Remembering...

Sometimes, when you think too much time has passed, you head back to something or someone familiar, and it all clicks back into place...at least for that moment. Like friends who haven't seen each other for decades and come back together like no time has passed, as if they both went home at the end of a day and returned in the morning. "As I was saying..." one might say, without missing a beat.

Sometimes.

Life has a strange way of taking us on twists and turns, uphill and downhill, back and forth. Memories flood our brains, holding us back or pushing us forward. 

We're all a product of those memories, our past times and events and happenings -- good and bad. How do we reckon with them? How do we not allow them to drag us down or pull us under?

It's a difficult process. Certainly doable. 

Children are mirrors of those memories. They go through ages and phases that we can somewhat remember, that become very clear when we watch our offspring go through them. Of course, their experiences are different. But the fuzzy recollection of our own experiences comes back into focus...at least for that moment.

And we remember. And the memories, like old friends, take us on journeys back to times that feel forgotten yet are still in the foreground. 

"As I was saying..." the memory says, without missing a beat.

At Home in the City

My brain is ruminating...and so I must ramble a bit...

...

I have always enjoyed exploring the world.

I grew up moving around to different towns in different states, so my family spent a lot of time getting to know new places.

Because of that, being a tourist is easy in one of my favorite cities.

There are the usual places to see -- the Empire State Building, the Rockefeller Center, the Statue of Liberty, the Subway, the World Trade Center.

But my favorite way to see and feel and know the city is to find a coffee shop early in the morning, sit at a table in the window, and watch the world go by. It may seem a strange way to "sightsee," and yet it gives me a chance to see the heart of the city, what makes it truly beat: a mom walking her children to school; a businessman scurrying by, coffee in one hand, a briefcase in the other; teenage girls engrossed in their music and texts, laughing together as they walk to their classes; an older couple stumbling along hand-in-hand; a gaggle of schoolchildren scattering behind two harried teachers on their way to a museum; and more.

And if I sit long enough, I'll see the process repeated in reverse, each person on his or her way home, thinking about the happenings and memories of the day, each a protagonist in his or her own story.

Issues of the Day

Recently, I was reading a few reviews about some middle-grade books that are new on the market. The reviewers raved about how EVERYone should read these books...and how they wished they'd been around when they were young...and how it would have "helped" them through some tough issues they'd faced. The books in question were about the death of a parent.

Hmmm...

The popular notion at the moment is to write stories for middle school kids about tough issues facing them. We want them to be prepared and know how to face and handle complex issues...some of which we're not even comfortable facing or handling. BUT, they will know how.

Because?

Because they read about a girl in a book who faced that very same issue and saw how she handled it -- nevermind that the issue might be one some kids will never face or have to handle. Let's stress them out some more. Because, after all, if they don't know how to handle every issue that might come their way, they'll flounder.

What if they never even knew about certain issues? Would it really hurt them?

I write all of this tongue-in-cheek, of course.

I'm reminded of something we were taught in our prenatal parenting sessions. "Dress the baby for the weather, not based on what you're feeling."

So you, as an adult, think a story about a boy facing the death of his mother and learning how to deal with it and let go is a good thing. Because you're an adult and know how to handle such things. And a kid, of 9, 10, 11, should be able to handle it, too? How can you (with adult eyes) truly see it through the eyes of young person again?

We are doing our kids a disservice when we give them issues that are way too old and mature and complex for them to really need to think about. What happened to reading for entertainment? For pleasure? For a nice story about a nice family in a nice setting with happy thoughts?

Sure, life is definitely not always nice, but don't we all inherently know that without having to be reminded in books and television shows and movies?

Middle-grade readers read alone. They sit in their room or on the bus or in the library or on a blanket in the grass and read...and they take in all they are reading...alone. Those thoughts and ideas swirl around in their heads. They try to make sense of them. They try to handle the complex ideas of divorce and death and sex and relationships -- way before they need to -- alone. Certainly, some kids will chat with their parents about their reading materials. (Or, worse, with friends who are also just as uncertain.)

But, com'on, let's be honest. How many of us adults really take the proper amount of time to talk "lit" with our kids, to philosophy and mull over and exchange thoughts about what's being read, what the author might have meant, what the subject is about? How many have time? How many want to take time?

