Another New Year

One year ends
And one begins
They blend one
Into the other
I wish for all
Family and friends
More time
To be together
To love and laugh
And dance and cry
Sharing times
Both good and bad
To hug and talk
Support, protect
May this year
Be full of
Love.

Here we are starting a new year. Maybe  a new decade, but apparently there is some question as to whether the new decade starts with the year ending in “zero,”, or the year ending in “one”. I learned this on the third hour of a national news show this morning. I guess everything is up for debate these days and I have a feeling that we will continue to debate everything in the new year. I find it annoying and amusing by turns, depending on the subject, and to some extent my mood. We had the blue dress/white dress debate, and the “yannie/laurel” debate, and of course all the political crap with which we are constantly battered if we do anything besides sit alone at home in silence. Seems like that’s just the way we humans are programmed.

One thing I think we all can agree on is that we need other people. Whether it is those we are related to by blood, or those we have grown to love as family, we are better off having people close to us to share our lives with. When we laugh and cry together, celebrate and mourn together, life has a better quality. It gives us a richness to each event, and gives us a different perspective to consider; a sense of being understood, seen, belonging. It’s amazing how much better we feel after a hug in stressful times, or how a shared happy dance when a goal is met makes us feel delirious with pleasure. Togetherness is priceless. Family and friends are priceless.  Even those brief connections with random strangers are without equal.

For the new year, I wish for more connection with others for all of us.

Misfits

Do you ever feel like you’re living on the Island of Misfit Toys from the Rudolph the Red Nosed  Reindeer Christmas movie?  I feel that way sometimes. It’s a feeling of being out of step with the rest of the world. When those around are calm and steady, and I’m in a tizzy, rushing and panicking, my mind whirling with worries and a to do list impossibly long, I’m not feeling like I’m in the right place. But what if on the outside I look calm like everyone else does? What if each of those other calm appearing people feel on the inside as panicked and worried as I do?

I think we all feel a little bit like those misfit toys on the island. We feel like we don’t have anything that is wanted, like our unique talents are unappreciated and somehow unacceptable to the world at large. From the boat that doesn’t float, to the doll that says “How do you do?” instead of “Mama”, to the Charley in a box, all are unique, and wonderful, but they don’t see it. Worse than that, is that they don’t think anyone sees it. Then Rudolph arrives, feeling like such a misfit that he doesn’t even stay on the island, fearing his difference will bring danger to his friends. He vows to tell Santa about the island and find homes for the toys on Christmas Eve. In the end, Rudolph learns to use his uniqueness, and others see it as a gift. He keeps his promise and leads Santa to the island and around the world to drop off all the toys to children who will love them. It’s a happy ending for the Misfits.  So how can I find a happy ending? There is no Rudolph and Santa coming to save me, but what if I start to believe my unique qualities make me fit in? What if I realize that everyone, no matter how accomplished they are perceived to be, feels a little bit like a misfit?  Then I feel like I fit in, and so will you.

Greetings from the Island of Misfits! We welcome you and your beautiful, wonderful uniqueness that makes you who you are. We’re glad you are here. Remember that.

Detours

     For most of the summer and early fall I ran into detours almost everywhere I went.  Between gas lines being put in throughout town and state paving projects, there were days when my 7 minute commute to work turned into a 30 minute exploration of all the back roads in the area.  I tried following the detour arrows, but I managed to get lost in my own town trying to get home.  The arrows just stopped, and drivers were left to guess which way to turn.  I don’t think there was any coordination between construction crews because how can they possibly have meant to have construction going on within the detour area resulting in another detour from the detour?  It was confusing and frustrating, and I didn’t like it.  Thank goodness it seems to be over for now!

