There are some advantages to working from home. No particular wardrobe is required. Blue jeans and yoga pants, which I have actually done some yoga in, and a t-shirt work just fine. I don't have to fix my hair, especially during gnat season, because the styling product I use becomes a giant gnat magnet.
The only downside to working from home is the lack of communion with people. I can go for days without talking to anyone, except my husband. Sometimes I can see his eyes begin to glaze over when I relate what species of bird visited the feeder.
I stepped outside yesterday to take a break and I could hear something. It was a beeping noise. I listened and was trying to figure out if it was a piece of my equipment making the sound. It did not sound like anything that has a residence in my residence, but there was something vaguely familiar about it. The beeping had a rhythm, three beeps and a pause.
Mr. Henry lives catty-corner from me, in the same block. He is a kind old gentleman and on occasion we visit over the fence while he tends to his flowers. The beeping sound was coming from his house and I was trying to remember what it was. I sent a text to his son, saying that I thought the alarm was sounding and he sent a text back that he was headed that way. I decided to go over anyway, just to check on him, when my phone rang. My youngest daughter, who had been jogging, said, "Mom, that thing at Mr. Henry's is beeping and I think I smelled smoke."
Suddenly I remembered, the sound was Mr. Henry's smoke alarm. I could smell the smoke before I reached the house. I've watched enough movies about fires to know that throwing open the door is not always a good idea. Luckily, the inside kitchen door was open and the screen door was not latched. I went into the kitchen, yelling for Mr. Henry. The kitchen was full of smoke and it did not take long to find the source. There on the stove was Mr. Henry's lunch, boiled beyond recognition. I was still yelling for Mr. Henry as I removed the pan and turned off the burner. That's when I noticed the whole downstairs was full of smoke.
I yelled again, still no answer. By this time I'm thinking that I really do not want to find out that Mr. Henry has left this world for a better place. I yell again. Finally, he answered.
Mr. Henry had put some soup on the stove and went to bed. After some family members arrived and I explained what had happened, I was leaving and I heard "What are we going to do with you, Grandpa?" and he answered "I don't know." As I walked home I thought about how this could have been a tragic situation, but in a sense, it was. It was a pretty certain bet that Mr. Henry just lost his independence.
We grow up in a society that encourages us to be independent, to follow our our dreams, to march to our own drum. Before we know it, the time creeps by and suddenly we find ourselves in the "golden years" and far too often, we find ourselves alone.
I'm thinking the golden years ain't looking too shiny.....so I told my kids to just strap a pair of antlers on my head and turn me loose in the woods during deer season........and pray for a good marksman.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Being Back
My proof reader lives several hours from me. When she threatens to come after me with a cattle prod, I know I either have enough time to put something into words.....or hide.
I've been silent for several days, not a good thing for a would-be writer. I crawled down into a deep dark hole, drug the lid over the top and stayed there. I stayed there so long I felt like I could not function. I could not think, I could not work, I could not do anything but feel bad. The longer I stayed in there, the worse I felt, self pity can do that.
Finally, I decided to have a "come to Jesus" meeting. I screamed and I cried. I stomped around the kitchen shouting and I even swore. I explained how I was sick and tired of feeling this way and that something had to give. Fortunately, my husband was not home at this time as I might have ended up in a room with much padding. When I was done, I was done. It was over. I had poured out all the sorrow of my soul and suddenly realized that even though the things I let put me in the hole in the first place were still there, everything was OK. Things did not have to be perfect, or have an instant fix, things were just OK.
The population sign that greets visitors as they enter into this small community reads 1200. It is a small little town that sits in the middle of hundreds of acres of rolling farm land. Its only claim to fame is being known as the Purple Martin Capital of the World and I usually refer to it as "Bird City". During the past few days, this little community has lost five of its members. It's like the Angel of Death decided to have a stay over. I hope he moves on soon, the people have had enough.
