and I were doing a little star gazing and I pointed out the planet Jupiter to him and explained it was a planet in our solar system. He looked up at me and asked, "What are the people like there?" The innocence of a child. I answered him simply, "I don't know." His honest question is what makes the world turn. It's what dreams are made of and why we have rocket scientists and spaceships. It's the core of humanity, to "be yee like little children", and we forget that when we let life get cluttered with so much stuff that doesn't matter.
The universe is a wonderful, awe inspiring place. It amazes me that the ancients were able to map out the stars and planets and did it without high technology, telescopes or the Google Sky Map app. Say that 3 times, really fast, and if you don't have that app on your smart or not so smart phone, you don't know what you're missing.
The next time you feel overwhelmed, take a trip out the back door, look up into the night sky, or better yet, haul your butt out of bed early, and take the time to really look at the panoramic view that lies in front of you. When you do, may you be blessed with the understanding that there really is a plan being followed. A grand design that was set in place a long time ago and you are a part of it.
You have a place here, a purpose, keep looking and you'll find it.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
To The Birds
When I was a child, our kitchen was a galley style. Long and narrow, with cabinets and appliances on one side and the table on the other. Our table was long and narrow too, and hung on the wall atop two fancy wrought iron brackets. Back then I thought everyone had a table that was fixed to the wall, I later discovered this wasn't true.
Anyway, since most of the seats faced the wall, Mother figured we needed something to look at while we dined, besides an empty wall. She commenced to decorating the wall with birds. Not just pictures of birds or bird plates, which would have seemed rather appropriate being in the kitchen, but three dimensional birds.
I'm not sure where she found all of her birds. Most were ceramic or plaster but they were all protruding from the wall like a flock that got mixed up in a wind storm. No two were alike and just about all the species were accounted for.
Many people commented on our wall of birds in the kitchen. The most common question was if she had to wipe the bird poop off the table every morning.
She carried her love of birds throughout her life time and as much as I would like to not admit it, she passed it on to me. No, I do not have a wall of birds but I have her bird feeder pole outside my kitchen window and my trusty field guide bird book in a near by drawer.
I've just about worn the book out by flipping rapidly through the pages to discern what bird is at the feeder. One day I looked out and there was a Rose-breasted Grosbeak sitting on the feeder. I was so excited because it's just not everyday you get to see a Rose-breasted Grosbeak. I called to my husband, "Oh! Come and look at this!" He glanced up at me over the top of his paper, those brown eyes, that have vexed me from day one, without emotion. I said quite emphatically, "Have you ever seen a Rose-breasted Grosbeak?" He shook his head no. "And you don't want to see one?" Once again, the negative head shake. Sigh, he just doesn't share my enthusiasm for birds. I bet if I'd told him the bird had on a NASCAR hat, he would have knocked me down to see that bird. Oh well, on occasion I can impart my bird wisdom to my grandkids.
Just yesterday while contemplating using a pair of garden nippers, by the way, they last much longer when you just contemplate using them, I looked up in the sky and there was one of my favorite birds in flight. The Great Blue Heron! He's a majestic looking bird especially when he is flying and as he soared out of sight I thought "That is as close to a pterodactyl as I'll ever get." It was much more satisfying than using the nippers.
My trusty binoculars sit next to the back door so I don't miss the opportunity to check out a newbie on my bird bucket list. Why even this week I persuaded my daughter to look at the Northern Flicker that has been in the neighborhood. She complied but she too has her father's eyes and they began to get that glazed look. That's ok, I believe I still have enough time left to pass the love, the bird love, on to the next generation.
Anyway, since most of the seats faced the wall, Mother figured we needed something to look at while we dined, besides an empty wall. She commenced to decorating the wall with birds. Not just pictures of birds or bird plates, which would have seemed rather appropriate being in the kitchen, but three dimensional birds.
I'm not sure where she found all of her birds. Most were ceramic or plaster but they were all protruding from the wall like a flock that got mixed up in a wind storm. No two were alike and just about all the species were accounted for.
