Wow, what is this place? I'd almost forgotten I even had a blog. Of course, don't let this post get your hopes up; I don't want to be 're-bound' to its upkeep. I'm not sure I even know how to write anymore... maybe it's because this Christmas someone forgot to give me my yearly allowance of brains for the new year. Rats. This is going to be highly inconvenient. Ah, well. Everyone, I am not particularly pleased to introduce to you (though I must) Rachel's third personality: Imbecile. Say hi to the nice people, Imby. There's a good girl.

Well, I need to go put dear Imby to bed, so I may see y'all later. It was nice to say hey again. Goodbye, see you all later and all that rot. :-)



Ok, I'm back... kind of

Welcome home, Florida Rachel. Georgia Rachel missed you. It's nice to get together once again. Unfortunately (or fortunately some may feel) FLR was unable to contract a case of assiduous logorrhea for us while in the balmy south-er-than-GA. For translation of previous unusual words, please see the 'comments' section. I fear that we--though for no lack of trying--may never be blessed by this disease. It comes hard for those not born with it. It's in the genes, I'm sure.

You know, it sometimes comes in handy to have a split personality. You can blame something you did on the other half of you. Very handy, I say. Of course, the downside is that we tend to get confused by each other. Who is who, and all that rot. Can you imagine the row that would come to pass if one side continued to forget to tell the other important bits of information which applied to the both of them? *Shakes head* I guess it's not worth it after all.


Since I was an evil slacker Thanksgiving day, I figure I'll now save myself from a ticket to hell in a hand basket by listing a few things for which I am thankful. However, it's going to be "liberated" list in that it may end up becoming a list of things I like... or whatever...

1. my friendssssss (awwwww)
2. dried figs (yum)
3. the smell of leather (aaaah)
4. MY paint brush (I'm very possessive, if you couldn't tell)
5. my new soft, fuzzy, warm, cozy, purple socks (guys, you can roll your eyes all you wish, but just be aware that you're SO missing out on a gift from heaven)
6. speaking of guys, I'm really thankful for all of you; your godliness, faithfulness and perseverance in the way of Truth, how you treat us girls with a careful respect (NOT as in "The girls Rule, guys drool" point of view), and, because I know you're not just 'pious', I appreciate your humor and love for life (there, now I feel better)
7. all my girl friends! (you already know what I think of you)
8. coupon from friend for wooooooonderful thing *snickers* (it's an inside joke thing)
9. trees (yep)
10. causing people to laugh (because I like to know what it sounds like)
11. snail mail (though e-mail is a wonderful invention, nothing truly surpasses a letter in the mailbox with ones name on it)
12. dried dates with cream cheese (oh ah ooo yumm)
13. winter pansies (I'm in Georgia, remember)
14. all the people I know who just decided to move to GA because we have flowers IN THE WINTER
15. blogs (I'm loving learning more about you all and more about my own self, even, oddly enough, haha)
16. New York city (now that was random)
17. the Sabbath (what would life be like without it?)
18. health (rejoice in it, everyone, rejoice)
19. the patterns a vacuum makes on a rug (now you all KNOW I'm nuts, if you hadn't before)
20. oooh, nuts... fresh pecans! (and the way bits of shell fly about the room while one cracks the lil things)

The End


Ta ta

Bye people, I'm off for about a week down in the deep south (Florida). My internet connection will be minimal or nonexistant. *sniff*

Here's a parting gift:

In the morning I was glorious; at noon, the same; by evening it was as if I'd never been.


Unvarnished truth

The other day I met a man. I was making my way through the Mart of the Wal type, wandering about while waiting for my daaahling sister. I'd made it through the men's section and was just about to skitter into the women's when I was suddenly accosted by a tallish, thinnish, nice looking older guy. As he approached, he said quietly, "Excuse me, ma'am," and laid his hand on my arm.

Outwardly, I kept calm, but inwardly my mind was running the 100 yard dash in about three seconds flat. I thought: "Oh no! I've heard about this. Seemingly innocent looking older people who catch you off guard by acting nice and sweet, but then when they get close, they hit you over the head and make their escape with your pocket book!" And: "Arg, no! What do I do?? No one would understand if I pushed this guy over violently and dashed away yelling and waving my arms."

I swallowed and answered: "H-hello." He looked me straight in the eyes and with a twinkle in his asked me this question. "Do you know what the right eye said to the left eye?"

What on earth is he DOING? "Er... no, I don't know."

He twinkled again and answered his question: "There's something between us and it smells!"

Heh heh... hah..

Apparently that was the end of his mission, because he smiled brightly and with a cheery "Have a nice day!" walked away, leaving me standing there looking a bit stunned.

I'm still not sure why he picked me; maybe it was my face, which was quite serious, maybe even a bit gloomy. Who knows. But one thing I do know is he accomplished his mission and I spent the rest of my time in that store grinning and chuckling to myself.

Yay for nice old men who scare you silly and then proceed to make you laugh for the next half hour. :-)


That fawn, remember him?

I feel the need to make sure something is very clear. If you recall the post a while ago about the fawn; it was all true. There was only a small bit of poetic licence taken. I was finding it difficult to know for sure or not if everyone realized the post wasn't a joke. If anyone feels betrayed, please e-mail me and I'll do my best to make sure any damage done is taken care of. :)


laconic conundrum

A cowardly smile on the face of the kingdom of fruit.

Feeling Pathetic

Waaah! Each time I read Lisa's blogs about Israel this and Israel that, and live in the same house has her; it makes me feel sad and pre-lonely. Because she's going to leave without me! And that's just wrong. Wrong, I tell you. It'll teach me to allow delays in my departure. She's packing her suitcase, and I am not. She is getting progressively nervous as the day approaches, while I sit nearby, in perfect peace (for the moment, in any case). All this will end up meaning I will have to make the pilgrimage later (at least a month later, but maybe up to three {God forbid})all by my lonesome.

One might wonder about the purpose of my delay, which I won't go into completely, just enough to say my Dr. had to write a note to the airline telling them that I was not fit to fly. He did that so I could receive a full refund from my ticket. Which is handy. Please pray that everything works out as it should, because it's a bit out of our hands.

God is good! Have a happy Sabbath.


Just a couple pet peeves...

-The incorrect use of grammar: sentences ending with prepositions. Except of course, when in the house Yoda is.

-Please, don't do this either: "I found you're rubber ducky in the wardrobe (you are a rubber ducky? I'm so sorry...)"
"For Sale, egg's, carrot's and bean's! (which leaves one wondering what Egg, Carrot and Bean were selling)"
"I think their is a sugar plum sitting were there cabbages where before (I have no idea what this is supposed to mean)."

-Misplaced or nonexistent punctuation: the classic "Eats, shoots and leaves (talking about the eating habits of pandas)"
"Above the trees rose red against the sky (is Red a person?)"
"I chose the colors pink, green and blue was her first choice (whaaa'..?)"
"Time flies when we are having fun, we are always having fun (sounds like the speaker isn't convinced it's true)."

There's so much more, but I'm starting to annoy myself dredging it all up into list form. Anyone else have some to add?


