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My thoughts about things. |
| A place to put my thoughts about various stuff. |
| Oh, the beauty to behold Of the flowering trees Purple, white   and pink will delight  (Pardon me while I sneeze) Ah, the smallest bud appears Bursting from the limb Tiny, green At first its unseen And here we go again... Winter with your harshest cast Snow to be cleared off  Melts away Reveals a new day Cover my mouth to cough  Time inside, I do lament Stuck with cloudy days   All cooped up Among crazy pups   Now in a pollen haze  Venture outside, I still do Throw the ball and play Stubborn fool More so than a mule Allergy meds, oh yay! |
| Community Challenge 48 Hour Media Prompt Send Me On My Way by Rusted Root The movie Ice Age came out before our children were born. My husband and I have always loved cartoons, so we had watched it even without having kids. I remember hearing this song and loving it, but also feeling sad. I had been told I could never have kids, so it was such a bittersweet feeling to hear this song that I would love to share with children we would never get to have. Two years later, a miracle happened. At least, that's what we've always called that first child. The second child (yes, second!) we call our blessing. They love the Ice Age movies. We did get to experience this song with them for many, many years and still love to play it. The song itself brings us joy. From the upbeat tune playing behind it, to the voices singing the words, everything about it is uplifting. The lyrics are simple and easy for little ones to follow. The beat makes our feet start to move and we end up dancing, usually while we are making supper together. The song is a part of our family memories and I'm so glad it came to pass that we could share it with our kids. |
| Mr. Martin March was melancholy. He meant to be married to Molly Masters. Most days he couldn't manage to make small talk, let alone muster up a marriage proposal. Molly made magnificent marmalade. On Monday, his mother met with Molly's mom to mourn over the migrating Mallards. The majestic birds would be missed until their migration ended. Martin mingled with the mature men, mainly memorizing their manners of speech. Mapping out a mindful maneuver to mimic their memorable moves, he made sure to mull over metaphors and meaningful messages that might measure up to Molly's expectations. Moseying over to the mansion where Molly lived, Martin moved his microphone into place. Not mundane, but merry was the music he chose. The myriad mellow tones he mused were meant to move mountains and melt her heart, not make mess out of things. Molly meticulously marked time while Martin made music and a mythical mist mounted around the mansion. She couldn't mistake the moisture on her cheeks as she saw this modest, meek man of medium build transform into a masterful musician. Mopping his brow, Martin manifested enough mettle to make his mitten-covered hand move to where Molly could not mistake the metallic glint in his palm. Molly knew this was no mere marriage proposal, it was meant to be. She was not a madwoman. Gathering her maidenly manners, Molly patted her mastiff on the head and called down to Martin.... "MAYBE!" |
| Sneak up on me Like a thief Cause me pain Bring me grief Altered my life Met your demands Gave up activities Shifted my plans Lifting things I no longer do Unless it weighs Less than a shoe No riding horses Or on bikes Flat ground now No more hikes Elevators Not stairs Back support For all chairs Relented did I Strike to my pride Got a grabber pole Resolute inside Changes help Most all days Weather however Takes that away Back you come Settle right in Sorry to say You are no friend Pinching, grinding Discs to dust Feels like bolts Left out to rust Heating pad Do my stretches Goodness me I feel so wretched |
| I have had the wonderful blessing of getting to attend the band concerts of our youngest most recently. Listening to music always brings out emotion in me. Listening to music that one of my family members is a part of amplifies it. I am a non-musician in a family of musicians. And that is ok with me. Along the way, I chose the path that took me towards words, not notes. It doesn't mean I won't ever create my own music, but most likely I will not. If I could write while I am sleeping, I think I would. My heart lies here. That means the part of my heart where music impacts most ties to my loved ones, specifically my husband and our children. When they play a piece of music, I can see it. Feel it. Their music, especially, paints a story for me. So, I guess it's that their music gets translated into words for me. In my heart and my head. Our kids have always wanted music books with Disney songs. Oh, how I would cry to hear them play pieces from The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, or Tangled. I still do. Christmas time is something special for me because I hear the carols live here in our home. The concerts our youngest plays now aren't simple. They are complex pieces that professional symphonies play. Her band has placed in a national competition and they earned that distinction. And still, as I sit in the audience, next to my husband listening to the whole band up there playing... my heart hears our child playing amongst them. I let myself be free and fly with the notes, riding along for the journey they weave during those precious moments they are on stage together. |