We're all too busy. And, heck, if the kids are reading, that's a good thing, right?

Wrong.

Reading for pleasure is an awesome thing. I'm a huge lover (and collector...see this post) of all things books. I worked for a publishing house, and I'm currently a newspaper correspondent. I love stories! I love the idea of reading and teaching it and teaching the love of it.

But what if the materials are unnecessarily too complex and stressful for our kids? What if we take a step back and say, "I love this book and what it's talking about...now...when I get it...knowing what I know at this moment."

What if ideas and concepts that are too big for our kids are putting unneeded worries and stress in their lives? What if they don't always need to know about certain problems until (and unless) they actually face them? What if we save such materials for then? So they know they're not alone...instead of making them worry "what if"s all the time?

When I was 10, my parents gave me a book of stories about kids and their struggles. One of the stories dealt with a girl whose parents divorced. I hadn't really heard much about divorce. I knew that my mom's parents (my grandparents) had divorced, but it didn't occur to me that someone my age could have divorced parents. The girl had to live a few days at a time at each parent's house, trying to figure out which to love each time. I worried myself sick over that story. I thought my parents would divorce, and I would be forced to choose, and that sickened my heart. Why did I really need to read that? So I'd be prepared? My parents will be married 55 years this June...it really wasn't an issue I needed to read about at 10. I would have learned in the years that followed more about divorce and kids having to spend their time split between their parents' homes...but I would have been more mature and less likely to fret so much.

Let's try to remember that children are young for such a short amount of time. There's no need to rush them into reading about the "issues" of the day. Let's let them stay innocent. And why not? We all know that time and life will change that.

Until then, keep these newer middle-grade books away and bring them out for the kids who need them...when they need them.

**********

What do you think? Is this an issue you faced as a child? What books do you remember reading that you felt too young for? 

Rainbow Connection

**Soapbox WARNING: I rarely feel the need to tackle a difficult subject on this blog. I like to steer clear of controversial things...but sometimes my knickers get in a twist, and I realize there are some things that NEED to be tackled. For that, I offer no apologies. Mine is a blog of random musings. This is a musing meant to make you think...if even a little.**

It's interesting that the LGBT "community" wants to shove their agenda down our throats.

Constantly.

They seem to need to be validated and accepted. They demand to be validated and accepted.

I say go ahead and get married, adopt children, do your thing. I won't agree with you or accept your lifestyle. But I won't stop liking you as fellow humans.

You see, you can change everything into rainbows for your cause. You can color food and lights at the White House and Empire State Building. You can show "gay" couples in TV shows. But you can't make someone agree with your choices.

If Christians believe what the Bible says about homosexuality being a sin then we cannot accept your lifestyle choice any more than we can accept a liar or a cheater or a drunkard or any other sinner. We can't accept it in ourselves or anyone else. Sin is sin.

We can, however, accept you as equally sinful people loved so intensely by God that He sent His Son to die for you. It won't change how I will treat you. I'll still love you as a person. Serving me a rainbow burger or rainbow Doritos will not change that I love you but not your lifestyle. Making emojis that support your cause will not change that.

It's called respect. I respect you, and I expect that same respect back.

I don't think there is a color for heterosexual couples or marriage. Even if there was, I wouldn't be shoving down anyone's throats, coloring foods or buildings or flags. There are single people out there who may wish they had someone they could love and call husband/wife. I respect them, too.

And is it necessary to broadcast any kind of marriage? Celebrate milestones. Celebrate beginning love together. But stop showing off and trying to make people agree with you.

It doesn't work.

And, BTDubs, the rainbow was a sign from God to His people that He would keep His promises.

Do you know what color eternal damnation is? Because that's the color you'll see for all of eternity if you continue to live in sin. God promises that.

ALL of us fall short of God's glory and sin...and ALL of us need to turn away from our sins and accept Him.

Romans 3:21-26 (ESV)
²¹ But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law, although the Law and the Prophets bear witness to it— ²² the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction: ²³ for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, ²⁴ and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, ²⁵ whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God's righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. ²⁶ It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.