Confessions of an arachnid

They all say I am clumsy, and I suppose I oughtn't quibble because I do tend to trip over at least one of my eight feet a day. But it's so hard to keep track of them all! Maybe I should blame my mother... she only had seven. Once, on a quiet evening; full and comfortable from a large meal, she told me The Story. Seems like a human kid got ahold of her and removed one and would have finished the grisly job but for the advent of my mother's friend the Wasp. He he. She still snickers at the memory of that kid's yells. But then, once she gets thinking on the subject, she invariably commences recounting the details of Father's death, which brings a tear or two to several of her many eyes. Abruptly, however, she'll catch herself and change the subject; wary be anyone who attempts to comfort, she's been known to pin one to the floor with a small web and leave in a huff.

I can't criticize her, though, because she did a thorough job of teaching me the intricacies of human dodging. They tend to be a dangerous lot; almost always at the sight of one of our kin they'll grab a nearby stick and--knocking us flying, our legs flailing wildly--wreck havoc to the painstakingly woven work of art which is our home. Our means of bread-winning! Or might I say, capturing warm flesh and blood. I become hungry merely writing about it.

I think most of you may know me as Charlotte (as in Charlotte's Web). What you don't know is that movie was a farce. I allowed it to be shot in an attempt to shed a better light on all spiderdom. But it didn't work, not really, and I tire of living a two-faced life. Obviously, I did not die at the end of the tale, and the pig... the pig--I shudder even now--was in no way my friend. People may never know what I went through trying to accomplish something heroic for all other spiders. I doubt I will ever completely recover.

Hmm, one more comment before I end this interview. I really do not appreciate what they did to poor Shelob in LOTR. She was my distant relative... like maybe my second cousin's stepson's sister's daughter... something like that. In any case, I PROTEST!



Busy, busy, busy, BUSY.


Let me count the ways

I wanted to write a post about how much I love my friends and will miss them, but then decided it would sound too sappy, so I didn't.


I even confused myself writing this one

Three in a row. One two, two ones, one one: each covered by a set of two fives.


Oy vey!

What DO I do? In about twenty-five days, Lisa and I will board a plane bound for Israel (D.V. of course). I love Israel, but it's a quiet thing with few outward manifestations like some people I know. Which sometimes makes me wonder what on earth is wrong with me. But, of course we need all kinds, can you imagine if everyone was like... well, like those who express their fervency in more of an outward manner.

In my contemplations about my intended trip I've come to the decision that I really love my home and friends here and don't want to leave. However, I also think of what opportunities will take me by the throat (yes, this is often how I view change and unusual happenings in my life) over in Israel, and find myself wishing to dive right in. Somewhat like doing a cannonball into a frigid lake instead of slow, painful immersion. Iiieeeeeyowww. Not good. Wait a sec... yes, good. What an amazing opportunity I have! So many new people to meet, places to see, things to experience, and daily chances to work on changing my personality from retiring to wildly sanguine.

As it looks now, I'll be working with the Phanns/UHL doing grunt work. Whatever needs to be done. Transcribing, making meals, this and that. I can't seem to get a straight answer from Lisa. Probably because she doesn't know for sure either. It'll be like a treasure box, only to be opened once I arrive.

I'll get to meet the mass of friends Lis and Kate gathered while there before, and Kate is sending a pile of old pictures with me to use as clues in a treasure hunt. If I manage to get a camera in hand before I leave, I'll take those pictures with me as I wander the countryside to see if I can manage to replicate them with a new and improved photo. It sounds like a lot of fun.

Oh, did I forget to mention how long I would be over there? Seven months is the plan. I hadn't quite realized the exact length of time until one day Lis was talking to someone about our projected trip and stated the length. I was extremely surprised, to put it mildly. More like: Rachel's hair stands on end. Aaaaaaah! Yikes. :-D

There's a few thoughts. My attention span just left for other horizons, so I think I'll follow it for now. I'm sure you'll hear more on the subject in the days and months to come.


Current mood: grouchy

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Quotes for the day

"Who says the Eternal Being does not exist? Who says the sun has gone out? Someone who climbs up on the roof and closes his eyes tight, and says, I don't see anything." - Jalal-Uddin Rumi

"The world is moving so fast now-a-days that the man who says it can't be done is generally interrupted by someone doing it." - Elbert Green Hubbard (1856-1915) American Writer, Printer, Businessman


Ding! You are blessed once again...

Thunder: no fear
Lightning: a burned scar
Wind: I bow
Rain: thirst quenched
Sunshine: spread arms and a smile
Moonlight: shadows in the dark
Tree shade: my brothers, my friends
Bird song: familiar refrain

Who am I?


Hmm, long blog (for me, in any case).

I sneezed with violence, my shoulders convulsing. A puff of white dust sidestepped from my arm and caught a ride on the breeze as it passed through the window. Somehow, sanding sheet rock isn't on my list of favorites. It makes my hair go grey, on my head and down my arms. It highlights the creases at the corners of my eyes and makes unwanted pilgrimages up my nasal passages.

"Phew," I muttered as I shuffled down the stairs to the front door. With a twist of the wrist, I swung it open, leaving a white hand print behind for posterity. Our daily friend the sun was bright in my eyes. I raised my hand, making my own personal shadow across my face. Once my eyes finally adjusted to the brightness, I took a look about the wide open lawn. Nice trees about the edge, pretty pond across the way, lovely horses in a pasture just over there. Hmm, nice... yes.

I started to take a long, deep breath in appreciation for the dustless air, but it turned into another violent sneeze. I guess I must have had a halo of that beastly dust hanging about my head. "Oh hum," I coughed as I trudged towards my sister's car. From it, I was thinking of grabbing my paint brush to use later after the sanding was done. But my progress was suddenly halted when from around the back of the car stepped... a fawn! I stopped. It stopped. We gazed at each other with a measure of curiosity.

It was about hip high, a fawn just out of its spots. Dark limpid eyes, pools of innocent water under the limbs of bowing trees. Large, white lined ears, wide set, ever moving to catch each sound. I could go on with the description, but then I'd bore you all. Onward I go...

It stepped towards me, right into my personal space. And do you know what it did? It commenced sniffing me like a dog. Small snuffly noises, soft touches with its moist nose on my hands which I had held out towards it, palms upward. Slowly, I slid my hand down its neck and across its narrow back. Have you ever seen a deer up close? They are a work of slender elegance. Which means, for a fawn, extreme sticklike-ness. All impossibly thin legs and neck and, and, and. I think you get the point.

This fawn allowed me to run my hands down its legs and to scratch behind its radar-like ears. I moved over to the car and reaching through the open window, picked up an open bag of Cheetos. Yum. The fawn's nose moved into overdrive. Then, it did something that totally caught me off guard. It jumped up and placed it hooves on me in an attempt to reach the source of the delectable smell. I then experienced another new thing. Fawn hooves are practically razor sharp. Yikes! I fended it off and moved towards the door... I suppose I should really get back to work.... *sigh*. All good things must come to an end, as they say. I pushed the door open and moved inward, but the silly little beast attempted to follow. Grr... "Back, back!" I said. It was a pathetic attempt to sound stern, but who can yell at such a sweeeeeet little deer? So I did the next best thing. I pushed it away and closed the door in its face.