| Born March 2, 1904 Dr. Seuss (aka Theodor Seuss Geisel)  Seuss was his mother's maiden name. He took it as his middle name and part of his pen name. 'Doctor' was only a part of his pen name originally. Was awarded an honorary doctorate from Dartmouth in 1956. First book was reportedly rejected by over 30 publishers before being published in 1937. The Cat in the Hat and How the Grinch Stole Christmas! were published 20 years later. Founder of Beginner Books, Inc. in 1958. Awarded a Pulitzer Prize in 1984. Tried out writing for adults, but found he preferred writing for children best. Termed adults as 'obsolete children'.I loved Dr. Seuss books when I was a child and read them to our children when they were young. The silly themes (with underlying lessons) and rhyming schemes (see what I did there?  ) were appealing to me and our children. Even though they are older now, we still read the Grinch book at Christmas as a tradition. I have many fond memories that come to mind when I hear the titles of his books. The memories of what I felt as a child and with our children are what is most important to me. I can also be inspired by the fact that though he was turned down many, many times, he did not give up and found so much success. History.com - On This Day in History - Dr. Seuss Britannica.com - Dr. Seuss |
| March is a pretty cool month for me. My birthday is this month.  One of our kids' birthdays is this month. One of my grandma's birthdays was in this month.  I found out that I was pregnant for the first time (after being told I would never, ever have kids) on the 5th of this month.    I was never a fan of school, so I was always happy when we got to March because it was that much closer to the end of the year.   There was always still a chance of a snowstorm that would get us a few snow days.  There is a lot of GREEN (my favorite color) around St. Patrick's Day.     I am a huge math geek (one of my favorite subjects, sometimes I do math to relax... yeah, I know  ) and Pi Day is in March. 3.14!(Oh no! There is no pie emoticon... hmm... must make a suggestion. )Beware the Ides of March.... I'm not actually a fan of Shakespeare, but I've always remembered that phrase and date. I'm sure there are more things that will come to mind, but my last one is this: Lambert the Sheepish Lion. The phrase 'In like a lion, out like a lamb' for March always made me think of Lambert and I love that cartoon.    |
| There are things that just suck more when they happen before five in the morning. For instance, having a collision with a patio chair. A collision that involves your crotch and left thigh. Our six month old golden retriever had her surgery to get fixed and chipped last week. It was a long day for our family. We know it's a typical procedure and we've had other dogs go through it, but it's always hard to leave them. They don't understand about going to the vet in the first place, let alone you leaving them there, and then waking up hurting. We all kept busy as we could and reassured one another she would be fine. The vet was understanding when we called them before they called us. We hit at just the right time with them saying she was just out of surgery and doing great. Then, they understood when we were there 20 minutes early on the pick-up time. (We weren't the only ones!) We've always had Labradors. I've come to think that Labs are the cats of the dog world. They are incredibly lovable, but also sleep a lot and are pretty independent. Golden retrievers, though they share the last term 'retrievers' seem to be much more social and involved with their people. It was as though we had left her for years. She literally wouldn't settle at home until we were all around her where she could see us. And even then, through all the medicine, she kept opening her eyes every minute or so. Oh, how this pup has bounded into our family and stolen our hearts away. She's done well this past week and is off most all of the medicine. This means her energy has come back. And I think she is trying to make up for lost time with all the activity. Which leads us to this morning and the patio furniture debacle. She's feeling so much better that she's back to waking up early and not wanting to go back to sleep on her own, so I'm working with it and getting up with her. One of the kids is usually up with me to help, too. This morning it was 4:49am when I heard the plaintive whine and woof. Bleary eyed, I drug myself out of bed and got her in her harness and leash. (She's young enough that if you don't take her on the leash - even though we are in our fenced in backyard - she won't use the bathroom. She forgets she even has to go.) The rabbits are coming back to our yard already, even though the grass is still brown. Our Lab loves to give chase if she smells/sees one. She's going to be six this year and isn't on leash. Well, the Lab took off after a nonexistent rabbit. The pup did too, but she was on leash. The leash curved around the pillar to our porch.  