And Romans 6:23 (ESV)
²³ For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Some Thoughts...

Editor's note: This was written back in October 2014.

What if Michael Brown had been a white kid on drugs going after a black cop? Where would the sympathies lie? Would this even be in the news? Probably not, and it's my guess that that has happened countless times.

Racism goes both ways, and it takes both sides to see it to erase it. Even "good kids" can make bad choices.

And so what if he was a week away from going to college? What if the cop had been a week away from being married? Or having his first child? What if he had been killed by this "good kid a week away from going to college"? Would that be any less tragic -- or would it be deserved?

This was a matter for the local news in Ferguson...NOT the national news. And rioting over it? That's tragic.

No matter what "color" your pigmentation, you have to follow the law. They're there for the safety of EVERYONE.

Some Thoughts on Thursday

Nothing is impossible; the word itself says “I’m possible”! - Audrey Hepburn

There was never yet an uninteresting life. Such a thing is an impossibility. Inside of the dullest exterior there is a drama, a comedy, and a tragedy. - Mark Twain

Live your life and forget your age. - Norman Vincent Peale

Fourth of July Freedom

(I had some fun with PicMonkey. Heehee.)

Our family enjoyed a fun Fourth, as per usual -- nothing overly exciting or fancy but fun, nonetheless.

Personally, I think it's always fun to feel patriotic! It reminds me of the patriotic songs we sang when we were kids.

We started the day watching our borough's annual parade. We actually left 45 minutes early to get good seats (by good I mean in the shade and on the curb within reach of the candy-throwers). We live literally 5 minutes by car from the parade route, but we were glad to get there early since it was already getting crowded. It's our county's only 4th of July parade.

The fun of this parade is the camaraderie enjoyed by everyone attending and the colors displayed. Seriously. The borough gives a flag to everyone who wants one. If you gaze up and down the street all you see is red, white, and blue. It's fantastic!

Ethan was especially pleased with his flag this year.

Then comes the display of decorated bikes and wagons and floats and fire engines and old cars and veterans from the different wars and brass bands and...and... It really is a proud community moment, not unlike the ones my parents remember from their childhood town. We (my little family) actually started attending this parade before we lived in the borough.

When we got home, it struck me as sad when Edward said that he liked how he could be patriotic on the 4th of July without worrying about being laughed at or made to feel bad. "It the one day a year when it's okay to be patriotic out in public," he said. 

My heart froze. Have we as a nation made it taboo to be patriotic? Have we made kids feel like they need to hide those feelings of pride in who they are, who we all are, as Americans? 

Please don't misunderstand. I believe that ALL men (in the generic sense meaning men and women, boys and girls) are created equal -- no matter WHERE they live. But I am proud of my country and that I'm American...just as I'm proud that my husband Stuart is English and grew up in England...and that my friend Jade is Dutch...and another friend Geli is German, and yet another friend Rachel is Australian. I think we should ALL be proud of who we are and where we live. 

That's not exclusive, nor is it saying we're better than anyone else. We just love where we live and who we are.

But there's a feeling a foot that says that maybe some people think they're better when they're proud of who they are. Somehow that's not "allowed" anymore. We should be ashamed of the bad things our nation does...or has done.

Hmm...

I didn't do those things. I'm a nice person. And I think my nation is full of nice people. Maybe the government has made some mistakes...done some "bad" things, especially over the history of our nation. But the government is only a part of the whole.

We, the people, are the heart of the nation. And we need to have the freedom to show pride in that so that that heart continues to beat strongly.

*   *   *

Besides going to a fun parade and enjoying a yummy picnic with my family, we read aloud "The Declaration of Independence" as a family. Interesting stuff. Really. The Founding Fathers probably didn't realize how much history could repeat itself....

Reinventing a Company

We've gone to see a few movies recently, and I always get chills when the various movie product companies flash their ads across the screen. You know, for things like the surround sound, or the animation, or the digital picture.

Each one has a part -- whether large or small -- of the whole movie we're about to enjoy, and that's always exciting to me.

I know.

It doesn't take much sometimes.

*wink-grin*

The one that stood out the most to me this week was DLP, a Texas Instruments company.

