A New Company

A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to attend the Nutcracker ballet at the Duke Energy Center for the Performing Arts.  The tickets had been a gift and although I had no intention of taking my husband, I asked him if he wanted to go anyway, just to see the look on his face.  As I suspected, it was priceless so I asked my friend Dina and she was overjoyed to accompany me.   

This beautiful building, a Greek Revival structure that compliments the state capitol building of Raleigh, N.C., hosts two theaters, a concert hall and the Raleigh Memorial Auditorium, which alone seats over 2200 people.  In the front of the building is a landscaped plaza complete with a large reflecting pool and sculptures.  Scattered randomly around the pool are small wire table and chair sets for resting, before or after a performance, or to just sit and take in the cityscape that spreads out in front of the plaza.   

Although Dina was familiar with the Nutcracker, I had never seen it before, or any ballet performance for that matter.  We found our seats and marveled at the size and decor of the auditorium.  Our seats were on the second terrace and we had a great view of the stage along with the orchestra.  It was not long before the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.

The backdrops used in these kinds of programs always amaze me.  They are nothing more than a sheer curtain with whatever background is needed printed on them.  I thought back to my high school days and drama club.  We spent just about as much time searching for props and making our humble stage take on the right setting as we did practicing our lines and rehearsing.  

The costumes were fabulous and the ballet itself was very entertaining.  I remembered why I had never seen it before and that was because I always thought the Nutcracker guy was creepy looking and unfortunately, I still do.  I was, however, very familiar with all the music and it suddenly dawned on me the reason for that was Looney Tunes.  I can still see Elmer Fudd searching for that waskely wabbit to the tune of the Sugar Plum Fairy.  Hey, sometimes the 'country' will just not leave some people.

What captivated me more than anything were the dancers.  I had never seen such graceful bodies and long limbs.  Later I began to do a search as to whether there were actually prerequisites for becoming a ballerina because most every girl, sometime in their life, wanted to be one.  Here is what I found:  They should be 5'3" to 5'8" and weigh somewhere between 85 and 130 pounds.  They should have a small head, long neck, long arms, long legs, a slender figure and the fortitude to put in long, long hours of training and practice.   The information also stated that in the USA, size could vary and that in itself, should be a celebrated concept.  That may be true, but there were no 5'2" dancers with short arms, short legs and no neck on the stage.

I wonder if there should be a new ballet company and the only prerequisites would be none of the above.  There would be no age limit either, thigh size would not matter, nor weight.  True, the grand jete' (those wonderful leaps) might not be too far off the ground and the pirouettes, one of which I did in the clubhouse for the staff,  may not look too pretty, but we could sure have some fun, for a day or two....Or, at least until we could no longer move. 

  

A Year in Review, Runtly Style

First, let me, Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, start out by stating that if Mom said 'she would never be one of those people' once, she has said it 100 times.

It seems like my year started out with a lot of miles spent riding in a vehicle.  It was scary.  It made my heart go pitter patter and Mom had to give me some 'sleepy' medicine.  It did not really make me go to sleep, but it helped with the sound of the traffic roaring by.  I do not like traffic.

I like my new home and have made many friends.  I also have made some not friendly friends and as luck would have it, they all live in my building.....right next door.  Their names are Layla, Biggie and Claire and they would like to eat me for a snack.  Layla tried to the other day, but Mom had me on the leash and swung me around like a helicopter until Layla's mom got her under control.  It was fun, sort of and sort of not.  When Biggie and Claire are outside, I bark at them and show them my teeth.  I do this from the second story deck, I show them who is the boss.  I have more people friends than I do dogs and all the kids at the school bus stop think I'm really cute.

This year I have acquired a wardrobe.  I have a blue t-shirt that has the words "BOW WOW" in glittery sparkles on the back and a grey sweater that reads "woof".  I do not like them, but Mom seems to think they are great fun.  I might like the sweater when it is cold outside, but I'm not telling Mom.  She always tries to take my picture when I have the ridiculous shirts on.  I hide as soon as I see her reach for that picture taking thing.  I do not like it either, Mom spends way too much time looking at it.  Valuable time she could be spending looking at me.  

I take a big walk almost every day.  Mom and I walk almost two miles!  When I get tired of walking, I tap Mom on the back of the leg and she carries me.  Mom is nice.

I did my very first sleepover away from home this year and spent the night with my buddy, Franklin.  I did not like it, but I used his bathroom just like I do at home and Franklin was impressed.  Mom says I'm really smart.

Dad and I spent NASCAR season on the couch together.  It was a lot of fun and Dad is warm.  Now that NASCAR season is over, we like to watch funny videos.  Dad is fun.  Dad shares his chips too.

I've been trying really hard to not be afraid in the vehicle.  As soon as I hear Mom pick up the keys to the truck, I tell her I want to go.  I am very brave and stand in the passenger seat, at least until we pull out of the complex onto the busy street.  When I see all the traffic, I have to sit next to Mom.  But, as soon as she turns the truck back into our complex, I get very brave again.  Maybe next year I will be able to go farther than two blocks.  

I had a package under the Christmas tree this year and it was from my Grandma!!  Grandma is nice.  Mom said it was time to go through my toy basket and get rid of a few things.  Mom is mean.

Once this year I ate something I found in the middle of the road, when Mom wasn't looking.  It seemed tasty to me, but then I puked for two days.  Mom says she has been looking at muzzles.  Mom should pay better attention to me.  

My cousin, Boy, sent me a text message.  He said he and his dad watched the movie 'Goodfellas' together.  After it was over, Boy told his dad he wanted to be called Henry from now on.  I think Henry is a nice name.

It has been a fun year.  I have a nice place to live, food and water in my coffee cups on a blue place mat, toys galore and I get to sleep in Mom and Dad's bed. I always take up as much room as I want.  Mom says she has become one of those people.  I do not know what than means.

Mom says it is time for me to get out of her chair.  I hope everyone has a barkly and sparkly Happy New Year!!

The Forever Poinsettia

Tom and Lilly were soulmates.  The love they held for each other more than spanned the age difference between them.  Theirs was definitely a September-December romance that lasted for over two decades.  Tom and Lilly lived from one side of the country to the other and spent as much of their time together as they possibly could.  It was always rare to see one without the other.  They settled in a small mid-western town and were blessed with a son.  They named him Todd.

Tom loved his family and he loved to work in the yard and tend to his flowers.  His roses were the most beautiful anyone had ever seen.  Lilly had no green thumb, like her husband, but she admired the beauty Tom created around their home.  

Every Christmas season, Tom and Lilly would go to the local big box store and purchase poinsettias to decorate the house with.  Tom always cared for the poinsettias during the holidays.  This was a Christmas ritual, year after year.

Then one year, shortly after the Thanksgiving season was over, Tom fell ill.  Lilly went to the store without him and returned with two $6 poinsettias.  Two weeks later and fourteen days before Christmas, Tom told Lilly "good night" and peacefully passed to the other side.  Lilly's heart was broken.  How was she going to make it without him?  

Three years later, those two poinsettias are still alive.  All Lilly has ever done for them is to give them water.  They are at least ten times the size they were when she first brought them home.  They each sit on plant stands that are two feet high and the leaves are so dense that they nearly touch the floor.  This past March, the poinsettias were loaded with red leaves.  Shortly after summer, all the red leaves fell off both plants.  Then, a few weeks ago, Lilly noticed some of the leaves were beginning to turn red, again.  Todd told his mother that Dad was sending her poinsettias for Christmas.

This is a true story, only the names have been changed to protect their identity.  I have pictures of the poinsettias and share them often.  I also look at them when I'm feeling down because they prove to me that love never dies, that we are not forgotten and that those we miss are just beyond our fingertips.  Tom not only takes care of the poinsettias, he visits Lilly in her dreams.  He tells her he will be right there, waiting for her, so they can be together forever.

