tRuth As I See It is published in one of our county papers. I send the blog to the editor and she chooses which one she wants to go to print. I never know which one it is until the paper comes out.
This blog won't be one of them because it contains a topic that people usually are not comfortable talking about. Sex.
Sex is as natural as breathing and as far as I'm aware, it's the only thing that will make sure the human race continues on this planet.
No, I don't think it is necessary to discuss sex at the dinner table or loudly in public and I don't think it's necessary to talk about it all the time. Although, if you want to clear the room of your adult children, just the mere thought of parents doing the deed will send them scattering. But, as much as it is still considered a taboo subject, a recent survey discovered people think about it more than just about any other topic.
I made a comment over the weekend on Facebook that if I saw one more commercial for a pill to help with male E.D. I thought perhaps I just might throw up. Seriously, how many men do you think actually ask their doctor if their heart is healthy enough for sex? I'm guessing that most men could not think of a better way to kick the bucket. Some of the side effects for these pills are a little scary but that four hour thing is probably a man's dream come true.
Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James sold a lot of copies. I recently saw an article that reported her income from her trilogy at $55 million. It's full of sex. If you enjoy reading about sex and haven't read her books, you won't be disappointed. But even E.L. James didn't have a scene with two people sitting in matching ball and claw feet bathtubs holding hands, gazing out at the scenery. Not my idea of romance.
I wasn't bashing the E.D. problem or the medication, I was just being funny. It's my nature, I'm 90% funny and the other 10% is very dark. My biggest gripe about these commercials is, the product is for men. Where's our stuff? The stuff for the ladies? Women lose their libido too, as the hormones begin to fade, but for some reason that is considered a natural process. I guess we are not supposed to be good for much, once the reproductive part ends and so it seems a woman's needs do not rank as important as a man's.
That is such a load of crap.
There is an alternative hormone replacement therapy out there called bio-identical hormones. They are made with wild yams and soybeans and when constructed are biologically identical to what the body produces. They are also considered safer than what Big Pharma has to offer women but, unfortunately, these natural ingredients cannot be patented so you won't hear much about them.
They have the ability to bring back muscle tone, clear the brain, reduce depression and yes, return the libido. Are there side effects? Yes, but there probably is not a medication in your home that doesn't have side effects. Bio-identical hormones, taken from a reputable doctor who specializes in them and monitors your progress, can bring back the self you used to be.
Don't bother asking your doctor about them for two reasons: One, they usually won't have any idea what you're talking about and two, if they do, all they have heard is that they are dangerous. I think the worst side effect is that health insurance won't cover them and that makes them expensive.
Imagine how much more productive the female race could be if we had something to bring back the feelings of our past younger days.
Another thing we don't hear about is that women can benefit from testosterone too. We actually produce it in our youth.
In the meantime, until women's needs are deemed important, if some guy is slathering testosterone in his armpit, don't put your face there.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Friday, June 27, 2014
Chicken Salad
Okay, so I'm in the kitchen.
No, this isn't one of those blogs about my culinary madness of trying out a new recipe. A new recipe that requires that I use every freaking bowl, measuring cup and utensil in my kitchen. No, I'm making chicken salad.
I make a mean chicken salad. It's not a salad salad, that has ingredients with lettuce or some cousin of lettuce. It's chicken salad that needs to be piled high, between two pieces of bread and it always needs to have a side of some kind of crunchy not-so-good-for-you chip.
As I'm cutting up last night's chicken, I'm thinking about chicken salad. It seems to be a warm weather food. I wonder why that is. It's full of chicken, mayo, eggs....all the ingredients that can make for some nasty side effects of food poisoning, if left out too long in the heat. I try not to think about that.
I think about the first time I made chicken salad. I was in 4-H and made it for a competition. Mother instructed me while I mixed the ingredients. She could slice and chop an egg in her hand like it was magic. I've yet to this day to master her technique. I used to have one of those fancy eggs slicers that look like a small oval guitar with steel strings. A word of advice, do not try to slice a potato with one of those, they were made strictly for eggs. Hence the reason for why I used to have one. Anyway, I make my chicken salad and am anxious for the judges to judge. They were not impressed. They said it was too chunky. That must have been about the time I needed a tee-shirt that read 'Does not take constructive criticism well' , because that was my last 4-H competition. Mother agreed that she thought my chicken salad was awesome. That's what moms do. I'm thinking now I was just born in the wrong era, chunky is the new pate'.
It's late. Later than most normal people's eating hour. We always eat late. I guess that is because we like to sit and talk about the days events for an hour or so, or longer. It's something we have always done and it's probably too late to change that habit.
So, I'm thinking about chicken salad again. Giving some serious thought to downsizing, I'm wondering if following the sun would mean eating chicken salad anytime of the year. I think that sounds like a grand plan. Chicken salad and 20 inches of snow just don't go hand in hand.
I'm adding the ingredients. Some garlic powder, salt, pepper. I go to the refrigerator to get the secret ingredient, hot dog relish. Seriously, if you use pickle relish in your chicken salad, try replacing it with hot dog relish. You will not be disappointed.
I'm chopping up a small onion. Into tiny little pieces. My husband, who has gone to shower while I'm making chicken salad, comes into the kitchen and asks, "Where did I get these shorts?"
I turn to look, thinking it odd that he has to ask something so mundane. The chicken salad leaves my mind in an instant. He's standing there in a pair of short shorts. I'm talking maybe a 2 inch inseam.
They're my shorts. Not only are they my shorts, they are my 20 pounds ago shorts. I know he did not get them from my side of the closet, because he doesn't know there is a 'my' side of the closet. I obviously was folding laundry when the light bulb above the washer and dryer was out and put them in his basket, by mistake.
Here he is, 60 something, in cute elastic band short shorts. It's quite a visual. I'm hysterical, totally forgetting about chicken salad.
He agrees that he was sure they were not his, but hey, they were on his side of the closet. He grins and leaves the kitchen. The next time I see him, he has found his own shorts. Actually, I thought he looked cute in the short shorts. He sometimes doesn't get my sense of humor.
The chicken salad is done and yes, it's very tasty. Perhaps I will fold laundry in the dark more often.
No, this isn't one of those blogs about my culinary madness of trying out a new recipe. A new recipe that requires that I use every freaking bowl, measuring cup and utensil in my kitchen. No, I'm making chicken salad.
I make a mean chicken salad. It's not a salad salad, that has ingredients with lettuce or some cousin of lettuce. It's chicken salad that needs to be piled high, between two pieces of bread and it always needs to have a side of some kind of crunchy not-so-good-for-you chip.
As I'm cutting up last night's chicken, I'm thinking about chicken salad. It seems to be a warm weather food. I wonder why that is. It's full of chicken, mayo, eggs....all the ingredients that can make for some nasty side effects of food poisoning, if left out too long in the heat. I try not to think about that.
I think about the first time I made chicken salad. I was in 4-H and made it for a competition. Mother instructed me while I mixed the ingredients. She could slice and chop an egg in her hand like it was magic. I've yet to this day to master her technique. I used to have one of those fancy eggs slicers that look like a small oval guitar with steel strings. A word of advice, do not try to slice a potato with one of those, they were made strictly for eggs. Hence the reason for why I used to have one. Anyway, I make my chicken salad and am anxious for the judges to judge. They were not impressed. They said it was too chunky. That must have been about the time I needed a tee-shirt that read 'Does not take constructive criticism well' , because that was my last 4-H competition. Mother agreed that she thought my chicken salad was awesome. That's what moms do. I'm thinking now I was just born in the wrong era, chunky is the new pate'.
It's late. Later than most normal people's eating hour. We always eat late. I guess that is because we like to sit and talk about the days events for an hour or so, or longer. It's something we have always done and it's probably too late to change that habit.
So, I'm thinking about chicken salad again. Giving some serious thought to downsizing, I'm wondering if following the sun would mean eating chicken salad anytime of the year. I think that sounds like a grand plan. Chicken salad and 20 inches of snow just don't go hand in hand.
I'm adding the ingredients. Some garlic powder, salt, pepper. I go to the refrigerator to get the secret ingredient, hot dog relish. Seriously, if you use pickle relish in your chicken salad, try replacing it with hot dog relish. You will not be disappointed.
I'm chopping up a small onion. Into tiny little pieces. My husband, who has gone to shower while I'm making chicken salad, comes into the kitchen and asks, "Where did I get these shorts?"
I turn to look, thinking it odd that he has to ask something so mundane. The chicken salad leaves my mind in an instant. He's standing there in a pair of short shorts. I'm talking maybe a 2 inch inseam.
They're my shorts. Not only are they my shorts, they are my 20 pounds ago shorts. I know he did not get them from my side of the closet, because he doesn't know there is a 'my' side of the closet. I obviously was folding laundry when the light bulb above the washer and dryer was out and put them in his basket, by mistake.
Here he is, 60 something, in cute elastic band short shorts. It's quite a visual. I'm hysterical, totally forgetting about chicken salad.
