Have you ever noticed how good your own bed feels? This is especially true after spending time away from your own bed.
So as not to be understood, there are many very comfortable beds other than my own. In fact, unless I am sleeping directly on concrete, I can make my body find comfort on most surfaces. It is also easy to overcome excessive noise with ear plugs and excessive light with eye patches. Give me a good pillow and I am ready to sleep most anywhere! Since I am overheated most of the time, I seldom become cold at night so room temperature is also not an issue.
What I do hear countless people say is, "It felt so good to get home to my own bed!"
Why is that, do you suppose? I suppose it is because your own bed has its own particular lumps and bumps, even smells. You know exactly where the depressions and indentations are that your body will naturally settle into. You know the feel of your sheets and blankets. You know what your preferences are for color-schemes, going to bed, getting up from bed, thermostat settings, maybe even fragrance choices. Do you like the window cracked open a bit at night? Do you like to go to sleep with a television show or station on? Is there a pet that usually keeps you company at night? So many variables make up a good night's sleep.
There is only one thing I can think of that further enhances the quality of sleep in my own bed..........clean sheets and pillow cases. There is nothing that can compare to the senses' heightened awareness of smell and touch, AND the visual delight that comes with a carefully made and turned-down bed.
One touch of the head to the pillow and it is likely lights out. Hmmm........................................
Good night!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Dinosaur
Last night I knew for sure what I had suspected for some time. I am aging - perish the thought!- and there are times now, when I feel like a square peg in a round hole.
I went with my significant other to watch our daughter perform at the student union of a Big-10 university. It had been years since I had been in a student union - the last time being for a week-long graduate class but it was in the summer, when the student population was greatly diminished.
We walked in at about 4:30, when most classes had concluded for the day and, being a Friday, the students were out in full force, celebrating the end of a class week. The place was full with eighteen, nineteen, twenty-something-year-olds. Their faces were unlined, their voices held the celebratory sounds of party-hearty and they crammed chair after chair around tables to accommodate the arrival of yet another friend. It brought back pleasant memories to the two of us about days of yore, when we were in that same space at another Big-10 university.
We found a table where we had a good line of sight to enjoy our daughter and her quartet's performance, then settled in with beverages, a big bag of popcorn, taking in the sights and sounds of a typical TGIF setting. We teased each other about being old enough to be many of the surrounding students' grandparents, our gray hair, etc. I excused myself to find the rest room and, upon entering, came face-to-face with a full length mirror. Big mistake! What stared back at me was an anthropological dinosaur from the 1970's for sure! Old-fashioned hair style, nylon warm-up suit - colored 1970's green, cloddy running shoes - you get the idea. Nothing hip about this granny. I went back to the table and told my significant other that I was certain I was the square peg in the round hole. We laughed together, an unspoken understanding of what the other felt, and the familiarity felt good. Then our daughter began to sing and we forgot that we were oldsters. We just enjoyed the fabulous music, the high energy around us, and somewhere, deep in our sub-consciousness, traveled back almost forty years. For two hours we were in college once again.
Ah, memories!
I went with my significant other to watch our daughter perform at the student union of a Big-10 university. It had been years since I had been in a student union - the last time being for a week-long graduate class but it was in the summer, when the student population was greatly diminished.
We walked in at about 4:30, when most classes had concluded for the day and, being a Friday, the students were out in full force, celebrating the end of a class week. The place was full with eighteen, nineteen, twenty-something-year-olds. Their faces were unlined, their voices held the celebratory sounds of party-hearty and they crammed chair after chair around tables to accommodate the arrival of yet another friend. It brought back pleasant memories to the two of us about days of yore, when we were in that same space at another Big-10 university.
We found a table where we had a good line of sight to enjoy our daughter and her quartet's performance, then settled in with beverages, a big bag of popcorn, taking in the sights and sounds of a typical TGIF setting. We teased each other about being old enough to be many of the surrounding students' grandparents, our gray hair, etc. I excused myself to find the rest room and, upon entering, came face-to-face with a full length mirror. Big mistake! What stared back at me was an anthropological dinosaur from the 1970's for sure! Old-fashioned hair style, nylon warm-up suit - colored 1970's green, cloddy running shoes - you get the idea. Nothing hip about this granny. I went back to the table and told my significant other that I was certain I was the square peg in the round hole. We laughed together, an unspoken understanding of what the other felt, and the familiarity felt good. Then our daughter began to sing and we forgot that we were oldsters. We just enjoyed the fabulous music, the high energy around us, and somewhere, deep in our sub-consciousness, traveled back almost forty years. For two hours we were in college once again.
Ah, memories!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The Year Of The Ox
Watching the movie "The Bucket List" gave way to my question - what are the things I haven't done that I would like to do? I don't want to go through the rest of my life regreting not having done this or that. And, I discovered, there is a mental list taking shape - my 'bucket list', if you will.
At the top of my to-do list, for years now, has been to re-unite with some high school friends that I've always considered my true friends in good ol' IHS. Year after year I'd say to myself, "Gee, I wish we could have a reunion." or "I really should try to get in touch with these individuals." And, that would be as far as the thought would go.
Then I saw the movie and the inspiration clicked in my head like a light switch. It took several weeks to search, seek and gather the information but I was able to find sources who could lead me to my former classmates. Just this morning, one of them returned an email that I had sent several weeks ago. I really had not expected to hear from this person and was thrilled to get the correspondence. He said that this is the Chinese Year of the Ox and that a symbol of the Year of the Ox is to reconnect with people from your past. Now that is kismet, I thought.
Will this be the year when we can pull off a reunion among friends who haven't seen each other for almost forty years? Can all the puzzle pieces really fit together to bring together people who live on both American coasts and Asia?
After all, it is the Year of the Ox and, it is on my 'bucket list'!
At the top of my to-do list, for years now, has been to re-unite with some high school friends that I've always considered my true friends in good ol' IHS. Year after year I'd say to myself, "Gee, I wish we could have a reunion." or "I really should try to get in touch with these individuals." And, that would be as far as the thought would go.
Then I saw the movie and the inspiration clicked in my head like a light switch. It took several weeks to search, seek and gather the information but I was able to find sources who could lead me to my former classmates. Just this morning, one of them returned an email that I had sent several weeks ago. I really had not expected to hear from this person and was thrilled to get the correspondence. He said that this is the Chinese Year of the Ox and that a symbol of the Year of the Ox is to reconnect with people from your past. Now that is kismet, I thought.
Will this be the year when we can pull off a reunion among friends who haven't seen each other for almost forty years? Can all the puzzle pieces really fit together to bring together people who live on both American coasts and Asia?