I received a phone call the other day from a friend that I happened to meet over an Ebay transaction. He lives in the Los Angeles, California area and during our conversation he asked if we had the windows open. I assured him we did and he was in awe of that. He said it is too smoggy there to have the windows open.
Something so simple as an open window........the things we take for granted.
I need to heed my own advice, that I so freely give, and live in the moment. One never knows when the opportunity may be lost. Everything can change in an instant, so I'm going to pay more attention to my surroundings, quit feeling sorry for myself and do my best to tackle my bucket list......may you do the same.
So, in my best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice, "I'm back!"
I've been silent for several days, not a good thing for a would-be writer. I crawled down into a deep dark hole, drug the lid over the top and stayed there. I stayed there so long I felt like I could not function. I could not think, I could not work, I could not do anything but feel bad. The longer I stayed in there, the worse I felt, self pity can do that.
Finally, I decided to have a "come to Jesus" meeting. I screamed and I cried. I stomped around the kitchen shouting and I even swore. I explained how I was sick and tired of feeling this way and that something had to give. Fortunately, my husband was not home at this time as I might have ended up in a room with much padding. When I was done, I was done. It was over. I had poured out all the sorrow of my soul and suddenly realized that even though the things I let put me in the hole in the first place were still there, everything was OK. Things did not have to be perfect, or have an instant fix, things were just OK.
The population sign that greets visitors as they enter into this small community reads 1200. It is a small little town that sits in the middle of hundreds of acres of rolling farm land. Its only claim to fame is being known as the Purple Martin Capital of the World and I usually refer to it as "Bird City". During the past few days, this little community has lost five of its members. It's like the Angel of Death decided to have a stay over. I hope he moves on soon, the people have had enough.
I received a phone call the other day from a friend that I happened to meet over an Ebay transaction. He lives in the Los Angeles, California area and during our conversation he asked if we had the windows open. I assured him we did and he was in awe of that. He said it is too smoggy there to have the windows open.
Something so simple as an open window........the things we take for granted.
I need to heed my own advice, that I so freely give, and live in the moment. One never knows when the opportunity may be lost. Everything can change in an instant, so I'm going to pay more attention to my surroundings, quit feeling sorry for myself and do my best to tackle my bucket list......may you do the same.
So, in my best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice, "I'm back!"
Friday, April 24, 2015
Take Heed of Your Fellow Man
This has been spinning in my brain all night. Its been playing like a song and although I rarely listen to country music, that is what it sounds like. For now it will just be a poem. Maybe later I will put it to music, post it on Youtube and be an overnight sensation......and then again...maybe not. Just a few of the things I have encountered these past few days.........
Take Heed of Your Fellow Man
You waited 'till the grass was tall
At least a foot or so.
And then I guess you must have thought
It was a good time to mow.
You mowed it down, right to the nub.
To you, that must have made good sense.
I'll bet you thought it was funny when
You blew grass all over the backside of my white fence.
Hey you there, with that derby car
Right in the middle of town.
I guess you think the neighbors love
To hear that roarin' sound.
You fired it up, straight pipe exhaust
Oh yeah man, that is cool.
But you must have been playing hooky
When they were teachin' manners class in school.
Forest's mama had it right,
"Stupid is as stupid does".
But somewhere along the line
We've kind of lost the love.
We're all in this together
So take time to smile and wave your hand.
Show some respect and remember to
Take heed of your fellow man.
You bought your son a Red Bull
Cause' you claimed he stayed up late.
Then sent him off to school buzzed,
You probably sealed his fate.
He's only ten? So who's the boss?
Have you no sense at all?
I wonder if you were mad as hell
When he spent the morning sittin' in the hall.
You're on that social media
Postin' ten selfies a day.
You air someone's dirty laundry,
You don't care what you say.
Then suddenly, you're all upset,
You haven't got a clue.
How could someone be so mean
And post somethin' nasty about you?
Forest's mama had it right,
"Stupid is as stupid does".
but somewhere along the line
We've kind of lost the love.
We're all in this together
So take time to smile and wave your hand.