He agrees that he was sure they were not his, but hey, they were on his side of the closet. He grins and leaves the kitchen. The next time I see him, he has found his own shorts. Actually, I thought he looked cute in the short shorts. He sometimes doesn't get my sense of humor.
The chicken salad is done and yes, it's very tasty. Perhaps I will fold laundry in the dark more often.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
A Classic Tale
It was a long time ago. I was maybe 10 years old or so. I had my best friend over to spend the night. Naturally, we had whispered and giggled late into the wee hours of darkness.
The weather was good. We had the big window in my room open and had shoved the end of the bed next to it. The corner street light gave just enough illumination to make out the houses and trees across the street.
Being tired, my friend crawled back up to the head of the bed and went to sleep. I stayed at the foot of the bed, still peering out into the night.
I was wide awake when I first saw her. She was walking towards the corner, where the street light was located. She looked to be tall and slender, her hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck.
She was wearing a long sleeved blouse and a skirt, a long skirt. It was a very full long skirt and I could see it billow as she walked. It flowed forward with each of her steps.
I remember thinking, I wondered who she was and why was she dressed like that? Those were old clothes, not what people wore when I was 10 or so.
Although I could see no colors, I could see her perfectly. She was bathed in the street light, a misty grey form.
That's when I noticed it. She wasn't walking. She was gliding, about a foot off the ground.
I screamed loud enough to probably be heard two blocks up the street, after all, the window was wide open. I would have said, loud enough to wake the dead, but it seemed the dead were not asleep. Mother came bursting through the door to see what on earth had happened. I told her what I had seen and she soothed my rattled nerves and assured me I had been asleep and was merely dreaming.
There is a small Episcopal Church up the ally from my house. I can see the steeple from the front porch.
A week or two later I was riding my bike. It was a bright and sunny Summer day. I rode around the block and turned towards the church, intending to turn again, up the alley, to go back home. That's when I saw her.
She came out of the front doors to the church. She was rather tall and slender, an older woman. Her hair was black as coal and pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She was dressed completely in black. A long sleeved black blouse and a long full flowing black skirt. It flowed forward with each of her steps.
By this time, I had stopped my bike and watched her. She never acted like she saw me. She walked around the side of the church, through the yard and entered the back door. She looked exactly like the woman I had seen walking, gliding, down the sidewalk.
I had never seen this woman before and I never saw her again. I went home and asked Mother if the Episcopal Church had nuns. She told me she didn't think so and wondered why I was asking. I told her what I had seen, in the bright light of day.
I can still see the look on her face as I left the kitchen.
I don't think it's necessary to stay up and wait for darkness to have a ghostly encounter and I don't particularly like to watch the ghost hunter shows on TV. I once heard psychic medium John Edward say, "Why would you want to watch something that makes you too scared to get up and go pee?" I agree.
I'll bet you have had one yourself. I'd love to hear it.
The weather was good. We had the big window in my room open and had shoved the end of the bed next to it. The corner street light gave just enough illumination to make out the houses and trees across the street.
Being tired, my friend crawled back up to the head of the bed and went to sleep. I stayed at the foot of the bed, still peering out into the night.
I was wide awake when I first saw her. She was walking towards the corner, where the street light was located. She looked to be tall and slender, her hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck.
She was wearing a long sleeved blouse and a skirt, a long skirt. It was a very full long skirt and I could see it billow as she walked. It flowed forward with each of her steps.
I remember thinking, I wondered who she was and why was she dressed like that? Those were old clothes, not what people wore when I was 10 or so.
Although I could see no colors, I could see her perfectly. She was bathed in the street light, a misty grey form.
That's when I noticed it. She wasn't walking. She was gliding, about a foot off the ground.
I screamed loud enough to probably be heard two blocks up the street, after all, the window was wide open. I would have said, loud enough to wake the dead, but it seemed the dead were not asleep. Mother came bursting through the door to see what on earth had happened. I told her what I had seen and she soothed my rattled nerves and assured me I had been asleep and was merely dreaming.
There is a small Episcopal Church up the ally from my house. I can see the steeple from the front porch.
A week or two later I was riding my bike. It was a bright and sunny Summer day. I rode around the block and turned towards the church, intending to turn again, up the alley, to go back home. That's when I saw her.
She came out of the front doors to the church. She was rather tall and slender, an older woman. Her hair was black as coal and pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She was dressed completely in black. A long sleeved black blouse and a long full flowing black skirt. It flowed forward with each of her steps.
By this time, I had stopped my bike and watched her. She never acted like she saw me. She walked around the side of the church, through the yard and entered the back door. She looked exactly like the woman I had seen walking, gliding, down the sidewalk.
I had never seen this woman before and I never saw her again. I went home and asked Mother if the Episcopal Church had nuns. She told me she didn't think so and wondered why I was asking. I told her what I had seen, in the bright light of day.
I can still see the look on her face as I left the kitchen.
I don't think it's necessary to stay up and wait for darkness to have a ghostly encounter and I don't particularly like to watch the ghost hunter shows on TV. I once heard psychic medium John Edward say, "Why would you want to watch something that makes you too scared to get up and go pee?" I agree.
I'll bet you have had one yourself. I'd love to hear it.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Almost The Hard Way
We stood at the kitchen window, watching the circus unfold in the empty lot next door.
Four squirrels. We called them Larry, Curly, Moe and Sid. Larry would call out, "Moe! Curly! Watch this!", then he would run into the middle of the lot, dash around in tiny circles and the other three would soon join him.
Sid would say, "Oh, I've got a better move than that!", and proceeded to jump straight up in the air while Curly and Moe ran beneath him.
There was a fifth squirrel, we called him Ralph. Ralph stayed at the corner of the lot but we could tell he really wanted in on the action. It wasn't long before he gave a loud war-hoop and bolted headlong into the middle of the ruckus.
Larry, Curly, Moe and Sid were not having any of Ralph's shenanigans and all four chased him back to his original spot.
Moe gave a "Woooo woo woo woo!", and the 3 ring circus started all over again.
I love giving voices to the animals, I must have learned that from sister Lela. She could entertain her co workers by giving a dialect of what the swans were saying about the guy trying to get close to the edge of the pond, next to the building where she worked. This usually did not end well, swans are pretty territorial and can be nasty.
No matter how much Disney, Pixar or whoever, tries to make us believe that the animals think and have conversations like we humans do, it just isn't so. They have their own kingdom and their own rules.
Don't get me wrong, I love animals and I'm just as guilty when I carry on a conversation with my cats. I do believe animals have feelings, souls and many pets have a great love for their human companions. I also believe that people who are intentionally cruel to animals will pay for that, perhaps on the other side of this veil. But, I also know that Tigger sheds no tears as the baby bird he has snatched from a nest takes its last breath. He didn't need to catch it because he was hungry, he did it because he's a cat and that's just something cats do.
Children need to learn, at a very early age, that there are boundaries within the animal kingdom that should not be crossed. Our second grandson recently learned about one of these boundaries while doing something truly human.
A friend's dog had caught a small kitten and he and his friend were going to save it. I'm not sure, but I think the kitten was probably already toast by the time the boys realized what was going on. They backed this dog into a corner and tried to get the kitten from its mouth. It did not go well. The dog lunged and snapped at our grandson's face, knocking him backwards.
He was not bitten, but he was pretty shook up and he was extremely fortunate, it could have been a lot worse. I remember the time, when I was about his age, sitting on the floor with my aunt's boxer, Sox. Sox was watching her eat a braunschweiger sandwich. I probably would not be able to tell you what I had for lunch yesterday but that braunschweiger sandwich has been eternally etched into my brain. I leaned up on Sox and in a millisecond he turned and bit me. I still carry the scar on my upper eye lid.
Please don't be one of those people who say certain breeds of dogs bite more than others. All dogs bite and if you say yours won't, you're fooling yourself. All animals bite because that is their one true defense mechanism. They cannot ball up a fist and deliver a sucker punch like they do in animation. Sox was merely doing what a dog does, making sure if anyone was getting a bite of braunschweiger, it wasn't going to be me.
Teach your children well. Make sure they have respect for the critters we share this orb with. We can all learn something from the animal kingdom.
Four squirrels. We called them Larry, Curly, Moe and Sid. Larry would call out, "Moe! Curly! Watch this!", then he would run into the middle of the lot, dash around in tiny circles and the other three would soon join him.
Sid would say, "Oh, I've got a better move than that!", and proceeded to jump straight up in the air while Curly and Moe ran beneath him.
There was a fifth squirrel, we called him Ralph. Ralph stayed at the corner of the lot but we could tell he really wanted in on the action. It wasn't long before he gave a loud war-hoop and bolted headlong into the middle of the ruckus.
Larry, Curly, Moe and Sid were not having any of Ralph's shenanigans and all four chased him back to his original spot.
Moe gave a "Woooo woo woo woo!", and the 3 ring circus started all over again.
