life

Just Watch and Smile

If you haven’t seen this on Facebook yet, and even if you have, I am about to make your heart very happy.

The stills of that little chicklet could not possibly be any cuter, but those little chicken feet walking so confidently down the street tops all cuteness for all time.

#exceptional

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life

The Beauty of Blogging

When I was a kid I read Jelly Side Down by Erma Bombeck every whatever-day-of-the-week her column appeared in the Detroit Free Press.

Somewhere in my subconscious I wanted to write a column, too.

And that, right there, is the beauty of blogging.

You don’t have to wait until you’re invited to write a column. You don’t have to work your way up, or know someone; you don’t have to hope and pray someone will publish your words.

For that matter, flashing back to today’s earlier post*, you don’t have to blow anything or anyone up in order to be heard. We may not have even had a unabomber had blogging been available back then (except that Ted hated technology).

All you have to do is click the Publish button in the upper right hand corner of your post.

So what if you don’t get paid.

So what if only a handful of people read it.

Or is it that you didn’t want to write a column so much as you wanted to be a rich and famous columnist?

“Do what you love and the money will come,” Dr. Morris said.

And I say do what you love even if the money has no intention of coming.

If you’ve always wanted to be a coach, coach little league.

If you’ve always wanted to be a counselor, volunteer – the non-profit will train you.

If you’ve always wanted to be a mom, be a foster mom.

You get my drift.

I’ll never get to be Perry Mason without first going to law school, however, and knowing what I know about how the legal system works, I’ll never get to be Perry Mason even if I do go to law school.

But I got to kind of live out my desire to be Perry Mason and my desire to be a counselor all in one during my juvenile court days as a social worker.

And now I get to kind of be Erma Bombeck, sans her humor and her audience.

What have you always wanted to do that you are kind of doing?

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and I could say, “I used everything you gave me.” – Erma Bombeck (one of my heroes)

*Forgive me for breaking my no-more-than-one-post-per-day rule.

 

 

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life, Light

Manipulation & Weenies

“Christian manipulation at its finest,” my daughter said, as she walked into the kitchen.

“Let’s hear it.”

She proceeded to read a Facebook message from some random guy who wants to connect:

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[link removed]

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Free Dream Interpretation Line?

Needless to say, she denied the request.

“It isn’t the same kind of manipulation,” I said, “but it reminds me of a time, when I was your age, that I received a letter in the mail at work.  It started, ‘Dear Julie, You are unattractive, no one likes you and you are a failure at work…’ The letter continued to insult me for several paragraphs before inviting me to a seminar on self-esteem.

What? You’re going to tear down my self-esteem and then invite me to pay you $250 to build it back up?

Unfortunately for the letter’s sender, I was really cute back then, had lots of friends, and I had just received a raise, so I couldn’t have been too much a failure at work…”

Manipulation of the Weeny Sort.

The hub was away fishing this morning so my daughter and I went out for breakfast. Over omelets and pancakes she told a familiar tale of manipulation of the weeny sort.  One of her friends, who has been seriously dating the assistant minister of a hip downtown church, just got dumped.  They had been dating for a very (4+ years) long time.

“He probably said something like, ‘The Lord told me it isn’t His will for me to continue in this relationship,’ ” she said, “because that’s what they always say.”

They being the “fine” Christian men who date, dump and then blame it on God.

“Four years of her life,” my daughter said, shaking her head, “and then trying to pass himself off as all spiritual.”

“If I were the young woman being dumped,” I said, “I’d want to know whether God mentioned anything to him about the relationship not being His will FOUR YEARS AGO.”

Because the fact is, he’s a jerk.  He can pretend that the break-up is him being all godly and obedient, but where was his obedience 4 years ago?

If the relationship is not God’s will now, then the relationship was not His will then. So either he ignored God then, or God has nothing to do with it.

Chances are good that it was the hip young minister’s idea to date her – take her off the market for 4+ years with no intention of marrying her – and it was the hip young minister’s idea to dump her.

Because God doesn’t string people along.

“I want to smack him silly,” I said as I finished my orange juice, “because how is anyone supposed to argue with, ‘blah, blah, blah, blah, blah … and I must be obedient to God.'”

As if God has any part in breaking a young woman’s heart.

 

 

 

 

 

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life

Rookies

Remember Remember the Titans? I love that movie.

Remember when Coach Boone said, “You’re overcooking my grits?”  Cracked me up. Being a northerner, I had never heard that expression.

But now I utter it sometimes.

Like I did on Saturday evening when the hub and I went to the lake for a little after dinner fishing/reading.

Sitting in his SUV waiting for our turn to launch we witnessed all manner of buffoonery.

There was the guy who had his jet ski tied to the dock while he was off doing who knows what.

When he finally returned it took him forever to load it onto his trailer.

After he finally pulled it out of the water he stopped broadside across 3 of the four launching lanes to do who knows what.

Are you kidding me!?

I got out of the truck.

“Excuse me, the tie down is ahead.”

Blank stare.

“You can’t block the launch lanes. You have to pull up and tie down there.”

Two docks were taken up an awfully long time by guys who don’t know how to load a boat unto a trailer.

