Soft Rock and Other Oxymorons

     A quick search online gives this definition of an oxymoron, and I'm paraphrasing:  A figure of speech, usually a couple of words long, that seems to contradict each other.  Here are just a few:

     Awful good, civil war, clearly misunderstood, oh, I really like this next one, plastic silverware.  I have a list of 100 oxymorons  in front of me, but I think you get the picture.  Words that shouldn't go together but somehow make sense.

     While reading the daily newspaper this week, I came upon another one.  It wasn't the usual two word conflict, it had four words.  Federally owned public land.

     First and foremost, this is not a political government rant.  Hmm, political and government, those two words might make the list. Anyway, I don't like politics and the government still perplexes me. When I was in the eighth grade one of the prerequisites of getting into high school was passing the Constitution of the United States test.  I flunked the test.  At the time it made no sense to me, as did a lot of things.  Maybe I had ADD or ADHD.  My teachers said I didn't apply myself.  To me, the word apply meant something you do with paint and that didn't sound like much fun.  Actually, I think I had RDC, Really Didn't Care.  With the thought of being eternally bound in junior high, I did manage to pass the test on the second try, so no, you won't get a lesson on government from me.

     With the recent shutdown of the government though, also came the shutdown of every national park in the country.  People from all over the world, not to mention the millions of our own citizens, had traveled to see things like the Grand Canyon, the Great Smokey Mountains, Mount Rushmore, just to name a few, only to find out they couldn't go in.  That would make me hoppin' mad if I had saved up for vacation to see one of these places.  Plus, I can't imagine what the price was to come here from another country.   
     
     So, it's public land, but it's not public....makes no sense to me.    "We the people" just got the door slammed in our face by "For the people, by the people".   I can think of several other government agencies that should have shut down, but that would be number 96 on my list of oxymorons.......my unbiased opinion.

     

The Ride of a Lifetime

     The first time I met him I thought he was extremely handsome. He had brown hair and even browner eyes that gazed deep into mine.   He wasn't too tall but, wow, was he lean.  

     The second time I saw him, I was thrilled because I knew we were going to get close.  Really close.  I was so excited I could hardly contain my emotions.  That's when I learned his name, Fred. Fred was a horse.  Now Fred may not have been the most colorful of horses names, but I didn't care.

     It was a beautiful early fall day and we had been invited to the family farm for a wiener roast, hay ride, bonfire and yes, horse back riding.  How long had it been since I had been on a horse?  Oh, probably about 20 years, but I wasn't counting.  I loved to ride horses and I wasn't passing up on the opportunity.

     My nephew accompanied me on a beautiful palomino, who had a bit of an attitude, and I rode Fred.  We followed a path down through the woods, the horses walking at their own pace.  The air was fresh and crisp, the leaves on the trees were starting to change from green to gold, it just could not have been any more perfect.  

     We came into a small valley and then rode to the top of a hill. The view from there was breathtaking.  There was a ridge of forest all around us and below, a corn field waiting for harvest.  As I was taking in all the sights, sitting atop Fred, my ancient Indian roots stirred.  I could see myself, many moons ago, sitting on my faithful steed, taking in all that Mother Nature provided. I figured too, my steed probably would have had a name more like "Walking Wind", yes, that sounded good.  We stayed for a while longer and then decided to head back, that's when the fun began.

     I'm sure that all experienced horse owners, riders, know this one important fact....horses like to go home, and I was about to learn Fred had two speeds, fast and faster.  As we headed on our way, Fred took off in a full gallop straight down the hill.  The last thing I heard my nephew say was "Hang on!"  

     Down the hill we went and the corn field was getting closer by the second.  The thought of running through those dried corn stalks didn't sound too appealing, if you've never done that, let me assure you, it hurts, but on the other hand, if I had to bail at least I'd have something to cushion my fall.  Since my feet had already come out of the stirrups, and I'd lost hold of the reins, bailing wasn't going to be too hard. Gripping the saddle horn for all it was worth, I braced myself for the corn.  What happened next was pure horse magic.

     Just as I'm convincing myself I can take the wrath of the corn, Fred performed a miracle, he turned right.  He didn't just curve right, he turned on a dime right.  I'm still in the saddle, a miracle in itself, and now we are on an open field road.  If I thought Fred was running fast down the hill, he was on a true mission now.  