     I guess that if we want roads kept in good shape, and we want modern conveniences available in our town, then we have to expect detours.  I took a detour from writing for the past few months, and am slowly getting back to it.  All summer I read books, mysteries, novels, thrillers, and I couldn’t read them fast enough.  I very much enjoyed giving my brain a chance to enter fictional lives and get a break from the everyday. Sometimes we have to detour from our regular lives in order to move forward and keep our minds running smoothly. Although, in all honesty, I’m not sure how smoothly mine’s running since it’s generally filled with an overwhelming amount of thoughts and worries.  Trying not to worry is like trying to keep ocean waves off the beach.  Thoughts just keep coming, receding, and another is right behind it. Giving free rein to the myriad of concerns occupying your brain runs the risk of getting stuck in that vicious cycle which doesn’t solve anything and exhausts you. It’s a detour all its own which takes you away from living a happy and fulfilling life, and being present in your life.  It’s like the detour within a detour I experienced that one day on the way home from work, and you get lost in your own life and don’t recognize where you are. So, every now and then it’s good to disconnect from the everyday and lose yourself in something, whether it’s books, movies, taking a trip, or some other activity you don’t usually participate in. Anything you can do to give yourself a break from stress is a good thing.

     Allowing yourself to lose sight of your troubles and concerns for even a short amount of time regularly is a good thing to do.  Finding time to do this daily can be challenging, but is well worth striving to achieve for good mental health. So go ahead, take a little detour before you find yourself lost in your own life.

House On The Hill

After taking a few months off of blog writing, I offer this story in poetic form.

There’s a house on the hill in the town where I lived

All the kids knew the story, felt the fright it would give

As they walked past the gate on the way home from school

Don’t stand still and stare was the unspoken rule

If you walked by at night, you had better go fast

Or you risked being witness to the ghost of the past.

There’s a woman who glided the grounds in the night

In a flowing long gown, all gauzy and white

She wept with a sound carried along on the wind

She muttered about all the ways she had sinned

If you tarried a bit to catch a glimpse, or to listen

You just better hope not to hear sudden hissing

Or voices that come from the dark of the night

Shouting loud whispers from left and from right,

The voices of men who one night long ago

Searched for the woman, searched, high and searched low

At long last they found the young bride who had run

Who refused to be wed at the end of a gun

The groom was a man, with evil intent

And demanded the girl in lieu of the rent,

Her father, a man both drunk and poor

Couldn’t refuse the  demand at his door

So he gave up his daughter to the man with the gun

Never believing that she would at once run

The mad groom ran fast, caught the girl in a flash

And carried her off,  in a secret place her he stashed

The townsmen came searching the house on the hill

Praying to find unharmed the poor girl

But in spite of the thoroughness of the long search

At last they all gathered in the pews of the church

Where the townswomen sat, each of them praying

For the soul of the girl who in coffin now laying

Was then buried there in the churchyard outside

Where her sad father sat on the ground as he cried

“It is my bad fortune my daughter has died”.

Her restless soul walks o’er the grounds of the house

Where the evil man took her to make her his spouse

He killed her that night when him she deserted

Then left the town ‘fore they discovered the murder

So she roams ‘bout the grounds of the house where she died

The ghost of the hauntingly beautiful bride.

If you go to the town with the house on the hill,

Stay away from the place where the young bride was killed.

Things Break

     It seems like, just like lightbulbs that all burn out at the same time, appliances and vehicles need replacing or repairing all in the span of a month or two.

In June the dishwasher began making a horrible grinding noise when it was turned on, and since it was 10 years old we replaced it.  I like the new one much better!  However, it seemed to start a trend.  Now the washing machine is broken and the repairman quoted a price to fix it that is as much as a new one costs.  So a-shopping we will go!  New things are nice, but they are also pricey so bye-bye savings!  The ice maker on the refrigerator stopped producing ice, but at least that was something I was able to remedy myself.  All I had to do was clean under the refrigerator where the coils are and the ice maker resumed operation.  Note to self—clean under there regularly!  As for lightbulbs, all the ones in the kitchen burned out the same week.  I replaced them all so I guess that I can expect a repeat of that whenever they reach the end of their life.  My van needed new tires and some other service, and the wheelchair brakes haven’t held well in a very long time; random pieces of it fall off—a footplate, an armrest, the covering on the padding.  We ordered a new wheelchair and hopefully, if insurance doesn’t hold it up, it should be delivered to our princess in October, just in time for Halloween.  We had to replace the basement door due to it rusting and the sill rotting away, thus allowing water and debris (and who knows what else—yikes!) in.