I love giving voices to the animals, I must have learned that from sister Lela. She could entertain her co workers by giving a dialect of what the swans were saying about the guy trying to get close to the edge of the pond, next to the building where she worked. This usually did not end well, swans are pretty territorial and can be nasty.
No matter how much Disney, Pixar or whoever, tries to make us believe that the animals think and have conversations like we humans do, it just isn't so. They have their own kingdom and their own rules.
Don't get me wrong, I love animals and I'm just as guilty when I carry on a conversation with my cats. I do believe animals have feelings, souls and many pets have a great love for their human companions. I also believe that people who are intentionally cruel to animals will pay for that, perhaps on the other side of this veil. But, I also know that Tigger sheds no tears as the baby bird he has snatched from a nest takes its last breath. He didn't need to catch it because he was hungry, he did it because he's a cat and that's just something cats do.
Children need to learn, at a very early age, that there are boundaries within the animal kingdom that should not be crossed. Our second grandson recently learned about one of these boundaries while doing something truly human.
A friend's dog had caught a small kitten and he and his friend were going to save it. I'm not sure, but I think the kitten was probably already toast by the time the boys realized what was going on. They backed this dog into a corner and tried to get the kitten from its mouth. It did not go well. The dog lunged and snapped at our grandson's face, knocking him backwards.
He was not bitten, but he was pretty shook up and he was extremely fortunate, it could have been a lot worse. I remember the time, when I was about his age, sitting on the floor with my aunt's boxer, Sox. Sox was watching her eat a braunschweiger sandwich. I probably would not be able to tell you what I had for lunch yesterday but that braunschweiger sandwich has been eternally etched into my brain. I leaned up on Sox and in a millisecond he turned and bit me. I still carry the scar on my upper eye lid.
Please don't be one of those people who say certain breeds of dogs bite more than others. All dogs bite and if you say yours won't, you're fooling yourself. All animals bite because that is their one true defense mechanism. They cannot ball up a fist and deliver a sucker punch like they do in animation. Sox was merely doing what a dog does, making sure if anyone was getting a bite of braunschweiger, it wasn't going to be me.
Teach your children well. Make sure they have respect for the critters we share this orb with. We can all learn something from the animal kingdom.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
It's A Beautiful Morning
It's a beautiful morning,
Think I'll go outside for a while
And just smile......
The Rascals, (The Young Rascals) 1968
It is a beautiful morning. The dawning of a brand new day. The only time we have. Now. Right now, not yesterday or later on today or sometime tomorrow, now.
Something happened yesterday that changed my whole perspective. Yesterday was a dark day for me, as have been many lately, but yesterday felt like the bottom of the barrel....with a lid on it.
What happened was not anything most people would notice. It wasn't grandeur, carried no pomp and circumstance such as what you might expect with the arrival of royalty, but that is how it made me feel. Royal.
It was just a few kind words, directed at me. As I read them, I also read between the lines. The words I saw in that empty space where, "Yes you can".
That was the miracle I had prayed for earlier in the week. It wasn't exactly what I had envision as my answer, but then, it rarely is. But, it was enough to know that, yes, I can.
I rose early this morning and I did go outside and I did smile. The morning air was cool and I was grateful that I had the opportunity to just be in the moment.
Our youngest granddaughter, Ms. Sassafrass, turns 4 today. I thought about the call I received, four years and one half day ago. They were going to induce labor the next morning. We had been home 2 days from a 13 day road trip. We had just been at our daughter's house, twelve hours away, and although we knew this was coming, I thought for sure I had at least another week. Having children makes us learn something really quick, always have a plan B.
I told them I would leave first thing in the morning. Two hours later, I jumped in my truck and pulled an all nighter. When I walked into the hospital room, twelve hours later, I gave new meaning to the words 'rode hard and put away wet'. I shall not do that again.
Ms. Sassafrass and her family moved back before she was a year old and we have been blessed with watching her grow. She is no longer a baby, no, not at four years old. She can flip her long blonde locks with the back of her hand, place her hands on her hips and utter "Serwiously?" with the best of them.
She needs no toys, like most children, she has more than she knows what to do with. So, I'm going to craft this tiny princess a crown.
It is a beautiful morning, get outside, don't forget to smile and try your best to make someone you meet today feel royal too.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Drive Me Crazy
"You're driving at 10 and 2 aren't you."
"What?" I quipped.
"Your hands, they're at 10 and 2." He grinned.
"Leave me alone." I said and then we both laughed.
It was on a recent trip through the back roads around our rural country side that my husband teased me about my driving stance.
He was right. I do drive at 10 and 2. Not because I want to or fear the open road, it's just the only comfortable position my little car allows. Mother always drove at that steering wheel clock position, peering intently down the highway. She could also drive for twenty miles with a turn signal blinking. If she was following you, it didn't matter what you tried to get her to notice, she was too busy at 10 and 2.
I pulled out of the parking lot of a big box store the other day behind a big white car. I was reading the license plate and figured it might be the drivers' name. It was a pretty sounding name but I'll just call her Niceta, (Ni see ta).
There are five stoplights in the entire county, all located in the county seat, on the same road. Niceta and I pull up to one of these. It's the only one that has the wonderful option of a right turn lane. It's legal to make a right turn on a red light, given there is no other vehicle approaching. The light is red. Niceta stops and of course, I stop behind her. The view from this particular area is wide open, there isn't a car anywhere in sight, just us. Niceta is taking no chances, we must wait for the light to turn green. I raise my hands in disgust, not because I was in a hurry, but why pass up the opportunity to turn right on a red? I can see Niceta in her side mirror. She looks to be much older than me and I think, she's probably driving at 10 and 2.
The light finally turns green and we proceed. I follow her through the next light. Lucky for us, it was green. A block later a huge white SUV pulls out of a side street in front of Niceta. I know what's coming and prepare for Niceta to hit the brakes. She doesn't disappoint. The SUV travels about half a block and turns left. It must be Niceta's partner in road safety because when she turns left she does so so slowly I thought she might come to a complete stop in the oncoming lane of traffic. I notice this driver is much older too, I also notice the position of her hands on the wheel. 10 and 2.
By this time I was laughing out loud and Niceta and I made it through stoplight number three. As we approached #4 the light turned yellow and I bid farewell to Niceta. She had made it through on green and even though I had the opportunity to get across the intersection on yellow, which is something my children chastise me for never doing, I'd had enough of following her.
I'm first in line at stoplight number five in the left turn lane. I cruise the corner and return to the position of 10 and 2. I tell myself I'm not old, crank up the radio and make a mental note to not get a vehicle that matches my hair color. Unless of course, it's black.
"What?" I quipped.
"Your hands, they're at 10 and 2." He grinned.
"Leave me alone." I said and then we both laughed.
It was on a recent trip through the back roads around our rural country side that my husband teased me about my driving stance.
He was right. I do drive at 10 and 2. Not because I want to or fear the open road, it's just the only comfortable position my little car allows. Mother always drove at that steering wheel clock position, peering intently down the highway. She could also drive for twenty miles with a turn signal blinking. If she was following you, it didn't matter what you tried to get her to notice, she was too busy at 10 and 2.
I pulled out of the parking lot of a big box store the other day behind a big white car. I was reading the license plate and figured it might be the drivers' name. It was a pretty sounding name but I'll just call her Niceta, (Ni see ta).
There are five stoplights in the entire county, all located in the county seat, on the same road. Niceta and I pull up to one of these. It's the only one that has the wonderful option of a right turn lane. It's legal to make a right turn on a red light, given there is no other vehicle approaching. The light is red. Niceta stops and of course, I stop behind her. The view from this particular area is wide open, there isn't a car anywhere in sight, just us. Niceta is taking no chances, we must wait for the light to turn green. I raise my hands in disgust, not because I was in a hurry, but why pass up the opportunity to turn right on a red? I can see Niceta in her side mirror. She looks to be much older than me and I think, she's probably driving at 10 and 2.
The light finally turns green and we proceed. I follow her through the next light. Lucky for us, it was green. A block later a huge white SUV pulls out of a side street in front of Niceta. I know what's coming and prepare for Niceta to hit the brakes. She doesn't disappoint. The SUV travels about half a block and turns left. It must be Niceta's partner in road safety because when she turns left she does so so slowly I thought she might come to a complete stop in the oncoming lane of traffic. I notice this driver is much older too, I also notice the position of her hands on the wheel. 10 and 2.
By this time I was laughing out loud and Niceta and I made it through stoplight number three. As we approached #4 the light turned yellow and I bid farewell to Niceta. She had made it through on green and even though I had the opportunity to get across the intersection on yellow, which is something my children chastise me for never doing, I'd had enough of following her.
I'm first in line at stoplight number five in the left turn lane. I cruise the corner and return to the position of 10 and 2. I tell myself I'm not old, crank up the radio and make a mental note to not get a vehicle that matches my hair color. Unless of course, it's black.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
29 Out Of 30
The article was about the traits of an empath. Being an empath is having the ability to be affected by the energies of other people, even to the point of feeling what others feel. Listed were 30 traits, all but one described me to a tee.