     Have you ever seen a dog shake a stuffed animal?  Well, that's what I looked like.  My legs were flying around like windmills and the only body part that was actually on the horse were my hands, with their white-knuckled death grip on the saddle horn.  At this time I had a moment of enlightenment, a voice spoke to me.  It said, "If you fall off of this horse, YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!"  I'm pretty sure it was my voice, but I knew it was speaking the truth.  

     I also knew another truth, the field road, that was going by in a blur, ended at a gravel road.  There was another turn coming up and I knew I'd never make that one.  I finally manged to get my legs under control and gripped the saddle as tightly as I could with my knees.  Another miracle happened at this point, though it wasn't in my favor, Fred suddenly went faster.  This was like flying, he was stretched out in a full blown 'the gates of Hell are right behind you' gallop.  I had only two options left, either get Fred to stop or die.  

     The only thing going for me now was the fact that the reins were one piece instead of two.  I literally laid down on Fred's neck and began to inch my hands down each side of the reins until I could reach no further.  I had maybe 50 yards to go before I was going to be singing "Knock, knock, knocking on Heaven's door" and I pulled those reins back hard with every ounce of strength I had left.  

     This was certainly a day of miracles because at this time another one happened, Fred stopped....in two hops.  Yes, he could turn on a dime and stop on one too.  What kept me from flying over the top of his head must have been divine intervention but there I was, still in the saddle and even better....I was ALIVE!   Fred seemed fine to stand there catching his breath and I was just glad to be breathing.  I looked behind me and my nephew was coming around the bend. He gave me a slight grin and I said to him, "Didn't expect me to still be on him, did ya?"  I knew why he was taking his time, he was sure he was going to find his beloved auntie in a crumpled heap.  It was at this time I learned Fred was a barrel racing horse, hence the instant stop and full throttle.

     That all happened on a Sunday afternoon.  By Friday of that week I could still barely walk.  I knew the true meaning of having your butt kicked up between your shoulder blades and I'm sure I was two inches shorter than I had been the week before.  Would I do it again?  Maybe, women have this odd way of forgetting about things, like childbirth, we forget that it hurts.  But the next horse I ride may be the one on the merry-go-round.

     

     

     

Excess Baggage

    

     There was a young boy who had a cat.  The boy loved this cat with all his heart and the cat loved him.   The boy would spend as much time as he could in the company of his beloved cat.

     One day the boy let the cat outside and got busy doing something else. When he remembered the cat, he ran outside to find it.  The cat had been killed by a passing car and lay dead at the side of the road.

     The boy was so sad and he placed the cat in a bag and buried it. The next day, being so overwhelmed with guilt, he dug the cat up. Everyday he did this, and everyday the cat looked worse and the boy felt more guilty.

     It's not a pretty story but it carries a strong message.  We need to let go of the guilt.  Packing guilt around with us day after day can take its toll on us mentally and physically.  It serves no good purpose to keep bringing it back up to the conscious level of our attention and dwelling on it.

     What is done, is done.  There is no going back and re-writing the chain of events that led to feeling guilty.  Understand too, that you are not alone, we all have guilt of some kind.  Do not compare your guilt to another's, thinking your guilt is worse, doing that only keeps you in a lower place. 

     Take your guilt, put it in a bag and bury it.  Then leave it there. Don't continue to dig it up because like the cat, it will only look worse.  It's excess baggage you do not need.  There's always light at the end of the tunnel and a much higher power that loves you regardless of your past.  Don't wait until you get to meet that higher power to check your baggage.

Writer's Block

     I knew this would happen.  Writer's block, that thing that happens when your head is suddenly empty, no new ideas and the harder I try, the blanker I get.  The only thing I could come up with was global warming.  Who the hell wants to hear about that?  It's been hashed up and down so much it's old news.  Besides, if the experts took into consideration the baby boomers, they'd have their answer.  Think about it, 80 million people hitting their 50's, say half of them are women.  So now there are 40 million women hitting the menopause stage of their life having hot flashes...good grief, it's a no-brainer.

     I shoot my proof reader a text.  After all, it was her idea I do this in the first place.  She is my cheerleader, my source of encouragement and she has an incredible spontaneous sense of humor so I figure she can come up with something.  "I need help", I tell her.  Since she is driving to work she calls me, smart girl, no texting while driving.  She says, "How about writers block?  Or boobs, everybody likes boobs.  Water towers, that one just popped in my head.  Exercise and singing."  I jot all these down and we say our 'goodbyes'. 