Love, it's what the season is all about.   

The Bearer of The Torch

Another year is quickly spiraling into oblivion.  As its end approaches, so does the most hectic time of the year for many people, the holiday season.  There are gifts to purchase or make, foods to cook that have not been cooked or baked since last year and endless activities and gatherings to attend.

For many, especially children, this is a happy and exciting time, but for some, it's the most miserable time of the year.  Celebrating the holidays, when there has been the loss of a  loved one who has passed through this veil of life, is not something the grief stricken look forward to, especially if that person was a parent. 

There have been many posts on social media platforms, that speak of how people have lost the Spirit of the season.  They say that they miss their parent too much to celebrate.  Things just are not the same with them gone.  

They are right, all these things are true.  It is not the same, it never will be.  Missing that person never really goes away, regardless of what time of the year it is and regardless of how much time has passed.  The spirit of any holiday can be lost.

Perhaps, what we have failed to see in the hopelessness, is the torch.  The torch of life that was handed to the very person we now are missing.  Most likely, if the living timeline was followed to the letter, they too had the very same feelings of grief when their parent passed.  The torch does not immediately make everything better, but its fire never dies.  It burns and waits for its new bearer to pick it up and put one foot in front of the other, to continue on.  It helps to light the way, even when we do not wish to go forward.  

The loss of any loved one leaves us with an empty space.  Pick up the torch this holiday season and let the light of that person's fire help lead you through the darkness.  Hang a strand of lights on the lamp shade or put an ornament somewhere.  Try to do something and if  this is too much, that's alright.  The torch will still be waiting, its fire burning bright, for the next day, the next week, the next holiday.

Because Of This

There is compelling and mounting evidence that civilized civilization has been around a lot longer than five or six thousand years.  Following this line of thought and if one takes the time to delve into this information, one will find there is a plethora of evidence backing up this claim.  

Searching for the real answers can sometimes lead a person to a point where they must take a step back and look at things from a distance, if only for a little while.  Not doing this, especially when going against the grain of everything we were told as truth, can nearly lead a person down the path of madness.  

We are told that, right now, in this time in history, humankind is the most advanced intellectually as it has ever been.  Many times my searches into this topic take me to places, via the computer, where people have the opportunity to post their own thoughts on whatever topic is being discussed.  Reading through these posts brings me to the realization that if we are the most advanced, smartest and wisest of the homo-sapiens, I would beg to differ.

It does not matter what the subject is, someone will throw in a comment that either deals with religion or politics and from there the entire discussion begins to disintegrate into a mindless mess of meanness.  During the quagmire of 'having the last word' posts, someone will ALWAYS toss in the "End Times" are upon us.  

People have been predicting the end of the world for a really long time.  One of the dates of end times found goes back to 66 CE, 
nearly two thousand years ago.  Following is a list of 5 of the most recent dooms day predictions:

5.  William Miller had quite a following back in the 1840's.  He predicted that Christ would return in 1843.  When that didn't happen, he changed the date to 1844.  This was known as Millerism.

4.  In 1910, the approach of Halley's Comet had so many people believing the end was near, that someone had the brilliant idea to sell bottled air.

3.  1988 was the year, according to True Way, that the earth was going to be destroyed.  But, people could survive the end by purchasing a ride on a UFO that would take them somewhere else, although that 'somewhere' was not mentioned exactly.

2.  A man by the name of Harold Camping, who strangely enough had a large following, predicted the end of the world.....12 times.

1.  The Mayan Calendar.  This is one of the most recent predictions of the Apocalypse and to  make a long story short, that didn't happen either.

What people fail to realize is one very important truth.  There is a Bible story that tells how one man talked God out of destroying an entire nation of people.  There are hundreds of thousands of people, all over the earth, who spend a great deal of their time in petition.  Meaning, they pray.  They pray for peace and for a healing of our home, the Earth.  They pray for the spiritual awakening of the rest of humanity.  Many do it silently and even though it is not plastered all over the evening news, it still goes on.  It is because of this, that I do not believe the end is coming anytime soon.  We have far too much to learn yet, and hopefully, if we look back far enough, we can learn from our mistakes.  

The Club

Clubs and organizations are ways for people, who share a common goal or interest, to get together.  Their topics, or main themes, can range from new ideas, or think tanks, a skill such as painting or woodworking, collections of antiques or whatnots, sports, or even playing cards.  For those who like to collect things, the list is virtually endless.

The Mayor of Marshfield, the name by which just about everyone in the complex knows this person, stood peering into the vastness of the storage closet.  I was only there to help and had assured him I would keep my wise counsel to myself, although we both knew that was going to be a long shot.  Vastness was not the right word to describe the closet, unless it was the vastness of absolutely no vacant space left.  It was packed solid, from top to bottom.

The Mayor, planning for retirement, had decided that perhaps it was a good idea to downsize.  The sigh, that left their lips, was one I remembered well.  Where does one start, when faced with a lifetime of stuff?  Stuff that has accumulated and not been touched in years.  The process can be painful, especially when digging up old memories that have lain dormant for a long, long time.

The suggestion had been made that just maybe, some of this stuff could be sold.  The Mayor had given that some thought and figured it was always good to add to the retirement savings.  Box after box came out of the closet.  Betty Boop, who had not seen the light of day for years, ended up in the display cabinet.  She was not alone as more boxes revealed things that could not be parted with.  After all, there was some empty space in the cabinet that needed to be filled.  There were enough Christmas decorations to light up the entire apartment complex.  Since that season is nearly upon us, those did not go anywhere either.  Then, the find of all finds, emerged from the sea of boxes.....the Kirby Vacuum.  

Having made the suggestion that if things did not sell, rather than put them back into the closet, they could be donated or simply thrown away.  The thought of the beloved Kirby in the dumpster nearly put the Mayor into cardiac arrest.  What was I thinking?!?  This Kirby was in the original box, with every attachment, that was ever created for this work of vacuum cleaner wizardry and they were in their original boxes too.....for the last 30 years.  Who knew cardboard could be an antique?

Trying to settle the Mayor's nerves, I quickly began to Google old style Kirby vacuum cleaners.  Never in my wildest dreams would I have believed what I found.....a Kirby vacuum cleaner club.....I kid you not.

It wasn't just for Kirby vacuums, but any old sweeper that was considered a modern marvel of its age, and the more I read, the better it got.  The club was founded in 1983, with ten members.  It has since grown to nearly 100.  They have 4 day annual conventions, a Facebook page and a website that boasts the recent Vacuum News. Then, I stumbled upon the pictures from the latest convention.  Sure enough, there were the members vacuuming the hotel carpets...individual pictures, of each member, doing the same thing.

It was about this time that my husband showed up on the scene and found the Mayor and myself in nearly a fit of hysterics.  After we calmed down long enough to explain the reason for our laughter, he said the clubs' call to action was probably "You Suck!"  This, of course, was followed by more howls and ideas of what other sayings might fit, such as, "Well, That Sucks!"

The Kirby will probably not be going anywhere soon, unless the Mayor decides to join the club.  Oh well, this just proves that there is something or someone for everyone and truth can indeed be stranger than fiction.

Thankful?

Wouldn't it be nice if Thanksgiving was everyday?  I reckon the only ones who would not appreciate this would be turkeys, but let's give the idea some thought.

What if everyday, everyone woke up and as soon as they opened their eyes, they thought to themselves, "Wowzers! I'm still here!  Thank you!"  It would also be perfectly acceptable to mutter these words out loud, unless of course, others, who may still be sleeping, would not be so very thankful for the thankfulness, but I think you get the picture.