Trudge, trudge, up the stairs. Back to work, hey ho.



In the mines of Moria, Gandalf and Frodo speak together while they rest from their travels.

Frodo, his countinence weary and troubled, sighed. "I wish the Ring had never come to me... I wish none of this had ever happened." "So do all who live in such times", Gandalf replied, "but it is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring. In which case, you were also meant to have it." Gandalf smiled. "And that is an encouraging thought."


Rolling with Laughter

Paint. There must be some reason that word is only a letter away from 'pain'. This is what I've mused at times during the long hours of flinging paint about rooms. Then the second wind: "I can do this forever! I love painting!" Ah... there's nothing like discovering the joy of intimate communion with a paint roller. Everyone should have a chance to experience this joy at one time or another. If you had come along the other day while I was painting the white picket fence... I might have pulled a "Tom Sawyer" on you.

Then there is the frustration. Today, I was in the bathroom placing a cream color over a slightly darker cream, while in the bedroom right through the door my mum and Katie were having fun with purpley color. I slaved away, rolling, brushing, standing on high ladder, and low ladder. Then one of them walked into the room and asked, "Which walls have you painted so far?" Arggggggggggggggh! The lighting in the room did a good job of masking my masterpiece of applied talent. In fact, the color I was using actually made the whole place look worse, worse I say, than its original state because it needed two coats. Imagine patchy half-applied paint. Their efforts transformed their room, while mine made the bathroom look diseased. *SIGH*

Something else. At the end of a long day of lovingly laying latex layers on lousy walls I sometimes become a bit... shall we say, loud about current observations on my situation. Have you ever knelt on a marble vanity? My poor skin, mashed, ground between bone and immovable marble. I yelled about it. Katie came with concern to see if I was ok. I was... in her eyes, anyway. Then, I bumped my wrist against the steaming hot bulb of the vanity lights. I yelled again. Next... I dripped more paint! Ooops. From the great height of about fifteen feet (very high ceiling). I climber allll the waaaay doooown the tallll ladder to wipe the lousy dot from the floor. Then alll the way back up the seemingly endless rungs (heights make me weak-kneed). More yelling about the unfairness of life in general. Suddenly, from the other room I heard.... laughing. Katie was laughing. At ME! *angry eyes*

I say. Talk about adding insult to injury. Her beeeeautiful room. My diseased one. My pain. Her comedy show. Grrr.

Poor pitiful me.


Ancient history

Trails of vapor swirl evilly, twining themselves about the gnarled extremities of the crusty dragon. She shifts her hulking weight and snaps up her head, spraying a fine mist of noxious vapor. The curious villagers who had been standing at a safe distance looking on in nervous interest shriek with terror and flee in all directions. Gripped by panicky haste, they collide with each other, sprawling in tangled heaps of humanity, flailing limbs clawing the lowering sky. The dragon snorts, the sound of it raising hair on the peon's arms. She turns again and fixes her red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes upon her surroundings, letting loose another cataclysmic suspiration. Bending low, she rasps her scaly head along the instep of her great, clawed foot. Passionate indignation grips her and she moves as lightning to pour it out upon the world. Raring up, her sides heave as she inhales in preparation for a mighty blast. Suddenly, a thin cry pierces through the mists of her confused mind. "Raaaaaaaaaaaachelllllllllllllll!!" The dragon sits down abruptly with a mighty thump, looks about with an embarrassed air and blinks painfully. Then, as she rubs her eyes once again, she mumbles to herself, "Stupid eye cold." Turning on her bed, she curls into a small ball and withdraws under the covers... a diminutive lump of misery.



Things to avoid

-a territorial rooster
-overripe bananas (on second thought, all bananas)
-a ceiling fan right over a bunk bed
-the female brain
-the piece of real estate directly behind a grouchy equine
-squdgie grapes
-touching the end of a nine volt battery to the tip of your tongue
-wrestling with a friend who is stronger than you, unless you enjoy being creamed
-riding a scooter down a rain-slicked hill
-standing on a wheeled office chair
-standing near a fire ant hill
-driving a lawn mower directly beneath a branch which only just clears the seat back
-eating plain cocoa powder
-rug burns on the face (don't ask)
-eating inhabited peaches
-tripping while mucking out a barn
-holding a sister's hand while she touches the electric fence (the current skips her and gets you)
-swimming in leech infested waters
-large angry billy goats with big horns
-forgetting to put the roll of film in the camera before use
-soggy Cheerios
-spilling hot wax on your favorite shirt
-the careless navigation of a creek using slippery stones
-placing a hot glass baking dish in cold water
-taking a nap under the hot sun while wearing sunglasses (think raccoon)
-telling Joe B. Jr. that you know how to butcher chickens
-losing the rip cord on the way down
-shooting a gun at a body of water
-joking about faux bombs in earshot of airport security
-nagging ("which is the repetition of unpalatable truths." Edith Clara Summerskill)
-writing long lists without any apparent end
-this must be the end then, apparently


From the ridiculous to the sublime

Katie, a little something for you.

Terms to use the next time you fall off your bike: schmucked, snorked, yerked, doinked, munched, hunted moles, dug for worms, chewed mud, went nose surfing, communed with the centipede gods, tasted the trail, got a free tattoo, ate a sidewalk sandwich, did a close-up geological survey, hugged the earth, rode the nose hoe, got a topsoil makeover, made a gravity check [just to make sure it still works], became one with the Earth, did a flying dismount, added to my scab collection, used my face brake, sniffed soil, boned [i.e., hit so hard your flesh was ripped to the bone], and made dirt angels. (www.cannondale.com)

For the rest of us:

Cowardly, wayward, and weak,
I change with the changing sky,
Today so eager and strong,
Tomorrow not caring to try.
But He never gives in,
And we two shall win,
Jesus and I.


I'm curious...

who does visit here, anyway?

I don't have one of those nasty hidden things that keeps records of who came, for how long, how often, where they were from (generally)... etc.

Sooo, if anyone wishes, leave a note. :-D


Sorry, no original title came to mind

I'm back. Mostly in my right mind, whatever that means. The statement "In my right mind" has been firmly changed for me, which is, I suppose, ok. Usually. It gives one a new view on life in any case.

So, a list of observations/thoughts.

-God is good

-I am so richly blessed with so many friends, that I don't know what to do with myself. Except miss them like crazy all the way down here in Georgia. *sniff* Poor pitiful me. If anyone wants to pop down and say hi, I've already paved the way.

-Please, nobody ask me to drive anywhere again. Not for a Very Long Time. The trip home took all of 24 hours. Lisa set her alarm for 11:45pm, we left Fairwood at about 12am, and precisely as we drove into our driveway in warm GA her alarm went off again at the previously set time. Cool, yes? At least I thought so.