It just seems like some years are like that.  Every time you turn around something else needs attention.  Fingers crossed that the washing machine is the end of it!

Christmas in July

I don’t know how Christmas in July started, or when, but I think it was likely some creative retailer’s way to increase sales in the middle of the summer when people have better things to do than shop.  The first I ever heard of it was when my kids were young and a teacher in the summer program asked if anyone had a table top artificial Christmas tree they could borrow.  After that I started to notice it in stores, so I guess it’s like when you’re looking to buy a red car all you see are red cars, even though they have likely been there all along without you taking any notice.  This year I decided to take it out of the background of my consciousness and act upon it.

It started with noticing that I had too many baking supplies in my pantry that I bought last December and didn’t use.  Even though we have been having some record breaking hot weather around here, I decided to do some baking.  I started with Fudge Nut Bars, and while they were baking I decided that I would write a long overdue letter to my friend who lives far away.  Then I decided that to save me from myself, (if I have the cookies in the house, I’m going to eat them; all of them.), so I packaged some in a Christmas themed container and mailed them to her along with the letter.  I also sent a plate of them with my daughter to put in the break room where she works.  I reasoned with myself that everyone bakes in December, but nobody really does in July.  Since I’m not working in the summer, and we are lucky enough to have central air conditioning, I enjoy baking year round.  I still had an abundance of baking supplies and my next temptation was chocolate chip cookies.  I must confess I have given none of them away; instead we’ve been munching away on them.  I had over ripe bananas so I made banana bread, one loaf I kept, and the other I took to an indoor cookout. (Yup, it’s an oxymoron but that’s what it was due to the excessive heat.)  Then someone in my husband’s office gave him a huge zucchini, perhaps it weighed about 4 lbs., and was over 2 feet long.  I made zucchini bread with that, and some fritters.  I kept one loaf of the bread, sent one to the woman who gave us the monstrosity, and gave one to the staff at my daughter’s day program.  They were so thankful for the treat!  Then I had more overripe bananas, so I made chocolate chip banana cupcakes with vanilla frosting.  I packaged up half of them and took to her physical therapist and staff saying “Merry Christmas in July!”  They enjoyed them, and I enjoyed how they dug right in and her assistant, with a little frosting on the corner of his lips declared them “So good!”

You know, it doesn’t take much to make people happy, to brighten their day.  Home baked goods always seem to be welcomed, and especially so in the summer when nobody else is giving them out. I still have various dried fruits, nuts, and some of the chocolate chips left, and time for doing things I enjoy.  I’m guessing there’s more baking in the near future and surprises in store for some lucky friends.

Is it Summer?

I think everyone has their own idea of what you do in the summer.  Some like to spend as much time in and on the water as possible swimming, boating, waterskiing, or just relaxing on the beach with toes in the sand soaking up the sun. For others, it’s a trip to the mountains to hike, or to camp, or flying off to a faraway place to see amazing sights and experience different cultures.  Then there are those, who like me, think that it isn’t summer unless there are cookouts, iced tea, and other activities close to home.

When I was younger there were cookouts in the summer in my parents’ back yard with my mother’s homemade potato and macaroni salads, burgers and dogs on the grill, iced tea and lemonade, and toasted marshmallows for dessert.  When I grew up my husband and I took picnics to state parks and cooked our burgers on the charcoal grills there.  Once we bought our house we had a gas grill and still had cookouts.  As time went on and our children grew up we spent less and less time outside in the summer, and a few years ago I realized that unless I purposely went outside I was spending all my summer inside in the air conditioning.  But if you’re not sweating, is it even Summer? I push myself to take a book outside on a hot summer day and read in the shade, or go to the park for a walk where the smell of the hot sun on a field covered in white clover with honey bees and butterflies flitting flower to flower brings me back to my childhood when summer was spent outside.