Many people commented on our wall of birds in the kitchen. The most common question was if she had to wipe the bird poop off the table every morning.
She carried her love of birds throughout her life time and as much as I would like to not admit it, she passed it on to me. No, I do not have a wall of birds but I have her bird feeder pole outside my kitchen window and my trusty field guide bird book in a near by drawer.
I've just about worn the book out by flipping rapidly through the pages to discern what bird is at the feeder. One day I looked out and there was a Rose-breasted Grosbeak sitting on the feeder. I was so excited because it's just not everyday you get to see a Rose-breasted Grosbeak. I called to my husband, "Oh! Come and look at this!" He glanced up at me over the top of his paper, those brown eyes, that have vexed me from day one, without emotion. I said quite emphatically, "Have you ever seen a Rose-breasted Grosbeak?" He shook his head no. "And you don't want to see one?" Once again, the negative head shake. Sigh, he just doesn't share my enthusiasm for birds. I bet if I'd told him the bird had on a NASCAR hat, he would have knocked me down to see that bird. Oh well, on occasion I can impart my bird wisdom to my grandkids.
Just yesterday while contemplating using a pair of garden nippers, by the way, they last much longer when you just contemplate using them, I looked up in the sky and there was one of my favorite birds in flight. The Great Blue Heron! He's a majestic looking bird especially when he is flying and as he soared out of sight I thought "That is as close to a pterodactyl as I'll ever get." It was much more satisfying than using the nippers.
My trusty binoculars sit next to the back door so I don't miss the opportunity to check out a newbie on my bird bucket list. Why even this week I persuaded my daughter to look at the Northern Flicker that has been in the neighborhood. She complied but she too has her father's eyes and they began to get that glazed look. That's ok, I believe I still have enough time left to pass the love, the bird love, on to the next generation.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
How Nice
Today I start with a joke. It's not a very nice joke, but it is one of my favorites and if you just bear with me, there's a reason for it. Also, you may never tell this joke, but I can almost bet you may use its punch line on occasion.
There were two Southern belles sitting on the porch swing.
The first one says to the second, "See all those rolling hills with their pastures and woods? My daddy bought that for me." The second one answers, "How nice!" Again the first one says, "See that fine Arabian stallion in the pasture? My daddy bought that for me." Again the second one answers, "How nice!" Trying to impress, the first one says again, "See the large mansion atop the hill? My daddy bought that for me." Once again the second one replies, "How nice!"
A bit perplexed the first one asks, "What did your daddy do for you?" The second one answers, "He sent me to Miss Annie's Finishing School." The first one asks, "Whatever on earth did you learn there?" The second one smiles sweetly and answers, "I learned how to say 'how nice' instead of ____ you!"
Yesterday I witnessed an all too familiar sight. While running errands and grabbing a few groceries, I decided to take a side street to avoid the downtown area. As I turned the corner, there was a school bus stopped, stop sign arm out, all lights flashing.
Having been in the school bus business for 15 years, I notice all the little details and I knew which bus this was. It was for a pre-school program, independent from the regular public school system. They follow a much different protocol for picking up their students. Public school buses usually have a "golden rule"; if you're not waiting on the bus, the bus doesn't wait on you. Not so with this bus. This particular school bus, I knew, would back up traffic for five minutes while honking the horn trying to get someone to come out and put their child on the bus. I was in no particular hurry and since I was first behind the bus, I had no option but to wait.
A car approaches from the opposite direction, very slowly. In this state the fine for passing a stopped school bus with all its bells and whistles going is supposed to be an automatic six months driver's license suspension plus a hefty fine. The young girl behind the wheel of this car lives in the apartment house across from where I'm sitting. She proceeds ever so slowly past the bus. Now, not only is the driver blaring the horn at the 'still no sign of life house', she is blaring the horn at the car. Now the action starts.