Show some respect and remember to
Take heed of your fellow man.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Bird Lines
The field guide book for birds of this region sits in a drawer close to the kitchen window. Its page edges worn from frantic flipping when a new species is seen at the feeder. The book is filled with full color photographs of each bird and a description, along with their certain characteristics. Mother would be proud, she loved to watch the birds.
The author of the book uses words to help identify the songs of several birds. Take the barred owl, for instance, it gives an eight hoot call that sounds like "who cooks for you, who cooks for you".
The northern flicker gives a loud "wacka-wacka" and the common yellowthroat says "witchity-witchity-witchity-witchity".
I've never quite been able to wrap my ears around this concept, putting words into the bird songs. I can identify several different birds by their song, but that is all it sounds like to me, bird tweets.
There is a large tall hedge of evergreens that grows on the boundary of our property and the neighboring one. It is a haven for many species of birds throughout the nesting season. There are grackles, finches of all kinds, catbirds and brown thrashers who return each year. There are also many cardinals and since they do not migrate, I can enjoy watching them all year.
Cardinals are easy to identify. The male's bright red color is hard to miss and they have a very distinctive song. During the mating season, the male cardinal works his tail off (no pun intended) trying to impress his mate (sometimes there is no blurred line between the animal and human kingdom). Many times I have seen a male cardinal bring a sunflower seed to his beloved, trying to ensure the survival of his species. He also spends a lot of time singing to her along with letting the other cardinals know this is his territory.
I was sitting outside the other day, when this yearly ritual was beginning, listening to the cardinals sing their love songs when I heard it. The words, "come here, come here". I nearly fell out of my chair. I listened again and sure enough, one young male cardinal had finessed his call into human English words. I paid special attention to see if the others made the same call because I had never heard "it" in words before. Although the call is similar, along with being familiar, the other males do not sound like this one lone bird. It is easy to locate him in the neighborhood as the words, "come here, come here, come here" ring out from the treetops.
I'm not sure how his pick-up line is working out for him. I guess he just decided to skip the formalities and get straight to the point. Must be a guy thing.
The author of the book uses words to help identify the songs of several birds. Take the barred owl, for instance, it gives an eight hoot call that sounds like "who cooks for you, who cooks for you".
The northern flicker gives a loud "wacka-wacka" and the common yellowthroat says "witchity-witchity-witchity-witchity".
I've never quite been able to wrap my ears around this concept, putting words into the bird songs. I can identify several different birds by their song, but that is all it sounds like to me, bird tweets.
There is a large tall hedge of evergreens that grows on the boundary of our property and the neighboring one. It is a haven for many species of birds throughout the nesting season. There are grackles, finches of all kinds, catbirds and brown thrashers who return each year. There are also many cardinals and since they do not migrate, I can enjoy watching them all year.
Cardinals are easy to identify. The male's bright red color is hard to miss and they have a very distinctive song. During the mating season, the male cardinal works his tail off (no pun intended) trying to impress his mate (sometimes there is no blurred line between the animal and human kingdom). Many times I have seen a male cardinal bring a sunflower seed to his beloved, trying to ensure the survival of his species. He also spends a lot of time singing to her along with letting the other cardinals know this is his territory.
I was sitting outside the other day, when this yearly ritual was beginning, listening to the cardinals sing their love songs when I heard it. The words, "come here, come here". I nearly fell out of my chair. I listened again and sure enough, one young male cardinal had finessed his call into human English words. I paid special attention to see if the others made the same call because I had never heard "it" in words before. Although the call is similar, along with being familiar, the other males do not sound like this one lone bird. It is easy to locate him in the neighborhood as the words, "come here, come here, come here" ring out from the treetops.
I'm not sure how his pick-up line is working out for him. I guess he just decided to skip the formalities and get straight to the point. Must be a guy thing.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Do You Suppose?
Our sun is a busy star. It is constantly crushing hydrogen atoms into helium, a process called fusion, releasing massive amounts of energy. This energy is what keeps us alive. If the sun were to stop doing what it does, what do you suppose we would do?