After all, it is the Year of the Ox and, it is on my 'bucket list'!
Monday, January 26, 2009
The Human Touch
Have you noticed that the human element is slipping away from us homo sapiens?
Voice mail instead of phone conversation...........text message in place of a phone conversation........email message instead of a hand-written note. Where did our humanity go? Or, maybe the question should be: Where is it headed?
I must raise my hand as a 'guilty' party to succumbing to the ease of electronics instead of personal contact. There have been times, depending on the situation and person, I will admit to planning on my timing of leaving a message, knowing full-well that I would be leaving a voice-mail instead of reaching the individual. I am not a big 'text-er' but there have been occasions when I've received a text message when I would have really rather had a voice-to-voice contact. There is just something comforting about hearing the voice of someone you love or care for.
That brings me to the fading art of the hand-written note. It is quickly becoming a lost form of communication. I, the lover of the received hand-written note, do find myself sending an email when I know that a personally-penned communication would be more appropriate, but
my perception is that I do not have time to write one. To that I say: Shame on me. As I think through the machinations of writing a note card, there is probably only two to three minutes more involved than drafting and sending an email.
As the King of Siam says in the movie, "The King and I" - "Tis a puzzlement!"
Voice mail instead of phone conversation...........text message in place of a phone conversation........email message instead of a hand-written note. Where did our humanity go? Or, maybe the question should be: Where is it headed?
I must raise my hand as a 'guilty' party to succumbing to the ease of electronics instead of personal contact. There have been times, depending on the situation and person, I will admit to planning on my timing of leaving a message, knowing full-well that I would be leaving a voice-mail instead of reaching the individual. I am not a big 'text-er' but there have been occasions when I've received a text message when I would have really rather had a voice-to-voice contact. There is just something comforting about hearing the voice of someone you love or care for.
That brings me to the fading art of the hand-written note. It is quickly becoming a lost form of communication. I, the lover of the received hand-written note, do find myself sending an email when I know that a personally-penned communication would be more appropriate, but
my perception is that I do not have time to write one. To that I say: Shame on me. As I think through the machinations of writing a note card, there is probably only two to three minutes more involved than drafting and sending an email.
As the King of Siam says in the movie, "The King and I" - "Tis a puzzlement!"
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Envious Of Egg Yolk-Folk
Today I went out to lunch with a group of people and was seated at a table of nine. The room we were in was tiny and crowded so it was easy to hear what people ordered and see their food when it was served. I am discovering that I am very envious of folks that eat bacon, sausage, cheese, and, yes, egg yolks. In fact, I had all I could do to keep from displaying some very crude table behavior, which is unlike me. Why, I had to resist the urge to take my fork and steal a sausage link. I had to make my hand stay in my lap instead of snatching the bacon strip from my neighbor's plate. And, worst, of all, I nearly took my toast point and plunged it into the gooey, soft, and warm egg yolk across the table from me. This is all while I am feigning enjoyment of my fake-egg omelet, with spinach and covered with a side-order of salsa.
Now, do not misunderstand me. As a self-cholesterol-reducing crusader, most of the time I would consider my fake-egg or egg-white omelet with spinach, salsa, and, if I'm feeling especially adventuresome, soy-based imitation bacon bits, delicious. Or, at least, that is what I publicly proclaim. But, according to the book that says I should eat what my knuckle-dragging ancestors ate, I am supposed to be able to eat meat and eggs. Where is the fairness in that?
Lastly, while on the topic of forbidden foods, may I say that the soy-based fake ice cream that I am now destined to eat cannot hold a candle to the real, fat-laden ice cream that the others at my lunch table ordered for dessert. You better believe that I bolted out of there before those orders came. The hand holding my spoon was trembling!
Now, do not misunderstand me. As a self-cholesterol-reducing crusader, most of the time I would consider my fake-egg or egg-white omelet with spinach, salsa, and, if I'm feeling especially adventuresome, soy-based imitation bacon bits, delicious. Or, at least, that is what I publicly proclaim. But, according to the book that says I should eat what my knuckle-dragging ancestors ate, I am supposed to be able to eat meat and eggs. Where is the fairness in that?
Lastly, while on the topic of forbidden foods, may I say that the soy-based fake ice cream that I am now destined to eat cannot hold a candle to the real, fat-laden ice cream that the others at my lunch table ordered for dessert. You better believe that I bolted out of there before those orders came. The hand holding my spoon was trembling!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Code In The Noze
I have a code in the noze and I am finding that has translated to fuzz in the brain. Now why is that? I usually do not take anything over-the-counter for a code in the noze, preferring for nature to run its course, which typically means that the only thing that runs is my noze.
During the first few dazes of a code in the noze, my brain seemz to freeze up and I feel as if I am floating in a haze, with everything moving in slow motion. Even my fingers act as if they are frozen, moving as sluggishly as my brane. Typing and spelling skillz are not what they shud be, ether. In fakt, the more I think about this, I probably shud not be blogging at all todae.
But, my need to express myself is stronger than mi common senz so I will type on and on and on.
I am pretty shur that I am single-handedly girding the fashul tissu industry, having gone through numerous boxes already. Oh, luk. I cannot spel any more.
And, to think, this is the day that I thought I wood edit my daughter's paper that she will posiblee uze for her doctoral thezise.
Maybe I shud wate until tomorrow?
During the first few dazes of a code in the noze, my brain seemz to freeze up and I feel as if I am floating in a haze, with everything moving in slow motion. Even my fingers act as if they are frozen, moving as sluggishly as my brane. Typing and spelling skillz are not what they shud be, ether. In fakt, the more I think about this, I probably shud not be blogging at all todae.
But, my need to express myself is stronger than mi common senz so I will type on and on and on.
I am pretty shur that I am single-handedly girding the fashul tissu industry, having gone through numerous boxes already. Oh, luk. I cannot spel any more.
And, to think, this is the day that I thought I wood edit my daughter's paper that she will posiblee uze for her doctoral thezise.
Maybe I shud wate until tomorrow?
Friday, January 23, 2009
What, Exactly, Is Fun?
I'm reminded that 'fun' is different for each individual. Of course, the meaning of 'fun' changes with all the different categories of human beings: Age, gender, personality-type, occupation, emotional profile, etc. etc. etc. The definition surely also depends on whether or not a person is healthy, or well-rested.
My significant other and I recently had to decide what our definition of 'fun' is. In the end, we passed up an opportunity to fly, to travel outside the country, soak up a warm sun, and to spend time on the water, which seems a bit odd, since boating figures largely in our stateside lives.
