Where do you find your smile?

The day began as every day begins…and then it smiled

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Royal Mail with Her wax seal + A pretty postcard of the perfect English cottage + A letter written in the Queen’s own hand = Finding my Smile 

I found my smile wiggling its way through squiggly handwriting, wrapped in baby blue, royally sealed with wax and friendship

And after thousands of miles…in my mailbox

Where do you find yours?

Can We Get Married In Heaven?

Was hoping for inspiration to share my first attempt (sad though it is) at catching lightning.
I think I found it…  :)

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On their way to get married, a young Catholic couple is involved in a fatal car accident. The couple find themselves sitting outside the Pearly Gates waiting for St. Peter to process them into Heaven. While waiting, they begin to wonder: Could they possibly get married in Heaven?

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When St. Peter showed up, they asked him. St. Peter said, ‘I don’t know. This is the first time anyone has asked. Let me go find out,’ and he leaves.

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The couple sat and waited, and waited. Two months passed and the couple are still waiting. As they waited, they discussed that if they were allowed to get married in Heaven, what was the eternal aspect of it all. ‘What if it doesn’t work?’ they wondered, ‘Are we stuck together forever?’

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After yet another month, St. Peter finally returns, looking somewhat bedraggled. ‘Yes,’ he informs the couple, ‘you can get married in Heaven.’ ‘Great!’ said the couple, ‘but we were just wondering, what if things don’t work out? Could we also get a divorce in Heaven?’

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St. Peter, red-faced with anger, slammed his clipboard onto the ground. ‘What’s wrong?’ asked the frightened couple. ‘OH, COME ON!’, St. Peter shouted, ‘It took me three months to find a priest up here! Do you have any idea how long it’ll take me to find a Lawyer?!’

Porch Poet

porch collage
P inkish hues of spider’s silk
O ranges, yellows, whites like milk
R eds and greens in varying tints
C apture the sun’s rays as they glint
H ere on the mums, there on a wing
P rompting retreat to shade covered things
O ppressive, this air you can cut with a knife
E ven the bird, like dragon, still life
T oday’s one for dwelling, musing, no movement
S o hoping tomorrow will bring some improvement
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Laboriously Laboring and Languidly Lingering this Loathingly Liquid Labor Day

Labor Day.

The last holiday before the official end of summer.

And this is a steamy one for sure.

Humidity levels are through the roof so if you venture into the sun, you’ll braise…not bake  :roll:

It is a day to celebrate the working person.

A day to ‘not’ work [as long as you don't work in retail, then it's a day to go Christmas shopping].

I know, right?

Anyway, since I don’t work outside the home, it is just another laundry day, with the added bonus of baking turtle brownies. (turtle brownies:  nuts and caramel in the brownies, um yeah mama)

Baking?  Today?  In this heat?

Ummm, my indoor thermostat says 68, and as he knows me well…he knows that should his digits read below 68, I shall haul off and punch him in the face!

So yeah, it’s a baking day  :)

brownies

A glimpse…that’s what you get!

As happens in the summer, more bloggers are out living life rather than inside writing about it, hence, less blogging more jogging. At least it seems so to me.

And while I wasn’t out there jogging (God forbid!) I was ‘out there’.

So Labor Day does tend to remind me that it’s time to come in once in a while and ease back into the fall yarns (get it?) so when winter comes, I’ll be knitting stories with the best of ya!

I don’t have any particular “What I did on my summer vacation” tales to weave, but I do have a snap or two that do paint (crafty eh?) a pretty picture of some of the fun we had.

Like…the time Matty spent back in the lower 48. Three weeks of sun and disc golf and beachin and boozin (ahem) and cousins and Grandfolks and…well, you get the idea

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Did I mention boozin’?

For myself…most of my time was spent in the same places as the boys…I just had my hands on something other than a beer bottle.

[Ah shit, that's a lie. I had one hand on a bottle and the other on the camera.]

Okay? Geesh! Can’t get away with crap around here!

So my time was spent catching mountains and moonlight; a that bud for you…
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…then rivers, lakes, and lilly pads; roads and bridges too.
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I had a couple days where the pickens were slim; a tree and some deer, and an old car pullin in. A whirlygiggly butterfly and dead people’s ground; a downpour and a pond sign for an absconded pond.
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But you all know what I’m like, always a barn or two; then Supe with his sidekick, and a damsel lunching, eew eew…
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This is a glimpse of what I’ve been laboring with. And if I do say…
Life is Good!

Let's Fly

Let’s Fly

Hope you all had an enjoyable, relaxing, family and fun filled summer.
I look forward to seeing more regular attendance now that Blog U is back in session.

:) R

If it ain’t broke…

land mines
Barbara Walters, of 20/20, did a story on gender roles in Kabul, Afghanistan, several years before the Afghan conflict.

She noted that women customarily walked five paces behind their husbands.

She recently returned to Kabul and observed that women still walk behind their husbands.

Despite the overthrow of the oppressive Taliban regime, the women now seem happy to maintain the old custom.

Ms Walters approached one of the Afghani women and asked,

‘Why do you now seem happy with an old custom that you once tried so desperately to change?’
The woman looked Ms Walters straight in the eyes, and without hesitation said,

“Land mines.”

The Fickle Pickle

fick·le ˈfikəl/ adjective:

changing frequently, especially as regards one’s loyalties, interests, or affection.

I’m in a pickle ’cause I love slap and tickle but taken alone I hate a slap but love a tickle am I fickle?

 

No…not quite like that.