As the sun implodes upon itself, creating a black hole, this black hole becomes a vacuum. Everything that has been expanding in our solar system will probably come to a complete halt before it begins the journey backwards. Do you suppose the outer planets will start retreating first? Will we stand in awe struck wonder as we watch Neptune and Jupiter get closer and closer, or will we try to continue our day to day routine, our faces turned towards a small glowing screen?
Do you suppose we will gather our families together or spend more time wondering why more people did not hit the 'like' button on our recent Facebook post?
If the earth begins to lose its gravity and we begin floating off in space, do you suppose the congregations will still be arguing about who is right? Or will their voices finally unite?
As the oceans begin to empty and we see all the unknown creatures of the deep, do you suppose we will take the time to actually look at them? Or will we be too busy trying to hold on to all the material things we have accumulated in our lifetime?
Do you suppose we will realize that worrying about what someone else thinks really does not matter? Or will we, when we see our neighbor floating by, yell out "Hey Bob, at least my house is paid for!"?
As the debris field from planet earth begins to take the shape of a funnel, its narrow end edging closer to the black hole, will we be aware of the panic and reach out for our fellow man, to offer whatever comfort is still available? Or will we continue to think we are better than they are and only worry about ourselves?
Do you suppose, as we speed faster and faster to the impending doom, that we will be sad for all the time we wasted? Or will we see our best friend and ask, "Rhonda! Do these jeans make my butt look big?"?
As the sun implodes upon itself, creating a black hole, this black hole becomes a vacuum. Everything that has been expanding in our solar system will probably come to a complete halt before it begins the journey backwards. Do you suppose the outer planets will start retreating first? Will we stand in awe struck wonder as we watch Neptune and Jupiter get closer and closer, or will we try to continue our day to day routine, our faces turned towards a small glowing screen?
Do you suppose we will gather our families together or spend more time wondering why more people did not hit the 'like' button on our recent Facebook post?
If the earth begins to lose its gravity and we begin floating off in space, do you suppose the congregations will still be arguing about who is right? Or will their voices finally unite?
As the oceans begin to empty and we see all the unknown creatures of the deep, do you suppose we will take the time to actually look at them? Or will we be too busy trying to hold on to all the material things we have accumulated in our lifetime?
Do you suppose we will realize that worrying about what someone else thinks really does not matter? Or will we, when we see our neighbor floating by, yell out "Hey Bob, at least my house is paid for!"?
As the debris field from planet earth begins to take the shape of a funnel, its narrow end edging closer to the black hole, will we be aware of the panic and reach out for our fellow man, to offer whatever comfort is still available? Or will we continue to think we are better than they are and only worry about ourselves?
Do you suppose, as we speed faster and faster to the impending doom, that we will be sad for all the time we wasted? Or will we see our best friend and ask, "Rhonda! Do these jeans make my butt look big?"?
Friday, April 10, 2015
True That
Many moons ago, Mother placed the cosmetologist hat on my head and I attended the training in a near by city. I don't know why she thought I would make a good cosmetologist. It was not one of those deals where a parent lives out their un-achieved dreams through their child. There are lots of school pictures of sisters Lela and Blanche and of myself to prove that point. I imagine she was thinking that if I became a hairdresser, at least I wouldn't starve to death. Poor Mother, she worried about me a lot. I spent most of my time coloring outside of the lines.
While in cosmetology school, I came to know a wonderful teacher. She had never married, stood ram-rod straight and never had a hair out of place. She was all about fashion and being a lady. I knew her crayons had always been sharp and that she had probably never strayed off the straight and narrow. I do not think a day went by that she did not share one of her favorite isms, "paper will hold still for anything."
During my lifetime, since those memorable big hair days, I have found this to be true. It is always a good idea, if in doubt, to double check a story for its truth. Recently I discovered this also holds true for the internet.