One of the traits is being able to sense when something or someone is not quite right. I've had this ability all my life but unfortunately have usually chosen to ignore it most of the time. Many times the Voice, that lives somewhere inside my head, has been standing on the tarmac, hat on backwards, wearing goggles and waving huge red flags trying to land the An-225 Mriya, the world's largest airplane. It does this to alert me to the danger, but another trait of the empath is always wanting to save the underdog, so I act like I don't hear or see the Voice. The Voice then snaps the handles of the flags over its knee, throws them on the ground and stomps off in disgust.
Having the ability to pick up other energies is probably why I don't like sports events. If I do attend, I have the need to sit far away from the crowd. Sitting with the crowd fills me with the feelings of the spectators for each team and that causes an overwhelming sense of just wanting to make peace. Another trait. If I look around, I will see the Voice at the far end of the baseball field, sitting in a lawn chair, wearing shades and occasionally swatting at a bug. It usually gives me a smug "you never learn" smile and turns away, enjoying the game and the solitude.
Discovering this about myself makes me understand why I don't miss the morning newspaper. It would be different if it wasn't filled with sad or bad news, but it is and it can literally ruin my day. It's not that I don't care about what is going on in the world, I do, but starting the day filled with negative energy drains me.
Empaths love nature and animals. As a child, I was a true Dr. Dolittle and could get a stray kitten or dog to follow me home without much effort. Most of the time, Mother made me return it. My husband is not an empath, Tigger already knows this.
Empaths are easily addicted to substance abuse. That's all I'm going to say about THAT.
They also love action and adventure. I know this is true about myself because when I watch an action movie, I can be a super hero for days. Just the other night I watched The Godfather. Believe it or not, I've never seen this movie in its entirety. It had already been on for about an hour when I found it and I watched it to the end. I'm still fighting the urge to stuff my cheeks full of cotton balls and become Vito Corleone. I've yet to see the part with the horse head in the bed, but it's probably just as well, or I'd feel the need to carry a violin case, or large cardboard box.
Empaths do not like to buy antiques. To that I will add they also do not like to go into buildings full of them. Way too many old energies, so, Na na na na do do to Lela and Blanche.
The only trait that didn't describe me was not eating meat. I do like my protein, in all its various forms. I will now have to think happy thoughts with my next double bacon cheeseburger.
Now that I know this about myself and know that I'm really not a nut case, I'm going to start paying better attention. This should make the Voice happy, but as I glance over my shoulder, I can see it blowing smoke rings and I think I just heard it say, "Yeah, right."
One of the traits is being able to sense when something or someone is not quite right. I've had this ability all my life but unfortunately have usually chosen to ignore it most of the time. Many times the Voice, that lives somewhere inside my head, has been standing on the tarmac, hat on backwards, wearing goggles and waving huge red flags trying to land the An-225 Mriya, the world's largest airplane. It does this to alert me to the danger, but another trait of the empath is always wanting to save the underdog, so I act like I don't hear or see the Voice. The Voice then snaps the handles of the flags over its knee, throws them on the ground and stomps off in disgust.
Having the ability to pick up other energies is probably why I don't like sports events. If I do attend, I have the need to sit far away from the crowd. Sitting with the crowd fills me with the feelings of the spectators for each team and that causes an overwhelming sense of just wanting to make peace. Another trait. If I look around, I will see the Voice at the far end of the baseball field, sitting in a lawn chair, wearing shades and occasionally swatting at a bug. It usually gives me a smug "you never learn" smile and turns away, enjoying the game and the solitude.
Discovering this about myself makes me understand why I don't miss the morning newspaper. It would be different if it wasn't filled with sad or bad news, but it is and it can literally ruin my day. It's not that I don't care about what is going on in the world, I do, but starting the day filled with negative energy drains me.
Empaths love nature and animals. As a child, I was a true Dr. Dolittle and could get a stray kitten or dog to follow me home without much effort. Most of the time, Mother made me return it. My husband is not an empath, Tigger already knows this.
Empaths are easily addicted to substance abuse. That's all I'm going to say about THAT.
They also love action and adventure. I know this is true about myself because when I watch an action movie, I can be a super hero for days. Just the other night I watched The Godfather. Believe it or not, I've never seen this movie in its entirety. It had already been on for about an hour when I found it and I watched it to the end. I'm still fighting the urge to stuff my cheeks full of cotton balls and become Vito Corleone. I've yet to see the part with the horse head in the bed, but it's probably just as well, or I'd feel the need to carry a violin case, or large cardboard box.
Empaths do not like to buy antiques. To that I will add they also do not like to go into buildings full of them. Way too many old energies, so, Na na na na do do to Lela and Blanche.
The only trait that didn't describe me was not eating meat. I do like my protein, in all its various forms. I will now have to think happy thoughts with my next double bacon cheeseburger.
Now that I know this about myself and know that I'm really not a nut case, I'm going to start paying better attention. This should make the Voice happy, but as I glance over my shoulder, I can see it blowing smoke rings and I think I just heard it say, "Yeah, right."
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
To Pool or Not To Pool?
Living in the great Mid West of these United States offers a variety to the swimming season. It can start as early as May and last as late as September. Or, it can rain throughout the month of June and the pool will be untouched until sometime in July.
The latter has been the option for this year.
Swimming pools can be lots of fun. They can also be lots of work. As I stand and look at ours, a series of questions came to mind about what you might want to consider, if you're considering having a swimming pool.
First and foremost is safety. That should be the top concern. It only takes a second for a child to leave your line of sight. So, can you provide a safe environment?
The next question anyone contemplating the summer funiness of pool time should ask is, do you really want something else that needs to have the vacuum sweeper run in it? Oh yes, there are lots of automatic vacuums on the market that tout you will never have to manually sweep your pool but so far, we have yet to find one that really works. I have talked to other people who get along just fine with theirs but ours always seemed to suck itself on the side of the pool, much like a giant plastic leech. This was always followed by my husband talking to it in a not-so-kind way and then having to guide it with a long pole....followed by more not-so-kind words.
As you are deciding which pool you want, ask yourself this: Do you envision yourself relaxing, floating gently on the water, taking in the sun on a lovey summer day? Now ask, do you have children? Your vision has just been swamped by an 80 pound cannon ball, that literally came out of nowhere.
Have you considered the cost? Not just the start up cost of getting the pool, then getting the ground ready, then filling it with water, then attaching all manner of pumps, filters and other gadgets, but the long term cost. Pool water does not stay sparkling clear on its own. There is a whole herd of products to keep the water clean and if you're buying from a pool dealer, they will be more than happy to put you on their endless supply of products. Some will even offer to come and maintain the pool for you. By all means, if you can afford that, do so, it could save you a lot of grief. I've always taken care of ours by myself. I feel like a mad scientist as I measure and add products, praying for the best result. So far, I think I have done well, no one has emerged from the pool missing a limb or growing a new one.
Now that you have your pool, what kind of floaty toys do you want? None? If you have children you will end up with every inflatable raft, ball, tube, noodle and any other item that looks like so much fun on the packaging. Not long after that, you will need a place to store these wonderful purchases because trying to deflate them isn't an option. A few words of advice, DO NOT buy the giant inflatable orca. I don't care how big your pool is, it won't be big enough and there is nothing more enjoyable than to have said beast banging into your head while your children think this is the funniest thing ever. Another thing about the giant inflatable orca, it takes up a lot of space when it's not in the water. If it isn't moored to something stable and a strong wind comes through, you will look like you are trying to recreate a scene from Free Willy as you retrieve it from four blocks down the street.
How much closet space do you have? What does closet space have to do with having a pool? First, you will need some more towels. You will lose some of these over the season, but usually you will gain a few too. If you entertain the youth in your area, you will end up with an assortment of summer clothing that will range from swimming trunks, underwear, tee shirts, an occasional dress and numerous socks. None of these items will ever be missed by the wearer. I've often wondered if they thought they arrived naked.
Do you have boys? I don't know what it is about boys and water but it instantly adds mega forms of creativity to their imaginations. One former pool owner shared the story of a time when their sons were younger and used the long aluminum pole, needed for numerous skimming attachments, to pole vault into the pool. Long aluminum poles make for nice round holes in a vinyl liner. Yes, boys should come with a label that reads, 'just add water' for endless forms of entertainment. Water also makes them lose part of their hearing because getting wet makes them loud, really loud.
There are probably more questions to ask before getting a swimming pool, but these were just a few I thought of, while gazing at my empty pool. It's full of water, the water is clear....well, sort of, but there are no loud voices. No squealing girls and equally squealing boys. Our children are grown and even though they live close, their children are getting to the age where they are busy themselves.
We've reached the stage in our lives where we can truly enjoy the vision of lounging quietly in the pool, taking in the sun on a lovely summer day. Sigh...... As I flip through the pages of the recent pool catalog, I see the giant inflatable orca is on sale!
The latter has been the option for this year.