Texas Instruments.

Wow! That company's name conjures up a ton of memories for me.

My dad's desk calculator. The early personal computer my aunt and friend each had: the TI-99/4. (We had the Commodore 64, which at the time seemed lightyears ahead.) The Speak & Spell. My very favorite-most toy: The Little Professor calculator (pictured above). My husband's graphing calculator.

I reminisce about some of these products with my children on the way home. We revisit times gone by....

It's exciting to see a company last so long by reinventing itself...moving along with the times, so to speak.

According to Wikipedia, "Digital Light Processing (DLP) is a trademark owned by Texas Instruments, representing a technology used in some TVs and video projectors. It was originally developed in 1987 by Dr.Larry Hornbeck of Texas Instruments."


Texas Instruments started in 1930 under another name and formally under the current name in 1951.

That's a lot of history...and a lot of fun to see that this company is still a part of our world.

Mom Sense...Again

I started these "Mom Sense" posts a few weeks ago with this post. And, periodically, I'll revisit the topic, as I did below.

As a kind of "disclaimer" to everything I post, I don't think my opinion is anything but that: an opinion. It's certainly not the last word on any given topic. I love to debate, as long as it's healthy and respectful...and I hope my "attempts" at humor will help you realize that in no way do I mean to be disrespectful and/or offensive to anyone.

*   *   *

"My mother saw your mother hanging out clothes......my mother punched your mother right in the nose...."

It's a very strange childhood song to a jump-roping or hand-slapping game...one I never really liked to sing. But, sadly, it's a realistic picture of the sometimes-silent/sometimes-loud competition between moms (and sometimes dads) that happens in today's world.

When did this start happening?

I don't remember my mom talking about such stuff when we were young...even though I'm sure it was there a bit.

I find it hard enough to teach my kids the importance of being themselves and not worrying about the peer pressure around them to "be the same"...when I'm fighting the same battle myself. Is it just a sign of jealousy and/or low self-confidence in the mom world?

Sadly, we feel it ALL the time.

And, for us, it started when I first got pregnant... Ugh. We decided on a homebirth. A homebirth?!?!?! Are you kidding?

Then it progressed all the way through the years. We bottle-fed. We homeschooled. We choose less activities for the kids (ie. one each).

In the beginning, I got "admiration" and told that I was SO brave for birthing at home. As I kindly pointed out to my "admirers," giving birth ANYWHERE is brave. Giving birth at home is just a different venue.  And until about 80 or so years ago, it was the norm.  My grandmother and her brother, who were from a well-to-do family in Philadelphia, were both born at home.

Then after I didn't breastfeed, I got scoffs and even some people telling me off, saying I wasn't doing what was best for my daughter and how she wouldn't be as smart or healthy because of it. I bit my tongue and watched (rather smugly, I'll admit) as the women who breastfed had to deal with ear infections and tummy upsets, sometimes more than I did. I didn't doubt what they said about breastfeeding at all. It is definitely the best option for babies -- and it's free!  But it wasn't in the picture for me -- even after I tried very hard to do it.

See that's what's called a "back story." The reason behind why somebody does or doesn't do something. But it's personal, private, and totally none of the business of casual bystanders or acquaintances.

Why should I -- or anyone, for that matter -- have to defend my decisions?

Take a look at the overall picture.  Are my kids healthy and well-fed?  Are they well-adjusted and intelligent?  Are they respectful and kind and obedient (most of the time)?

Then SHUT-UP! (Ooops...was that my out-loud voice?) Ahem, random stranger whom we've never met, er, um, please refrain from telling us your opinion of what we do in our lives.


Better? Sigh.

If our job as parents is to raise happy, healthy, good citizens to replace us and that's seeming to happen, why challenge it with griping about or criticizing our different methods of doing that?

I mean, seriously. To the person standing behind us at Starbucks, staring daggers at us before asking the "Question of the Day:"  Why do we homeschool our kids, even though we live in a perfectly good school district? Why not? (And why do you care? Ooops...out-loud voice again, huh?)

Wouldn't our job be a little easier with a few more pats on the back or encouraging words or hugs or, even, cheers?