This whole aspect of 'fun' has loomed largely in my life-binoculars today because our 'fun' opportunity would have begun way before the crack of dawn tomorrow. The people we could have traveled with have been discussing this trip for weeks now - planning, packing, laughing together with this invisible bond between them that we voluntarily gave up a share of. I have this sense of guilt because only the tiniest part of me really wants to be there as the adventure begins tomorrow and ends nine days later in the wee hours of the morning.
For some reason, at this time in our lives, the experience we declined does not define itself as 'fun'. Perhaps God will reveal His hand as to why we have elected to 'stay put'. And, I do believe, there is a reason that, tomorrow, we will be here and our friends will be there.
I'm almost hesitant to learn why. Until then, we will generate our own fun, in our own time, in our own way.
Ancora imparo.
My significant other and I recently had to decide what our definition of 'fun' is. In the end, we passed up an opportunity to fly, to travel outside the country, soak up a warm sun, and to spend time on the water, which seems a bit odd, since boating figures largely in our stateside lives.
This whole aspect of 'fun' has loomed largely in my life-binoculars today because our 'fun' opportunity would have begun way before the crack of dawn tomorrow. The people we could have traveled with have been discussing this trip for weeks now - planning, packing, laughing together with this invisible bond between them that we voluntarily gave up a share of. I have this sense of guilt because only the tiniest part of me really wants to be there as the adventure begins tomorrow and ends nine days later in the wee hours of the morning.
For some reason, at this time in our lives, the experience we declined does not define itself as 'fun'. Perhaps God will reveal His hand as to why we have elected to 'stay put'. And, I do believe, there is a reason that, tomorrow, we will be here and our friends will be there.
I'm almost hesitant to learn why. Until then, we will generate our own fun, in our own time, in our own way.
Ancora imparo.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
The Mask
Have you ever had a day that felt larger than you?
Today has been like that for me. A large amount of energy is expended just trying to appear energetic and on-top of things......especially when the opposite is true. I suspect that every one of us wears that mask from time to time. The mask does serve a purpose - both for the individual and for those around the mask-wearer. To the people surrounding or coming into contact with the mask-wearer, the pleasant, cheerful, energetic countenance is reassuring and energizing. Who wants to be around an "Eyeore", lovable as that mopey character is? Mopey-cute only cuts it so long before people begin to find excuses to 'have to be somewhere else'.
To the person wearing the mask, exuding enthusiasm to others has a tendency to boomerang back to the lender. What goes around does come around and this is no exception. However, at times, there can be an inward cost that goes unseen outwardly. This artificial energy looks great, but, at the end of the day, usually results in sapping every ounce of physical motivation from the mask-wearer.
When I think of all that I could not have accomplished without the mask, I am happy to have worn it this day, BUT it feels so good to enter my 'inner cave' and remove the mask, ready to be authentic. Exhausted, perhaps, but then, maybe I'll get a really sound night's sleep.
Bon soir.
Today has been like that for me. A large amount of energy is expended just trying to appear energetic and on-top of things......especially when the opposite is true. I suspect that every one of us wears that mask from time to time. The mask does serve a purpose - both for the individual and for those around the mask-wearer. To the people surrounding or coming into contact with the mask-wearer, the pleasant, cheerful, energetic countenance is reassuring and energizing. Who wants to be around an "Eyeore", lovable as that mopey character is? Mopey-cute only cuts it so long before people begin to find excuses to 'have to be somewhere else'.
To the person wearing the mask, exuding enthusiasm to others has a tendency to boomerang back to the lender. What goes around does come around and this is no exception. However, at times, there can be an inward cost that goes unseen outwardly. This artificial energy looks great, but, at the end of the day, usually results in sapping every ounce of physical motivation from the mask-wearer.
When I think of all that I could not have accomplished without the mask, I am happy to have worn it this day, BUT it feels so good to enter my 'inner cave' and remove the mask, ready to be authentic. Exhausted, perhaps, but then, maybe I'll get a really sound night's sleep.
Bon soir.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Finding The Asphalt
The act of getting down to the asphalt is both pragmatic and symbolic.
Scraping away the remaining snow and ice helps prevent slippery spots on driveways and sidewalks. This prevents both owners, guests, and delivery personnel from losing their balance and falling. It could be called 'litigation prevention'. It can also be called 'common sense' or being kind to delivery personnel, who must find the snow and ice of northern winter months nightmarish.
Scraping away the remaining snow and ice also allows the sun to melt away the vestiges of the last storm and serves to remind the homeowner that warmer weather might really be in the future.
Scraping away the remaining snow and ice can also be symbolic and metaphoric for peeling away personal layers of what? Pain, deceit, deception (both self and interpersonal), extra weight, long-buried feelings, failure, rejection...................
Scraping away the remaining snow and ice can also be a positive indication of self-awareness, growth, forgiveness, maturity, acceptance...............
Food for thought on a wintry night.
Ancora imparo!
Scraping away the remaining snow and ice helps prevent slippery spots on driveways and sidewalks. This prevents both owners, guests, and delivery personnel from losing their balance and falling. It could be called 'litigation prevention'. It can also be called 'common sense' or being kind to delivery personnel, who must find the snow and ice of northern winter months nightmarish.
Scraping away the remaining snow and ice also allows the sun to melt away the vestiges of the last storm and serves to remind the homeowner that warmer weather might really be in the future.
Scraping away the remaining snow and ice can also be symbolic and metaphoric for peeling away personal layers of what? Pain, deceit, deception (both self and interpersonal), extra weight, long-buried feelings, failure, rejection...................
Scraping away the remaining snow and ice can also be a positive indication of self-awareness, growth, forgiveness, maturity, acceptance...............
Food for thought on a wintry night.
Ancora imparo!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The Cleansing Breath
In the 'old' days, child-birthing classes spoke about, taught and practiced the 'cleansing breath'. Over the years, that cleansing breath has come in handy, perhaps thousands of times, to calm the jitters over a myriad of experiences.
Today, as I took a deep breath and recognized it for what it was...........a cleansing breath, I looked back at what necessitated a cleansing breath. I've decided to share "cleansing-breath-necessitated-situations" in my blog. Forgive me for my self-indulgence.
Tight shoulders, neck, and upper body
Tension created by a personal interaction gone wrong or about to go wrong
Tension created by a classroom full of students who need an attitude adjustment
My need for a personal attitude adjustment
A stressful encounter with a peer or supervisor
My need to enter a 'zen' state
My need to conquer fear about a known or unknown entity or situation
My need to calm my over-excited inner self
Preparing for the end of the day
Preparing for a performance
So, as I take another cleansing breath, I encourage others to do the same.