One guy finally got his boat out and then stopped broadside across three lanes.

I got out of the truck.

“Sir,” I tried to say nicely, recognizing that he was probably stressed by now, “the tie down is ahead.”

Blank stare.

“You have to pull ahead to tie down so you don’t block the launch lanes.”

Blank stare.

The guy in the truck pulled ahead the WRONG WAY while his buddy followed on foot behind him.

“Sir! You’re going the wrong way. Look at the arrows on the pavement.”

Like I said, buffoonery.

The guy at the other dock left his boat and returned with a battery.

That’s when I said it.

“He’s going to tie up a dock while he does boat repairs? He’s overcooking my grits.”

“Why doesn’t he beach his boat to change the battery?,” I asked, kinda’ LOUDLY, with the window rolled down, hoping he’d hear me.

Once a lane finally opened up the hub, a seasoned professional, had his boat launched in less than 2 minutes.  I pulled ahead and parked the trailer while he beached the boat and waited for me.  He’s a good boating citizen.

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As we pulled away from the docks I remarked, “The downside of the upswing in the economy is that the launch is now flooded with first-time boat owners.”

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“So you should retire and hang out at the boat launch all day.  You could make a boatload of money launching newbies in the morning and pulling them out in the evening.  You could fish in between.”

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He liked that idea.

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Who can stay annoyed when the late evening sun is glistening?

“Or at least teach them basic boat launching techniques and etiquette.”

“The problem,” he said, “is they tie the boat to the dock and then try to back the trailer in under it.  And it doesn’t work well that way.”

Did you hear that rookies?

  1. Beach your boat next to the launch (proper etiquette so others can launch while you go get your trailer).
  2. Back your trailer into the water.
  3. Drive your boat up onto the trailer (this technique makes it so much easier and quicker to get your boat on straight.
  4. Now pull your boat the rest of the way forward with the winch.
  5. Get in your truck, drive it out of the water PAST THE LAUNCHING LANES, to the designated tie down area.

Before I have to get out of my truck.

Deep breath.

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The hub had fishing to do.

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While I was serenaded by the bells of St. Mary’s Seminary (see it behind the trees?)

Please, for the love of God and my grits, float this sage advice to the boaters and jet-skiers in your life.

Especially if they live around here.

 

 

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life

A genteel afternoon.

When the daily prompt hit my inbox this morning at 8:04, I knew there would be nothing savage about this day.

My mom, the hub and I had plans to go to a nearby church for a carillon recital.

Every summer Sunday the community is invited to stroll the gardens and listen as guest carillonneurs from around the world give a thirty minute recital at 10:15 am and then another at 12 noon.

Today’s carillonneur is from Ottawa.

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We were born and raised in a summer haze…

The carillon is in the tower behind the haze.

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Here’s a haze-free view.

And here are some interesting facts from the Summer Carillon Series brochure:

High in the tower is the 77-bell Kirk carillon—tied for the world’s largest in number of bells. The carillon was cast by the 360-year-old royal bell foundry of Petit & Fritsen, The Netherlands. The largest bell, the Bourdon, is 6’10” in diameter and weighs over six tons. The smallest bell is only 6” in diameter and weighs fourteen pounds.

Thirty six of the bells may be played from the organ console or the computer system interface—without dynamic control. However, the full 77 bells are played by striking wooden batons and pedals on the mechanical keyboard, or clavier, located in a cabin at the top of the belfry. Five of the large bells form a peal, swinging freely. The clock features are controlled by a state of the art computer system. Midway up the tower is the Marriott Memorial Library, a practice clavier, and the computer interfaces.

I’ve been in that belfry.  There’s quite a view from up there.

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So we went and strolled the gardens and listened.  This is the church’s backyard.

Savages.

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See the lake back there?

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See my mom and the hub?

See how pretty my mom is?

She’s going to be 87 in exactly one week and I think she looks pretty. darn. good.

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Just one of several sculptures in the garden.

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Here’s another.

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To top it off, right next to the parking lot is a small vegetable garden.

Just in case you want to listen too.

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Now if I could just figure out how to impart the aroma of this happy jar with its peach slices, strawberries, blueberries and a splash of limoncello.

The basil is for tonight’s linguine.

#nothingsavageaboutthisday

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life

Bring it on home to me.

When my phone starts playing Bring It On Home, I know the Hub is calling.

It’s such a great marriage-as-it-should-be song.

And it’s great blogging advice.

Sometimes I miss the start of my blog – back when I was completely anonymous. When I could take to my keyboard and type furiously until I got it all off my chest.

Now that I am out of the closet and can no longer say what I really think, I bring it on home to the hub.

Or to my daughter. Except she is conflict averse and gets a stomach ache.

The hub is old enough and wise enough to just listen and say something soothing. Or say nothing at all.

Anyway, today Suzy Speaks posted about self-censoring one’s blog and she made an excellent suggestion.

Something I had never considered.

She wrote, “Remember that you don’t have to publish more personal posts on your own blog – talk to a trusted blog friend about posting on their blog anonymously. You get to write what you want, they get the views. Everybody wins.”

So fellow bloggers (who trust me), if you have something to get off your chest, feel free to bring it on home to me.

 

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