Recently my husband and I attended a cookout at a friend’s house where we were greeted by the sight of colorful chairs arranged in a circle around a fire pit.  It was a small gathering of friends, each one bringing a side dish to share, and hot dogs and hamburgers provided by the hosts.  The sun set as we laughed and ate, and just as a birthday cake was lit for one of our friends, lightning bugs rose out of the grass and bushes creating a light show as we sang the birthday song.  It was a warm evening so we didn’t light the fire, but citronella torches were lit and we lingered there in the growing darkness merrily chatting over coffee.  It was a lovely time and it wasn’t until we were in the car driving home that I realized the mosquitos had been feasting on my legs.  They were so itchy!  Calamine lotion gave a brief respite from the irritation of the large welts the bugs caused.  While it was uncomfortable to have the bites on my legs, I wondered to myself, is it really Summer if you don’t get any mosquito bites?

Summer is such a seemingly short season, even though the days are long and hot, that we try to pack as much into it as we can.  Vacation trips, recreation, and cookouts make the 3 months of summer memorable for many.  Pack in as much outdoors time as you can so that once the cooler weather hits and your chased indoors you don’t ask yourself if it was really ever summer.

Wisteria

It’s a happy kind of tired

After working in your yard,

Trimming things and sprucing up,

You forget you’re working hard,

But when you stop you find out,

You have muscles you forgot,

Will we do it again tomorrow?

I’m thinking maybe not!

                                             

While enjoying a weekend afternoon planting some flowers in hanging baskets, I began to take note of the various bushes we have planted over the years.  There are Rose of Sharon I transplanted from my parents’ yard when we moved into our house, some Forsythia, Azalea, Lilac, and Rhododendron. There is also a Wisteria.

I bought the Wisteria the summer after my mother passed away. She had one in the side yard that had the most beautiful clusters of light purple flowers on it. It was also an aggressive grower and took over the area where it was planted.  Mine is growing on a trellis against the deck and I keep it trimmed so that it’s a bit more like an out of control small leafy tree, but it gives us a bit of privacy when on the deck and some shade in the yard. If we have too many days in a row of rain and hot temperatures it takes over the deck and I fill a large yard bag with clippings when trimming it back to its useful form.  We had to tie the trellis it grows on to the deck rail because when the wind blows too strongly from the North it falls over from being top heavy, and recently my husband noticed that its weight is pulling the deck rail apart.  I’m not sure what we’re going to do about that! We have needed to right it several times over the years.  We cut it back severely in the Fall so the weight of ice and snow won’t further damage anything. It has never had flowers, as I didn’t realize when I purchased it that it can take 20 years to mature before blooming. Oh well, I have a few more years to wait, and at least it’s useful in the meantime.

We recently drove past the house where I grew up, and I noticed the Wisteria is gone, but mostly the yard and house look the same.  I regret that I forgot to look and see if the red rose that grew under my parents’ bedroom window is still there. I’ll have to drive by the house the next time I’m in my hometown. It’s funny the things you remember when you go back to the neighborhood where you grew up. There is a house at the other end of the block on the corner that always had and still has a wooden stockade type fence around the back yard. Every time I walked past that house, there was a large dog that barked and growled as I walked past, the whole length of the fence. It terrified me every time, but that’s the side of the street that had a sidewalk so I had to walk there.  I was always afraid the dog would somehow escape and attack me.  I don’t know what type of dog it was, and don’t remember the name of the family who lived there; I just remember the terrified feeling it gave me to walk along that fence.  As we cruised slowly down the street I mentally noted who lived in the houses—my oldest brother’s friend Richie in that one, my cousins in another, my mother’s friend in the one with the big porch, and the cranky old man who confiscated our kickball in the house next door to us.  Across the street lived the family who had a paving business and then sold the house to younger relatives who were on the rescue squad which was diagonally across the street from us and had 2 little girls.  The rescue squad building was a polling place during elections, and in later years was the site for a nutritional lunch program for seniors.  I still remember the sound the tires on the ambulance made on the crushed stone driveway when they were heading out on a call, but I don’t remember hearing the siren.

It is funny the things that we remember, and the things that jog our memory.  For me it was the Wisteria that took me on a trip down memory lane; tomorrow it could be something as mundane as a cup of water. You just never know.