From there, instead of thinking about all the activities that need to be accomplished during the day, let's take this idea down to the quantum physics level.  (I love those two words and although I could not explain just exactly what they mean, along with being horrible at math, I'll try to describe it in layman terms.)  Let's dig down deep and start being thankful for the most trivial things.  Look at things at the micro level.  For instance, the socks on your feet and the shoes that follow.  The water that comes out of the faucet and that bar of soap.  The switch, that when flipped, turns on the lights.  The smell of fresh brewed coffee or a steaming hot cup of tea.  A half stick of butter, even though you really needed a whole stick.  The milk in the jug and the cereal in the box.  One egg in a carton when you thought you were out of eggs.   The chair, the table, the spoon, the fork.  

All these things and we haven't even made it out of the house yet.  The possibilities are endless.  Since we've been being so thankful, think about what we have not thought about.  Those things like a bill that needs paid, what someone said that hurt our feelings, or looking into the wallet knowing there is not enough in there for the needs, that need met.  Should we be thankful for those things too?  

Think about what would happen if everyone spent their entire life being thankful for every single thing that transpired in that lifetime.  Sounds crazy?  Maybe not.  If we were all being busy being thankful, there would not be near the misery that befalls human kind.  The reason for that is because where the mind, or heart or consciousness is  focused, that is where the action starts.  That is were the focus comes into play and materializes into just about whatever our minds can dream of.....good or bad.

The best advice I ever heard was this, "Troubles are the tools by which God fashions us for better things."  So, yes.  Give thanks for all the things you think are bad in your life.  Whether it be losing every possession or enduring the most horrible heartbreak.  Be thankful for the experience and the tears.   Be thankful for the things that led up to it.  Be thankful for having had the opportunity to live through it.  Be thankful for what you will learn from it.  

As you gather with family and friends this Thanksgiving season, remember to be thankful for the chance to do it.  If you are spending it alone, be thankful for that too, you did not have to drive yourself crazy fixing a huge feast, nor spend the money.  

Regardless of your belief system, the Apostle Paul said to "pray without ceasing".  That sounds impossible, but starting out with giving thanks for all things, as minuscule and unimportant as they may seem,  might be a good place to start.  It can change ones entire attitude about life and the mysteries of the Master of the Universe.    

The Sweet Goodbye

You were considered a good friend., maybe even the best.  Always there for me, when I felt like no one else was.  You were dependable and never ceased to share your amazing calming qualities, without even being asked.  I depended so much on you and you let me, never once complaining, even when I took advantage of you.  

I had ended our friendship once before.  If that upset you, I never knew it.  You simply waited for me.  I knew that somewhere, in the back of my mind,  you really were not the right one for me.  You had the qualities of a serial stalker and even though I knew it, I loved you enough not to care.  

As I look back on our relationship, I wonder now, just what it was about you I found so fascinating.  Was it the way you looked?  No, you had no special features that I can recall.  Was it the way you caressed my fingertips?  Hmmmm, that may have had something to do with it.  Was it your ability to stay silent and non-judgmental?  Perhaps.  

Do I miss you?  Sometimes, it has been a year since we last saw each other, but, not so much anymore.  I truly believe I am over you.  I look back on our relationship as a life lesson, even though, someday it may be one of the hardest to learn.  So, it is with a heart full of happiness, I'm glad I kicked your butt to the curb and bid you farewell.

For those of you who have never caved to peer pressure, never had or needed a vice, never put a cigarette to your lips, I commend you on your inner strength.  For those who are still fighting the addiction, I can only offer what worked for me......twice.

I had tried the pills, I had tried the patch.  Those did not work, at least, not for me.  The only thing that worked was to tell myself I needed to quit.  That I needed to be a non-smoker and that I could be one.  I told myself this for days, weeks and months. Then, one day, a day I had placed my eyes upon on the calendar, I quit.

The mind and the subconscious is a powerful thing.  It believes whatever we tell it.  Sometimes it takes a while for the belief to stick, but if it hears it long enough, it will happen.  There is no judgement here, it believes what we think is good stuff and it believes what we think is bad.  

Tell yourself some good stuff and may you too, experience the sweet goodbye.  

The Zone

Everyone has one.  That particular area or space.  It can be something as simple as a favorite chair, or the very space that surrounds us at any given time.  Regardless of just where it is, we all have a comfort zone.

A comfort zone also applies to many different things, besides just our physicality.  It applies to the way we think.  One example of this is what I refer to as the 'epiphany of adulthood' ; that moment we realize our parents really did not know everything...that is never comfortable knowledge.   Our religious beliefs fall into comfort zones and to pull us out of those zones can lead to utter chaos.  Forming first opinions usually are done within the confines of our comfort zone.  It is always easier to peer out from our special place and cast a judgement, than to check all the facts.

If a person is not too involved in extracurricular activities and they have recently moved to a new area, it can make meeting new people a challenge.  Having a staunch comfort zone can make it nearly impossible.  Recently, I put my zone to the test.  I did something that is the ultimate 'no-no', I stopped alongside the road and picked up a total stranger.  Well, they were a total stranger to me.

My husband knew this person because they and their spouse had recently moved into the complex.  His expertise, in fixing things needing fixing, was summoned to their apartment, on more than one occasion.  During that time, he came to know these people well and one day the wife asked him a question.  She asked if he thought I would mind taking her with me on a grocery shopping trip.  Of course, Mr. Knows Everyone In A Four County Radius, regardless of where he lives, said he didn't see why not and brought me her phone number.  I pondered on that number for several days.

One morning, without giving it too much thought that could lead to changing my mind, I sent a text message to the number.  I stated that I would be leaving at a certain time, to go to the super big box store and would she like to go.  She accepted the invitation.  As I turned the corner into that area of the complex, there was a woman standing alongside of the street.  I lowered the passenger window, pulled up to her and asked, with a smile, if she needed a ride and she hopped right in.

It did not take us long to discover that neither of us were ax murders.  From that point, we talked like we had known each other forever and perhaps, in another lifetime, we did. 

This method may not work for everyone, or work favorably all the time.  The next time we peer out from the safe little window of our comfort zone, to make an unjustified analysis of someone or some thing, stepping out of that zone, to get a better look, could make a world of difference, in the whole world. 

Kicking A Dead Horse

As we drove down the busy street, we commented on some of the cars we saw.  I had told my husband that during my morning walks, I was trying to learn all the emblems of the different makes of automobiles.  As one car whizzed past, we both said we had not seen one by that name, nor did we know what make it was.  A couple of days later, he told me who the maker of the car was.  The very make and model we had discussed, had shown up on his Facebook page......and for those of you who understand, he is packing an Android phone.  Yes, I have the iphone, but I keep that sweet young thing named Siri turned off.

There is a form of government, that was given some very serious thought in this country during the 1930's, called technocracy.  A technocracy government is ran by a group of decision makers who have been self elected because of their technological knowledge.  This means, scientists, engineers, or whoever is considered an expert in their particular field, could be selected as part of the group.  These experts would not be elected by the people they wish to govern because the people are obviously not smart enough to do so.  

The young lady chatted to her handsome breakfast guest during their entire meal.  I was amazed at her ability to multi-task because she never put her phone down the entire time.  This isn't new and it does not seem to be going away anytime soon.  During the morning walks, especially when the dew is heavy on the car windows, I always step off the road when I hear an approaching vehicle.  The reason for this is simple.  If five cars pass me in the morning, leaving the complex, four of the five drivers are looking at their phones.  Getting ran over on my quest for fitness and longevity would constitute a true oxymoron in the reading of my obituary.