-I love the Feast!!! God did some amazing things for me while I was there. I think some of you might have wondered if I was even able to be serious... because I spent a lot of my time acting a bit giddy, or at least, uhm, not serious. But that was only because I was so happy to be there with my friends. 'Friends' is another word to be redefined. Try: People-who-know-the-real-me-and-still-love-me-and-are-(and have been)-there-for-me-through-thick-and-thin... etc. (You, my friends, have been a good part of the reason I am on my feet again.) Also, people who have gone through the thick and thin and are still here, loving God, following Him, not giving up. It's not something at which to sneeze. We hold each other up, in joy, in happy times, in pain, through agony. We don't dash in and shout a quick "Aww, you'll be ok!" We stand by faithfully, because we are following God faithfully.

-Wow, I didn't know I was going to write all that. Glad I did, though.

-Yikes! It's time for me to go to bed. I've got a lot of misplaced sleep to discover.

-One more thing... WORTHY IS THE LAMB!


Proepr Egnilsh

If you have cohesn to pulgne itno tihs praagarph, I cmomned you. The cahnecs of yuor giannig ertxa bornwy piotns are qeiut hgih. Dno't wrory, I wlil rirfein form dawrnig tihs out to the pniot of pian. By tihs tmie, I am srue you hvae ddecued taht I ralely hvae ntohnig of geart wrtoh to sttae. Trehe may be a pniot in my lfie wehn I wlil hvae lraend the porepr alpcitaoin of "bum glue" (tihs maens I've lraend how to mkae msylef sit lnog eonguh to get smoetihng wrohtwihle wirtetn) and porudecd a 800 pgae book auobt the Bobmradier btleee wihch esxits in Dpeeets Arfica. Hwoveer, uitnl taht cmoes to psas, I am vrey srory to auonnce taht you wlil hvae to cnoitune ptutnig up wtih my praitucalr barnd of mmulbnisg. Hvanig siad taht, I do now sgin off.

P.S. Ben and Jrrey's Sratwrreby Cehseckae ice caerm is the bset ice caerm out tehre. Eevr. *etas aonhter btie* Yummmmmmmmmm.


The problem is solved!

'If Israel surrenders, we'll all be friends'

So asserted Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf in a speech to American Jewish leaders in New York Saturday.

May I laugh now?? Puullleeeseeee?? Yes?!?




Shun not a riddle

quiet, simple, daily I come,
or at least one hopes.
for some, I am avoided,
set aside for other attractions.
others rejoice in my advent,
and embrace me as one would
a long lost friend.
some overindulge in me
and I, in bemusement stand by.
to others, I fear, I am like a flitting butterfly,
almost impossible to catch.
without me for too long and you may begin to show
the characteristics of inebriation.
other times, I sneak upon the unsuspecting
and wreck havoc in their existance.
without enough of me, you are sunk.
with too much of me,
you may miss out on the chance to earn daily bread.
I think your IQ may be affected if you shun me. how sad!
who am I?


Oh. My. Word.

I met a rather gregarious nine year old young lady today. Three minutes after she'd figured I was most likely a "safe" human, she launched into her life's work. Talking. I learned all about the play she's in, and how she'd been in the lead part for three years, but this year she had to be a background character. Which she despised, and told me in no uncertain words that she knew she was a much better actor than the girl who took her place.

In a normal situation, by now I'd be close to going on my way, however, this time I was spending a couple hours in her house lending aid to her family who are in the midst of moving. So I was privileged to work with her the majority of the time.

Anyway. The flow rushed onward, and I soon found myself privy to many of her deepest thoughts, ideas, wishes, and experiences. Fascinating, I'm sure. A couple times she'd suddenly stem the onward tide and ask me with all seriousness if she was talking to much. I made the mistake of telling her that I was the "like to listen" type and that she wasn't bothering me. Later, she asked again, I gave a similar answer and she told me that sometimes her dad would "tell me I needed to talk less... but I could tell he was trying his best to be polite!"

About two hours later, nearing the end, I'd been in and out of the house carrying heavy laden boxes to deposit in the back of their Suburban. She was inside, and her little brother was outside. As I stepped through the door and closed it, I could hear the distressed cries of her brother behind me. Turning to my young friend, I wondered aloud if maybe she should check on him "because he sounds upset". She paused a moment in the middle of her soliloquy and blandly stated: "Oh, I don't care." And without missing hardly a beat, she charged onward to complete her story.

Wow. I stand amazed.

In conclusion, I have two things to say. The first being... her brother ended up being just fine. The second would be... please don't try and cash in on my listening abilities for a while, I do believe they are all used up.



I don't know why, but it's true. I don't understand, but I'm not confused. There are things that defy logic, weave themselves into tangled webs, and climb mountains on trails with a multitude of switchbacks. I thought it was this way, but it's not; I thought it was that way, but it's far beyond ken. My knowledge of the world is like a mouse that thought he was a man. Much smaller than that of which I was so sure. In a day perspective is reborn, a night, and the universe turns its face. What once was facing me is now a profile. Unfamiliar. A friend is become a stranger. A stranger however, who carries into my wondering sight a faint remembrance of a long lost soul-twin. What is this new life? Why am I walking its weary way? And as I'm sure you're wondering, gentle reader, what on earth is the purpose of this gathering of words... ? There is none! Except for the simple reason that I love words and I love braiding them together. Hahahahaha....


Poetry of the senses

Muttering through doors, pruning leaves from trees, creating patterns on sand dunes and moving the waters of the sea into a waltz. The scent of water lifted from source to parched physique. Cool fingers caressing fevered brow, memories found within a long forgotten scent, the deja vu of moments from yesterday. Taste of rain: carried, imminent. Singing through the trees, clapping their hands. Who am I?


A lil bit of this, a lil bit of that

It's amazing how nice it is to be home. I've been dashing about the country side since February and had been beginning to wonder if I actually had a home. It looks as though I do. At least it's a house in which my family lives... close enough for me. A built in chauffeuring service... yesssss. Kinda like Driving Miss Rachel. Though a bit younger. Sadly, however, I'd much rather be painting the highways red in my glossy lil BMW Z4. Imagine, owning one, but minus the permission to drive?? Oh the pain. Anyway.

A snapshot from today:

It lays in the palm of my hand, this diminutive orb. I dare no let it stay too long for fear it will commence a slow, but certain deposit of its color. By which I mean melt. What happens when something sensitive to heat is placed in contact with... surprise, surprise... heat. I digress. Its color is yellow, with two bold letters printed in white. It carries with it a faint odor, sweet, pleasing. My mouth waters in response to this stimuli. I flip it high into the air, tilt my head back, open my mouth and arrest its downward plunge on my tongue, but not without it nicking my tooth on the way in. Which creates a twinge of pain, but it is by far worth it. I close my mouth, the temperature rises and the hard outer coating melts away to reveal the inner dark heart. Dark, rich, smooth, eye closing flavor. "Mmmmm." Sadly, this bit of heaven is consumed quickly and my disappointment would begin to rise if I did not have a whole bag. A whole bag of them. Hoooooo boooyyyy. What would one do without M&Ms?



Sorry, people. I just recevied my first spam, and my response to it is activating the word verification option. My humble apologies.


Eureka! It's the... meaning of life... ?!?

If I had a life, I might have something to write about.

But then again, what is a life?


The Flip Side

Well, people, I tried switching it (see comments in last post), tell me what you think. Or add suggestions if you wish.