Crooked Old Tree

When there’s no leaves on the trees I can see the intricacies of how they grow in relation to each other. In my back yard there is a stand of about 14 trees in the corner closest to the patio. I noticed recently, before the buds opened, how the branches mingle. There are mostly younger trees, maples with their trunks growing straight and tall. There is also some type of berry producing tree with smaller leaves. My daughter has always called it the crooked tree and it is fairly old. It grows at perhaps a fifty degree angle and so leans toward the others. It’s bark is rough and a darker color than its neighbors. The branches have grown around, but not encompassing, a couple of the smaller, younger trees in such a way that it looks as if the others are helping to support it, as young soldiers might support an old war veteran stooped with age.

As I sipped tea on the patio after dinner one evening I considered the crooked tree. It stands with its rough barked trunk curving in a couple places creating a snake-like appearance. I estimate the circumference of it to be about 2 feet. I think that if we were to ever cut it down the growth rings would be very close together. How old it is I do not know, but it was here when we bought our house thirty some years ago. How many harsh, cold winters and hot summers it has seen intrigues me. Perhaps it was  there when the house was built, just a sapling in the woods. My town was originally primarily a camping area. It hosted hunters in the colder months, and people camping by the mountain lake to escape the heat of the summer. Generations of chipmunks and squirrels surely frolicked on its trunk and among the branches, and it must have played host to countless bird’s nests. Those same creatures probably took shelter there from the summer rain, and feasted on the berries produced by the tree. As the plots of land were cleared to build cabins, how did that tree manage to be over looked?  I imagine it was silent witness to the campfires that campers had, the marshmallows roasted on whittled sticks and laughter of people relaxing from their workaday lives for a few weeks every year.  It has borne testament to the changes brought by our town becoming a year round place to live and work, the expansion of roads, houses, and businesses. Silently there while my children grew and played with their friends in the shade on hot summer days and in the snow during the winter. Like an old friend the tree keeps me company when I’m enjoying the outdoors.

Sometimes we don’t really think about the landscape that is part of our everyday lives.  I find it relaxing to muse about the life and history of the things around me when I get the chance to sit quietly and let my mind wander.

Banana Memories

It’s funny how an everyday object can bring memories rushing back, causing you to pause what you’re doing to take a little trip into the past.  I realized this recently when making a peanut butter banana smoothie for my daughter; the bananas were fairly ripe, a bit soft with many brown spots on the peel.  My maternal grandfather liked them that way, and even riper than that.  He ate a banana every day, as did my mother with her lunch. I can picture her, sitting at the table for lunch with her plate of tuna macaroni salad or cottage cheese and jello, a glass of iced tea with 2 ice cubes in it, and a banana laid alongside the glass waiting for its turn to be consumed.  I can smell the tang of the onions and slight fishy smell of the tuna, and almost taste the sweetness of the Miracle Whip salad dressing she used to make her salads.  There were many days as an adult that I stopped in for lunch with her, especially on the weekends after my first daughter was born. Lunch was usually tuna macaroni salad and a banana; although sometimes it was tomato soup and a cheese sandwich, or cottage cheese and jello.  If my father was there, he had a sandwich of white bread, butter, chicken roll, and sometimes lettuce, iced tea, and a banana.  There are such fond memories brought up by a humble piece of fruit!

          I always have bananas in my house, and we don’t always eat them before they are overripe so we usually have either banana bread or banana cake either on the counter or in the freezer.  We find that we enjoy the banana cake more than the bread, although toasted banana bread is tough to beat with a cup of tea or coffee.  Speaking of banana bread brings back memories of visiting my aunt at the shore and breakfasting on her screened in patio on warm summer mornings, with the smell of the ocean on the breeze.  She served toasted banana bread with her homemade jelly; most memorable for my husband was the beach plum jelly she made.  I don’t know if it was being on vacation, or the fresh sea air, or a combination of the two but when I make banana bread he always mentions the toasted banana bread spread and beach plum jelly, with fondness both for the food and my aunt.