Well, maybe. That and a few dozen cookies and cups of "milk" (or whatever you're drinking). *wink-grin*

I love opinions. I really do. And I love to share our "back story" with those who are truly interested...especially in the name of getting to know us better. I love hearing the same from those people for the same reason.

It's what makes a friendship stronger.

I wish that parents could walk beside each other, sharing ideas and methods and funny stories, without feeling like it's all a big competition.

It kind of takes the focus off of our kids, which is why we're called "parents" in the first place.

And it just makes sense.

The Job of Listening

One of the best parts of working for the newspaper is the fact that I get to be really, really nosy. I get to ask questions of people that would usually have me considered, to use a colloquialism, a "neb-nose." But it's all in the name of getting a good story, right? And most people enjoy talking.

Yet, with this fun, comes the added responsibility of how I handle this personal stuff, what I choose to include. I usually ask far more questions and get far more information that I can actually use. But by getting more than I need, I get to know my subject much better and can (hopefully) write a better story as a result.

I realized this morning, as I plowed through the 24 (!!) "mini" -- 200- to 450-word -- stories I'm doing for a "Shop Local" supplement our newspaper is producing in conjunction with the advertising department, that I've been a reporter, of sorts, all of my life.

I have always enjoyed sitting down and hearing the stories of people's pasts. I find myself transported back to another time and another place. Like a foreign country, everything feels strange and new and exciting. And I'm a very curious person.

Even as a little girl of 4 or 5, I would go next door to our older neighbor's house to have "tea" with her. I would listen to her stories. My mom said I was a "little old lady" way before my time.  But hearing people's stories gave me a kind of wisdom far beyond my years. It wasn't that I was wise...I became wise through the experiences of others.

But, lest you think I'm a great listener with the patience of a saint and the wisdom of Solomon, I'm not.

I enjoy listening, but I also want to "fix" things. If my "wisdom" gets ahead of me, I have a chronic urge to "pep talk" people -- even those who don't want help, who just need an ear.

I guess that's because it's a different kind of listening. One is to recount a story...the other to share a need.

My "wisdom" still needs tweaking.

On Love, Chaos, and Kids

The kids just left with their daddy to buy Mother's Day cards and gifts for me.  It's the first year that Ethan can join in.

I had a pang of sadness when they first left. 

On one hand, I was excited, knowing that they are going to pick out something sweet and thoughtful for me.

(They always do. It's such fun. I'm always amazed when I open the gifts they choose...especially when they explain why they chose whatever fun thing they found for me.  I have a "virtual violet," a glass banana, a T-shirt with "Mom's Barn Mom's Rules," and a statue of a rainbow bugie...among other fun things.

My favorite memory comes from Emily's first time going out with Stuart to pick the gifts for me. She chose -- very insistently -- a can of chicken noodle soup...and it had to be the Healthy Request kind since it didn't have MSGs and I could eat it. Why did she choose soup, you might ask? Because "Mommy likes soup." 'Nuf said. She was 2 1/2.)

Back to this evening... 

On the other hand, I had a terrible loneliness suddenly. I know so many moms who say that they just need a break, some peace and quiet. I'm not sure why I don't long for that. (Maybe I'm just strange?) I can't say that I haven't ever wished longed pleaded with God to give me that... But the house gets terribly quiet and dull without the noise of kids. I'm with them most of the time, unless they have an outside activity to attend.

Somehow kids are the life of a house. Their noise and craziness and emotions and giggles and constant chattering all swirl together to bring about a certain chaos called LOVE.

There's a warmth in it that you just can't understand until you've had it and then don't have it. (My heart goes out to those with "empty nests." I can't imagine how empty the house will feel when the last of our "love-chaos" moves out...)

It just takes stepping back for a moment -- out of the fray -- to really examine what's happening. Then, and only then, will you see the blessing of travelling -- with a husband and three crazy, silly, and loving kids -- on this roadway called parenthood.

Though sometimes it's better viewed from a bathtub filled with bubbles, accompanied by a big box of chocolates... Just don't forget to turn down the volume on your music when they get back.

Where Have All the Young Ones Gone...