The story I read was about the death of Hugh Hefner. Ole Hugh had passed away at the age of 88. As I read it, I thought there would probably be just as many people happy with that news as there would be ones who were sad. After that, I didn't give it much thought, until I read the celebrity birthdays in the paper the other day. There it was, Hugh was 89. How could this be? Hugh had kicked the bucket a couple of months ago, I had seen the article with my own eyes. I wondered if the person in charge of the celeb birthdays had messed up, after all, birthdays cease with the deceased.
Pulling out my trusty phone, I entered a Google search for the death of Hef. To my surprise, I learned that this information was indeed false. Hugh was alive and well and his pretty wife (pretty young wife) confirmed this to be true. It turned out that there are websites that do not have a whole lot of other things to do except make up stories. Further investigation led me to realize this was not the first celebrity death that had been faked. It left me wondering why anyone would enjoy doing that, but I chalked it up to another lesson learned.
Don't believe everything you see on the world wide web. Especially if it upsets you. There is no good reason to get all fired up about something, let it ruin your mood and then find out the whole thing was a hoax. Do some research, it can really save your day.
When it comes to our children, we should try not to worry so much. We can simply do our best and try to understand that they are their own person, just like we were. The path some take may have many potholes and pitfalls, but most of those tribulations are a great learning device and will help them to better discern truth from fabrications.
While in cosmetology school, I came to know a wonderful teacher. She had never married, stood ram-rod straight and never had a hair out of place. She was all about fashion and being a lady. I knew her crayons had always been sharp and that she had probably never strayed off the straight and narrow. I do not think a day went by that she did not share one of her favorite isms, "paper will hold still for anything."
During my lifetime, since those memorable big hair days, I have found this to be true. It is always a good idea, if in doubt, to double check a story for its truth. Recently I discovered this also holds true for the internet.
The story I read was about the death of Hugh Hefner. Ole Hugh had passed away at the age of 88. As I read it, I thought there would probably be just as many people happy with that news as there would be ones who were sad. After that, I didn't give it much thought, until I read the celebrity birthdays in the paper the other day. There it was, Hugh was 89. How could this be? Hugh had kicked the bucket a couple of months ago, I had seen the article with my own eyes. I wondered if the person in charge of the celeb birthdays had messed up, after all, birthdays cease with the deceased.
Pulling out my trusty phone, I entered a Google search for the death of Hef. To my surprise, I learned that this information was indeed false. Hugh was alive and well and his pretty wife (pretty young wife) confirmed this to be true. It turned out that there are websites that do not have a whole lot of other things to do except make up stories. Further investigation led me to realize this was not the first celebrity death that had been faked. It left me wondering why anyone would enjoy doing that, but I chalked it up to another lesson learned.
Don't believe everything you see on the world wide web. Especially if it upsets you. There is no good reason to get all fired up about something, let it ruin your mood and then find out the whole thing was a hoax. Do some research, it can really save your day.
When it comes to our children, we should try not to worry so much. We can simply do our best and try to understand that they are their own person, just like we were. The path some take may have many potholes and pitfalls, but most of those tribulations are a great learning device and will help them to better discern truth from fabrications.
Thursday, April 9, 2015
Sometimes
When your head is spinning with random endless thoughts,
And you can not seem to focus.
You put on a happy mask, it covers the sadness,
Because, sometimes, that's all ya got.
When you wake up in the morning
And are unhappy with the dawn.
Getting up is pointless, but you must continue to act,
Like a character in a play.
You smile a fake smile and perform.
Because, sometimes, that's all ya got.
When there is no magic wand to wave
To take away the pain,
And you wonder why you struggle.
You creep back into the darkness,
Because, sometimes, that's all ya got.
When the mountain that stands before you
Has gotten taller in the night,
And you throw away the climbing gear,
And walk away.
Your head hung in defeat.
Because, sometimes, that's all ya got.
When you are standing at the bottom
Of what feels like a bottomless pit,
The light at the end of the tunnel
Is so far out of reach.
And you wonder, will it ever get better?
And you tell yourself it will,
Because, sometimes, that's all ya got.
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