     Looking at the list I'm thinking she wasn't much help.  Then it dawned on me that maybe she was on to something.  OK, already covered the first one, so what about boobs.  Boobs made me think of Miley Cyrus.  As I typed in her name I spelled 'circus', that pretty much sums her up.  I had thought about writing her an open letter about some of her recent antics, but since she doesn't take advice from the pros who have been down that stardom road, I figured she wouldn't listen to me either.  As far as boobs go, she has the money and the means to keep hers looking cute and perky.  I wonder if cute and perky boobs at age 80 are still an asset?

     Water towers?  Our old water tower always reminded me of the Tin Man on the Wizard of Oz, at least his head.  The new one really put us on the map of coming out of the stone age.  It was much larger than the 'tin man' and its white color gleamed like a beacon. A pair of Peregrine falcons made their nest on the new tower until their space was taken over by numerous antennas needing good reception.  The tower now looks like a giant pin cushion, but the falcons moved into my neighbors' tree and they raised a brood of five this year.  Watching them was great fun.

     Exercise is one of the biggest money makers out there.  I could have probably gone on an Alaskan cruise with what I've spent on exercise programs.  The promise of steel buns and no bat wing arms was just too appealing.  If I get up off of my not-so steel butt, walk into the other room and dust them off, that should burn a calorie or two.

     Lastly there is singing.  I do love to sing.  I don't know that anyone else loves to hear me sing, but I can entertain myself to no end when the radio is on. I like to make up songs to the tune of some other song, for people on their birthdays.  I have a couple of requests so maybe I will just go work on them and quit fighting the writer's block.
     

Things That Make You Go Hmmmm.....

     There's nothing better than a good conspiracy theory and I'm a devoted fan.  I am a firm believer that there are things the higher ups don't want us to know.  I may be getting the proverbial eye roll about now, but just do a little research on sugar and salt and see what you learn.  Those two are not even on my favorite conspiracy theories list and they don't even show up on an internet search, which by the way, will give you over fifty thousand theories places to choose from.  

     I'm pretty sure that conspiracy theories have been around for a long time.  Just think about all the books and scrolls that were lost in the fire of the Library of Alexandria, way back in 48 BC.  That library was considered to have the largest collection of information of the entire ancient world.  Don't tell me there wasn't a thing or two in there that the higher ups didn't want anyone to know, and I bet some of those books are still around.  They are probably sitting in someones' attic, just waiting to be found, full of ancient truths.

     One of my favorites is the Denver International Airport conspiracy.  It's a fascinating spin on a secret building that lies beneath the actual airport.  It's supposed to be a place for all the higher ups to seek shelter when things on Earth go terribly wrong. If you haven't read that one, I suggest you do so.  Yes, you will find just as many articles that debunk this theory, but if there were not debunking stories, there wouldn't be a conspiracy....would there?

     My all time, top of the list favorite, is about UFO's.  Hey, I know what I saw when I was sixteen years old and I can recall it from memory as if it happened yesterday, although do not ask me what I had for lunch yesterday.  There are just way to many stories about them from people from all walks of life, for it not to have some basis for truth.  A lot of people have seen things in the sky that they don't even feel comfortable talking about.  If you have such a story, I'd love to hear it and I will tell you mine.

     With all the conspiracies to follow, I believe the best one yet came out this week.  A couple of days ago, when the government shut down, it was reported that three of the top conspiracy theory websites crashed at the same time.   Now here is the theory.....these top three websites, which are all about the government conspiracy theories, are actually run by the government to lure in and keep track of the conspiracy theorist.  Hmmmm....... 



     

     

Bidding Farewell

    

     When you live in the same house for fifty plus years, you go through lots of neighbors.  According to averages, people only stay in one house about 8 years.  But with all the people who have come and gone in this neighborhood, one thing stays the same, the backyards.

     The looks of the yards change, but usually the boundaries do not.   As a kid, I didn't know there were lines that separated one yard from another, to me it was an open opportunity to explore.
I spent the greater part of summer vacation in the 'neighbors to the north' apple tree, it was great for climbing and at the time I thought it was huge.  The backyard to the south was my favorite haunt, probably because it bordered my backyard and like I said, there were no borders.  