When you give birth to a baby, you inherently know that at some point in the future you will have to let go of said-baby. If you don't, said-baby will let you know by kicking or crying or pushing away...somehow. And when that happens, life is forever going to be different.

For some that first "letting go" comes when they go back to work -- sometimes at 6 weeks or sometimes when the baby is slightly older. And when that happens, life is forever different.

For others, that first moment comes when the child goes to school -- whether preschool or kindergarten. They drop them off or wave goodbye to the schoolbus, knowing that life is forever different.

Then there are some who don't really do this "letting go" until the children are much, much older. They might choose to homeschool them, keeping them closer to home for awhile longer. There are outside activities, to be sure, like dance or soccer or theater or youth group or even a homeschool group. But the children haven't officially left home -- not in the traditional sense anyway.

School is done at the dining room table or the local coffee shop or the backyard or the library. Evenings are divided between family time and activities, the enjoyment of laughing together warming each family members' heart.

It's comfortable.

Summers pass peacefully with the minimum of activities and the maximum of books and drawing tablets and games and crafts and relaxation. Trips to the playground are punctuated by quick pop-ins to the library on the way home to pick out "just-five-okay-six-wait-no!-okay-ten" books to read in the next two evenings. Summer jobs aren't necessary just yet -- they will be soon -- but just not yet. There's time for exploration and fun...and the bliss of boredom.

But the summers end all too soon, and it's back to the books at the table and activities after dinner...

...thus, the seasons pass.

In the back of these parents' minds is the fact that at some point in the not-so-far-off future these days of comfort will end....the "schoolbus" will come for these children. And this comfort that has been enjoyed over the years will begin to change...and life will be forever different.

But different isn't bad, right? Different is just changed, and change can be good depending on how you look at it.

And this change will mean that time spent together as a whole family will be cherished a bit differently, treated as the treasure that it is -- special moments together enjoyed on a whole new level. Life will begin to open like the layers of a "cootie-catcher," each triangular fold opening up possibilities for a new kind of fun.

So it goes...the passing of one generation to another. We all grow older. It's all a part of having children, right?

It just feels like the summer ends too soon.

Thoughtful Thursday

“A story is a way to say something that can’t be said any other way, and it takes every word in the story to say what the meaning is. You tell a story because a statement would be inadequate.” 

~Flannery O’Connor

I (Anti-Heart) Social Networking...

It's a funny thing...cyberspace.

I've been a traveller in it all the way since its early days...back in the days of text only. Gasp! (My daughter did!) NO pictures. At all.

Remember those days? With "gophers" and other such oddities?

I remember sitting in my dorm room and managing to somehow "surf" into the Oxford University Library. I was so excited I sent a message to whomever it was that was named in the contact box. I felt like I'd flown over there and could actually see and smell the books (all in my head, of course).

The other day, I was explaining to my children how the Internet isn't really all that old. Well, not in its current form, anyway. And it's continually exploding with exciting new features. They were amazed. It wasn't always around? Really?

Nope.

But idlegrass.

Online social networking isn't all that old either. In the early days of the Internet, chatrooms were all the rage. With a username you could go into the same ones (if you were lucky to find them again) every day or explore others. It was fun, but it was also a clique-maker. An early and easy way to find yourself on the outside looking in -- but this time with people you didn't really know...at all.

Hmm...

Fast-forward about 15 years.

Now you have Twitter...and it's everywhere.

I joined Twitter about a year after it started.

...

And I couldn't really figure it all out. What was its purpose? I had a terrible time trying to boil down my thoughts into 140 characters. 140? Really? (It gets easier with practice I learned.)

The newness gone, I just stopped using it.

Then came Facebook...and it's everywhere, as well.

Again, I was left wondering why? What was the purpose? But I was sucked into it and suddenly I reconnected to friends I hadn't seen or heard from in decades.

Once.

It seems that it's not necessarily, or actually, a new-friend maker...or an old-friend reconnecter. (Well, not for everyone, anyway. It seems you have to be in the right "crowd," so to speak. Some friends seem to have endless chats with their friends. Idlegrass again.) In fact, I would venture to say I talk less with/to some friends now than I ever did. It's almost like they've "seen" me online so they don't need to chat with me anymore.