Getting people to accept the idea of technocracy can come about by giving them all the good examples of how technocracy can supersede common sense.   This has been done easily by putting the technology in the palm of their hand.  The next step would be to feed the people information.  It doesn't have to be informative info, just give them stuff to keep them entertained, or en-trained.  Make the people think that someone who is an expert in economics would be a much better leader than someone who wants to run for a seat in government because they believe they can make a difference.  Another step would be to listen.  Listen to what the people want and listen to what the people are doing.

We all know someone who is super smart.  We would consider them an expert, a genius and if we had a question about something, and we knew that person would know the answer, well then, we would ask them.  But, this does not mean that the person, who knows all the answers to something technological, like how the entire electrical grid of a city works, is the same person we want to leave the cat with while we are gone for the weekend.

The box in the house that will answer your questions, it listens even when you are not speaking directly to it.  The cell phone that you cling to with every waking breath, it listens and keeps tabs on where you are, day and night.  I keep kicking this dead horse down the road, maybe I should just get a live one and ride into the sunset. But, the sun sets in the west and there lies China.  

Let's Keep This Idea

Although I do not know for a fact if this next statement is true, I can probably lay down a bet and come out on the winning side.  My father never changed diapers.  If this is wrong, sisters Lela and Blanche will set me straight.  Perhaps he did, but I would still venture a bet that it was only in an extreme case of emergency.

My husband changed a diaper once, that I'm sure of.  He had been left in charge of his first grandson and had him in his shop.  Nature called and the workbench was the only available space.  He will tell you to this day, it was a terrible experience, complete with gagging.

Times and ideas have changed over the years.  I have watched our sons-in-law master diaper changes and baths, all while cooking a meal.  This does not mean the men of the past were wrong, they just grew up with a different idea, a different mindset.  Another example from my father's era; girls do not drive pick-up trucks. He did accompany me though, when I bought my first one. 

There are lots of things that were believed to be carved in stone, then later found out, that was not exactly the way things had to be.  Yet, there will still be people who believe the way it was done in the past, is the way it should always be done. 

One thing that seems to have been tossed out as something that is no longer a truth, is the old adage, "The customer is always right."  I nearly bit my tongue off at the grocery store recently and it is still sore.  The young checkout lady first asked me to come into her lane.  I thought that was nice of her and as I wheeled my full cart of groceries into her lane, that is where the niceties ended.  She first instructed me not to put my groceries on the conveyor belt.  As I stopped half way through the motion of lifting my first item out of the cart, I glanced at the young lady who was ahead of me, in line.  I could see why I could not put my groceries on the belt because she was frantically trying to get hers out of her cart.  The checkout lady never stopped the belt.  By the time the young woman got her last item out of the cart, it was time to pay and the words, "Have a wonderful day", left the lips of the cashier.   The cashier had paused long enough though, to give me the go-ahead sign, that I could begin unloading my cart.  Since I was still at the far end of the conveyor belt, each time I placed items on the belt, speed demon cashier lady hit the 'go' button for the belt.  My groceries where in a frantic stop and go dance on their way to the scanner.  She then tells me that I am basically putting my groceries on the belt wrong and to move my cart up closer to the register.  By the time I did this, it was time to swipe my card and hear her lovely parting words as she smiled and handed me the receipt.

I was so flustered, along with being on a mission of more than just groceries, I thanked her and maneuvered my cart to the self bagging area.  When I looked into the cart, I understood how she herded us through the lane so quickly. All the can items had been tossed to and fro.  One of them had pierced the plastic wrapping on the hamburger.  My brats were squished under cans of beans and broth. The hummus was slowly settling to one side of its container, since it was standing on edge.  I'm not sure how the eggs and bread survived, but they were unscathed. 

Some things need changing, but I do not think a lack of courtesy should be one of them.  Being proficient and efficient have their place, in the work place, but it does not take any more time to show some kindness to the customer. 

 I did feel like telling her that I had been buying groceries longer than she had been drawing breath and was pretty certain that I knew what I was doing....but, it would not have sounded near as good as it does here.

Gotta Luv It

It has been said the English language is one of the hardest to learn.  There are so many words that sound the same but are spelled differently and have different meanings.  These words are called homophones and here are a few of them; bear bare, know no, right write, flower flour, sense cents, dear deer and the most confusing of all, at least in text messages, there, their, they're.

Then there are the homonyms that have the same spelling but can have completely different meanings.  Here are a few examples; bat, bank, change, book and bolt.  

Next, we can throw in a little bit of French and this really tosses a wrench into the cogs.  There are words such as valet, filet, bouquet, crochet and buffet that all end in the sound of a long A.  The one exception in that list would be buffet, this happens when it is preceded by the first name of Jimmie.  Jimmie Buffet.  In this case the 'et' at the end of the word is pronounced  like the following; inlet, owlet, and bracelet.  It can be very confusing.

Sisters Lela and Blanche came for a visit.  It had been well over a year since we had seen each other and we had lots of catching up to do.  One thing that these two love to do is shop.  They also know I do not.  I waited patiently as I watched them peruse the racks in the Macy's store at the local mall.  They have the uncanny ability to finger every piece of clothing in the store, try on endless outfits in the dressing rooms and never purchase a single item.  This time, they surprised me and both emerged carrying a small bag.  From there, Lela decided she needed a rest and Blanche wanted to take me to another store....Bed Bath & Beyond.

I do not shop.  If I need something, I just go get it, usually at the big box store that has underwear at the entrance door and frozen pizza at the exit.  Surely I had been in a BB&B before, but it had been a long while.  This one is just across the street from our abode, but I had never ventured through its doors.  When I did, it was sensory overload.  This store has definitely put the emphasis on the Beyond.  

Blanche and I began scanning the shelves of gadgetry and whatnots.  As we approached the clearance shelves, full of linens and bedding, I  picked up an item and made my fatal faux pas.  As Blanche approached, she asked what I was holding and I answered, "It's a duvet."  (dove-it).  With a grin, she corrected me with the proper pronunciation of "do-vAy" and things went south from there.

I told her I would go home and tell the hubby, in my best red neck voice, "Looky here honey, I bought us a duvet!" 

When we returned to the apartment and told Lela of our antics, she chimed in with "Don't let your neighbor covet your duvet!"  It began to sound somewhat like an infomercial with phrases such as, "get your duvet, you're gonna love it"  and "if they make fun of your duvet, tell em' to shove it!"  We even called another family member to share our humor and the first thing they said was, "well, you've duvet again."

No doubt, the English language has its twists and turns.  It will be a long time before they forget the duvet, maybe never,  but I shall just rise above it.

The Ivy Patch

Way back in September of 1958, the folks, sisters Lela and Blanche and myself moved to South Corey Street in a small Midwest town. We left the small house in the country for a big two story home with an open air front porch and a porch swing.  There was a patch of soil  between the porch and the sidewalk that was about four feet wide and the length of the porch.  This is where Mother planted her English Ivy.

Traveling between the Carolinas  and the state of Georgia, one can see several signs with the following message:  English Ivy Kills Trees.  It seems that the lovely vine, with its evergreen leaves lightly laced with a bit of pale cream, has a bad rap in the South.  One of its likable characteristics is the fact that it is a great ground cover and grows in the shade.  It not only grows in the shade, it grows everywhere.  It not only is a great ground cover, it can and will cover anything that sits still long enough.  Trees have no defense when it comes to English Ivy and it can quickly cover them.  The ivy itself does not kill the tree but its dense green foliage blocks the sunlight from reaching the tree and without sunlight, the tree withers and dies.  It also seems that there are just as many people interested in how to grow English Ivy as there are for those who want to know how to get rid of it.

Just as the moon waxes and wanes, so did the seasons of South Corey Street.  Upon our arrival, there were few children on the street.  Most of the stately two story homes had elderly occupants who's children had long been grown and gone.  Since Lela and Blanche were in their teens, the quaint quietness of this tree lined street was soon replaced with honking cars and lots of bicycles.