Now, the end of this is that I am eternally grateful for the patio chair to be where it was. The beginning is that it hurt like hell. The leash drug me forward and into the metal (curved, thank goodness) arm of the patio chair. By me, I mean my crotch. I don't have the same problem as a man, but let me tell you, it still hurts like hell. I pulled back enough to get free, but then she yanked me again and it flung me forward and it hurt worse against my thigh. I yelled - albeit as quietly as I could due to our neighbors - and here's the thing about our golden retriever. She came back. She actually came running back to check on me.  She is actually my husband's dog. You can tell he is her favorite person.But, my Lab - God love her - just kept right on going. The Golden Terror or Lady Chomps Alot, as she is known, checked on me. So with a huge bruise on my thigh and cuss words having been brandished... I did remember to look for the silver lining, as mom would say. The silver lining is that, seriously, if the chair hadn't been there, I likely would have smashed face first into the pillar of our porch. As it was, the chair was caught between me and the pillar. I could have a broken nose, broken glasses and maybe a concussion. So, I am thankful it is a bruise on my leg and not anything else. Here's hoping she starts sleeping in better again soon. And that we get the little hole in our fence repaired so the bunnies find another yard. |
| DISCLAIMER *** WARNING *** I probably should have put this in the
Tell me if you've heard of this one... A guy fiddles around with gamma rays and ends up turning big and green. (How many movies have tried to do that one?) Or this one... Boy meets spider. Spider bites boy. Boy becomes superhero. (These are sort of like the mutant movies... which version are we on, the one with Patrick Stewart? Or the other guy? At least those were different timelines. Oh wait, the spider movies did that, too.) Or this one... He wears a black cape, has some pretty impressive canine teeth, and it isn't your necklace he is admiring. (Oh, so many here. Back before color was a thing, then in color with Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, or Nicholas Cage, or sparkly ones, or - actually my favorite - as a cartoon  Bleh, bleh, bleh!)Round and round we go When will Hollywood Come up with new stuff? No one knows I started contemplating something I heard a long time ago from someone. That there are no more original musical compositions or stories. The ones being made now are just variations of different themes used in the past. I guess in some ways, I can understand this reasoning. I mean, Hollywood is pumping out the same stories just with different sets of actors. And people are still watching them. Maybe in the hopes that one will finally be good, in some cases, at least. But then, I think about genres and plot lines. How there is the 'heist' storyline or the 'hero's journey' storyline, etc. Those are templates that we use to create unique experiences for our readers. Sure, they may follow a general path that can - sometimes - be anticipated, but they have their own characters, settings and timelines. Music can sound similar because it has some of the same notes put together in a part of a song that reminds you of another, but there are only so many notes, folks. And they can only be arranged in so many ways and still sound good. And there are only so many instruments to work with. I am not a musician, by the way, but I live with a bunch of them. I don't know. I'm just thinking that all of us that keep putting ourselves out there and trying our hearts out to create something unique for our audiences should give ourselves a pat on the back. That is unless you are writing about a guy that we wouldn't like if he gets angry... or a kid that shoots webs out of his hands... or a guy whose blood type is whatever is on the menu tonight.   Oh, what the heck, those of you writing about those guys - give yourselves pats on the back too because we love those characters. We've got room for more versions of them, bring them all! Maybe this blog post stays. Maybe I get rid of it tomorrow. I'm thinking it will stay. We'll see. |
| He would have been 80 today, my dad. He was this funny, humble, interesting man that worried a lot and tried his best to make people smile and laugh. The majority of his life was spent as a farmer, which he was very proud of and also caused him a lot of stress. He worked a lot of other jobs to keep our family afloat, but of them all, I think he was happiest up on a tractor, out in the field with the sun beating down and no one to answer to but himself and the land. Dad was disciplined. He never needed an alarm clock to get him out of bed. He had that 'up before the sun' instinct that made his eyes pop open. I can imagine when he was young that this had him bounding out of the bed ready for the day, but even as he grew older, it still tugged and pulled at him to get up and moving. Aches and pains made him move slower, but he still moved. I can relate to that these days. He was strong and not just physically. Emotionally, he was the strongest person I've