Swimming pools can be lots of fun. They can also be lots of work. As I stand and look at ours, a series of questions came to mind about what you might want to consider, if you're considering having a swimming pool.
First and foremost is safety. That should be the top concern. It only takes a second for a child to leave your line of sight. So, can you provide a safe environment?
The next question anyone contemplating the summer funiness of pool time should ask is, do you really want something else that needs to have the vacuum sweeper run in it? Oh yes, there are lots of automatic vacuums on the market that tout you will never have to manually sweep your pool but so far, we have yet to find one that really works. I have talked to other people who get along just fine with theirs but ours always seemed to suck itself on the side of the pool, much like a giant plastic leech. This was always followed by my husband talking to it in a not-so-kind way and then having to guide it with a long pole....followed by more not-so-kind words.
As you are deciding which pool you want, ask yourself this: Do you envision yourself relaxing, floating gently on the water, taking in the sun on a lovey summer day? Now ask, do you have children? Your vision has just been swamped by an 80 pound cannon ball, that literally came out of nowhere.
Have you considered the cost? Not just the start up cost of getting the pool, then getting the ground ready, then filling it with water, then attaching all manner of pumps, filters and other gadgets, but the long term cost. Pool water does not stay sparkling clear on its own. There is a whole herd of products to keep the water clean and if you're buying from a pool dealer, they will be more than happy to put you on their endless supply of products. Some will even offer to come and maintain the pool for you. By all means, if you can afford that, do so, it could save you a lot of grief. I've always taken care of ours by myself. I feel like a mad scientist as I measure and add products, praying for the best result. So far, I think I have done well, no one has emerged from the pool missing a limb or growing a new one.
Now that you have your pool, what kind of floaty toys do you want? None? If you have children you will end up with every inflatable raft, ball, tube, noodle and any other item that looks like so much fun on the packaging. Not long after that, you will need a place to store these wonderful purchases because trying to deflate them isn't an option. A few words of advice, DO NOT buy the giant inflatable orca. I don't care how big your pool is, it won't be big enough and there is nothing more enjoyable than to have said beast banging into your head while your children think this is the funniest thing ever. Another thing about the giant inflatable orca, it takes up a lot of space when it's not in the water. If it isn't moored to something stable and a strong wind comes through, you will look like you are trying to recreate a scene from Free Willy as you retrieve it from four blocks down the street.
How much closet space do you have? What does closet space have to do with having a pool? First, you will need some more towels. You will lose some of these over the season, but usually you will gain a few too. If you entertain the youth in your area, you will end up with an assortment of summer clothing that will range from swimming trunks, underwear, tee shirts, an occasional dress and numerous socks. None of these items will ever be missed by the wearer. I've often wondered if they thought they arrived naked.
Do you have boys? I don't know what it is about boys and water but it instantly adds mega forms of creativity to their imaginations. One former pool owner shared the story of a time when their sons were younger and used the long aluminum pole, needed for numerous skimming attachments, to pole vault into the pool. Long aluminum poles make for nice round holes in a vinyl liner. Yes, boys should come with a label that reads, 'just add water' for endless forms of entertainment. Water also makes them lose part of their hearing because getting wet makes them loud, really loud.
There are probably more questions to ask before getting a swimming pool, but these were just a few I thought of, while gazing at my empty pool. It's full of water, the water is clear....well, sort of, but there are no loud voices. No squealing girls and equally squealing boys. Our children are grown and even though they live close, their children are getting to the age where they are busy themselves.
We've reached the stage in our lives where we can truly enjoy the vision of lounging quietly in the pool, taking in the sun on a lovely summer day. Sigh...... As I flip through the pages of the recent pool catalog, I see the giant inflatable orca is on sale!
Friday, June 13, 2014
Remembering Dad
It's almost Father's Day and I've been thinking about my own father. He's been gone a long time. In fact, he's been gone 2 years longer than I actually knew him. It doesn't seem possible that it has been nearly 30 years.
William R. Murphy was my father, some of you may remember him. He was quite a guy, but then, most fathers are. Most fathers.
He had a grand sense of humor that he passed on to the rest of us. He taught us how to play cards, checkers and chess, but never let us win. Occasionally we might have actually beat him at one of these games, but that was because we had played the game well, not because he let us.
He was a snazzy dresser. Evolving through many fashion changes, even the bell bottom era. I remember one time my sister Lela bought him a pair of red plaid bell bottom pants. He thought he had died and gone to fashion heaven. My, he looked dapper, not everyone could pull off red plaid bell bottoms. He would grin and say he needed a walking stick, to keep the ladies at bay.
He always donned a hat before leaving the house and his favorite was the flat cap style. But, he never wore one inside a building, that would have been a showing of poor etiquette. How times have changed.
He could play twenty questions if we ever asked for money. Why did we need it? What were we going to do with it? How much would we come back with? By the time he was done, we wished we hadn't asked.
Every Christmas, he amazed us with his magical trait of being able to guess what we had bought him. We never learned his ability to have a 'poker face' when he guessed right, but then, we never learned not to ask.
I was the youngest of his three daughters, arriving late in his life. My sisters, Lela and Blanche, had the privilege of knowing him in his younger years. Years spent on the farm and a different life, they have many memories and stories from those times.
The odd part about him being gone is, that if he were still here, still alive, walking this earth, he would be celebrating his 101st birthday this month.
30 years, in the blink of an eye. If your father is still here, take the time this weekend to remember him. Celebrate the Day of the Dad. Laugh, reminisce, and enjoy his company. Don't just do it for one day, do it as often as you possibly can. Life is not equal in its expenditures.
If you're a father, remember this. When your children are young, and you look into their eyes, to them, you can do no wrong. That's just the way it is, it's a guy thing, a dad thing.
If you're father wasn't the best, at least take the time to acknowledge that without him, you wouldn't be here.
Happy Father's Day Daddy, we miss you.
William R. Murphy was my father, some of you may remember him. He was quite a guy, but then, most fathers are. Most fathers.
He had a grand sense of humor that he passed on to the rest of us. He taught us how to play cards, checkers and chess, but never let us win. Occasionally we might have actually beat him at one of these games, but that was because we had played the game well, not because he let us.
He was a snazzy dresser. Evolving through many fashion changes, even the bell bottom era. I remember one time my sister Lela bought him a pair of red plaid bell bottom pants. He thought he had died and gone to fashion heaven. My, he looked dapper, not everyone could pull off red plaid bell bottoms. He would grin and say he needed a walking stick, to keep the ladies at bay.
He always donned a hat before leaving the house and his favorite was the flat cap style. But, he never wore one inside a building, that would have been a showing of poor etiquette. How times have changed.
He could play twenty questions if we ever asked for money. Why did we need it? What were we going to do with it? How much would we come back with? By the time he was done, we wished we hadn't asked.
Every Christmas, he amazed us with his magical trait of being able to guess what we had bought him. We never learned his ability to have a 'poker face' when he guessed right, but then, we never learned not to ask.
I was the youngest of his three daughters, arriving late in his life. My sisters, Lela and Blanche, had the privilege of knowing him in his younger years. Years spent on the farm and a different life, they have many memories and stories from those times.
The odd part about him being gone is, that if he were still here, still alive, walking this earth, he would be celebrating his 101st birthday this month.
30 years, in the blink of an eye. If your father is still here, take the time this weekend to remember him. Celebrate the Day of the Dad. Laugh, reminisce, and enjoy his company. Don't just do it for one day, do it as often as you possibly can. Life is not equal in its expenditures.
If you're a father, remember this. When your children are young, and you look into their eyes, to them, you can do no wrong. That's just the way it is, it's a guy thing, a dad thing.
If you're father wasn't the best, at least take the time to acknowledge that without him, you wouldn't be here.
Happy Father's Day Daddy, we miss you.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Snapped!
Today's blog is about some diabolical biological madness.
The Buffalo Gnat.
If you are unfamiliar with this winged menace, let me explain.
They are a small winged insect that looks much like a common house fly, only much smaller. They are unlike other gnats, that we see flying in small ever changing shapes of clouds over an open field because, generally, those gnats don't bother us.
The Buffalo Gnat serves absolutely no purpose, other than to drive the human species stark raving mad. They emerge, in this area, in the spring and stay active for several weeks. According to some research, I found out they came here from the west, possibly Oklahoma. Their larvae can winter up to 8 months with no ill effect to their health. Our hopes of this past winter putting an end to their presence here have been dashed upon the rocks.
There are many theories as to when they leave, or die, or whatever it is they do, but in actuality, I don't think anyone knows for sure. Some say when the water temperature is 70 degrees, they will be gone. I beg to differ. They are still here and that temperature was achieved quite some time ago.
Going outside is a nightmare. A Buffalo Gnat's only goal is to see if they can get in your hair, eyes, ears and nose simultaneously. They are experts at synchronized dive bombing. While they are in above stated orifices, they bite. Any kind of styling product used for your hair is an open invitation to see how many of them can hunker down in your do. When that happens, they ride, as in a Trojan Horse, into your home, make you feel like Medusa and continue their assault.