The girl pulls into her parking spot and is seemingly oblivious to what she just did. After all, she went really slow. The aide on the bus jumps out with pen and paper in hand, marches across the street, informs the girl what she has done and writes down her license plate number. Yes, the traffic is still stopping behind the bus and myself. There seems to be a few words exchanged and the aid stomps back across the street and gets back in the bus. Finally the bus driver decides no one is coming out of the 'no sign of life house', closes the door and heads down the street. I glance back over at the young girl. She's standing on her front porch, hand held high and proud in the air, flipping off the bus full of 2 and 3 year olds.
I think maybe somebody needs to attend Miss Annie's Finishing School.
There were two Southern belles sitting on the porch swing.
The first one says to the second, "See all those rolling hills with their pastures and woods? My daddy bought that for me." The second one answers, "How nice!" Again the first one says, "See that fine Arabian stallion in the pasture? My daddy bought that for me." Again the second one answers, "How nice!" Trying to impress, the first one says again, "See the large mansion atop the hill? My daddy bought that for me." Once again the second one replies, "How nice!"
A bit perplexed the first one asks, "What did your daddy do for you?" The second one answers, "He sent me to Miss Annie's Finishing School." The first one asks, "Whatever on earth did you learn there?" The second one smiles sweetly and answers, "I learned how to say 'how nice' instead of ____ you!"
Yesterday I witnessed an all too familiar sight. While running errands and grabbing a few groceries, I decided to take a side street to avoid the downtown area. As I turned the corner, there was a school bus stopped, stop sign arm out, all lights flashing.
Having been in the school bus business for 15 years, I notice all the little details and I knew which bus this was. It was for a pre-school program, independent from the regular public school system. They follow a much different protocol for picking up their students. Public school buses usually have a "golden rule"; if you're not waiting on the bus, the bus doesn't wait on you. Not so with this bus. This particular school bus, I knew, would back up traffic for five minutes while honking the horn trying to get someone to come out and put their child on the bus. I was in no particular hurry and since I was first behind the bus, I had no option but to wait.
A car approaches from the opposite direction, very slowly. In this state the fine for passing a stopped school bus with all its bells and whistles going is supposed to be an automatic six months driver's license suspension plus a hefty fine. The young girl behind the wheel of this car lives in the apartment house across from where I'm sitting. She proceeds ever so slowly past the bus. Now, not only is the driver blaring the horn at the 'still no sign of life house', she is blaring the horn at the car. Now the action starts.
The girl pulls into her parking spot and is seemingly oblivious to what she just did. After all, she went really slow. The aide on the bus jumps out with pen and paper in hand, marches across the street, informs the girl what she has done and writes down her license plate number. Yes, the traffic is still stopping behind the bus and myself. There seems to be a few words exchanged and the aid stomps back across the street and gets back in the bus. Finally the bus driver decides no one is coming out of the 'no sign of life house', closes the door and heads down the street. I glance back over at the young girl. She's standing on her front porch, hand held high and proud in the air, flipping off the bus full of 2 and 3 year olds.
I think maybe somebody needs to attend Miss Annie's Finishing School.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Coming Full Circle
Being a teenager of the 70's we used many a slang word to start or end our sentences. Everything was "cool" and if it was exceptionally cool it could also be classified as "far out, man!"
My Dad would ask me when I said 'cool', how cold was it. Or 'far out', how far. Of course, with those questions he would receive the eye roll of someone who wondered how he ever got to be his age without being, well you know, 'cool'. I asked him one day, "Didn't you ever say anything like that way back when?" He thought for a moment and said "Keen". I thought that was bodaciously far out and after that he quit with the 'how' questions.
My grandkids use lots of them today. 'Dude' being one of the most used, 'awesome', 'cool beans', and 'freaking', just to name a few. I do not like "freaking" very much because we all know what it is substituting but I'd be lying if I said I never used it. Plus, I've never quite understood the 'cool beans' but do use it from time to time so I can continue to communicate with this younger generation. But like my Dad, there are a couple that bug me.