The Pits
Eleven different people fell into eleven different pits and couldn't get themselves out.

A SUBJECTIVE person said to the person walking by:
"I feel for you, up there."

An OBJECTIVE person said:
"It's logical that I would fall down here."

"I am righteous! I pray every day on the street corners, why was that not enough to keep me out?!?"

calculated all the mathematical possibilities for his escape from the pit.

called his editor and announced he'd stumbled into a great lead for a headline.

"I don't deserve my pit!"

An I.R.S. man
made a note to audit the owner of the pit, to see if he had cheated on his taxes.

A SELF-PITYING person said:
"Woe is me! Everyone come see how horrible my life is now! I am a victim!"

confessed he was not in the pit.

"Things could be worse," and finished drinking his half full glass of water.

"Things have been terrible, now they are horrible, and I'm positive they are only going to get worse from now on!"

JESUS, seeing them, took them by their hands and LIFTED THEM OUT of the pits.

-Source Unknown


Quotes of the day

"We cannot let our burdens paralyze our progress." -Barbara Johnson

Feeling down?
"Just remember that behind every dark and stormy cloud... is a ruined hairstyle and worms on the sidewalk." -Source Unknown

The Pit
A man fell into a pit and couldn't get himself out.

A SUBJECTIVE person came along and said:
"I feel for you, down there."

An OBJECTIVE person came along and said:
"It's logical that someone would fall down there."

"Only bad people fall into a pit."

calculated how he fell into the pit.

wanted the exclusive story on his pit.

"You deserve your pit."

An I.R.S. man
asked if he was paying taxes on the pit.

A SELF-PITYING person said:
"You haven't seen anything until you've seen MY PIT!"

"Just confess that you're not in the pit."

"Things could be worse."

"Things will get worse!"

JESUS, seeing the man, took him by the hand and LIFTED HIM OUT of the pit.

-Source Unknown


You asked for it, you got it, Lisa

ONCE upon a time there was a little girl who attended a small one room school... it was, actually, in the basement of the church her dad pastored. And to further the interest, the intrepid teacher of this diminutive school was her aunt. There were, on the peak year, twelve students who spent their days imbibing wisdom and knowledge like a smack* of jelly fish caught in a sand storm. They all loved school and wept when there were snow days.

For gym class they enjoyed a plethora of unusual games or sports. One of which was balloon volleyball played inside on the carpeted school room's floor. For a net, a line of colorful yarn spanned the width of the room, tied to the knob of a door and the latch of a window. Even though, as would be expected, it was a game in slow motion because the balloon was never in any particular hurry, they regularly came away with rug burns on elbows and knees. Some days, during the midmorning break, they pushed their desks into the middle of the room and turned the outer edge into a race track. Zooming around the room, they laughed and yelled, blowing off steam built over the hours spent brain stretching. Until just recently, for it was just repainted, one could visit that room and still see the scuffs and nicks on the walls left from their wild dashing.

They had a really cool teacher.

Anyhow, the narrator has digressed. This little girl was named Lisa. She was a star student. She always got A's. She was loved by all the other students, they looked up to her and when asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, they always answered; "I want to be just like Lisa when I grow up." She also, was very cool.

And she still is, even though she has grown up to become an Adult (not that there's anything wrong with Adults...). She writes amazingly, she's terribly smart, she loves God with all her heart (which is the most important thing of all), and she also loves her family. And her family loves her. All in all, she's amazing.

And that's the end of my little tale.




Bloggers' block!




Sorry about the mess, this place is


And if anyone wants to leave comments or suggestions towards the end product, please feel free.

Disclaimer: Just because you suggested something does not mean I will use it.

Thank you very much.



I just bought myself a pair of sunglasses. Woohoohoo!

You can see them here.

My uncle is so smart

Here's an idea for a bumper sticker Gerry came up with the other day:

Hitler was pro choice
He chose the Jews

© G.A.


I just have to say...

that I have fallen and I can't get up.

Actually, I got myself one of those mood indicator thingies, just because I felt like it.

One note: I placed as the current mood "vulnerable", not because I'm feeling that way, but just to point out that it's an idiotic choice. Who, if they were truly feeling vulnerable, would actually tell the whole world???

I just don't understand...

The Tale of Two Teeth: Part two

In the days since I had my wisdom teeth forcibly removed, I'd found there was a specific source of pain other than the bereft sockets. The stitches. Every time I spoke, chewed (have you ever tried to chew food without using either side of your jaw? ...I didn't think so...), yawned, or stretched my jaw beyond a certain point, the inflexible stitches remained just that way, inflexible. Which of course means my poor shrinking, tender inner mouth protested loudly. Even to the point of bleeding when I sometimes forgot myself and opened my mouth too far or yelled (yes, I do that sometimes) at Fritha or Jeff (in fun, of course). I'd suddenly find myself clutching my jaw in agony, all the while trying to stifle laughter that insisted on recognition. Cringing, with shoulders hunched, hands on face, brow furrowed, and muffled "ha ha's" escaping through my fingers and out my nose. The sounds I made were rather amusing. I spoke carefully, as though I had wads of gauze in my cheeks, or just avoided talking at all unless it was of vital importance. Of course, it's not like I talk overly much anyway... so the silence in the house didn't really grow. *sigh* Oh well. I found also that there's a lot one could say without actually opening their mouth.

Me: "Mhhph!"
Frith: "What?"
Me: "Hmmph, mmph, mmmh!"
Frith: "Huh?.... arrrgh!"

Which is to say, "Fritha! Don't step in that!"

Maybe it didn't work quite as well as was hoped...

So, yesterday when I went to have the lil buggers removed, the oral surgeon looked in my mouth and said with great aplomb, "Oh, your stitches are a little tight."

You don't say.


Those of us who dream...

should avoid sleeping.


Once upon at time...

In my search for quality blog material, I have been wracking my brains for anything interesting or exciting from my past. I've come up strangely blank (this is not a cue for laughter). All I've dredged from the deep, dark past has been mind-numbingly boring anecdotes, painful memories about bodily harm which has befallen my person and the evil things I have done to torture my siblings. None of which could possibly contain enough information for even a remotely intriguing blog.

On the other hand, there may be many things about my person that you all never knew, which would shatter your knowledge of who I am, rock your worlds and provide fodder for whisperings in dark corners. If this is true, then obviously I won't tell you, which means you now all will be in painful suspense for the rest of your existences. Just think... all those minutes of not knowing... hoursss... daysss.... monthsss... yearsss... and yes, even decades! Woohoo, what fun!

Or maybe I'm just feeling particularly lazy and don't want to stir myself to operate on my barred memory. This, I fear, is far more likely. I'm convinced my siblings could deluge me with many things I've done, most of which I'm sure I've blocked from memory to avoid drowning in guilt. Or maybe it's actually true and my life has honestly been too boring for words. In which case I'd really rather not make anyone cry.

And now I have once again created a blog about absolutely nothing. That must be some kind of desirable talent. Please tell me it's true.



Unless you have a dire need (like keeping the world as we know it from coming to an unfortunately premature end), never have your wisdom teeth removed.

It's not worth it, believe me.