     The house that shares that yard is old, built sometime during the Civil War and it has probably sat empty as much as it has had occupants.  It's backyard has seen many changes, from having waist high grass to being finely manicured.  During the late 60's a local businessman bought the property, more to preserve it than to live in it, and he had lots of landscaping done.  He planted tall shrubs that surrounded the entire backyard and in the very back of the yard he planted two Colorado Blue Spruce trees.  I was in junior high at that time and enjoyed all the renovations that were going on next door, but I fell in love with those two trees.  

     The life span of a Colorado Blue Spruce can be up to 200 years, but when planted for ornamentation, according to my research, they only live about 40 to 60 years. (Say, isn't 'ornamentation' a snazzy word!)  Sadly both trees have died, at exactly the same time, and have to be taken down.  In their prime, they were very impressive. They grew to almost fifty feet in height and had a span of twenty five feet across.  I always thought it would have been so cool to put lights on them at Christmas time, but no one shared my enthusiasm for that idea.  Besides, for as many lights as it would have taken to cover them, it would have probably blown the breaker box right off the wall, not to mention the couple of hundred feet of drop cords needed to reach them.  The trees have been the home to many a feathered friend and a hideout beneath their branches for three generations of children.  

     Since all the backyards on my side of the street slope gently to the east, when I stand at my backdoor I'm eye level with the middle of these trees.  They have been part of my backyard view for many years, part of my personal skyline.  One day, as I was admiring the view, I noticed the top of one of the trees shaking.  On closer inspection I realized it was one of the neighborhood boys in the tree, about 40 feet off the ground.  I yelled, well, screamed would probably describe that better, for him to get down.  Not only was I concerned for his safety, I knew two of my grandsons were not far behind him.

     It will be hard to see the trees go.  I will not only miss their majestic silhouette against an early morning sky, but also the beauty of the moon rising through their branches.  I bid them farewell and thank them too, for all the pleasure they have brought, not just to me, but to whomever was fortunate to have enjoyed their presence. I'm not surprised they both died at the same time, I don't think one could have lived without the other, they were surely soul mates.  I wish they could have lived for 200 years because now I have to admit, I've outlived a tree....two trees.

The Devils' Real Name

     We've heard him called by many names.  Satan, Lucifer, the fallen angel, Beelzebub.  We've seen him portrayed as a figure with red skin, a goat head complete with horns and a long tail with a sharp point on its end.  Usually with this description he is packing a long pointy pitchfork with which he can administer pain and suffering on his victims.  That conjures up a pretty awful scenario and if he really looked like that I don't think he would have too many followers, we'd all be running for the hills.

     In the movies we have seen him portrayed as handsome, charming, wealthy beyond belief offering his prey all of the above for the price of their soul.  That may be a little closer to who he really is, but he can only get a small percentage of the people with that ploy.

     In order for him to get a lot of followers, he has to be a smooth operator, after all, he is after the masses.  He wants to be number one and prove a point.  He is really nothing more than a spoiled child wanting attention, it's all about him.  I believe he has found the perfect solution to his goal and it doesn't require him to do much at all, in fact he's probably saying to himself, "This is just too easy."

     Oh yes, he is crafty.  He's lured untold thousands with his simple plan.  He has encouraged an entire generation into believing he is right.  He comes into our lives and quietly pulls us into his way of thinking.  He is probably sitting on the couch right now, the remote in one hand and the other in a bag of chips with a frosty cold beer close by.  He watches us being so busy, running around doing all the things that need to be done or the things we want to accomplish and he whispers ever so softly, "It will be there tomorrow."

    The promise of tomorrow has taken the dreams of countless people throughout the ages.  He doesn't want us to succeed, to follow a life long ambition so he offers us something that really doesn't exist.  He loves it when we take on an attitude of "I will do it later" or "as soon as I do this, I will do that".  He knows once we get in that endless circle of thought, his job is done. Then he looks through the frig for another beer and a ham on rye sandwich, he pats us on the back and says "Atta boy" and moves on to the next house.

     The devils' name is Procrastination and he knows that tomorrow never comes but he wants us to believe that it will.  If he is in your house, do your best to ignore him.  He will eventually leave if he can't get your attention and probably take all your beer on his way out.  But that's OK, keep your focus on your goal, don't fall for his lie and if you see him, please tell him I moved.