Mother's ivy was doomed from the beginning.  No matter how hard she tried, she was never able to conquer the sneaker clad feet that used its location as a shortcut to the porch, or the bicycles that found the ivy patch to be a great resting place.  It was not too many years later, as South Corey Street began to shift into a new phase of young people, that she gave up all together and seeded the area with grass.

English Ivy can be a source of great contention for those who would like to be rid of its presence.  But, it is no match for the voracity of youthful endeavors.  
  

Dog Day Morning

It was a lovely Saturday morning.  The sun was shining and there was a hint of Autumn in the air.  Although there seems to be as many animal hospitals or clinics as there are furniture stores in this part of the country, I had chosen a veterinarian  in a small town, north of the city.  

Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, needed a rabies vaccine.  The trip was going to take about forty minutes, one way.  Runtly has been doing practice runs riding in the truck.  In the past, he was absolutely terrified, but since we have been doing these mini rides, he seems to be getting the hang of it.  One mention of "a ride in the truck" or the jingle of the keys and he is ready to go.  He still has to sit right beside me as we go down the road, but it seemed to be progress in the right direction.

We hopped into the truck and started the journey.  The clinic was only open from 8-11 on Saturday mornings and the plan was to get there about 10.  Runtly sat beside me as we left the safe confines of the complex.  One mile down the road and arriving at the first left turn, I glanced over to the passenger seat.  There sat The Voice, that lives inside of my head, peering into a small animal carrier.  Knowing The Voice does not have a pet, I took another look and realized it had put a pair of shoes in the container.  I rolled my eyes and as the light turned green, we made the first left turn.

Another mile down the road, Runtly decided the ride was not near the fun he had anticipated and tried to get to the floor board.  I knew if he managed to get there, he would be under my feet and the brake pedal.  I grabbed his harness and held him at arms length.  Looking at the clock, going back for the crate wasn't an option. 

I was thankful that I had spent the last month trying to get into better shape.  Driving 60 mph, holding 15 pounds of squirming dog at arms length, for 30 miles, was quite a workout.  There was so much dog hair flying around the inside of the cab, The Voice even rolled down the window to let some of it out.  After it rolled the window back up, it peered again into the small animal carrier and cooed gently to the pair of shoes.  

The clinic did not take appointments so it was a first come first serve situation.  I thought arriving at ten was a good idea.  As I pulled into the parking lot, everyone else from the city must have had the same idea.  The place was packed. 

We entered into a waiting room lined with people, pooches and one lone cat.  After getting checked in and finding a seat, we began the waiting process.  The clinic did not actually close at 11, that is when they stopped taking clients.  

Animals do not usually forget their first visit to the veterinarian.  This was made even more obvious watching large breed dogs get that first whiff of where they were, when coming in the door.  Then, watching as they had to be pulled across the waiting room floor.  
Runtly was no exception.  After a two hour wait, along with getting reprimanded for barking, he was certainly a sad looking canine as I pulled him into the examination room.

Once in there, it was discovered Runtly needed a simple test that required a small amount of blood to be drawn.  This is where the real fun began.  I could not hold him, no matter how hard I tried.  The young assistant finally convinced me to let her hold him because I was beginning to look like a shredded tissue.  I relented and she took control.  Runtly began to wail like a banshee and I had to stand in front of him so he could see that I was still there.  

Needless to say, I certainly did not have to drag him out of the clinic.  I was hoping the trauma he had just experienced would calm him down for the trip back home.  I was wrong about that.

Another 30 miles, with him held at arm's length and five hours from when we had first left, we were home.  Runtly promptly went to his favorite spot under the couch and The Voice took its shoes out of the carrier and put them back in the closet.  I grabbed my billfold and headed out the door because grocery shopping was next on my "to do" list.  As I got back into the truck and saw the carnage of white dog hair, that my husband was going to be thrilled with, I knew one thing for certain.  My dreams of road tripping in a motor home with Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, front and center, was certainly not going to happen any time soon.

HD Living

HD usually stands for "high definition", but in this case, it stands for "high density".  It is a phrase I heard recently when it comes to describing apartment home living.

It describes, in two words, the stacked on top of each other, nestled right side by side, everything looks the same,  row after row, mile after mile of apartment complexes.  Major cities are surrounded by them.  

Inside these communities, some the size of a small town, live peoples of all color and ethnicity.  There are as many different languages spoken as there are styles of clothing.  

Some of the occupants have lived in their apartment for years.  They know their community and most of the people who live there.  Then there are the ones who come and go. This has probably been the hardest thing for me to wrap my small town mentality around, or maybe I should refer to it as my Mid-West upbringing.  

I grew up believing that everyone had a dining room table and many other pieces of useful furniture and they lived in the same place for.....well....for like, forever.   I know better now.  I know the young single mother who has not one piece of furniture in her apartment.  I know the family that has possibly ten to twelve family members, all living together in a one bedroom unit.  I've seen them come in the middle of the day, only to leave a month later in the middle of the night.

I feel for the children who do not know what it is like to have some sort of constant in their life.  I miss the young Hispanic girl that I met at the end of the school year, while walking Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier.  I have know idea when she left, or where she went.  We never exchanged names, but she sure loved the dog.

I have seen apartments completely full of furniture, left behind.  If there is no money for the rent, there is no money for a moving van. I wonder if they are living out of their car.  

So, the moral of the story seems to be.....be thankful.  Be thankful if you have clothes on your back and a whole closet full that haven't been worn in years.  Be thankful if you only have but one chair to sit in.  Be thankful if you have a job, even if it is not the job of your dreams.  Be thankful if you have a mode of transportation that gets you from point A to point B, even if its a clunker.  Be thankful if you have a roof over your head, that leaks during a summer rain storm.  Be thankful for all the things in your life, good and bad. Most importantly, remember to pray for the ones who have it so much worse than you could ever imagine.

Remembering

Most of us will never forget.  At least those of us old enough to remember.  We will not forget where we were or what we were doing when the tragedy, that was and still is, happened on September 11, 2001.  It has become the second 'where were you' in my lifetime.  The first was the assassination of President Kennedy.

I had gone to town to pay a utility bill when, just as I was getting back in my car, the phone rang.  "Mom", said my oldest daughter, "There's something going on in New York City."

I raced home and turned on the television.  The first plane had already hit the North Tower.  I remember sitting there feeling so helpless, wondering what in the world was going on.  I called my husband and tearfully told him what was happening.  "They" had used our own planes to bomb us.  I never gave a second thought to how quickly the news anchors knew who the culprits were behind this atrocity and how they did it.   

As I watched the second plane fly into the South Tower, my mind went back to the year of 1974.  I had just graduated from high school.  My older sister had taken me to NYC for my graduation gift.  I remember being so enthralled with the people, the traffic, the tall buildings as far as the eye could see.  I remembered the dress. The dress I purchased in a small shop located on the ground floor of one of the World Trade Center towers.....it was purple with a paisley pattern.

As the memory of that dress began to fade back to the carnage on the screen, the first Tower started to collapse.  I sat there watching, feeling like I was in a bad dream, when some weird thing went off somewhere in the back of my brain.  The only time I had ever seen a building collapse like that was when it had be set up for demolition.

During President John F. Kennedy's administration there was an effort put forth under the name of Operation Northwoods.  Its purpose was to create a false flag in order to go to war with Cuba. One of the ideas mentioned in this operation was flying planes into buildings...our buildings and blaming it on Cuba.

Shortly before his death, President Kennedy spoke of the underhandedness of secret societies.  President Dwight Eisenhower, in his farewell speech, warned of the industrialized military complex.  

It's been sixteen years.  Let us never forget those who perished for no good reason.