The purpose of this post is not to be depressing. I've been building this collection of verses for a while, and if anyone knows of one I don't have, please feel free to leave it as a comment.

Luke 6:21 "Blessed are those who are hungry. They will be satisfied. Blessed are those who are crying. They will laugh."

Psalm 126:5 "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy."

2 Timothy 1:4 "I remember how you cried, and I want to see you, because that will make me truly happy."

Ecclesiasties 3:4 "A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;"

John 11:35 "Jesus wept."

Lamentations 3:49-50 "My eyes will flow without ceasing, without respite, until Jehovah from heaven looks down and sees..."

Psalm 56:8 "You have kept record of my days of wandering. You have stored my tears in your bottle and counted each of them."


Oh yeah

Life has a funny way of washing in and blowing all good intentions out the door. I had intended to post with relative frequency. I also intended to do a lot of other things, but I guess God thought they would have been too boring. I'm still working on that one.

In the mean time, I have nothing of consequence to write. My brain has grown chummy with a puddle of molasses and for fear of starting a cerebral war, I shall not insist too strongly that I pump something worthwhile onto the screen.

So, instead, I'll just mutter about this and that. And if I start to remind you of the crazy man wandering down the streets of Jerusalem, just smile and nod, I'll get over it sometime.


There's been a lone goose hanging about the Demme's dock recently. Which, for those of you who are not informed, is unusual in the middle of the summer. Geese mate for life. They never divorce. Thank God. So. Anyway... I have grown accustomed to its face... beautiful, smooth, black feathers. White chin strap. Nose a tad long, but countenance pleasant over all. Dark eyes, pools of quiet water. Long, elegantly muscled neck and broad wings, ever ready to swiftly carry it away. I have decided he will be my goose prince and I will name him Squishy. No, wait! Just kidding. How pathetic.

From my wanderings through a multitude of blogs, I have come to this conclusion: I will not use the words "musings", "rants", or "ramblings" in my blog unless I have no other recourse. In and of themselves, they are dandy words, however, they have just been used far too many times, turning them into something one might refer as "the proverbial" word. I truly dislike blending in with the crowd when it comes to writing. Whether I've succeeded in separating myself or not is entirely another discussion. For another day. Thank you.

And here, to end this for now, is a quote: "We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them." - Albert Einstein (1879-1955) German-born American Physicist


More creative writing, how boring

~Ann came home after school to find a cow in her living room.

School had been stressful. The children hadn't behaved and the temperature was far too cold for the one room schoolhouse's stove to hold at bay. Ann trudged through the pasture between her house and the school, careful to miss the treacherous patches of ice coating the snow. She tucked her fingers under her arms; her gloves left a lot to be desired.

As Ann made her way to the gate, she groaned inwardly. Its wooden slats hung loose. "Oh you stupid beast," she mumbled, her lips stiff with cold. It was evening and to the north a storm was gathering; dark, troubled clouds, and raising wind that bode ill news. The temperature would drop far tonight. "That cow will just have to care for itself," was her decision.

She made her way up the two steps to her door, pushed inward into her small home. It smelled strange. And over the moan of the wind Ann heard something heavy fall with a crash to the floor. She screamed, jumped behind the door and carefully peered around its solid comfort into the room. By now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

Ann laughed with relief. Across the room, leaning against the table, was the errant cow. It had made itself at home, enjoying the comparative warmth. Who wouldn't?


Creative writing 101

Take this sentance: Angela's first skydive was more of a thrill than she'd expected.

And change it to this:

"Breathe," was the recurrent thought. "Breathe in and out." Slowly, that is what the instructor had said. Relax your shoulders... pretend you are watching the white clouds scud across the azure sky from your hammock. And whatever you do, don't look out that open door where the wind screams, its fingers reaching, searching for something to drag off into the roiled atmosphere behind the tail of the speeding plane. Don’t look yet, anyway. And try not to think of what will happen once the correct altitude is achieved.

Angela couldn't believe she'd allowed her brother to talk her into this insanity. Three days, that's how long it'd taken him to beat through her protests. She now wished she'd been stronger... stronger than how her knees felt now. Wobbly. She kept them locked to keep herself upright and grasped the straps dangling from the ceiling of the plane as though her life depended on the strength of her strangle hold.

It was a good thing too, for with a suddenness that took her breath away again, the plane hit an extreme down draft and wildly lost altitude. The greedy wind screamed with anticipation, but Angela somehow held her position, though her head had hit the metal brace above. As the plane fell, now out of control, its right wing was knocked skyward with violence by a rouge updraft. Angela's world spun and she felt herself take wing, slam against the sharp edge of the cargo door, and tumble head over heels into the great outdoors.

"That's going to be a whopper of a bruise," was the abstract thought that flitted through her stupefied brain as she did cartwheels across the sky. Frankly, Angela wasn't quite herself. But, nature kicked in and reminded her that it was probably in her best interest to heed the warning, "Earth to Angela, earth to Angela." Literally. The terror of imminent doom burst her bubble of apathy, making way for memories of the instructor's wisdom to flood in. "When you arrive at the altitude of 3,500 feet, pull the ripcord." She glanced at her altimeter and gasped. It read 2,574 feet. Angela fumbled around, finally found the handle and pulled.

With a mule-kicking jerk, her parachute blossomed overhead. Its colorful canopy struck a sharp contrast against the blue sky. Angela's life stopped flashing before her eyes, and she lazily rode the cushioned air downward towards the grassy green field, where she made, for a beginner, a remarkably soft landing. After her feet touched the textured grass, she lay back weakly, pillowed her head on her shaking arms and attempted to slow her hyperventilation. As she wished mightily for a paper bag she glanced upward at the apparently innocent sky and vowed, "Never again."


Space filler til I write something worthwhile

Sleeping Giant

Night falls;
The mountain slumbers,
Pulling its knees up
Under the blanket
Of evening mist.
Memories of yesterday
Pillow its head,
And hopes for tomorrow
Gleam as bright stars
In the sheltering firmament
Row upon row,
Great green trees
Cluster at the mountain's feet;
The oncoming day's raiment
Waiting to be shrugged
About its shoulders
At the returning of the sun
Like a jeweled, dew-laden cloak.


Wipe yo feet, hunny chile

I just discovered a new favorite thing. To sit in the middle of the ball field with bare feet in the pouring rain, looking for four leafed clovers (found one) and eating a big, cheap, super market cheese danish. The kind that makes you feel ill afterwards, but is totally worth it in the midst of consumption. You get back inside drippy, sticky and totally content. Yay.

Postscript: I have decided that the spell check on this thing never got past the third grade. It told me "clovers" should be spelled "clobbers." Good grief.


I love to laugh. Sometimes it is an expression far truer than words.

Nervous laughter, when you're unsure what to say, you want to say something, but you cannot. So you laugh.

Burdenless freedom of children's laughter, never forced, without guile, maybe one of the truest expressions of the joy within that you'll ever find.

A sarcastic "ha!" which can either be meant to hurt or meant in jest. Both are easily like a knife thrust.

Joyful laughter, it bubbles out whether you want it to or not.

Chuckling with friends over stupid things, dumb jokes, and at each other.

Quiet laughter, shared with one other, about something no one else would understand.