          Humble everyday objects surround us, each one waiting with the potential to offer us a break from our current reality with a little trip down Memory Lane.  I like that.

Snow Days Are For

Snow days are for sleeping late,
And fresh baked muffins when you wake,
For reading books and drinking tea,
And watching snow fall on the trees,
For homemade soup or maybe chili,
For cartoon watching and being silly,
Whatever you do on your snow day,
You’re not at work—be sure to play!

A snow day is a gift from the universe.  It's an unexpected day off and I think it should be enjoyed.  Sleep in a little bit, have a leisurely breakfast, and spend the day doing things you enjoy that you don't normally have time to do. 

When I was a kid we used to spend a snow day playing out in the snow, playing board games, reading, or playing hide and seek in the basement.  Sometimes I sewed something simple such as a skirt, and sometimes my brothers and I made silly movies.  We had popcorn, and sometimes made pine cones with peanut butter and birdseed on them to hang outside for the birds.  My mother usually baked cookies and it was like a little party was going on.

Since I work in a school, I am fortunate to get a snow day every now and then.  Today was one of them and I am enjoying it very much! I baked 2 kinds of muffins, blueberry and apple cinnamon, and made a pan of honey nut cereal treats.  I love baking and a snow day is the perfect day for that.  That way when my husband and daughter get home from work they'll have treats waiting, as well as baked ziti for dinner.  Sometimes on a snow day I make soup or chili, but decided that baked ziti would be better this time.  I plan to spend some time reading, writing, and just relaxing; things I don't often have time to do but enjoy very much.

It is important to do things you enjoy, and have a day once in a while where that is your priority.  Every day life doesn't usually include much time for the things we want to do because of all the things that we must do to keep work and home running smoothly.  There's nothing like forgetting all the "must dos" and just concentrating on the "want to dos" for a day to refresh your mind. Grab some time when it's presented to you, you'll be so glad you did. 

Dreams & Tears

My Sunday morning radio
Plays songs both sweet and sad
Sending my thoughts strolling
Through the youth that I once had
The world "back when" was different
And yet it was the same
We laughed and loved and dreamed.
It all circles 'round again.

I love early weekend mornings when I'm the only one up, the lights are low, and the radio is softly playing mellow songs from the decades of my youth.  I think having time to let your mind wander and reflect on your life is an important part of maintaining balance and perspective on where you are right now and where you might be headed.  The things that you experienced in the past have helped make you who you are right now, whether they were mostly good things or mostly not so good things.  How you responded to those life events plays into your sense of optimism or pessimism right now.  If you can look back on challenges and find something beneficial in them, you probably are an optimistic person in general.  Of course, there are some things that happen in people's lives that are so terrible that finding the good in them is like looking for a needle in a haystack, even if you are an optimistic person. 

I've been lucky enough to have had a life that while it challenged me at times, has not been awful.  I've always been the kind of person who can laugh at life most of the time and see the humorous side of a difficult time.  There have been plenty of times that I was brought to tears, of course.  Tears of frustration, disappointment, fear, pain, and anger have all fallen from my eyes and run down my cheeks throughout the years.  Relationships ending, loved ones dying, and dreams going unfulfilled have all brought me to tears.  I wouldn't be human if I never cried, would I? But I've shed tears of relief,  laughter, joy, and wonder as well during my lifetime.  I've dreamed of things I wanted and when those dreams came true, such as getting married, having children, and reaching a goal, the happy tears flowed freely.

The music playing on the radio in the early hours brings me back to times when I was young and full of plans and dreams, some realistic and some outrageous.  That hasn't changed.  I still have dreams and plans that are by turns doable and impossible.  You never know, though, how things will really turn out except that one day you'll be up early, taken back in time by music, and smiling a little to yourself about days gone by. 

Gifts

          We’ve just experienced the time of year we typically think about gifts.  Gifts we have to give, gifts we receive, ones we like, and ones we don’t.  It’s nice to give and receive a gift, but what about the ones we give each other that aren’t tangible?  Such as the feeling we give someone, or someone gives us or wisdom we receive from someone older or more experienced than we are.  Some of those aren’t noticeable until years later, such as the gifts our parents give us over the course of our lives.