The only thing they don't like is the scent of vanilla or a product called Buggins. This product boasts of a vanilla rose mint scent and is said to be made of natural ingredients. I don't care, bug spray is bug spray and there is nothing worse than being all cleaned up, ready to go somewhere, and having to douse yourself in bug spray just to get to your car unscathed. Unfortunately, if you do not do this, your freshly coiffed do will look like you've just stepped out of the wind tunnel at the GM proving grounds because you've beaten yourself silly. I've witnessed people jogging who forgot to apply some form of repellent because they look like they're trying to fly, or have something seriously wrong with them.
There is no need to wear any perfume during the siege of the gnats because everyone in a 60 mile radius smells the same.
If you do not have these straight from the gates of Hell winged demons, stop whatever it is your doing, right now. And give a word of thanks to whoever you think is in charge of the universe because you never ever want them. NEVER EVER!
It hasn't been too many years ago that there was no such creature amongst us and it would be nice to go back to those good ole days. For now though, we must fight the good fight. The only good Buffalo Gnat is a dead one. Gnat Warrior On!
The Buffalo Gnat.
If you are unfamiliar with this winged menace, let me explain.
They are a small winged insect that looks much like a common house fly, only much smaller. They are unlike other gnats, that we see flying in small ever changing shapes of clouds over an open field because, generally, those gnats don't bother us.
The Buffalo Gnat serves absolutely no purpose, other than to drive the human species stark raving mad. They emerge, in this area, in the spring and stay active for several weeks. According to some research, I found out they came here from the west, possibly Oklahoma. Their larvae can winter up to 8 months with no ill effect to their health. Our hopes of this past winter putting an end to their presence here have been dashed upon the rocks.
There are many theories as to when they leave, or die, or whatever it is they do, but in actuality, I don't think anyone knows for sure. Some say when the water temperature is 70 degrees, they will be gone. I beg to differ. They are still here and that temperature was achieved quite some time ago.
Going outside is a nightmare. A Buffalo Gnat's only goal is to see if they can get in your hair, eyes, ears and nose simultaneously. They are experts at synchronized dive bombing. While they are in above stated orifices, they bite. Any kind of styling product used for your hair is an open invitation to see how many of them can hunker down in your do. When that happens, they ride, as in a Trojan Horse, into your home, make you feel like Medusa and continue their assault.
The only thing they don't like is the scent of vanilla or a product called Buggins. This product boasts of a vanilla rose mint scent and is said to be made of natural ingredients. I don't care, bug spray is bug spray and there is nothing worse than being all cleaned up, ready to go somewhere, and having to douse yourself in bug spray just to get to your car unscathed. Unfortunately, if you do not do this, your freshly coiffed do will look like you've just stepped out of the wind tunnel at the GM proving grounds because you've beaten yourself silly. I've witnessed people jogging who forgot to apply some form of repellent because they look like they're trying to fly, or have something seriously wrong with them.
There is no need to wear any perfume during the siege of the gnats because everyone in a 60 mile radius smells the same.
If you do not have these straight from the gates of Hell winged demons, stop whatever it is your doing, right now. And give a word of thanks to whoever you think is in charge of the universe because you never ever want them. NEVER EVER!
It hasn't been too many years ago that there was no such creature amongst us and it would be nice to go back to those good ole days. For now though, we must fight the good fight. The only good Buffalo Gnat is a dead one. Gnat Warrior On!
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
The Fairy Princess
The Fairy Princess
What does the Fairy Princess do
As she scampers in the dark?
Does she cajole with the tree frogs
Holding tight upon the bark?
Does she swim across the garden pond
And moon bathe on a stone?
Does she have a secret friend she meets
Or is she all alone?
Perhaps she rides upon her steed,
A toad in armor bright.
And they patrol her kingdom
Keeping it safe throughout the night.
Does she tiptoe through the flowers
Swaying gently in the wind?
Or ride high upon their blossoms
Wishing nightfall would never end?
Does she peer into the water
And speak to all the fishes?
Does she know they are the only ones
Who will keep her secrets and her wishes?
Does she dance beneath the stars on high
And curtsy to the frogs?
Or do the creatures gather round her throne
As she sits upon a log?
What does she do with dewdrops
Are they her scepter or her crown?
And when she walks among her court
Do they kneel upon the ground?
Sometimes she is very daring
And stays out to close to dawn.
For when she left at twilight
She did not have her shoes on!
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Get Busy
It was 59 degrees when I rose this morning. Quite cool for the month of June and it was raining. Again. It's done a lot of that lately. There is many a swimming pool lying dormant, the water much too cold, even for the bravest of young boys. The flower pot downspout is working perfectly. Who ever thought watching rain pour from a downspout would be entertaining?
I can smell the bacon wafting in from the kitchen. Oh, how I do love bacon. Due to some nasty swine disease, our small town grocery store's meat department is vacant of this tasty pork belly product. It's not that they can't get it, the cost to the consumer would be too high. Ever since the birth of the big box stores, the small town businesses have suffered and nearly disappeared. Competition is a healthy thing, but it's impossible to compete with an outfit that can buy and store a hundred items when the small guy can only buy and store a dozen or two. Most people don't understand that. When I learned of the coming bacon shortage, I bought several packages and froze them. I'm on my last package and I did give some thought about putting it on Ebay, just for fun. Instead, I cut it in half and only use one slice, which makes two short slices, and savor every bite.
I fixed our usual breakfast. Egg sandwiches. As I cracked the hormone fed chicken eggs into a bowl, I tried not to think about that. I'm old enough to know that when the first two eggs cracked out of the carton have double yolks, that ain't normal. The cats get the yolks and they don't seem to complain. So far, they have not grown any extra extremities due to the additives and my husband benefits from having a bit less fat in his diet. Unless, of course, there is gravy close by. When he has a chance at some gravy, which in his mind, goes with anything, my attempt at monitoring his fat intake is a lost cause.
Even though there is rain in the forecast for most of the day, there is much to do. That is a good thing because this kind of day can sometimes make one feel like crawling back under the covers, waiting on the sunshine. I wonder just how much time we spend on waiting for the perfect opportunity? Such a waste of a precious commodity.
Time for action. Fight or flight? I'm feeling a little feisty, think I will fight and put the plan in motion.
I can smell the bacon wafting in from the kitchen. Oh, how I do love bacon. Due to some nasty swine disease, our small town grocery store's meat department is vacant of this tasty pork belly product. It's not that they can't get it, the cost to the consumer would be too high. Ever since the birth of the big box stores, the small town businesses have suffered and nearly disappeared. Competition is a healthy thing, but it's impossible to compete with an outfit that can buy and store a hundred items when the small guy can only buy and store a dozen or two. Most people don't understand that. When I learned of the coming bacon shortage, I bought several packages and froze them. I'm on my last package and I did give some thought about putting it on Ebay, just for fun. Instead, I cut it in half and only use one slice, which makes two short slices, and savor every bite.
I fixed our usual breakfast. Egg sandwiches. As I cracked the hormone fed chicken eggs into a bowl, I tried not to think about that. I'm old enough to know that when the first two eggs cracked out of the carton have double yolks, that ain't normal. The cats get the yolks and they don't seem to complain. So far, they have not grown any extra extremities due to the additives and my husband benefits from having a bit less fat in his diet. Unless, of course, there is gravy close by. When he has a chance at some gravy, which in his mind, goes with anything, my attempt at monitoring his fat intake is a lost cause.
Even though there is rain in the forecast for most of the day, there is much to do. That is a good thing because this kind of day can sometimes make one feel like crawling back under the covers, waiting on the sunshine. I wonder just how much time we spend on waiting for the perfect opportunity? Such a waste of a precious commodity.
Time for action. Fight or flight? I'm feeling a little feisty, think I will fight and put the plan in motion.
Monday, June 9, 2014
Reading The Signs
In her later years, as a widow, Mother had a friend. It's still really hard to call him a boyfriend, that's just too weird. Funny how we think our parents aren't really human. They're parents for cryin out loud, they don't have feelings like the rest of us.
Anyway, we called him Mr. Bill, which is even weirder because Dad's name was Bill......sigh. Mr. Bill was quite a character. He was a retired truck driver and had driven all over these United States for many years. He drove an old Lincoln Continental that was at least four blocks long.
He and Mother would jump in that boat and go for road trips. These weren't your typical Sunday drive kind of road trips, oh no, these were freaking cross country safaris that might take weeks to complete.
Mother would always talk about how Mr. Bill would read all the road signs to her. Usually a route number or a certain city had a most entertaining story to go along with it. She didn't seem to mind, she liked to travel and Mr. Bill still liked to drive......and read the signs.
There are some other signs we need to read. These aren't the kind hanging above the freeway or on a bill board, but, if we are paying attention, they can be just as bold.
These are the signs that are given to us by God. Most of the time we aren't paying attention, but they are there.