The kind I love best, though I don't understand why: laughter through tears. A mixture of joy and agony, happiness and pain, the advent of renewed hope over the death of a vision. Or, simply, because someone made you laugh to remind you that trouble isn't forever.


It worked. I wasn't even trying

I saw a bear today. On my way to the lake, just past the gulf course. I wasn't even scared, not really. I think it was more one of those times where there is no time to get down through the list of other reactions to the "eek!" one. I figure it's about 12th on my list (don't bother to ask me how long the list is...)

I was tripping along totally enjoying the day, bright sun, cool breeze, the smell of fresh cut grass and the really annoying horse fly tenaciously orbiting my head (oo! question! can one enjoy something that is at the same time annoying?) Like I was saying, I was enjoying the day, the walk, the moment, and marveling over the complexities of God's creation. So, when I finally stopped gazing upward at the beauty of the green leaves contrasted against the blue, blue sky and looked down the road I was pleased (to put it mildly) to observe a bear lumbering out from within the clustering ferns of the forest. I suppose it was out on a walk for the same reason as I... too good of a day to stay inside mimicking a couch potato.

I'm proud to announce that I didn't even gasp. Instead, I slowed my pace, stopped and gawked (this action, gawking, is only polite when the object gawked at is not human. Your mother probably taught you that one). Surprisingly, it did the same. Stopped. It didn't gawk, this bear must have had a good mother. After stopping, it then plunked its large, hairy rear on the asphalt and tilted its blunt nose upwind and commenced sampling the breeze. I was downwind, by the way. I think I was about 10 yards from it, give or take a few. Close enough to see the variational coloring of its thick, glossy coat. It's a Black bear, naturally, but as some of you might know, Black bears are not always black. My aforementioned friend was a lighter shade, mostly a dirty tannish color. A bit darker about the face. Glistening chocolate eyes, though a mite beady... and vaguely close set. He was of a medium to large stature, I'd guess about shoulder high to my waist.

Swallowing my breath, I slowly inched my way towards its bulk--it turned to study me, its gaze bland--carefully, carefully, until I was close enough to reach out my hand and...

Just kidding.

I continued to parody a statue until, from the distance, both the bear and I heard a car as it wound its way along the road towards us. The bear's ears twitched and he hastily pulled himself onto all fours and lumbered off into the underbrush, making quite a racket, I must say.

I breathed again.

And finished my peripateticical wanderings.


Buzz off, I'm happy here

Is it our place to wait around to be taught, or should we be stepping out to grasp knowledge and experience for ourselves? Possibly a mixture of the two? There seems to be a tendency to set ourselves in a patterned daily lifestyle and expect those over us to endow us with wisdom. We, like sponges, absorb only what they work to produce, to one extent or another. There must be a difference between living our lives in a manner better than the majority of the mob and opening ourselves to something more. To excel. There is a need for a mind set of reaching out and taking hold.

Note the contents of my latest post. The general mass wishes to stay comfortably within the total abstinence area, it's simpler, safer, and, may I suggest, lazier? Fear based? I haven't yet searched out every reason for this. It takes a quantity of effort to seek out the perfect balance that overreaches that exuded by a "better" lifestyle. Truthfully, it just takes too much energy to allow ourselves to be brought into a place of openness with God that equips us with the ability to sense where His balanced pathway may be.

Relax, I'm not implying the idea of mediocrity, wishy-washiness or fence-stitting. To have a high standard is a part of the "excelling" lifestyle. But then one may take it to the extreme only because it places you in a highly "comfortable" position; a position not based on knowledge or understanding, but merely an easy following of tradition. Tradition, too, is never to be tossed aside on a whim, however, when a sharp-edged relationship with God is sacrificed on the altar of mindless tradition following, what then can we expect? A mass of robots, possibly.

So, ask yourself why. Why do we do this? Why don't we do that? Why should I resist mediocrity and stand for something far beyond a "better" life? Why should I not wait around to be fed like a baby bird? Why must I seek something that will most likely be uncomfortable? Don't be a mindless being... "Seek not to follow in the footsteps of the men of old, but seek the things they sought."

Seek; don't float down the current of life. Swim away from the falls of the "better." Climb up the banks of the Best and excel.

Sounds good? Well...



"To many, total abstinence is easier than perfect moderation." - Saint Augustine of Hippo (354-430AD) Numidian-born Theologian

I'm looking for whatever you wish to say, rant, suggest, comment, soap-box, expound, tear apart, build upon, laugh at, etc. etc. etc... you get my point.

P.S. This quote is neither directed at any one person, group of people, nor at my uncle's, sister's, cousin's, brother's godson. It is merely following the previous flavor of my blog, to stir people to think. :-)


Lil bit

It all comes down to trust. Think about it.


Why does everything need a title?

True compliments are gifts;
To accept one is to thank the giver.
Some of us reject them off-hand
with a pained expression and
"For me? Never!"
We think we are being humble,
But in truth it's a form of self-pride.
"It doesn't fit right, nor gives me any pleasure!
I'm not worthy of your gift
Please take it away.
I'm the worst there is and will be. Ever!"
If this strikes truth
Then here is a suggestion for you...
A complement is a gift, remember!
The gift giver has feelings, too,
If you recall.
Accepting this gift will not "wound" you forever.
Hold it with two hands,
Not two fingers.
If you can't handle it just now, however,
Set it on a shelf in plain sight
So you won't "forget" it.
Dust it once in a while and make it your endeavor
To wear it proudly one day.
Or at least without a pained expression.
If only to give the gift giver some pleasure.



Silence. It comes in many forms.

1. The typical type that happens after the household enters slumber (finally).
2. *Sigh of relief* When Aunt Gemima FINALLY ends her soliloquy on the best way to tie off the yarn ends on her plastic canvas project.
3. The eye of a hurricane.
4. Once the baby falls asleep (after three hours spent with the kid in the middle of the night... arrrrg).
5. Right after a cannon fires three feet from your ear (it's called deafness).
6. What happens when a parent bursts into the room and asks: "Who broke the lamp!?!?"
7. A silence so complete that it's loud.
8. The noise a leech makes when it swims up to your bare leg.
9. Rain on the roof in the middle of the night... (it's a liberated silence, ok?)
10. When someone finally shoots the dog that never stops barking....
11. Falling snow.
12. Grass growing.
13. Radio waves... until they run into a receptor.
14. What happens in your brain when you are suddenly put on the spot and NEED to respond RIGHT NOW (eg. "Uh duuuh" complete with idiotic facial expressions).
15. The hush in a stadium as the ball flies through the air: is it really going to be a grand slam or not?!
16. The arrival of peace.
17. Virus attack!!! (Computer or otherwise).
18. A split second before the conductor directs the commencement of a glorious orchestration.
19. What descends when they finally turn off the fire alarm in the home for hearing challenged persons.
20. NOT what happens once the leach is found.

Shhh, quiet! I'm trying to hear the mold spores grow on my 8 week old tuna salad...

The end.