Ancora imparo
Today, as I took a deep breath and recognized it for what it was...........a cleansing breath, I looked back at what necessitated a cleansing breath. I've decided to share "cleansing-breath-necessitated-situations" in my blog. Forgive me for my self-indulgence.
Tight shoulders, neck, and upper body
Tension created by a personal interaction gone wrong or about to go wrong
Tension created by a classroom full of students who need an attitude adjustment
My need for a personal attitude adjustment
A stressful encounter with a peer or supervisor
My need to enter a 'zen' state
My need to conquer fear about a known or unknown entity or situation
My need to calm my over-excited inner self
Preparing for the end of the day
Preparing for a performance
So, as I take another cleansing breath, I encourage others to do the same.
Ancora imparo
Monday, January 19, 2009
Take It All Off
It was time. I had dragged my feet for a week or so, not wanting to destroy the beautiful treescape that we had created in late November. I am referring to our Christmas tree, with the twinkling lights and sparkling ornaments, creating a serene setting that I have enjoyed daily for almost two months now.
I tried to establish a daily morning routine of lighting the Christmas tree and sitting down with a cup of freshly brewed coffee made with freshly ground beans and my newspaper. For me, life doesn't get much better than this. I found it relaxing, renewing, refreshing, and, at times, downright calming. Each night, before I would turn in, I tried to make a point of once again lighting the tree and enjoying the peaceful atmosphere created by the various-colored lights that would reflect off the ornaments, resulting in an ethereal glow in an otherwise unlighted room.
So, this afternoon, I faced the inevitable and dragged out the storage bins from the basement, lugged them upstairs, and began undressing the Christmas tree. Now all the ornaments are laid out on the dining room table, awaiting their placement in the correctly-labeled boxes. They'll wait patiently until late this November, when, once again, we'll haul up the storage bins from the basement and reverse the process.
I can't wait!
I tried to establish a daily morning routine of lighting the Christmas tree and sitting down with a cup of freshly brewed coffee made with freshly ground beans and my newspaper. For me, life doesn't get much better than this. I found it relaxing, renewing, refreshing, and, at times, downright calming. Each night, before I would turn in, I tried to make a point of once again lighting the tree and enjoying the peaceful atmosphere created by the various-colored lights that would reflect off the ornaments, resulting in an ethereal glow in an otherwise unlighted room.
So, this afternoon, I faced the inevitable and dragged out the storage bins from the basement, lugged them upstairs, and began undressing the Christmas tree. Now all the ornaments are laid out on the dining room table, awaiting their placement in the correctly-labeled boxes. They'll wait patiently until late this November, when, once again, we'll haul up the storage bins from the basement and reverse the process.
I can't wait!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
I Just Couldn't Help Myself!
I've had a life-long disability............having a short attention span if the speaker doesn't keep my attention.
This problem probably surfaced in science and math classes in high school/college, college classes where the professor droned on and on and, the most humiliating to admit - church.
Don't get me wrong. Our pastor is a fine fellow, personally, but his "preaching" style is somewhat labored and unenthusiastic. So, when I am "in church", I strive to be particularly attentive, especially because I am often sitting in front of the congregation in the choir loft, where choir members and musicians are in the liturgical equivalent of a fish bowl. Our every move, facial expression and the occasional droopy eyelid is front and center for the three-hundred-plus eyes to see.
Today, I managed to stay alert through the first service and then, almost six hours after I awakened, I began the last "tour of duty" for the morning. Armed with plenty of java and reciprocal enthusiasm from the choir I have the honor to direct, I moved down to the front row of pews, facing the men, and assumed the "position", waiting for the part of the service when the men sing next. The "position" is that of a calm, composed, quiet, still, reflective and engaged individual, hanging on the every word of the person speaking.
The person speaking at the time was giving information about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take a bus tour to see the world's largest Passion Play in Indiana. The Passion Play takes place in Muncie, Indiana, but this dear man said "Muenster", Indiana. Struggling to pay attention because this is the second time I've heard all this, and, because my diet doesn't include cheese products any more, my brain picked up on "muenster" because this is one of my favorite cheeses. I was now smiling, not because I love Jesus, nor was I inwardly laughing at the pastor who uttered "muenster" instead of Muncie, but because I love cheese. I happened to look up at my choir of men and caught the eye of a gentleman in the back row. This particular gentleman has a terrific sense of humor and I could see him facially processing the word "muenster" versus Muncie. We both knew what the other was smiling about and the smiling turned into a bit of quiet laughter. Because of this, I was sure the Lord would strike me down right there, but He did not and, has instead, given me a reprieve to redeem myself next week at church where..................you will find me sitting statue-still, reflecting on how 'tis better to laugh inwardly than outwardly the next time I hear a type of cheese mentioned in church.
I really do miss cheese...............................
This problem probably surfaced in science and math classes in high school/college, college classes where the professor droned on and on and, the most humiliating to admit - church.
Don't get me wrong. Our pastor is a fine fellow, personally, but his "preaching" style is somewhat labored and unenthusiastic. So, when I am "in church", I strive to be particularly attentive, especially because I am often sitting in front of the congregation in the choir loft, where choir members and musicians are in the liturgical equivalent of a fish bowl. Our every move, facial expression and the occasional droopy eyelid is front and center for the three-hundred-plus eyes to see.
Today, I managed to stay alert through the first service and then, almost six hours after I awakened, I began the last "tour of duty" for the morning. Armed with plenty of java and reciprocal enthusiasm from the choir I have the honor to direct, I moved down to the front row of pews, facing the men, and assumed the "position", waiting for the part of the service when the men sing next. The "position" is that of a calm, composed, quiet, still, reflective and engaged individual, hanging on the every word of the person speaking.
The person speaking at the time was giving information about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take a bus tour to see the world's largest Passion Play in Indiana. The Passion Play takes place in Muncie, Indiana, but this dear man said "Muenster", Indiana. Struggling to pay attention because this is the second time I've heard all this, and, because my diet doesn't include cheese products any more, my brain picked up on "muenster" because this is one of my favorite cheeses. I was now smiling, not because I love Jesus, nor was I inwardly laughing at the pastor who uttered "muenster" instead of Muncie, but because I love cheese. I happened to look up at my choir of men and caught the eye of a gentleman in the back row. This particular gentleman has a terrific sense of humor and I could see him facially processing the word "muenster" versus Muncie. We both knew what the other was smiling about and the smiling turned into a bit of quiet laughter. Because of this, I was sure the Lord would strike me down right there, but He did not and, has instead, given me a reprieve to redeem myself next week at church where..................you will find me sitting statue-still, reflecting on how 'tis better to laugh inwardly than outwardly the next time I hear a type of cheese mentioned in church.
I really do miss cheese...............................
