Oh, Autumn,
how I adore thee.
The scents are
the most divine.
The bold reds,
golden yellow,
and spicy pumpkin
shades all around.
Freshly slain grass,
and
dying leaves.
Oh, Autumn,
how I adore thee.
Blueberry Diaper
My cousin Julie loves me. I know this because she still talks to me.
When I was two years old, the family went blueberry picking. Julie enjoyed time with me, and we shared many blueberries together that day.
Later in the day, she offered to change my diaper.
I still hear, after she’s given birth to and raised two boys of her own, that that blueberry diaper was the very worst thing she’s seen in all the world.
My cousin Julie loves me. I know this because she still talk to me. And sometimes (near 40 years later) it’s still about the diaper.
Morale of the Story: Love is stronger than a nasty diaper.
Nurse Daisy
I have a cat that I wish I’d not had spayed. Okay, it’s not that I want kittens or anything – I don’t. But Daisy is such a good caretaker, I believe she would have been in 7th heaven to have her own litter of kittens. Normally, I would never say such a thing because I believe in responsible pet care – and spaying/neutering is a big part of responsible pet care.
Daisy has this amazing knack for knowing when I am in need. Her behavior toward me changes. Her compassion comes forward. She does it for my mom as well. Somehow, she knows when I have a migraine, a cold, or an emotional upset.
When I am sick or miserable for any reason, my cat Daisy is my nursemaid, mother, and comforter. She stays by my side, brings me her toys, and sings to me with her purr. Normally, I am not allowed to hold her paws, but when I don’t feel well, she puts her paw in my hand. If it’s a migraine where sound bother’s me, she does not purr. She comforts me.
There are three other cats in the house, and Daisy is mother to all. Granted that her own sister is from the same litter. They are probably only minutes a part in age. Yet Daisy behaves years older. Her sister is sweet, and she remains close when I am not well, but she has no desire anyone’s nurse maid.
I pray everyone could have a pet like Miss Daisy. One to comfort and care for you when you need it most.
Morale of the Story: My cat is awesome!
How do you Give Cheer when there is No Cheer?
There are some people in my life receiving bad news. I want to cheer them, but I don’t have anything to offer. The situation is not life or death, but it is heart wrenching. It’s a lay off. So what can I do when I have no new jobs to offer?
I can pray for them and potential employers.
Bidden or not, God is present. I believe in the power of prayer.
I can give encouragement because these people are talented.
Not platitudes, but real facts. Reminders of their accomplishments.
I can recommend them on LinkedIn.
I don’t know if all employers value this, but I was once hired in part because my colleagues had recommended me on LinkedIn.
What else? I’d appreciate your ideas.
Morale of the Story: Humor doesn’t happen everyday.
2013 Resolutions
What to do in 2013:
- Write in my journal daily.
I’ve heard that after 30 consecutive days, anything becomes a long-term habit. I’ve never made it past 3 months. - Write for this blog daily.
This is my 9th consecutive day. I’ve never done more than 2 days in a row. - Keep my bedroom organized.
The last time was in 1983. - Before # 3, I need to organize my bedroom.
I’ll have the cats help by picking up their own toys. - Clean and organize the old section of the basement.
Can I just pull up a Best Way garbage truck? - Read 95 books.
I’m already 3% behind according to www.goodreads.com. I can always throw in some children’s books to achieve that one. - Lose 15 pounds and keep it off.
I have a gym membership, I just might use it. I could also reduce the carbs (Not this carb-a-holic!). I hear laughter can wear away pounds. That’s my plan: Laugh it off. - Nap as needed, pray often, and scrapbook with friends.
I needed something I’m guaranteed to complete.
What will you do in 2013?
A Cat’s Life
Oh, to be an indoor cat, what a life.
My mommy cares for me day and night.
I have windows to check on the world.
I can see all things unfurled.
Food three times daily.
Fresh water is not a rarity.
All of my needs are met.
This is the life to never forget.
Not Even in the Meatloaf
I was raised on the family farm. This farm included dairy cows, pigs, apples, and peaches. What a wonderful place to learn of life’s sorrows and joys, hard work and festive play.
One such joy is the food on the farm. Well, it’s also a sorrow – because I don’t enjoy gardening nor preparing my own meat. Fortunately, mom took care of the gardening after I repeatedly pulled out all of the carrots while weeding. Also, dad sent the cows and pigs to a local meat processor so it came back in nice little packages for the freezer.
It was delightful to grow up on our own beef, pork, veggies, milk, peaches, and apples. All were deliciously prepared by my mom’s loving hands after being nurtured by my father and brother.
Eventually, as is common in Michigan, the deer in our area became too numerous, and hunting needed to be done. The deer were eating the crops – both for cow feed and my brothers fruit trees. In being thankful for the opportunity to hunt on our land, hunters would give us the gift of deer meet.