          My parents gave me many gifts throughout my life. They gave me the gift of being safe and cared for.  I had a happy childhood filled with laughter and family.  There were 6 of us in the tiny house we lived in, and we learned how to share and get along.  My parents gave us a stable home life, a refuge to return to when school and later work was too stressful.  My parents gave me the love of reading.  The newspaper, magazines, and books were read daily in our house. I have fond memories of my younger brother and I snuggled up with our mother while she read stories to us, and my father reading me fairy tales and doing the voices of the different characters.  Little Red Riding Hood was one of my favorites to read with Dad as he did a great Big Bad Wolf voice.  My love of mysteries comes from reading the mysteries my father enjoyed once I was a little older.  I cannot imagine any greater gifts than the ones my parents gave me.

          The gift of friendship is important for getting through life; as important as family.  In fact, many people have friends with whom they feel a closer bond than with blood relatives.  We choose our friends, and this is maybe why we can form such strong bonds.  We form friendships usually starting with a shared experience whether it is a shared love of grapes for snack in elementary school, dislike of a certain class in high school, or eating lunch at the same time at work.  Whatever brings us together, we find in each other something we like, it feels good to be together and confide in each other.  We come to count on each other to help us celebrate the joys life brings us and commiserate over the sorrows.  The gift of friendship is one of the best one person can give to another.

          Sometimes we get caught up in the stresses of trying to get the “right” gift for someone we love.  In truth, the best gift you can give someone is your time, and your attention. Presents wrapped in pretty paper with bows are nice, but probably when all is said and done what you’ll remember most are the intangibles that you have received. Whether that means memories of how someone always made you laugh, or how connected you felt to another person, good feelings are the greatest gift of all. In other words, love.

Why? Just Why?

  

     Sometimes I see things on TV or social media and I ask myself why? Why is that something someone did and then took a picture or a video and put it out there in the universe?

     Recently I saw a video on Facebook that someone made of a chicken wearing pants and running around outside with other chickens. I showed it to my daughter and asked her why someone would do that? First, how do you think to put pants on a chicken and second, how would you accomplish that, and third why do you take a video of it and post it on social media? I guess it isn’t hurting the chicken, it seemed happy enough, I just don’t understand it. We had a good laugh over it.

          We watch cartoons a lot in our house and so we also see the commercials targeting kids. Why, just why, are there such gross games being made and marketed to kids? There’s a toilet game that shoots a piece of poop into the air. I’m not sure if that means you lost or won the game, but in real life you’ve definitely lost if that happens. There is another game where the players are popping pimples on a plastic head. Unless you’re hoping your child grows up to be a dermatologist, what is the value of this game? I don’t understand this trend.  Do we really need to encourage kids to do gross things?  It’s been my personal experience both as a former kid and a mother that they are quite adept at doing gross, disgusting things without any encouragement at all.  Maybe I’ve just gotten old, or maybe because I am a mother to only girls, but I don’t see why these things exist.

          When watching the news there are many times when I silently ask why?  There are statements made by celebrities and political figures that keep me wondering what is happening. There are crimes reported that are just strange, such as someone licking the doorbell on the house of a stranger for hours, robbers caught snuggling on a couch with the family dog in a house they were burgling, and Christmas decorations stolen and then returned when the thieves had a change of heart.  Every time there is a change of weather, it seems as if there needs to be team coverage to demonstrate that it’s going to snow in January, or be 100 degrees and humid in July along with warnings to either stay warm and bundled up, or stay hydrated and don’t do anything strenuous in the heat of  midday. I think we don’t really need to be reminded of these common sense self- preservation tactics.  How did our species manage to survive all this time without an official reminder?  Are there really lots of people out there who don’t understand that when it’s cold out you should wear a coat, or when it’s hot out you might consider taking it easy and drinking a little extra water?  Just why do they feel we need to be reminded constantly? I don’t get it.

          There are many things in life that I don’t understand; things that make me ask the universe “Why?  Just why?”  I don’t expect an answer.