Humorous Hummus

The Voice, that lives inside my head, was packing suitcases full of shoes.  "Seriously?", I quizzed.  The Voice did not answer and swept past me with the loaded luggage and waltzed out the door.
I watched it go down the steps towards a waiting cab and just before it reached the vehicle I yelled, "Good grief, it's only dip!"

I watched the taxi speed around the corner, shook my head and went back inside.  Once there, I went to the kitchen and retrieved my small food processor.  The recipe was for hummus.  I'm never quite sure how to pronounce hummus.  Is it hoo-mus or hyoo-mus? Either way, it is a delicious concoction with a main ingredient of chick peas.

I had made it before, although the last time I did not have one of the ingredients, tahini, and substituted something else that I thought would work.  Not knowing exactly what tahini was or how it tasted, I had no idea if my batch of hummus was authentic, but I ate it anyway.  

Tahini is an Arabic word for sesame seed paste and I had found a can of it at one of the grocery stores.  The directions said that it might need to be stirred, once it was opened.  When I removed the lid from the can I was instantly transported back to a time when I was a child.  The lady I stayed with, while the folks were working, lived across the street from a church.  Once a month she would go to the church and get some surplus food.  The only things I remember her getting was cheese and peanut butter.  The peanut butter was in a can and when it was first opened, it always had a layer of oil on the top.  I would watch as she slowly stirred the oil back into the peanut butter.  I remember thinking that was the best peanut butter in the whole world.

The tahini not only had a layer of oil on the top, but it was nearly half the entire contents of the can.  Naturally, when I put a spoon in it, a bit of oil overflowed down the outside of the can.  When the spoon hit the paste at the bottom, it was so compacted it felt like concrete.  I put more pressure on the spoon, this action caused more oil to jump out of the can.  So, I could neither make a dent in the tahini or hold onto the can at this point.  I had the brilliant idea to get out my mixer and put just one beater in it.  This did not work.

There was oil everywhere.  Totally disgusted, I grabbed a large bowl and poured the oil into it.  The paste in the bottom was so hard I literally had to pry it out with a knife.  Then it had to be mushed into chunks that would actually go through the beaters.
By the time it was back to its creamy buttery state, I knew why The Voice had left.  What a mess I had to clean up and all for a measly 1/4 cup of tahini.

The recipe for the hummus turned out to be good but, there is a grocery store just down the street that sells the best hummus and regardless of how it's pronounced, that is where I will get mine from now on.  I sure hope The Voice sends me a postcard.

The Work Out

Years ago, one of my parents' favorite thing to do was to drive to the county seat, on a Friday night, park in front of the Ben Franklin store and watch the people walk by.  People watching can be fun and I was able to do a lot of it when we recently attended an event that drew in thousands of people.  One of the most fascinating things about watching other people is seeing someone who looks just like someone we already know.  

Another thing about being in the proximity of that many people, at least in this neck of the woods, is seeing just how many of us are out of shape.  I only saw one person, who was in my age group, who actually looked to be in pretty good shape.  That made me decide that perhaps it was time to take some action to make some changes in my appearance. 

The youngest of our brood is into all things healthy and loves to do body building workouts, so I asked her for some advice as to how to get me started.  She said she would love to help and sent me a text message with my first set of exercises.  It consisted of 20 sit-ups, 15 squats and 10 push-ups and I was to do as many rounds of these as possible, in a twenty minute time span.  Since I am already walking two miles a day, I thought an extra 20 minutes would be a piece of cake.

I set a timer for 20 minutes and tucked the tips of my shoes under the edge of the couch when I started the sit-ups.  It had been quite awhile since I had done any and I finally got through the first 20. Then I was off to do the squats and that wasn't too bad either. When I got to the push-ups I remembered she had told me that if I couldn't do an entire body push-up, I could do them from the knees up.  The first full body push-up looked like a roll up, so I opted for the knee position. 

Satisfied with completing a full round of the exercises, I set out for round two.  The sit-ups took a bit longer to do and Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, was there to drop a toy behind my back for each one.  When I had to take a breather, he licked me in the face and thoroughly enjoyed me being down on his turf.  I managed to get through the second round and thought surely the 20 minutes were almost over.  I looked at the timer, ten minutes had passed.

I started on the next round.  By the time I got to the last sit-up it looked something akin to a fish that had been carelessly tossed up on the bank and its tail ever so gently quivered, as it gasped for its last breath of air.   I struggled through the squats and when I got to the last push-up, I face-planted in the carpet for several seconds. When I finally got up off the floor and looked at the timer, 16 minutes had passed.  It was the longest 16 minutes of my life.

From that point I'd had enough and made myself some breakfast. When I was done, I shuffled down the hall to the bathroom to get cleaned up.  I walked in, turned on the light and looked in the mirror.  Even though I had ran the vacuum cleaner the day before, my forehead was covered in white dog hair.  Luckily my breakfast consisted of an egg white omelet so if any of the dog hair fell in it, I was none the wiser.

I'm not sure what the next set of exercises will be, but I do know one thing.  If anyone ever tells you a Jack Russell Terrier does not shed, they be lyin'.

Let's Go Racing

It had been over 30 years since I had attended.  It was not one of my favorite things to do.  That honor goes to my husband.  It is his thing.  My honor has been to be able to walk past the television set, every so often, glance at the action and then waltz on.  But, there I was.  In Bristol, Tennessee at a NASCAR race.

The last time I had been to a race, we sat on the inside of the track, right by turn four.  For those of you unfamiliar with race car terminology, turn four is the last turn before the start/finish line. The cars went by so fast, that it made me dizzy trying to keep up with them.  When it was over, I figured that was my first and last car race.  

The track in Bristol, TN is inside of what is referred to as the world's last great Colosseum and once inside, it was easy to see the why.  The structure completely surrounds the race track with seating and can house 162,000 people.  The half mile track sits at the bottom of this giant soup bowl and its sides are so steep I was sure one of the track maintenance trucks would surely tip over as it went slowly along the upper edge of the track, sweeping up any debris that may have found its way to the surface.  This race track has also been dubbed to be one of the loudest.

When it was time for the race to start, we took the time to get our ear safety gear in place.  We took no chances as we poked little foam plugs into our ears and topped them with sound proof headphones.  When the green flag was dropped to start the race, I sat mesmerized as 40 cars pulled together to form what honestly looked like a "living" thing and crossed the starting line and they were back at that line in 14 seconds. From there, it took me over 125 laps to figure out who was in the lead and how to keep track of them.  

The opening ceremonies that NASCAR puts on are worth the price of admission, and if I were to ever go again, I would go simply for that experience.  They opened with the Pledge of Allegiance and followed that with a prayer.  They played that great song, "God Bless the USA" by Lee Greenwood and standing with over 100,000 people, all singing, made the hair stand up on the back of one's neck.  Then they had the children of all the NASCAR associates sing the National Anthem and once again, all the voices joined in. As the "home of the brave" words were being sung, two fighter jets screamed over the top of the last great Colosseum and I felt privileged to have been a part of it.

The people who attended this race came from all walks of life and ethnicity.  There were vendors selling everything from shaved ice to Confederate flags.  There were preachers dressed in black suits, white shirts and red ties, shouting the Gospel on loud speakers to all who passed by.  There were no protesters nor was there any racial tension to be seen.  All though it is still not one of my most favorite things to do, perhaps it needs to be a prerequisite for everyone to attend a NASCAR race at least once in their life.

Feeding The Beast

"Living your life solely on one's emotions can certainly be interesting.  There will be lots of ups and downs and twists and turns.  But, just like a roller coaster, it will always bring you right back to where you started."                              R.E. Reeves

Emotions fall into many categories, but a basic definition of what emotions are would be, a state of feeling.  We can feel happy, joyful, sad, guilty and be filled with intense anger and most everyone has experienced these feelings.  

