If words have power (they do) and our thoughts create (they do) then we should pay much more attention to both. Therefore I think it’s high time we change our verbiage. We label almost everything as a war or a fight, and because of our language, we do battle, daily. There is a war on drugs, a war on poverty, a war on women, a war against obesity and a war on crime. We fight heart disease. We fight illiteracy. We fight cancer. We fight the traffic. Continue Reading
I am supposed to be doing my taxes so I can send them to the accountant, today. I meant to have them done long before now, but we’re leaving for our trip in less than 72 hours… Now I have to get a shopping list compiled… And hem a sweet pair of lounge pants… And pack my clothes and all of the “stuff” we’ll need on the RV. We’ve joked about how much work it is to go play. Today it doesn’t seem very funny.
And… the taxes.
For two hours, I’ve been trying to get to my desk to work on my book, but first, there were things that had to be done. I walk around the house, barefoot, most of the time, so I can feel when the floor is dirty more than I can see it on this espresso-colored wood. This morning I felt it was particularly crumby from last night’s cornbread, so I had to sweep. And, I couldn’t leave the breakfast dishes in the sink, so I had do them, and the bed… Usually I make it the minute I get out of it, but this morning I needed coffee more than I needed a neat bed. Now I’m rushing to accomplish everything so I can sit down and write.
“What would happen if you just left that stuff until later,” you ask? Well, nothing, except I know I can’t–insert ‘won’t‘–do that. I’d worry about what was undone. Continue Reading
From the moment I learned of the Royal Canadian Mounties–thanks to Dudley Do-Right when I was eight–I’ve loved the whole idea of Canada. After my first taste of Canadian Whiskey–at age 16–and more so now after my first through-the-mail drug order at age 65, I’ve got maple leaves in my eyes. The icing on the cake is their hunky Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau.
But, I digress… this is about the drugs. Legal ones. Hormones.
Will someone please explain to me why–and this is not a rhetorical question–smoke alarm batteries always fail in the middle of the night?
Yesterday morning I was snuggled in bed, dreaming I had a bag of delicious fruit-and-cheese-filled pastries, I’d baked, to get the attention of a handsome movie star. (Side-note: Although I am allergic to wheat, I am certain I could have eaten these with absolutely no ill-effects.) I was also certain that my delectables would seal the deal, and I would win his affections.
As if to put a punctuation mark on that thought, the smoke alarm outside the bedroom door went off!
I must have slipped back into dreamtime immediately, because I saw myself fetch my broom, turn it toward the ceiling, and with a swing that would do any polo-player proud, I whacked that little white dome clean off the ceiling. Trailing all of it’s wires like a tiny electronic octopus, it flew straight through the dining room window and out into the night!
I remember my satisfaction upon seeing the starburst-shaped hole in the window, the glowing full Moon right in front of me, and feeling the burst of fresh, cool air. I thought, “I’ll clean the glass in the morning. Now I can go back to sleep.”
Minutes later, on the second chirp, I put the pillow over my head. By the third chirp, my sweetheart, who can sleep through anything if he sleeps on his “good ear,” was also wide awake. I turned to him, “Do you think this will wake them?” as I pointed upstairs to our noisy neighbors. “I hope so,” he dead-panned.
Here it was, 4:30 am and maintenance didn’t open till 8:00. We rose, brewed some coffee, tried to replace the batteries ourselves and surprisingly, couldn’t. So we put in earplugs and sat at the kitchen table in our bathrobes, drinking coffee as if this were an everyday occurrence.
I was writing and enjoying my second cup of coffee, no longer grumbling, when the alarm inexplicably stopped chirping.
Wait… I think I just answered my own question… Smoke alarms go off in the middle of the night because God needs a good laugh!
Those are the words of Kermit The Frog. Despite Kermit’s opinion, it’s gotten much easier to be green since PANTONE, the global authority on color, has picked green as it’s color of the year. That makes twice in four years, and I am excited!
The glorious silver trend in hair continues as younger women are letting their hair go gray, flaunting their streaks, or bleaching and toning it in shades of gunmetal, platinum, and chrome. I admit, while it looks fantastic on young women with smooth skin, I have my doubts about having gray hair AND wrinkles.
From the time I was a baby I’ve loved the moon. My parents told stories of me standing in my crib, slapping the wall in the middle of the night and calling out, “Where’d the moon go? Where’d the pretty moon go?”
I just received a compliment, and rather than taking the compliment to heart, “Yeah, but… ” was the first thing that came out of my mouth! Why did I do that? Oh, you do that, too?
We drove to Madrid (pronounced Mad-Rid) to see dear friends for Thanksgiving and to take our first long-distance trip in our motor home. We also wanted to decompress from daily life in Austin, Texas, a city that continues to grow by leaps and bounds. Continue Reading