Hmm...

In fairness, I've probably fallen into the same trap and talk to/e-mail friends a whole lot less now, too.

So what to do?

I wanted to just quit both worlds (easier said than done, I found out). I felt so discouraged. But I decided to stay on and do an experiment to see if it would get any better.

I returned to Twitter, following a several-year hiatus, and found it was still who you were/who you knew.  I tried to connect with people, comment on their tweets, tweet my interest in their daily happenings.

My last personal tweet after a year or more of trying was: "Always on the outside of the window, looking in, nose pressed on the glass, watching the fun.... With that, I'll bid Twitterland goodbye...."

The only one who tweeted back was my then-12-year-old daughter, saying how sad she was for me.

Nothing from anyone else. Not even the crickets.

Sigh.

I guess it was a social-networking-experiment-gone-wrong? Or maybe it worked? It showed me that some people have it; others just don't.

Oh, well.  I've never been much of a social butterfly anyway....maybe more of a moth with friends?

*wink-grin*

...to be continued...

Thursday Thoughts

Today in my SPAM folder, I had a message with the subject line: "Find out when you will die."

Hmm...

It was a quiz to know when you will pass from this earth.

Not my idea of an uplifting subject, but it brought a thought to mind. If I really could know, would I want to know? Would we want to have the knowledge of how many days/weeks/months/years we might have left here?

Yikes. It would certainly change a lot of perspectives, huh?

While I'm not afraid to die -- thank You, God, for that blessed assurance -- I don't know how or what I would feel about that knowledge. What would I do with it? Would I try to live each day fuller, with more meaning? Would I be kinder and more joyful, knowing that I only had "X" amount of time to do that? Would I have more courage to tell more people about that assurance?

Or would I just give up and begin the countdown....

Hmm...

Maybe I should be living in that first way anyway.

Hmm...

A sobering, but important, thought to ponder, to be sure.

Exactly how am I living today?

Thoughtful Thursday

I love our language. I love the variations and quirkiness of many of our words and phrases. It's probably what makes me love to write so much. But sometimes I have to sit back and wonder what we really mean when we say certain things. Are we really listening to the words we pair together?

Hmm...

With that in mind... I bring you...

Top 35 Oxymorons:
35. Found missing
34. Legally drunk
33. Exact estimate
32. Act naturally
31. Found missing
30. Resident alien
29. Genuine imitation
28. Jumbo shrimp
27. Good grief
26. Government organization
25. Sanitary landfill
24. Alone together
23. Small crowd
22. Seriously funny
21. Soft rock
20. Butt Head
19. Only choice
18. Sweet sorrow
17. Rural Metro (ambulance service)
16. "Now, then ..."
15. Passive aggression
14. Clearly misunderstood
13. Peace force
12. Extinct life
11. Plastic glasses
10. Terribly pleased
9. Minor crisis
8. Larger half
7. Tight slacks
6. Definite maybe
5. Pretty ugly
4. Rap music
3. Working vacation
2. Unbiased opinion
1. Original copies

Mirror, Mirror...

I think how we perceive the world around us is formed early in our lives by our upbringing, our genetics, and even our personality.

But peers have a lot of influence on our thoughts and feelings, too, beginning at that magically age called "puberty."

It's like suddenly there are a thousand mirrors pointed directly at us, all of them with scrutinizing surfaces.

Still...

I've always been fascinated by mirrors.

Maybe it's because my grandmother has so many of them around her house, and it made her house seem enormous to me when I was smaller. It always reminded me of Lewis Carroll's story, Alice Through the Looking Glass... Was there really a whole other world located just beyond that thin piece of glass?

That said, I've never understood how the "Mirror" in Snow White knew that Snow White was the most beautiful. I mean, she was definitely lovely and very sweet, but most beautiful?

I was always taught that beauty is the eye of the beholder. It's how/what we perceive beauty to be...not necessarily fact or truth. What one person deems as beautiful might be considered homely or plain to another.

And that's okay.

People are always entitled to their opinions. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. We can hold fast to our own opinions, while respecting the other "beholder's" feelings.

And think about it. If everyone did that maybe then our world would reflect a nicer place?