Usually, along the course of one's lifetime, people learn how to control some of these feelings.  For instance, it is never a good idea to break into a fit of hysterical laughter during a funeral, unless you hail from my family and there may be a story like that somewhere down the lineage.  Wailing out of the top of one's head during a happy celebration is usually frowned upon too.  

Making decisions during an emotional crisis can lead to disastrous results.  There have been many bonds broken by words spoken during times when anger has been at an all time high and that can lead to years of guilt and sadness.

Regardless of religious beliefs or lack there of, most people will agree that there is evil in the world and the remote control is only one click away from proving its existence. I believe this evil, or darkness, is an actual living thing or entity.  If my opinion of evil is true, then just like every living thing in the universe, it needs something.  It needs to eat.  In order for it to eat, it needs to be fed and I believe the food it eats is made of the energy that comes from emotions.  

I do not visualize evil standing at the edge of a happy birthday celebration, sucking up the high frequency energy because evil vibrates at a much lower level.  It needs dark energy, like the kind that comes from mobs of people filled with anger and they do not even know why.  It feeds off of any energy thought of greed or causing harm or mayhem.  It likes to hang around with people who can whip the masses into states of hate filled frenzy.  Then it can become gluttonous and just like living cells, divide to make more evil that needs more food.

If people of planet Earth do not learn to control their emotions and figure out how to use some logic to come to peaceful solutions, then we will continue to feed the beast.  Feeding the beast and becoming complacent to its existence could be compared to that young man who lived with the grizzly bears.  That did not work out so well.

Back Under My Tinfoil Hat

Excuse me while I tighten my chin strap and give the whirlygig on top of my hat a spin.  I think that helps me spin my words onto the page!

I'm going to share a few excerpts and ideas from a book I am presently reading.  The title of the book is, "Voices From the Cosmos" by C.B. Scott Ph.D and Angela T. Smith Ph.D.  The entire book is filled with interviews with different races of the universe and this book is NOT considered fiction.  

Some folks are already rolling their eyes, but bear with me and consider this idea for a moment.  We now know that the galaxy we live in is but one in a million or trillions of galaxies that fill the universe.  Science tells us that there are hundreds if not millions of earth-like planets orbiting stars, in the same proximity as earth orbits our sun, in what they refer to as the "Goldilocks Zone", where all the components of life are 'just right'.  So maybe, just maybe it is a bit smug of us to think we are the only intelligent beings swirling through the cosmos.

The authors interview 18 different ET races.  They ask the same questions of each race and the questions were chosen on the premise that if we were to meet a group of people we had never met before, what questions would we ask them.

The group I would like to focus on and share with my readers is the Angels.  Whether or not you believe in this sort of thing really is not the point.  The point is the message to mankind.  

When asked if they received benefits for helping the humans, the Angels said there were no benefits to them, it is simply what they do, guide and help. "Humans always have to have something back for what they do, we do not have to have something back."  When asked if we, as an earthly population, would be destroyed, the Angels answered, "The human race is always trying to extinguish itself.  Why is this?  Humans are always doing things to end their lives by risk and danger.  We do not understand this.  Life is precious.  Why would humans keep trying to end their own and other human's lives?  We do not understand." 

Although there were many more questions asked, I would like to end with the answer given about what shape our planet is in. They suggested that if the big corporations at the top would start to take responsibility for what damage they have produced, that would have a trickle down effect for the rest of us.  When told that sounded like common sense, here is what the Angels had to say, "It is common sense but humans have lost their common sense.  They have become complacent.  They expect other people to clean up their messes instead of cleaning up their own messes.  Everything can be cleaned: the air, the water and the land.  All of these elements are self-sustaining without human help but with human interference they cannot sustain themselves.  Humans think that they have to manage everything: the air, the water, the animals and the land, but they are self-managing...(4 farmers just quit reading)...They were self-managing before humans and can do so again.  Managing is control and control is not needed when an element is independent and self-sustaining.  Leave them alone once they have regained balance.  Humans have become overwhelmed with trying to manage." 

So, are we to believe we have become zealous about control and management along with looking like we are our own biggest threat?  Since 8 people, all of whom are billionaires, own as much money as 3.6 billion of the worlds poorest people, I would say that was a pretty good evaluation.  

One last thing, never wear your tinfoil hat out in a thunderstorm.

Bread, Glass & Names

The geese were doing their daily walk past the backside of our building and directly below our deck.  Sometimes, if there are a few leftover slices of bread, I will break the bread in as many pieces as possible and feed the geese.  This practice is actually frowned upon and every park has a sign explaining why feeding the geese is detrimental to them, by slowing the process of natural selection, and to us, by griping about how many dang geese there are.  Anyway, every so often, I feed the geese.

One of the three ponds, (aka, city lakes) is just to the right of our dwelling and it adds to our backyard view looking like we are somewhere in the middle of the woods.  While I was feeding bread to the geese, I thought that I should share a slice or two with the many fishes that live in the pond.

Our deck has a ceiling and the section that runs right above the railing is adorned with many a hanging plant, bird feeder and shiny things.  One of these shiny things is a beautiful wind chime given to me by my oldest sister, Lela.  It is made out of slices of  colored wine bottles that have been melted just long enough to deform their shape.  Since it is entirely made out of glass, it is not to be left out in strong winds.  Our building sits at some odd angle so it rarely gets any wind on the deck and therefore, the wind chime is safe....

So, I have this great idea to wing a piece of bread over to the pond.  It's not that far away and I figure if I throw it like a Frisbee, put a little tilt on it so it makes it between the trees, it should hit the water.  The first slice did not make it and landed on the bank.  I have no idea if the second slice made it to the water or not because when I let loose with a throw of a lifetime, it was followed by something that sounded like a gunshot...even my husband jumped.

I had managed to hit the bottom of my beautiful wind chime and in doing so, I broke two pieces of it.  I hit it so hard that we have yet to find all the pieces and I'm not sure the rest of those pieces didn't disintegrate.  

Lela and my other sister, Blanche, are coming for a visit this fall. Those are not their real names, but names of two of our fathers' sisters.  If you had the privilege of knowing the original Lela and Blanche, you would understand why their names are so suiting for my siblings.  I have contacted the company that makes these gorgeous wind chimes and hopefully I can get it repaired before my sister duo arrive.  In the meantime, I shall not try to feed the fish. 

The Cardinal Rule

Spring has sprung and summer is chugging its way through the calendar year.  The many species of birds have raised their brood and some will raise more than one this season.  The bird feeders have been a constant form of entertainment.  Not only for myself, but even my husband and Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, enjoy them.

The last few days, there has been a constant tweeting around the feeders.  It starts in the morning and does not stop until dusk. It is a high pitched tweet and tends to be hard to ignore.  After some investigation, the source of the ruckus belonged to one lone bird...a young female cardinal.

This young bird has followed her father around for days screaming "Feed me! Feed me!".  When he flies off, she is in hot pursuit and her constant shrill can be heard even in the distance.  This male cardinal should have grey feathers by now, but he does not.  He is patient and shows her the same thing over and over again.  The feeder.  There it is, eat.  Or, here are some small insects, learn how to catch them.  Watch, as I eat the seeds from the dogwood tree. 

Recently, in the news, there was a story about five teenagers who stood and watched a person, who was screaming for help, drown.  Not only did they watch, they videoed the event, laughed and made fun of the person.  They never offered help, called for help, or told anyone about it.  The way it was discovered is because they posted their video on a social media network.  

As I read about this story, I wasn't sure what bothered me the most.  The story itself, or the many comments that said the teens did nothing wrong.  We could all sit around and talk about the things they could have done, but that will not change the outcome.  But, it makes me wonder just how they became so callous, so insensitive, to watching another human being die.