Just the other day I asked for a sign. This isn't the first time I've done this. I seem to ask for them quite a bit. Every time I do, I get one. I don't ask for the answer, just the sign. Maybe that's why I get a quicker response. I'm not asking for yes, no or wait, just conformation that I've been heard. Sometimes that is enough, just to know that I am not alone.
I asked for a big sign.....actually I asked for a huge one. The very next day, it was there and yes, it was huge.
Did this solve all my problems at present? No. Will I still have a struggle? Probably. Will the rest of my days be carefree and happy go lucky? I don't know, most of that is not up to God, it's up to me. That's about as close as I can come to defining free will.
Should we ask for signs? I think so, after all, we are only human. How many times do our children ask us for something, even when we have told them no for the umpteenth time? Are we not children of God? The story of Gideon tells us, even after he had the privilege of sitting and talking with an angel, he asked many times in a row for a sign and got one each time. That tells me God is patient.
Is there some kind of magic formula for receiving signs? Maybe, but I wouldn't call it magic. Jesus said we have to believe that we will get it, before we ask.
Believe and have faith and don't forget to pay attention.
Anyway, we called him Mr. Bill, which is even weirder because Dad's name was Bill......sigh. Mr. Bill was quite a character. He was a retired truck driver and had driven all over these United States for many years. He drove an old Lincoln Continental that was at least four blocks long.
He and Mother would jump in that boat and go for road trips. These weren't your typical Sunday drive kind of road trips, oh no, these were freaking cross country safaris that might take weeks to complete.
Mother would always talk about how Mr. Bill would read all the road signs to her. Usually a route number or a certain city had a most entertaining story to go along with it. She didn't seem to mind, she liked to travel and Mr. Bill still liked to drive......and read the signs.
There are some other signs we need to read. These aren't the kind hanging above the freeway or on a bill board, but, if we are paying attention, they can be just as bold.
These are the signs that are given to us by God. Most of the time we aren't paying attention, but they are there.
Just the other day I asked for a sign. This isn't the first time I've done this. I seem to ask for them quite a bit. Every time I do, I get one. I don't ask for the answer, just the sign. Maybe that's why I get a quicker response. I'm not asking for yes, no or wait, just conformation that I've been heard. Sometimes that is enough, just to know that I am not alone.
I asked for a big sign.....actually I asked for a huge one. The very next day, it was there and yes, it was huge.
Did this solve all my problems at present? No. Will I still have a struggle? Probably. Will the rest of my days be carefree and happy go lucky? I don't know, most of that is not up to God, it's up to me. That's about as close as I can come to defining free will.
Should we ask for signs? I think so, after all, we are only human. How many times do our children ask us for something, even when we have told them no for the umpteenth time? Are we not children of God? The story of Gideon tells us, even after he had the privilege of sitting and talking with an angel, he asked many times in a row for a sign and got one each time. That tells me God is patient.
Is there some kind of magic formula for receiving signs? Maybe, but I wouldn't call it magic. Jesus said we have to believe that we will get it, before we ask.
Believe and have faith and don't forget to pay attention.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Taking A Step Back
I started today out by reading someone else's blog. I've never met this person, but we have a connection through my proof reader, so we are "friends" through Facebook.
The blog gave me hope. Hope because when all things looked like they couldn't be any worse, they got better. A lot better.
It made me realize that it really is OK to not be in control of every situation. I'm not really sure we ever are, but for some of us, we feel the need to be. It's just part of who we are, it makes us feel complete, powerful, safe.
The worst part about thinking it necessary to be in control all the time is it takes a lot of mental focus. It's a constant thing. It never sits on the back burner of the mind, it's always on the front, boiling over. It causes stress and anxiety, which of course, leads to other things. Things that are not usually good.
Control freaks are probably the most out of control people around. It's because the need to be, overcomes the actuality of it. Sometimes it makes us not very nice to be around. We don't intend to come off as being a bitch or a dickhead, we just think our way is right. Maybe right isn't the right word. I think it comes from the feeling that if all is under control, all is well.
For a control freak to give up control is like trying to put a cat in a bucket of water. It's nowhere we want to go. We will claw and cling to anything to keep our stance, to stand our ground, to stay in the seat of power. Why? Because to lose control, is to be defeated.
That really isn't true, no, it's not true at all. It's more of a preconceived notion that not being in control is a sign of weakness, of being a failure, of letting people down.
I remember a saying I heard several years ago and it went something like this.....You aren't who you think you are. You aren't who others think you are. You are what you think others think you are. The key to that phrase is "what you think".
People really don't spend that much of their time thinking about someone else. Oh, they may be talking or gossiping, but as far as actually spending the whole day in thought about someone else, it doesn't happen, unless you're 15 years old and madly in love. Most of our time is spent thinking about ourselves.
So I'm working hard at giving up the preconceived notion that I have failed. I'm working hard to realize being in control is not always a necessity. I'm working hard to heed my own advice, that I so freely dish out, that things happen for a reason and there is a higher power at work. I'm stepping back and I'm going to watch it happen.
I've set my need to control and the fear of failure on a platter and placed it outdoors. Hopefully the creatures of the night will find it a tasty treat.
And now I will think good thoughts.
The blog gave me hope. Hope because when all things looked like they couldn't be any worse, they got better. A lot better.
It made me realize that it really is OK to not be in control of every situation. I'm not really sure we ever are, but for some of us, we feel the need to be. It's just part of who we are, it makes us feel complete, powerful, safe.
The worst part about thinking it necessary to be in control all the time is it takes a lot of mental focus. It's a constant thing. It never sits on the back burner of the mind, it's always on the front, boiling over. It causes stress and anxiety, which of course, leads to other things. Things that are not usually good.
Control freaks are probably the most out of control people around. It's because the need to be, overcomes the actuality of it. Sometimes it makes us not very nice to be around. We don't intend to come off as being a bitch or a dickhead, we just think our way is right. Maybe right isn't the right word. I think it comes from the feeling that if all is under control, all is well.
For a control freak to give up control is like trying to put a cat in a bucket of water. It's nowhere we want to go. We will claw and cling to anything to keep our stance, to stand our ground, to stay in the seat of power. Why? Because to lose control, is to be defeated.
That really isn't true, no, it's not true at all. It's more of a preconceived notion that not being in control is a sign of weakness, of being a failure, of letting people down.
I remember a saying I heard several years ago and it went something like this.....You aren't who you think you are. You aren't who others think you are. You are what you think others think you are. The key to that phrase is "what you think".
People really don't spend that much of their time thinking about someone else. Oh, they may be talking or gossiping, but as far as actually spending the whole day in thought about someone else, it doesn't happen, unless you're 15 years old and madly in love. Most of our time is spent thinking about ourselves.
So I'm working hard at giving up the preconceived notion that I have failed. I'm working hard to realize being in control is not always a necessity. I'm working hard to heed my own advice, that I so freely dish out, that things happen for a reason and there is a higher power at work. I'm stepping back and I'm going to watch it happen.
I've set my need to control and the fear of failure on a platter and placed it outdoors. Hopefully the creatures of the night will find it a tasty treat.
And now I will think good thoughts.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Did You Know?
It's good to have a little conservation knowledge. Taking care of the precious top soil so it doesn't all end up in New Orleans.
I've known about it for a long time but something must have slipped my mind. Just yesterday I was admiring my garden pond. It has two separate pools and one gets shade during most of the day. I cleaned them out earlier this Spring, as soon as the weather allowed, and had them looking pretty good. The shaded pool was absolutely perfect. The water was clear and sparkling. The small fountain in the middle, that has a small homemade filter attached, hadn't been cleaned for a couple of weeks. That's the goal with garden ponds, not having to clean the filter much, or not at all. That means they are sustaining themselves, like nature intended.
A couple of weeks ago I transplanted some perennials on one side of the pond. I thought this a good idea plus a money saving option, rather than to buy annuals for the border.
During the night, a strong storm system moved through our area. The rain gauge, which has a crack in it so it may not be an accurate account, had over 2 inches in it. That was good, we really did need some rain. Maybe not a gully washer, but the pollen and the cotton wood tree fluff needed watered down.
As I took a quick stroll between the rain drops this morning, I noticed my garden pond. The perfectly clear sparkling small pool now looks like a mud bath. Guess I should have put some mulch around those perennials.
Since I've been up before dawn, I perused Facebook for awhile. There I learned how to fold a fitted sheet. It was a short video about how a folded fitted sheet takes up much less room than a rolled up wadded in a ball fitted sheet. This reminded me of something that I believe Ann Landers said many years ago. She suggested that women who didn't take the time to iron their sheets were lazy. If memory serves me correctly, I think she got a whole lot of flack over that comment. I shall continue to roll my fitted sheets, just because I can. It would be nice though if it were possible to buy a fitted sheet that wasn't made for a mattress that is two foot thick.