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Tough Stuff
This was a week filled with difficult decisions and actions. No, nothing life-threatening, but difficult, none the less.
Why is it human nature to postpone or avoid making decisions when you know the choice you make will not be a popular one?
Why does it seem to be MY nature to avoid having conversations with people that I am either not comfortable with or with whom I know will be uncomfortable with ME because of my decision?
Why did I choose to attend a six-plus hour workshop that I knew would have an inevitable outcome of zero initiatives? Lots of pontificating but no substantive conclusions. Why did I go?
I need to examine why I attended that workshop or take part in other activities/meetings/dinners. I am a glutton for punishment, am I not? I cannot say with any assuredness that my presence helped anyone see a view differently or brought anyone to or towards my view.
Ah, life questions.
Ancora imparo about me!
Why is it human nature to postpone or avoid making decisions when you know the choice you make will not be a popular one?
Why does it seem to be MY nature to avoid having conversations with people that I am either not comfortable with or with whom I know will be uncomfortable with ME because of my decision?
Why did I choose to attend a six-plus hour workshop that I knew would have an inevitable outcome of zero initiatives? Lots of pontificating but no substantive conclusions. Why did I go?
I need to examine why I attended that workshop or take part in other activities/meetings/dinners. I am a glutton for punishment, am I not? I cannot say with any assuredness that my presence helped anyone see a view differently or brought anyone to or towards my view.
Ah, life questions.
Ancora imparo about me!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Take A Lesson, Airlines
Yesterday, a planeload of 'souls', as the airline industry refers to them, were fortunate to have Chesley Sullenberger as their pilot. Mr. Sullenberger, who news reports have stated, has more than 19,000 hours of flight experience.
Why blog about this?
Is he a 'hero'? Absolutely. But more importantly, he is a skilled and experienced pilot and those are beginning to be in very short supply as the major carriers cull their ranks of these vital employees. If the airline industry needed convincing as to the worth of these qualified men and women, then they need look no further than the Hudson River US Airways miracle that occurred Thursday, January 15, 2009. Experience in the air these days is becoming more rare as the major carriers squeeze out every last ounce of profit at the expense of safety. Many newer pilots have a frightfully low threshold number of hours flying their 'equipment' before the industry deems them prepared for hire.
My hats off to Pilot Sullenberger and the others like him who bring experience and skill to an industry that desperately needs more of same. I have the privilege of personally knowing two other individuals who have a similar background of experience - experience that is slowly working against them, instead of acknowledging and financially rewarding their expertise.
Experience does count. Just ask all the survivors and their families.
Why blog about this?
Is he a 'hero'? Absolutely. But more importantly, he is a skilled and experienced pilot and those are beginning to be in very short supply as the major carriers cull their ranks of these vital employees. If the airline industry needed convincing as to the worth of these qualified men and women, then they need look no further than the Hudson River US Airways miracle that occurred Thursday, January 15, 2009. Experience in the air these days is becoming more rare as the major carriers squeeze out every last ounce of profit at the expense of safety. Many newer pilots have a frightfully low threshold number of hours flying their 'equipment' before the industry deems them prepared for hire.
My hats off to Pilot Sullenberger and the others like him who bring experience and skill to an industry that desperately needs more of same. I have the privilege of personally knowing two other individuals who have a similar background of experience - experience that is slowly working against them, instead of acknowledging and financially rewarding their expertise.
Experience does count. Just ask all the survivors and their families.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Baby, It's Cold Outside!
Just how cold is it?
It is so cold that...........
Comics have long had a field day with that line so I won't try.
I did scamper out early today, to retrieve my newspaper, in my winter parka and shorts. It was a short scurry to the mailbox and nothing froze - fortunately. It would have been embarrassing to be rescued from a fall in sub-zero temperatures with shorts on. Can we say "insane"?
It is cold enough that every school child within a sixty-mile radius, it seems, had today off. I had an appointment this morning that necessitated me leaving the warm confines of my home and the neighborhoods that I passed through were deserted. My own neighborhood could have had a baker's dozen bowling balls heaved through the streets and not struck a single person. Even the streets and business parking lots were similarly devoid of vehicles. Upon arriving at my destination, I purposefully parked in the sun, to give my little car the best chance of a smooth start-up when I was ready to leave. The car's engine did just that, but the heating motor whined so loudly that I shut the fan off and attempted to stay warm with just my heated seat. (Poor me!)
The experts say to keep your gas tank full when it is bitterly cold, so, on my way home, I stopped to 'fill-er-up'. I did notice that by the time I had finished with the process, my hands were having trouble with their fine-motor skills and when I arrived home and got out to fetch my mail, my fingers were even less responsive.
Good thing I didn't wear shorts to my appointment.........................
Stay warm and don't be foolish - or is it fuelish?
It is so cold that...........
Comics have long had a field day with that line so I won't try.
I did scamper out early today, to retrieve my newspaper, in my winter parka and shorts. It was a short scurry to the mailbox and nothing froze - fortunately. It would have been embarrassing to be rescued from a fall in sub-zero temperatures with shorts on. Can we say "insane"?
It is cold enough that every school child within a sixty-mile radius, it seems, had today off. I had an appointment this morning that necessitated me leaving the warm confines of my home and the neighborhoods that I passed through were deserted. My own neighborhood could have had a baker's dozen bowling balls heaved through the streets and not struck a single person. Even the streets and business parking lots were similarly devoid of vehicles. Upon arriving at my destination, I purposefully parked in the sun, to give my little car the best chance of a smooth start-up when I was ready to leave. The car's engine did just that, but the heating motor whined so loudly that I shut the fan off and attempted to stay warm with just my heated seat. (Poor me!)
The experts say to keep your gas tank full when it is bitterly cold, so, on my way home, I stopped to 'fill-er-up'. I did notice that by the time I had finished with the process, my hands were having trouble with their fine-motor skills and when I arrived home and got out to fetch my mail, my fingers were even less responsive.
Good thing I didn't wear shorts to my appointment.........................
Stay warm and don't be foolish - or is it fuelish?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Cynicism, Fatalism, or Realism
This trio of "isms"' is a curious lot. One could argue that the line between the three words is blurred to the point that the same thought could logically fall into any one of the categories at any given moment.
However, I am prone, in my aging process, to cynicism, which seems to come almost effortlessly. I would like to think differently of people and situations but, all too often, my cynical view proves to be accurate, thus adding to my "super-cynicism".
Case(s) in point - a trio of news stories to hit the pages and air waves recently.