This is where the problem comes in. I was raised on home-grown cow. The meat is smooth and tasty. Not grainy like liver can be. To me deer meat is grainy. Also, it’s raised more on corn and wheat. Not as much hay. That makes it more gamey.
All others in our house enjoyed deer meat. Well, so far as I can tell, they like ALL meat. But this is about deer. So my mom tried to hide it.
Let’s just say that I can taste it and find the texture of it even in meatloaf that is 1/3 sausage, 1/3 cow burger, and 1/3 deer burger. I can detect the undesirable texture in well seasoned spaghetti or lasagna. I can identify it in potent chili. There’s no disguise that worked. To me, it’s not palatable.
If you like it, you’re always welcome to my portion. Please!
Morale of the Story: Sometimes you just can’t hide anything.
That Peaceful, Easy Feeling
On this Sunday, I woke feeling so many things. Sadness for those with lay-offs, healing for those with this nasty flu, concern for a tsunami in Alaska, loss for those who have lost loved ones, and the list goes on.
It is still Christmas-time at church. The advent candles are still lit. The Christmas tree is still decorated. There are candles in the window with holly. And the nativity on the altar.
The nativity has these beautiful ceramic pieces, off-white, and glazed. They shine in the light of the sanctuary and the candles. The angel sits up a bit higher than the rest. It was the angel that my eyes lit on most during the service.
I sat with friends, and my mom sat two rows back with her friends. We sang hymns of love and hope. We prayed for God to remain with us. And the angel sparkled all the while.
By the end of the service, I felt hopeful. Friends, prayer, music, and the peace the angel brings: With these I feel refreshed. My heart lighter. The smile allowed back on my lips and in my heart.
Morale of the Story: Hope spring eternal. Sometimes I just need a few drops from that spring to fall on me to be reminded.
Crochet Words
A dear friend, Lynn, believed that I should learn how to crochet. I was already into so many crafts, what’s one more? I could scrapbook, make cards, and bead jewelry. She believed that I needed to find the pleasure of a portable and relaxing hobby. The others don’t transport well.
After two years of nagging, she won! In my first lesson we learned a few things:
- I’m not good at reading crochet instructions (too many abbreviations)
- I’m no good at turning corners
- I’m a tight hooker
- I say bad words when frustrated (well, this wasn’t new)
I was to make a simple square dish cloth. These lessons culminated in my first project being an impenetrable sheath of triangle that could not be taken a part even with loud vocalizations. Had I done it right, I could have pulled out the yarn and started a fresh project. Nope, not me.
Lynn’s second lesson was to loosen me up. Shake out the hands. Watch a calming movie. Use a larger hook than is required. Shake out the hands again. After an hour or so, I was finally catching on. Within a few weeks, I’d actually made several square dish cloths. I moved on to start a scarf.
In the meantime, life happened and I got busy. Months later when I went back to crochet and had a third lesson as a refresher, I picked up the scarf again. I even finished within a few more months. Come to find out that over time, I had become a calm crocheter and had loose, healthy stitches. The only problem being that my scarf is now wider on one end than on the other. No, I, the phenomenal photo taker, do not have one single photo anywhere to prove that my first scarf is not perfect (and there will not be one).
Today, I thoroughly enjoy sitting down with hook and yarn. I can crochet happily for hours. I’ve not made a blanket yet, but I’ve done several scarves, small bags, and dish cloths. I’ve moved on from single crochet to double, and from squares to circles. I thank Lynn for this amazing gift.
In the beginning, I cussed constantly. I said every horrible thing I could think of at the time. I put together new phrases just to express the frustration. How dare she even consider teaching me such a horrific hobby?!
I was wrong. She was right. (See, Lynn, I put it in writing.) I take all of it back and pile upon her love, gratefulness, appreciation, and enthusiasm for teaching me to be a happy hooker!
I am blessed with amazing friends. Lynn has put up with a lot over the years. We disagree on many things, but on crafts, love of family and friends, and hope for a better tomorrow, we not only see eye to eye but also heart to heart.
Morale of the Story: Don’t discount that your friends know you better than you know yourself. The good ones do!
To Edit with Drawn Instructions
A friend helped me edit an important document this evening. All of the text I needed was mostly present. She took to circling things and drawing lines to show me where to move the text for better presentation.
After while, she burst out laughing. She laughed so very hard, she was crying. I worried something was terribly wrong. Turned out, she’d merely drawn me a very special image on accident.
In looking at what had her in tears, I found it to be a very well drawn wee wee. Maybe I’ll let you see it sometime. I usually don’t keep much edited papers, but this one is a treasure to behold!
Morale of the Story: Life is quirky. Your original intent may not be the end result. Enjoy!
Humor Happens 