Another article on Facebook was about body alterations. It showed eight different things the human race has done over the ions to enhance the physical human body. There was foot binding, and the ideal length of a foot was 3 inches. Foot binding has pretty much disappeared in the 20th century and to that I say good riddance. What were they thinking? Lip plates were another form of enhancement. I'm not sure how one eats with a lip plate protruding from the front of one's face. I'd knock myself out just trying to chew. Neck stretching was what really caught my attention. I always did want a longer neck so the cute dangle earrings didn't sit on my shoulders, but I'm afraid it's too late to give it a try. Someone should have come up with leg stretching, I would have been first in line for that one.
I made a recent discovery that may be the next best thing since sliced bread. Maybe you already know this, but I it was new news to me. I was listening to a message on my cell phone voice mail. It was a prospective client and I couldn't understand their name. I kept hitting the repeat button to listen again and after about the fourth time, something amazing happened. The message slowed down! It wasn't like super slow motion where the voice sounds like "wwwwhhhhhhaaaaatttttt dddddiiiiidddddd yyyyooooouuuuu ssssaaaayyyyy?" But it was slow enough that I was able to understand the name. Pretty cool stuff there.
Did you already know that?
I've known about it for a long time but something must have slipped my mind. Just yesterday I was admiring my garden pond. It has two separate pools and one gets shade during most of the day. I cleaned them out earlier this Spring, as soon as the weather allowed, and had them looking pretty good. The shaded pool was absolutely perfect. The water was clear and sparkling. The small fountain in the middle, that has a small homemade filter attached, hadn't been cleaned for a couple of weeks. That's the goal with garden ponds, not having to clean the filter much, or not at all. That means they are sustaining themselves, like nature intended.
A couple of weeks ago I transplanted some perennials on one side of the pond. I thought this a good idea plus a money saving option, rather than to buy annuals for the border.
During the night, a strong storm system moved through our area. The rain gauge, which has a crack in it so it may not be an accurate account, had over 2 inches in it. That was good, we really did need some rain. Maybe not a gully washer, but the pollen and the cotton wood tree fluff needed watered down.
As I took a quick stroll between the rain drops this morning, I noticed my garden pond. The perfectly clear sparkling small pool now looks like a mud bath. Guess I should have put some mulch around those perennials.
Since I've been up before dawn, I perused Facebook for awhile. There I learned how to fold a fitted sheet. It was a short video about how a folded fitted sheet takes up much less room than a rolled up wadded in a ball fitted sheet. This reminded me of something that I believe Ann Landers said many years ago. She suggested that women who didn't take the time to iron their sheets were lazy. If memory serves me correctly, I think she got a whole lot of flack over that comment. I shall continue to roll my fitted sheets, just because I can. It would be nice though if it were possible to buy a fitted sheet that wasn't made for a mattress that is two foot thick.
Another article on Facebook was about body alterations. It showed eight different things the human race has done over the ions to enhance the physical human body. There was foot binding, and the ideal length of a foot was 3 inches. Foot binding has pretty much disappeared in the 20th century and to that I say good riddance. What were they thinking? Lip plates were another form of enhancement. I'm not sure how one eats with a lip plate protruding from the front of one's face. I'd knock myself out just trying to chew. Neck stretching was what really caught my attention. I always did want a longer neck so the cute dangle earrings didn't sit on my shoulders, but I'm afraid it's too late to give it a try. Someone should have come up with leg stretching, I would have been first in line for that one.
I made a recent discovery that may be the next best thing since sliced bread. Maybe you already know this, but I it was new news to me. I was listening to a message on my cell phone voice mail. It was a prospective client and I couldn't understand their name. I kept hitting the repeat button to listen again and after about the fourth time, something amazing happened. The message slowed down! It wasn't like super slow motion where the voice sounds like "wwwwhhhhhhaaaaatttttt dddddiiiiidddddd yyyyooooouuuuu ssssaaaayyyyy?" But it was slow enough that I was able to understand the name. Pretty cool stuff there.
Did you already know that?
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
In The Last Few Days
In the last few days, I have learned many things....
1. I am weak but He is strong. For those of you who never learned this song as a child, please move forward to #2.
2. Last weekend was my husband's 45th class reunion. No matter how hard you try, you will not look the same as you did 45 years ago. Try and tell that to a new graduate.....45 years might as well be light years to them. If you are wearing the same style of clothes as you did 45 years ago, someone will notice.
3. Sometimes things really aren't as bad as they seem. They may still not be pleasant, but the only other alternative may be death, so which would you really choose?
4. You can't herd cats. Nope, not going to happen. They herd you. Just watch them as you walk up the sidewalk. If you walk on one side, they will move to that side. Change positions and they will too. Never take your eyes off of them though, when you do is when they will trip you up. I think they do that on purpose.
5. It's always a good idea if you don't know the answer....ask someone who does. Usually, this is a free service.
6. From my husband's class reunion I learned that it is not necessary to go to the Eye Dr. One of his classmates has the perfect system. The cheater readers available in the big box stores. In order to perfect the bi or tri-focal requirements, all one must do is buy three different strengths of cheaters. First, find the one that makes it easy to read. Second, go up one strength, this pair will be stacked on top of the first pair in order to read smaller print. Third, go up one more strength, if the print is really small this pair can be stacked in front of the other two for damn near perfect vision. He brought me three pairs this week......and it works. Really, I'm not making this up.
7. The replacement element for my oven cost $15. Since it is bigger and does more work, surely is worth more than the four burners on the top of my stove. Why does the entire unit cost over $300?
8. Waving the white flag is not always a bad thing.
9. Being honest is a virtue. Being smart may have more benefits.
10. When you carry a yellow cat to the garage, to be put in for the night, wearing a black shirt, your shirt will no longer be black...and the cat will not thank you.
1. I am weak but He is strong. For those of you who never learned this song as a child, please move forward to #2.
2. Last weekend was my husband's 45th class reunion. No matter how hard you try, you will not look the same as you did 45 years ago. Try and tell that to a new graduate.....45 years might as well be light years to them. If you are wearing the same style of clothes as you did 45 years ago, someone will notice.
3. Sometimes things really aren't as bad as they seem. They may still not be pleasant, but the only other alternative may be death, so which would you really choose?
4. You can't herd cats. Nope, not going to happen. They herd you. Just watch them as you walk up the sidewalk. If you walk on one side, they will move to that side. Change positions and they will too. Never take your eyes off of them though, when you do is when they will trip you up. I think they do that on purpose.
5. It's always a good idea if you don't know the answer....ask someone who does. Usually, this is a free service.
6. From my husband's class reunion I learned that it is not necessary to go to the Eye Dr. One of his classmates has the perfect system. The cheater readers available in the big box stores. In order to perfect the bi or tri-focal requirements, all one must do is buy three different strengths of cheaters. First, find the one that makes it easy to read. Second, go up one strength, this pair will be stacked on top of the first pair in order to read smaller print. Third, go up one more strength, if the print is really small this pair can be stacked in front of the other two for damn near perfect vision. He brought me three pairs this week......and it works. Really, I'm not making this up.
7. The replacement element for my oven cost $15. Since it is bigger and does more work, surely is worth more than the four burners on the top of my stove. Why does the entire unit cost over $300?
8. Waving the white flag is not always a bad thing.
9. Being honest is a virtue. Being smart may have more benefits.
10. When you carry a yellow cat to the garage, to be put in for the night, wearing a black shirt, your shirt will no longer be black...and the cat will not thank you.
Monday, June 2, 2014
On the Edge
I'm standing on the head of a pin.
It's a very small space in which to be. Nowhere to go......except down.
I don't know whether to step forward or to step backward. When I look down it seems there is an endless abyss below.
I so desperately do not want to fall in that place because I don't know what's down there. I don't think it is pretty, no not pretty at all. Probably more like super duper ugly, like those creatures that lived under the bed so many years ago.
Maybe if I just stand here long enough the abyss will go away. Maybe if I cover my eyes, I can be like a child and think if I can't see it, it can't see me. Maybe that will work.
But then again, maybe not.
If I could start running in little tiny steps, maybe the head of the pin would begin to flatten and widen while it spins, giving me more room to stand. More room to breathe.
I just don't know. That's the worst part. No answers. No control of the situation. No one to ask.
I think I will just stand here a while longer.....and pray.
It's a very small space in which to be. Nowhere to go......except down.
I don't know whether to step forward or to step backward. When I look down it seems there is an endless abyss below.
I so desperately do not want to fall in that place because I don't know what's down there. I don't think it is pretty, no not pretty at all. Probably more like super duper ugly, like those creatures that lived under the bed so many years ago.
Maybe if I just stand here long enough the abyss will go away. Maybe if I cover my eyes, I can be like a child and think if I can't see it, it can't see me. Maybe that will work.
But then again, maybe not.
If I could start running in little tiny steps, maybe the head of the pin would begin to flatten and widen while it spins, giving me more room to stand. More room to breathe.
I just don't know. That's the worst part. No answers. No control of the situation. No one to ask.
I think I will just stand here a while longer.....and pray.
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