The first would be starting a comment with "I'm sorry, but". My thoughts are no, you are not sorry or you wouldn't have said it in the first place so don't apologize when you don't mean it. The second would be, "just sayin'". Really? It's rather obvious that you just said it, is it really necessary to tell us something we already figured out?
I try to keep those thoughts in my head so that I can avoid the 'what planet did you come from' eye roll. Sometimes though, they just slip out and I am rewarded with the same look I dished out years ago. I remember, way back when, cruising around town, observing some of the big old houses and making the declaration "See that big old house! There's only two old people who live there!"
Yes, now I'm one of the old people in the big old house. But you know what? I think that's totally freakin' awesome, dude.
Monday, September 16, 2013
A Fish by Any Other Name...
For Mother's Day my youngest daughter brought me a fish. Not just any fish, a Koi. My garden pond had been empty ever since the raccoons had a 17 fish buffet over the last winter. I had just about decided to not put any fish in it. It wasn't because the fish I had lost were expensive, they were just good ole' goldfish used for bait, but some of them were four years old and had reached an impressive size. I missed them. I had visions of the raccoons with their beer cooler close by having quite a good time at the fish buffet.
I was thrilled with the Koi and as we put him in the pond, my granddaughter named him "Boots". I read as much as I could about the Koi. The dictionary says they are a multi colored strain of carp believed to have been cultivated in Japan some 300 years ago. The word 'cultivated' conjured up visions of a tractor plowing a field with bright colored fish flopping up from the ground, but that was the word the dictionary used, so who was I to argue. The forums told great stories and showed pictures of these large colorful fish coming to the surface and seemingly glad to see their owners and to feed. Needless to say, I was elated to have such a pet.
Boots has proved to be anything but the above description. He spent days hiding behind the concrete block in the bottom of the pond. "Get him a friend!" one forum member suggested. So I did. Baby Boots was a bit smaller but obviously not very outgoing, it only took a day to convince him to hide behind the block too. "It should only take a couple of weeks and then they become quite tame." another member lamented. Well, it's been four months and yesterday there was a slight break through.
As I sat on the bench at the end of the pond, there was Boots and Baby Boots lying on the bottom, right in front of me. I spoke softly and made minimal movements. Boots looked at me and I at him. I put a little food in the water. Nothing, just laying there staring at me. He turned ever so slightly to let me see his full size, he's grown to about a foot long, then slowly turned back to look at me some more. Just as I thought he may actually eat in front of me, he nudges Baby Boots and they retreat to the other side of the block. After a minute or so, he swims out just enough to see if I'm still there, then back behind the block.
I feel like I've made some progress, but with the forecast of an early winter, we may have to start all over in the Spring. One thing is for certain, this fish has taught me patience. Not to rush things and to enjoy the moment as it happens now, because now is all we have. The coy Koi may be the one who is doing the taming.
I was thrilled with the Koi and as we put him in the pond, my granddaughter named him "Boots". I read as much as I could about the Koi. The dictionary says they are a multi colored strain of carp believed to have been cultivated in Japan some 300 years ago. The word 'cultivated' conjured up visions of a tractor plowing a field with bright colored fish flopping up from the ground, but that was the word the dictionary used, so who was I to argue. The forums told great stories and showed pictures of these large colorful fish coming to the surface and seemingly glad to see their owners and to feed. Needless to say, I was elated to have such a pet.
Boots has proved to be anything but the above description. He spent days hiding behind the concrete block in the bottom of the pond. "Get him a friend!" one forum member suggested. So I did. Baby Boots was a bit smaller but obviously not very outgoing, it only took a day to convince him to hide behind the block too. "It should only take a couple of weeks and then they become quite tame." another member lamented. Well, it's been four months and yesterday there was a slight break through.