Anomalistic aberrations of the cerebrum

Speaking of speed, I've had a grand experience with it today. It gives you a feeling of power as you take a trip reminiscent to Dash Increadable's as he tore over the surface of the water. Hair taking wing behind you and spray blinding your vision. You furiously blink to clear your eyes and when you finally do, your eyelashes start bending in the hurricane force "breeze" ... it feels a bit like caterpillars tromping across your face. Not cool. Then, just when you think you're sailing smoothly, your driving force trips, sending you flying from its bosom and skipping across the water on your rear, something like skipping stones on a pond, only different. Very cool. Once you get going again, however, you've learned a bit more, knowledge has expanded, wisdom dawns over the horizon of your particular brand of imbecility. In other words, if you haven't learned from falling on your face, then you might as well go home and spend your time mowing the lawn with scissors, blade by blade, so as to protect the world from yourself.

Anyway, I love the sensation of leaping from wave-tip to wave-tip or rocketing off the back of a wave and flying high (in a relative sense) into the air. What could be more exhilarating...?

Causing the poor fool clinging behind you to go flying. AHAHAhahahaa!

Ah, how I love jet skiing.


Box cars from my train of thought

I found my soul mate. He's been sitting on the couch next to me for the past while... shaking. And when the thunder rolls (there's a large storm outside in case you wondered) he vocalizes loudly and hides his head next to me. Poor guy. Thing is, he vibrates even when there is no storm (hence the soul mate title). Just a high strung type of pupcoughguycough I guess. Take earlier today. A guy came to fix the couch and when he came in the door my soul mate went tearing wildly around the room. Around and around... a bit like a rabbit on speed. I wonder if people would think I was just as cute if I did that too. Yes? Maybe? Or no...? Guess not. *sigh*

Has anyone ever wondered why moonlight looks so much more beautiful than electric lighting on the surface of water? Electric slides across the water like a golden pillar, while moonlight... ah. Moonlight skips over the tips of the ripples causing diamonds to dance from the shore to the hull of your boat as you drift along in the hush of the evening. I say it has something to do with the difference between the Creator's work and the created's work.

Derrick, I had the TV on for part of writing this and it made it WAY harder to get anything put down. Way way way... in fact, this line here has taken about 10 minutes to write. (Don't ask me why I didn't get up and leave the room, please.)



someone once told me that
if you aren't happy where you
are now, you won't be happy
somewhere else.
i was annoyed then, because
where i was was the last place
i wanted to be.
i figured anywhere else had
to be better.
so i went away to somewhere
else and it was better...
for a time.
and that is when i finally understood.
somewhere else would be better if
i hadn't brought myself along.
i can change where i am, but
if who i am isn't changed
wherever i am will never be

Going vertical

Many a day the sands of time seem slowly to move, their downward drift apparently frozen. Frozen, as though stilled by a larger will. Looked for answers come belatedly, at least to our earthbound, horizontal sight. Real freedom comes when we go vertical. Upward we gaze, into the eyes of the I Am. His answers often come in three shapes, "Yes", "No", and "Wait". Never can man say that He doesn't answer. For always He does, only we miss it at times. Because we look for our version, what we want to hear. Receptive ears to the will and words of God come once we rest our gaze upon the heavenward. So let us go vertical and rejoice in what we hear, for what comes from above causes speech to fail and hearts to sing with joy.


Latine loqui coactus sum

Latin fascinates me. If I was to learn a second language, it might be the one I'd choose... though it's not entirely practical. Unless of course I had a great need to know and understand each scientific name for all of flora and faunadom. However, since I am not a naturalist, I only dabble in the language merely to amuse myself. It's going to be an ever-new activity for me, because I can never remember anything about what I've learned. Words and phrases flee in terror from my mind's interior... not that I blame them. There are days when I'd like to flee myself, but there seems to be an irrevocable attachment.

Here's where I should be continuing with my soliloquy, but that exasperating fly buzzing about my head has shattered my concentration. Or maybe it's the clock ticking loudly in the background. I'm not sure. Now I'm annoyed... I really wanted to add something useful to my blog. Hmm... maybe another time.

I'll just leave you with a cool latin phrase. Animadvertistine, ubicumque stes, fumum recta in faciem ferri? Meaning: (At a barbeque) Ever noticed how wherever you stand, the smoke goes right into your face?



Man is, but not forever.
Life is breathed into dust, God-formed.
To live, on earth,
It is a mere reflection of true Life.
The soul is not at home here,
We live but a fleeting moment
And then--too soon, for those left behind--
We shed that shell that bound us
And fly, fly away Home.
Now we know, that what we had on earth
Is but straw, and stubble.
The empty ache, that Home-sickness
Which we never knew was so huge,
Is filled and overflowing.
And we rest, rest in Him.

Oh to be there now!


A proviso

This is the best part of having your own blog! I get to say one thing, then change my mind the next day and no one can stop me! Hahaha.

In my last post I placed a limit on myself. Horror of horrors. I made it sound as though I'd never have anything remotely sane to say... and this can't be completely honest because strangely enough there's more to me than insanity. I shall now list what else I am:

Wise (hey, did you know one definition of wisdom is thinking of something stupid to say and then not saying it?*)
Serious (yes I am! Stop laughing.)
and, before I get irrevocably distracted,
Not angelic

All this is to say I'll write exactly what I wish, whenever I wish on my blog.

*Notice the use of the word "stupid" NOT maniacal.

Welcome to my lair

Unfortunately, I forgot to write the epiphany down once I had it, so you'll have to settle for the left over dregs. I have a box of tissues for anyone who may be shedding tears of disappointment. I also have a big mean dog who likes to bite for the people who let out a huge sigh of relief. I don't share my maniacal gems with just anyone... so I trust you'll understand my seemingly *chuffed statements.

Generally speaking, I will not be sharing my daily experiences... I wouldn't want anyone to fall into the "overweight potato" category (see previous blog). As per my general blog atmosphere, most of what you'll read will be a bit on the, shall we say, unique side. I see that it's already been termed as "insane" so it's up to you what you title that which issues from my mental oven. If you can't stand my brand of mumblings, you may notice I didn't force you to visit here, nor will I ever. And if you wish, I'd happy to give you detailed directions to the exit. Having said that, please realize I am overjoyed to have the honor of your presence and hope you will enjoy your visit as much as is possible.

*A form of pride


A map to magnificence

I have decided sleeping is overrated. Just consider the countless hours spent in repose on your bed like an overweight potato. Disgusting, really. So, I have decided to wean myself off sleep to maximize and better use the limited hours of my life. The thought of missing even one is painful to me. I must always be alert to every moment, continuously aware of each happening, marinating myself in every thought and emotional response. If I spend more time in uninterrupted cerebral mullings, I do say, I may just stumble upon the true meaning of life. Maybe my brain will start to swell, grow, expand... move over Einstein, here I come. Soon, anyway. Give me a little time. I've been able to whittle my wasteful hours of slumber down considerably, my consciousness is ballooning... Hang onto your hats everyone! I think I feel an epiphany coming on!


What can I say?

Argh. This is like a horrible nightmare. Poor unsuspecting me just got hit by a blog with my name on it. This is terrible... I don't even LIKE writing. I don't want to BE here! Oh my head... it's whirling... someone, please, put me out of my misery.