Yes, it could have something to do with all the violence they have been exposed to through TV and video games, but I think we all know children who have spent many an hour watching and playing who would have tried to do something to help, at least that is my hope and opinion.

Could it be the parents, or lack of parenting?  It brings me back to the cardinal.  The male cardinal stayed diligent to the rules by which his very survival is made possible.  It is necessary to teach the young how to feed themselves, how to take care of themselves in order for their species to continue.  Perhaps humans need to do the same.

How Long?

In the world of archaeologists, they tend to agree on one thing, that civilized civilization has been around for about 5000 years.  There does not seem to be any room for debate on this subject, that is just the facts as they state them.

There is a theory, although most archaeologists would call it a "pseudo" theory, that civilization has been around much longer. This centers around ancient Egypt.  There are some who believe the pyramids of Giza may date to several thousand years earlier.  One of these theories takes a look at the Great Sphinx of Giza. The Sphinx was carved out of a solid piece of limestone.  The limestone around the Sphinx was cut into huge monolithic blocks, some weighing over 200 tons (400,000 pounds).  These blocks of stone were then used to build a temple that sits next to the Sphinx.  The sides of the Sphinx have been damaged by erosion.  The erosion looks like it has been caused by water.  The problem with this is the fact it has not rained enough to cause the type of flooding, or erosion on the Sphinx, for several thousand years.   This suggests that the Sphinx, along with the Great Pyramids of Giza, could possibly be over 10,000 years old.  If this is true, it throws a wrench into what we have been spoon fed over the years as truth and a re-writing of history would need to be done.  

Back in 1963, a place in Turkey was noted to possibly be from the neolithic era, which is the same era of the pyramids.  In 1994, an archaeological dig was started and from that dig was found Gobekli Tepe.  This place has been dated to at least 11,500 years ago and no one is arguing about the date.  It truly is nearly 12,000 years old and may prove to be even older.  It has beautiful ornate carvings and huge monolithic stones that have been cut and set with such perfection that even today, it is impossible to slide a piece of paper between the joints.   

So, we are to believe, that where we are, right now in the history of mankind, we are the smartest and most technologically advanced human species to ever grace the face of the earth.  

Watching an hour of Epic Fails on youTube pretty much throws that theory right out the window.

Tree Tops

Back in the day, when I was a youngster, there were two trees I spent a great deal of time climbing.  One was a cherry tree located in our backyard and the other was an apple tree located in the neighbors' yard.  I do not think either tree was very tall, but as a child, I felt like I was high enough to touch the clouds.

Recently, our youngest daughter and family came for a visit.  As we discussed entertaining activities to occupy our time together, the topic of zip-lining came up.  For those unfamiliar with that term, a zip-line is a long cable that is usually attached between two large trees and one end of it is always higher than the other.  The objective is to get on the high side, put a pulley wheel on the cable and ride to the low side.  Easy. Simple. FUN.  Riding a zip-line sounded like lots of fun and even my husband was up for the event. 

We arrived at this adventure park and followed one of the young staff members to the training area.  As we walked into the forest on a carpet of wood mulch, reality began to do a double backwards somersault.  There in the high boughs of the trees were staggering amounts of platforms, wires, ropes, bridges and swinging walkways. This was not just going to be a zip-line experience, this was an obstacle course 30 feet off the ground.

As I seem to be at that delusional point in my life where I believe everyone who is my age is older than me, along with not wanting to let the grandkids think "G" didn't have what it takes anymore, I was nearly giddy as the staff member explained the gear.  The gear consisted of a harness of webbing that had to be put on like a pair of footed pajamas.  After the harness was on, it had to be tightened. I had to have assistance getting in the harness and since there seemed to be more of me than that of harness, I had to have assistance getting all the straps tight.  Still, not to be outdone, I listened attentively to the instructions about how to keep oneself always attached to the cables.  We did a short test run on a small course that was only a few feet off the ground and after everyone had accomplished it, we where off to the main platform.  

There were eight different levels of "difficulty" to choose from and they all started from the main platform.  The platform was about 20 feet off the ground and there were two choices as to how to ascend. One being a huge cargo net that draped down the side to the ground and the other was a makeshift ladder with the rungs placed about three feet apart.  Since my legs are nowhere close to being three feet long, the ladder was out.  I could imagine myself trying to climb those rungs and pitching forward off the first one, only to be found hanging in a most unsightly manner.   Everyone scampered up the cargo net like squirrels and I lumbered along the edge of it since that was the only part with the least amount of sag.

Once on top, it was time to choose a path.  Not paying too much attention to the choice made, I simply followed my husband, who was and still is, part squirrel.  The first two legs of this journey where not too bad.  I diligently placed the safety lines from one cable to another and made my way across a couple of suspended board walks.  Thinking this was going to be a piece of cake, we arrived at the next leg and the silence of the tree tops was broken by our youngest granddaughter.  She was not happy and I suddenly knew why.  This next jaunt was like walking a tight wire without the tight.  She had followed her father about to the halfway point and she could not go any further.  I'm still not sure how she did it, but she climbed up the backside of her dad, hung on to his neck and he made it to the next platform.  I watched as my husband, aka Mr. Squirrel, made his way across the wire, then it was my turn.  

This wire had rope sidewalls.  There were ropes that were about handrail level and then they attached to the wire at about every four feet and I will guess the whole thing was at least 20 to 25 feet in length.  I placed my safety lines to the cable that ran over the top of my head and stepped out on the wire. I tried to do the stealthy walk I had just witnessed and on the third step, the cable was going one way and I was going the other.  This is the sort of movement that, if not gotten under control quickly, leads to momentum and lots of it. I then tried to tuck the rope handrails up under my arms for balance and that did not work either.  I finally resorted to pushing my safety lines ahead of me, hanging on to them for dear life, and pulling the rest of me to that point.  It was the longest 25 feet of my life.  When I arrived at the end, my husband reached out to help me to the platform, looked me in the eye and said, "That was hard."  I agreed with him although there was a different answer echoing in my head.  
Two more obstacle paths later, we arrived at the first zip-line.  I do not think I had ever been so excited to jump out of a tree as I was then.  Sailing through the air to the next tree was a welcomed relief to what I had just endured.  

When I got to the ground, one young staff member asked me if I was going to be alright.  I must have looked like I was standing at death's door because he asked me the same question three more times.  He even went and got me a bottle of water because I did not think I could actually walk to get it myself.  

Four bottles of water and one Gatorade later, I was back to my old self.  As the rest of our group went on to try more levels, they told me I had actually done the second hardest course.  The first level was right above where I was sitting and I watched the climbers struggling along.  I was convinced I could do that level too, but, maybe some other day.  

Freedom

Freedom.  In this country, freedom takes the form of an umbrella, under which many a person may toss their hat. 

We are free to hop in the car and drive thousands of miles, in whatever direction we choose, with out road blocks or check points.  We are free to express ourselves in a variety of ways, be it a work of art or as simple as the clothes put upon our backs.  We are free to speak our minds.  We are free to dream and turn those dreams into realities. We are free to worship any deity, without the fear of persecution.  There are so many freedoms, it may be nearly impossible to name them all.

Having this much freedom also calls for great responsibility.  We must take great care of our freedoms so they can be passed on to the next generations.  We must learn to respect freedom and not use it as a door mat.  Freedom should be set high on a pedestal, to remind us to treat it with compassion and to handle it as if it where a piece of fine crystal.

In this country, the great melting pot of the entire globe, freedom is like a bubbling spring.  We can admire its beauty and we may sip from its sparkling waters.  Let us not forget the price that was paid, in order for that water to be free and let us not waste a single drop.