Our county law enforcement top officer appoints his son (and two others )to an elevated position that, guess what?, earns them about twenty-two thousand dollars more per year. Oh, and did I mention that the promotions came over the holidays, and the "appointer" didn't want to bother his boss and, "I never go over my budget so what is the big deal". The latter said red-faced and appoplectically when his decision was publicly challenged.
Our states' governor has left the state in another red-faced situation. The man, who is a public embarrassment to himself, his family and his state, continues to thumb his nose at the very people who elected him and who he is supposed to serve! The man who the governor appointed to fill the second Senate seat should also be ashamed of himself and his lack of ethics. The governor and his appointee are of the same ilk.
The third example of cynicism-fueling news is that of the man that our president-elect has chosen to be Secretary of the Treasury. To think that this person, who is one to be entrusted with the financial health of our nation, doesn't have enough financial knowledge to know that he was supposed to pay self-employment income taxes?!?! At the very least, a person who is purported to be capable of handling our nation's finances should have been savvy enough to avail himself of the services of people who do have the skills to advise this man accurately. I now have zero confidence in this appointee of our newly elected president.
It is true that cynicism breeds cynicism. Right now there are fertile breeding grounds.
However, I am prone, in my aging process, to cynicism, which seems to come almost effortlessly. I would like to think differently of people and situations but, all too often, my cynical view proves to be accurate, thus adding to my "super-cynicism".
Case(s) in point - a trio of news stories to hit the pages and air waves recently.
Our county law enforcement top officer appoints his son (and two others )to an elevated position that, guess what?, earns them about twenty-two thousand dollars more per year. Oh, and did I mention that the promotions came over the holidays, and the "appointer" didn't want to bother his boss and, "I never go over my budget so what is the big deal". The latter said red-faced and appoplectically when his decision was publicly challenged.
Our states' governor has left the state in another red-faced situation. The man, who is a public embarrassment to himself, his family and his state, continues to thumb his nose at the very people who elected him and who he is supposed to serve! The man who the governor appointed to fill the second Senate seat should also be ashamed of himself and his lack of ethics. The governor and his appointee are of the same ilk.
The third example of cynicism-fueling news is that of the man that our president-elect has chosen to be Secretary of the Treasury. To think that this person, who is one to be entrusted with the financial health of our nation, doesn't have enough financial knowledge to know that he was supposed to pay self-employment income taxes?!?! At the very least, a person who is purported to be capable of handling our nation's finances should have been savvy enough to avail himself of the services of people who do have the skills to advise this man accurately. I now have zero confidence in this appointee of our newly elected president.
It is true that cynicism breeds cynicism. Right now there are fertile breeding grounds.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Note To Self
Note to self:
For years, I've used this term, as have other women I have known. I don't know if it is a phrase 'peculiar' to females, but I don't think I've ever heard a man utter the words.
And, since I am a long-term addict to 3M's Post-It Notes, using the phrase is akin to a mental Post-It adhered to my forehead. The non-verbal equivalent of "don't forget, dummy!"
Then, today, on an early-morning news show, low and behold, comes an advertisement of an upcoming segment about a newly-penned book entitled, what else - Note to Self - as if this was a term that was never heard heretofore. (I love that word, "heretofore".)
So I decided to put to paper a few of my current "notes to self" (there may be other NTS's in future blogs):
I agree with the Oracle of Omaha: When you find yourself in a hole - stop digging!
If it hurts, maybe your body is telling you something.
If I am not part of the solution, then I am part of the problem.
The vacuuming I just did only took fifteen minutes. This does not need to be a "once every blue moon" occurrence!
I can never walk in someone else's shoes, nor they in mine.
Little things do mean a lot.
For years, I've used this term, as have other women I have known. I don't know if it is a phrase 'peculiar' to females, but I don't think I've ever heard a man utter the words.
And, since I am a long-term addict to 3M's Post-It Notes, using the phrase is akin to a mental Post-It adhered to my forehead. The non-verbal equivalent of "don't forget, dummy!"
Then, today, on an early-morning news show, low and behold, comes an advertisement of an upcoming segment about a newly-penned book entitled, what else - Note to Self - as if this was a term that was never heard heretofore. (I love that word, "heretofore".)
So I decided to put to paper a few of my current "notes to self" (there may be other NTS's in future blogs):
I agree with the Oracle of Omaha: When you find yourself in a hole - stop digging!
If it hurts, maybe your body is telling you something.
If I am not part of the solution, then I am part of the problem.
The vacuuming I just did only took fifteen minutes. This does not need to be a "once every blue moon" occurrence!
I can never walk in someone else's shoes, nor they in mine.
Little things do mean a lot.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Living With Decisions
Today I looked backward and then wished I had not.
I briefly looked into an apartment where I had lived for a long time and was saddened to see the disrepair that it had fallen into. I accept the reality that I am the one who left the apartment and closed the door and I cannot say that I am surprised to find the chaos that seems to have befallen my once premier apartment. Still, seeing it was difficult. I had convinced myself, upon leaving, that I had left the apartment in the hands of a capable manager, even though I had a thorough knowledge of the manager's past track record. I deluded myself in order to make my departure easier on others by assuring them that the apartment was in better hands than ever, when, deep down inside, I knew differently.
I think that is what has made the past few years so difficult.....having to live with my decision to leave all the hard work that I had done to the interior, the exterior, and the inner structure. The hundreds of hours of care-taking and the painstaking attention to details............raising the bar to make the apartment better than all the other apartments in the neighborhood and loving the inhabitants of the apartment. I broke my own heart and I have no one to blame but myself.
Still I am grieving.
I briefly looked into an apartment where I had lived for a long time and was saddened to see the disrepair that it had fallen into. I accept the reality that I am the one who left the apartment and closed the door and I cannot say that I am surprised to find the chaos that seems to have befallen my once premier apartment. Still, seeing it was difficult. I had convinced myself, upon leaving, that I had left the apartment in the hands of a capable manager, even though I had a thorough knowledge of the manager's past track record. I deluded myself in order to make my departure easier on others by assuring them that the apartment was in better hands than ever, when, deep down inside, I knew differently.
I think that is what has made the past few years so difficult.....having to live with my decision to leave all the hard work that I had done to the interior, the exterior, and the inner structure. The hundreds of hours of care-taking and the painstaking attention to details............raising the bar to make the apartment better than all the other apartments in the neighborhood and loving the inhabitants of the apartment. I broke my own heart and I have no one to blame but myself.
Still I am grieving.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Fun With Letters
Feeling foolish, I looked outside my window through the flimsy film of fleeting flakes frozen on the frigid film of glass separating me from the wintry mess outside.