As I sat on the bench at the end of the pond, there was Boots and Baby Boots lying on the bottom, right in front of me. I spoke softly and made minimal movements. Boots looked at me and I at him. I put a little food in the water. Nothing, just laying there staring at me. He turned ever so slightly to let me see his full size, he's grown to about a foot long, then slowly turned back to look at me some more. Just as I thought he may actually eat in front of me, he nudges Baby Boots and they retreat to the other side of the block. After a minute or so, he swims out just enough to see if I'm still there, then back behind the block.
I feel like I've made some progress, but with the forecast of an early winter, we may have to start all over in the Spring. One thing is for certain, this fish has taught me patience. Not to rush things and to enjoy the moment as it happens now, because now is all we have. The coy Koi may be the one who is doing the taming.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Eggactly
The article I read was about food stamps. I'm not going to debate the food stamp issue, everyone needs to eat and when times are tough people need help.
What caught my attention from the article, written by a college professor, was the amount allotted per person.....$140. He said that wasn't enough.
That got me to thinking.....If a four person household had $560 per month to purchase groceries and were still going hungry......somebody needs to learn how to COOK!
I've always been under the impression that when times are hard, you learn how to improvise. You know, doing without some things that just aren't in the budget. So that brings me to the egg.
Eggs can be cooked a bazillion different ways. Let's see, there's sunny side up, hard boiled, soft boiled, poached, over easy, over hard, scrambled...you get the picture. $560 buys a lot of eggs. Sure, it would get boring eating eggs for every meal, but it would be better than going hungry. Plus there are a lot of amazing things to be done with left over eggs, and throwing them out isn't one of them. Mother used to make a mean creamed eggs on toast that was quite yummy and it never crossed my mind that money was tight, we were fed.
Maybe Home Economics should be a prerequisite for getting out of high school, better yet, junior high. Kids need to learn to cook and that not every meal has to come out of a pre-packaged unit.
What caught my attention from the article, written by a college professor, was the amount allotted per person.....$140. He said that wasn't enough.
That got me to thinking.....If a four person household had $560 per month to purchase groceries and were still going hungry......somebody needs to learn how to COOK!
I've always been under the impression that when times are hard, you learn how to improvise. You know, doing without some things that just aren't in the budget. So that brings me to the egg.
Eggs can be cooked a bazillion different ways. Let's see, there's sunny side up, hard boiled, soft boiled, poached, over easy, over hard, scrambled...you get the picture. $560 buys a lot of eggs. Sure, it would get boring eating eggs for every meal, but it would be better than going hungry. Plus there are a lot of amazing things to be done with left over eggs, and throwing them out isn't one of them. Mother used to make a mean creamed eggs on toast that was quite yummy and it never crossed my mind that money was tight, we were fed.
Maybe Home Economics should be a prerequisite for getting out of high school, better yet, junior high. Kids need to learn to cook and that not every meal has to come out of a pre-packaged unit.
Friday, September 13, 2013
The Thought App
I have always wanted to write a book. I have a book in my head, actually there are 7 books in my head, all swimming around like the goldfish in my pond. Gracefully swirling, schooling together and darting off in all different directions. It's frustrating to sit down to write and either nothing comes out or when it does it trails off into blah, blah, blah.
So I'm thinking there should be an app for that.....yes, the Thought App. I could just plug in my headphones and all my thoughts would automatically be put into print, then I could edit to my hearts content. Of course I would be spending a lot of time editing all that random stuff that pops in like 'what's for supper', 'did I take my vitamins' and 'oh shit, I left the car running'.....
But alas, perhaps the Thought App wouldn't be much help after all....
So I'm thinking there should be an app for that.....yes, the Thought App. I could just plug in my headphones and all my thoughts would automatically be put into print, then I could edit to my hearts content. Of course I would be spending a lot of time editing all that random stuff that pops in like 'what's for supper', 'did I take my vitamins' and 'oh shit, I left the car running'.....
But alas, perhaps the Thought App wouldn't be much help after all....
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