ever known, but I never would have been able to articulate that until now. He withstood rejection from his own father and still loved him. He took care of his dad with devotion until the day he passed and wept unhidden tears the day we buried grandpa. Dad was thankful that in his father's final days, grandpa told him for the first and last time that he loved him. He had waited his entire life for those words. He was a good husband. Sure, he did things that drove mom crazy. I think all good husbands and wives do that to each other. He loved her, more than words could ever say and until his dying day and beyond. He met her and married her six weeks later. Convincing her to say yes by telling her he was joining the military if she didn't. He did try to join, but with flat feet every branch rejected him. Mom knew. She said yes anyway. She once told me that she made him wait the whole first year of their marriage before she ever said 'I love you' to him. I told her she was lucky he stuck around to hear it. That was part of their way of things. Dad was open and loving and always looking after her. Mom closed off and aloof, only showing true glimpses of what was inside when dad would coax it out of her. They had some bad fights. Mom drove off to her parents' house a couple of times, but she always came back. Dad was always there waiting. She made him work for those special smiles and looks that she only gave to him. And he loved her for it. I can still see the way she would laugh and that look she would give him that made all of the years melt away and it was like I could see them back when they were first together. Those shared moments of love and experience together that would make the rest of the world disappear. He was a good dad. So much more so when you know how his own dad treated him. That he took all the insults, physical abuse and pain his own father gave him and used it as a guidebook for what never to do with his own kids. Soft spoken with self-deprecating humor, he always said he was 'just a dumb old farm boy'. My heart hurts to know that a part of him always really believed that nonsense. He was also a rock. He served as a volunteer firefighter in our small town and raised the funding to start an ambulance service, becoming one of the first EMTs to serve on it. If a neighbor couldn't get their crops in, he was the first one there with our equipment helping to do it for them. He served as a township trustee and spent countless nights helping pull vehicles out of ditches and round up cattle that escaped fields. He was a school bus driver. He knew the families and the kids. Kids loved him and expected the big candy canes he would have to give out on the last day before Christmas break. They respected him and behaved because they wanted his nod of approval and knew he knew their parents. Throughout the year, he would wear different hats while driving to make the kids smile. He had lots of different farm hats and cowboy hats, plus he would find odd ones - a top hat, civil war caps (both blue and grey ones), a clown wig, a sombrero and a bunch more. He loved making people smile and laugh. He had a lot of motorcycles over the years. Hondas and Harleys. He was so proud when he got his first Harley Davidson. He worked on them all. He was the best mechanic with no formal training. Just the need to get something fixed and the ingenuity to feel out how it worked. He loved to read and dance and draw. He would read at night when his insomnia kept him up. He would put music on in the living room and pull mom up to dance just because it was a Tuesday night and the rain kept him out of the field. I found his caricatures up on the wall of our back porch above his CB radio when I was in junior high. I had never known my dad could do something like that until then. He loved spicy food and hated cheese. Would eat an onion like other people eat apples. He started smoking when he was 15 and quit after he had his first heart attack at 45. He rarely drank alcohol and loved root beer barrel candies. He had a cool, fast car when he and mom were first married. It was black and on the way home from work he was going to get a ticket for speeding - tired and not paying attention. He ducked down back roads and hid the car behind a barn because they couldn't afford a ticket. He soon sold the car so they could buy medicine for my brother when he was a baby. He started developing Alzheimer's a few years before he died. The last time I got to see him, he hugged me and I could tell he struggled to understand that who I was standing before him was the little girl he knew. I can still feel his hug and hear his voice. And see him sitting staring off into space at nothing. Lost. Confused. Waiting, but not knowing for what. He's none of that now. Dad passed away quietly on September 17, 2023 at 1:55pm. It was a Sunday and mom was right beside him the entire time. Now, he is everything he ever wanted to be and more. Free of pain and open to his memories again, instead of locked away from them. I am reminded of him every day. And I miss him, every day. I am thankful that I was lucky enough to have him as my dad. |
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