It is as if a flask of flutes are flanking my abode, flipping fluffy, frigid shapes, leaving them floating and flitting about, flirting with the fleeing wind. Giant flaps of snow have been flying and flailing, contorting themselves into their final destinations of feathery forms four and five feet high. Finding fortitude from the fact that Jack Frost feels more fabulous in February, the formerly flamboyant, icy figures find firm flecks of flashy fixtures upon which they will flop, flinching with a final flounce.
It is as if a flask of flutes are flanking my abode, flipping fluffy, frigid shapes, leaving them floating and flitting about, flirting with the fleeing wind. Giant flaps of snow have been flying and flailing, contorting themselves into their final destinations of feathery forms four and five feet high. Finding fortitude from the fact that Jack Frost feels more fabulous in February, the formerly flamboyant, icy figures find firm flecks of flashy fixtures upon which they will flop, flinching with a final flounce.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Past and Present
The past and present figured largely in my life today.
A week or so ago, I pulled out my high school senior-year yearbook - annuals - as we called them then. As time allowed, I'd sit with the book, slowly paging through the pictures, taking trips down memory lane. Mostly good, funny, poignant memories. I really enjoyed my high school experience.
One of my closest circles of friends was four guys who were like brothers to me. We were a tight-nit group, playing cards at each others' homes, hanging out in the summer, continuing our friendship into our college years. After our college graduations, we gradually lost touch with each other, although I've managed to "keep track" of the quartet in one way or another.
Today I looked one of them up on the internet. He has been rumored to have become a highly successful international businessman so I thought it would be interesting to see what truth there was to the rumors. The term "highly successful" is apt and appropriate. If anything, understated. I found reference after reference to him. Some links had pictures of him meeting with the presidents of countries. I was proud of the life he has forged for himself and proud to think that I really was a good friend of his in high school.
I also staged up a work area to begin my family anscestors' picture project. When my parents were both deceased, I "inherited" most of the family photographs from the last three or four generations. For well over two decades, the photos have moved around with me and my family, silently waiting for loving hands to pull them out, look at them and organize them. What I will do with the snapshots once I've cataloged them, I do not know. I do know this: Their nomadic life is about to come to an end. Scrapbooking, complete with names, places, dates, captions await!
How does "new" factor into this day?
We extended an invitation to dinner, for tomorrow evening, to a couple we've met on several occasions but never taken the time to become better acquainted with. Each time after we see them, we say to each other, "Wouldn't they be fun to get to know?!" The time to wait is over. The invitation has been issued and the acceptance received.
By taking care of the "old" we make room for the "new".
Ancora imparo!
A week or so ago, I pulled out my high school senior-year yearbook - annuals - as we called them then. As time allowed, I'd sit with the book, slowly paging through the pictures, taking trips down memory lane. Mostly good, funny, poignant memories. I really enjoyed my high school experience.
One of my closest circles of friends was four guys who were like brothers to me. We were a tight-nit group, playing cards at each others' homes, hanging out in the summer, continuing our friendship into our college years. After our college graduations, we gradually lost touch with each other, although I've managed to "keep track" of the quartet in one way or another.
Today I looked one of them up on the internet. He has been rumored to have become a highly successful international businessman so I thought it would be interesting to see what truth there was to the rumors. The term "highly successful" is apt and appropriate. If anything, understated. I found reference after reference to him. Some links had pictures of him meeting with the presidents of countries. I was proud of the life he has forged for himself and proud to think that I really was a good friend of his in high school.
I also staged up a work area to begin my family anscestors' picture project. When my parents were both deceased, I "inherited" most of the family photographs from the last three or four generations. For well over two decades, the photos have moved around with me and my family, silently waiting for loving hands to pull them out, look at them and organize them. What I will do with the snapshots once I've cataloged them, I do not know. I do know this: Their nomadic life is about to come to an end. Scrapbooking, complete with names, places, dates, captions await!
How does "new" factor into this day?
We extended an invitation to dinner, for tomorrow evening, to a couple we've met on several occasions but never taken the time to become better acquainted with. Each time after we see them, we say to each other, "Wouldn't they be fun to get to know?!" The time to wait is over. The invitation has been issued and the acceptance received.
By taking care of the "old" we make room for the "new".
Ancora imparo!
A Smile For The Reader's Face
Here is a you tube 49-second video link that I just learned about and viewed this morning. I'll bet you cannot resist the urge to upturn the corners of your mouth!
youtube.com/watch?v=DDg7kWgs5e0
youtube.com/watch?v=DDg7kWgs5e0
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Rules of the Road
Can someone explain to me why the rules of the road should not be followed in the supermarket? Overcrowded aisles, frowns, and grumpiness could easily be eliminated if shoppers would just drive their carts like we are supposed to drive our cars on public roadways.
Have to pull over to look for an item? No problem. Park your cart against the shelving. The right side of the aisle has carts moving in unison in ONE direction, the left side of the aisle has carts moving in unison, like oncoming traffic. The middle is reserved for people moving through, NOT for parking . Want to look through your cart's contents? No problem. Do it from either end of the cart, NOT from the side of the cart. Other carts cannot move through the middle of the aisle if you are dreamily leaning over the side of your cart, imagining what the salmon will taste like tonight, with your rear end taking up over half the aisle.
As long as I'm on the topic of supermarket cart operation, let us examine how to turn a corner.
Since 99% of the corners in a supermarket are "blind" corners, do not cut a corner closely, thereby nearly running into another cart and have the audacity to glare at the cart that YOU nearly rammed. Move slowly into an intersection, staying in your own lane until you have determined that all is "clear".
Behind a "slow" cart?
Maybe the cart is being pushed by a young mother with two or three children in tow. Most of us have been there. Cut her some slack. She has her hands full with little hands helping with everything.
Maybe the cart is being pushed by someone with gray or white hair, whose joints just do not move nimbly or whose mind doesn't quite think as fast as it once did. Be patient and understanding. That could be your grandparent, mother or father, or, heaven forbid, YOU someday.
Lastly, try smiling at everyone. Sometimes others actually smile back.
Have to pull over to look for an item? No problem. Park your cart against the shelving. The right side of the aisle has carts moving in unison in ONE direction, the left side of the aisle has carts moving in unison, like oncoming traffic. The middle is reserved for people moving through, NOT for parking . Want to look through your cart's contents? No problem. Do it from either end of the cart, NOT from the side of the cart. Other carts cannot move through the middle of the aisle if you are dreamily leaning over the side of your cart, imagining what the salmon will taste like tonight, with your rear end taking up over half the aisle.
As long as I'm on the topic of supermarket cart operation, let us examine how to turn a corner.
Since 99% of the corners in a supermarket are "blind" corners, do not cut a corner closely, thereby nearly running into another cart and have the audacity to glare at the cart that YOU nearly rammed. Move slowly into an intersection, staying in your own lane until you have determined that all is "clear".