Here’s the thing…I was sitting on the porch this morning, as is usual, with my coffee and smokes, thinking…

“I love this” followed immediately by “I hate this”.

That thought alone, occupied my brain for the next 2 hours. Through my second cuppa, my third smoke, changing the sheets, checking my mail, taking my shower, love/hate, love/hate, love/hate…

Enough with the fickle pickle already!

So…to clear my head of this love/hate dialogue that was making my head spin, I thought I could put it down on paper and try to figure out if I am, in fact, ficklish.  (That’s like being ticklish only not as much fun)

Or, am I just someone who can NOT make a damned decision and stick with it.

I found it was much easier said than done. Mostly because there are waaaaay too many; way, way, too many; did I say way to many?

However, not to be deterred, and despite the shear number…I’m giving it another go.

Only this time, I’m limiting myself to one fickle per letter of the alphabet. I don’t know yet if I’ll have one for every letter, just as I already know I will have to choose between more than one for some others.

But…if a letter is empty, then I’ve got nothing.

Yet!

I know…it’s a bit ridickle!

And I also know, limiting some of the letters to one thing is going to be near impossibickle!

But, I shall try. Because, my hope is, by the time I’m done, I can look at the list objectively and do one of two things:

Decide which side of the coin I’m on.
or
Embrace the pickle and be tickled that I’m fickle.

No…seriously.  I need to do this.

I need to challenge myself to be more/do more/try more/embrace more…things that I love.
To a greater degree than not doing more/trying more/being more/embracing more…of the things I can change.

Because…the ‘hate side’ is…simply put…FEAR

Here goes ~ The Fickle Pickle of Love/Hate Relationships A to Z

Aging
I love that I’ve earned my stripes.
I hate that that they are on my body, so I undress in the dark.

Beaches
I love when the beach is empty and the waves are crashing.
I hate the bikini strewn, human oil slick, so I beach in winter.

Crowds
I love the excitement that creates a crowd.
I hate feeling alone in one, so I avoid them.

Dreams
I love hearing about dreams.
I hate having them, so I don’t (at least I don’t remember them).

Equality
I love the idea of it, in all things.
I hate that sometimes, I am part of the problem in remaining silent.

Flying
I love the journey,
I hate the hassle, so I don’t (very often).

Google
I love that you can have an answer in a flash.
I hate that it has replaced looking things up in the encyclopedia and the dictionary, but I’m guilty too.

Humidity
I love what it does for my skin.
I hate what it does to my hair, I’m a chia pet!

Immigration
I love that American means Everyonecan.
I hate that it has become counting pennies vs. counting kids, but that’s the reality we live in.

Jingles
I love knowing them, singing them, and recognizing the product by the tune.
I hate knowing them, singing them, and recognizing that I just might be a couch potato!

Kayaking
I love the idea of being ‘one with the water’, especially in the quiet, early morning mist, just as the sun rises.
I hate the spidery hidey hole where I can’t see my feet, so I don’t.

Love
I love love, being in love, being loved, giving love.
I hate what happens to me when love doesn’t feel safe.
I hate losing a single second to that most of all.
Shying away from love for fear of pain may be a form of self defense.
But it’s the worst offense against yourself there could ever be.

Motherhood
I love being a mother, for there is no love like it in the world.
I hate being a mother, at times, for there is no fear like it in the world.
(Though this, I would NEVER change)

Nakedness
I love the rare times I’ve allowed myself the freedom, wishing it always felt that way.
I hate the majority of my adult life has been spent trying to avoid it.

Obsession
I love the passion it takes to have one.
I hate the control I lose when I do, which is often.

Porches
I love being a porch dweller; morning coffee, afternoon wine, thunderstorms…
I hate being a porch dweller; going out to smoke, checking the spi-dar for spiders, being spied upon by the people driving or walking by, an oddi-tee in a nigh-tee!

Q

Rainbows
I love the spontaneous way they pop up hither and thither and yon, alone or in pairs, nature at it’s best.
I hate the feeling of ‘somewhere’ I get when I see one.

Smoking
I love smoking
I hate everything about it, but here I am

Technology
I love how the human mind works, developing new technology to solve the world’s problems
I hate that technology has replaced some sadly lacking human qualities…like kindness, empathy, compassion, and common sense. Definitely one of those ‘double edged swords’

U

Vermont
I love Vermont, you know I do. I am as Green Mountain blooded as I am red blooded.
I hate Vermont, and I’ll leave it there.

Wine
I love what it does for me
I hate what it does to me.
Let’s face it, beer drinkers go deaf and shout and have their beer-bellies.
Wine drinkers go soft and fuzzy and have wine-wattles!

Xray
I love xray technology for finding broken bones and cancerous tumors.
I hate xray for finding things we cannot fix.
I do wonder if I’d rather not know if that’s the case.

Yoda
I love Yoda for his wisdom, manner, sense of humor, and common sense :-)
I hate Yoda because to look at him reminds me that Superman is mortal :-(
As are we all…but still.

Zoos
I love the zoo for obvious reasons.
I hate the zoo for even more obvious reasons.

So…the challenge to me is to address the love/hates and see which are hurting me or preventing me from growing as a person.  Granted, some will remain as they are…we can’t love everything, but nor can we hate everything…and we can certainly have a bit of both now and then.

As a shield…hate sucks.

As a tool…hate sucks.

As a rule…hate sucks.

As a reminder to do better…hate can work.

Challenge yourselves…and if anyone has a love/hate they’d like to share, I’d like to hear.

xo

R