Behind a "slow" cart?
Maybe the cart is being pushed by a young mother with two or three children in tow. Most of us have been there. Cut her some slack. She has her hands full with little hands helping with everything.
Maybe the cart is being pushed by someone with gray or white hair, whose joints just do not move nimbly or whose mind doesn't quite think as fast as it once did. Be patient and understanding. That could be your grandparent, mother or father, or, heaven forbid, YOU someday.
Lastly, try smiling at everyone. Sometimes others actually smile back.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Little Things Mean A Lot
The cardinals were active at my neighbor's bird feeders today. The brilliance of the males' coloration was highlighted against the white, falling snow. I was able to take a few moments to sit and appreciate the natural beauty that I was witnessing.
God does know when we humans need a little reminder of His world, doesn't he? I had been wrapped up in efficiency efforts, working at a multitude of tasks to make myself feel important. Instead, God sat me down and introduced me to His feathered friends, resplendent in their crimson, blithely flitting here and there, taking turns eating.....right before my jaded, world-weary, cynical eyes.
Later in the day, I received a little email, recounting mundane details of the lives of people I hold very close to my heart, that brought a big smile to my face. The smile returns every time I think of the text. A small bit of matter in this large,swirling world.
Makes me smile...................................
God does know when we humans need a little reminder of His world, doesn't he? I had been wrapped up in efficiency efforts, working at a multitude of tasks to make myself feel important. Instead, God sat me down and introduced me to His feathered friends, resplendent in their crimson, blithely flitting here and there, taking turns eating.....right before my jaded, world-weary, cynical eyes.
Later in the day, I received a little email, recounting mundane details of the lives of people I hold very close to my heart, that brought a big smile to my face. The smile returns every time I think of the text. A small bit of matter in this large,swirling world.
Makes me smile...................................
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Step Backward
Feeling very foolish, I must admit that today I took a giant electronic step backward.
I was determined to take advantage of a free web site that would help me organize my bookmarks. I set up my account and waded into the site, only to find it very frustrating and uncertain. I panicked, probably unnecessarily, when I found something that led me to believe that I had shared information with others that I did not intend. So, after spending three or more hours on the website, I then spent more time deleting all the bookmarks that I had imported.
I must be a dinosaur. I guess that I am NOT still learning. I need an electronic 504 plan.
I was determined to take advantage of a free web site that would help me organize my bookmarks. I set up my account and waded into the site, only to find it very frustrating and uncertain. I panicked, probably unnecessarily, when I found something that led me to believe that I had shared information with others that I did not intend. So, after spending three or more hours on the website, I then spent more time deleting all the bookmarks that I had imported.
I must be a dinosaur. I guess that I am NOT still learning. I need an electronic 504 plan.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Where To Start?
I do not know where to begin.
Earlier today my thoughts were clear on what I wanted to put to electronic paper. My energies had been focused and seemingly boundless. So many closets and drawers were calling to me. I was a laundering fiend and when I wasn't laundering I was sorting and tossing............again. I realize that this is not the first time I've blogged about sorting and tossing. Do you get the idea that I have a great many items and possessions that need sorting and tossing? I finally stopped today when my feet let me know that they had been misused enough! I was feeling very self-righteous and smug until I checked my email after dinner and found an email in my inbox that brought me up short.
Friends of ours are going through a very difficult time within their family and their pain resounded loudly even though it was just an electronic venue. We would like to help but feel helpless and can only offer our ears and hearts to them until they feel comfortable seeking face-to-face companionship. I am truly reminded that my complaints are just that.............whining and complaining. Once again, God has shown me that all is really well with my soul.
Earlier today my thoughts were clear on what I wanted to put to electronic paper. My energies had been focused and seemingly boundless. So many closets and drawers were calling to me. I was a laundering fiend and when I wasn't laundering I was sorting and tossing............again. I realize that this is not the first time I've blogged about sorting and tossing. Do you get the idea that I have a great many items and possessions that need sorting and tossing? I finally stopped today when my feet let me know that they had been misused enough! I was feeling very self-righteous and smug until I checked my email after dinner and found an email in my inbox that brought me up short.
Friends of ours are going through a very difficult time within their family and their pain resounded loudly even though it was just an electronic venue. We would like to help but feel helpless and can only offer our ears and hearts to them until they feel comfortable seeking face-to-face companionship. I am truly reminded that my complaints are just that.............whining and complaining. Once again, God has shown me that all is really well with my soul.
Friday, January 2, 2009
OK, I Admit It!
I'll state my weaknesses right up front:
I save too many boxes AND I have too many plastic food storage containers.
What is it in my brain that sends the signal "Oh, just one more."? Is it a DNA marker? Hereditarily transmitted?
I just finished working in my storage closet, rearranging boxes, stacking boxes, and, yes, even throwing boxes out. Still, there are too many boxes but do you think that I was able to bring myself to rid the room of more? No! My love affair with corregated cardboard has to stop!
Then there are the plastic food storage containers.
Some of them are grocery-store cheapies that are meant to be thrown away but am I able to make the leap from my hand to the trash? No, not me. Other containers are of the discount-store variety - slightly higher quality - I say in defense of my fetish. Yet others are very expensive - from a home-decor national chain now bankrupt. I am surprised that gullible shoppers such as myself did not single-handedly keep the chain financially afloat.
Thusly, today, I had to make a New Year's promise to myself and my storage closet that not one more box or plastic-food-storage container would grace the shelves until two had first left permanently.
I give myself one week and I'll probably be blogging about breaking one of these New Year's resolutions. Help!
I save too many boxes AND I have too many plastic food storage containers.
What is it in my brain that sends the signal "Oh, just one more."? Is it a DNA marker? Hereditarily transmitted?
I just finished working in my storage closet, rearranging boxes, stacking boxes, and, yes, even throwing boxes out. Still, there are too many boxes but do you think that I was able to bring myself to rid the room of more? No! My love affair with corregated cardboard has to stop!
Then there are the plastic food storage containers.
Some of them are grocery-store cheapies that are meant to be thrown away but am I able to make the leap from my hand to the trash? No, not me. Other containers are of the discount-store variety - slightly higher quality - I say in defense of my fetish. Yet others are very expensive - from a home-decor national chain now bankrupt. I am surprised that gullible shoppers such as myself did not single-handedly keep the chain financially afloat.
Thusly, today, I had to make a New Year's promise to myself and my storage closet that not one more box or plastic-food-storage container would grace the shelves until two had first left permanently.
I give myself one week and I'll probably be blogging about breaking one of these New Year's resolutions. Help!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)