Ever Wonder?

Ever wonder what a day

one single day

would be like

if it were just

Black and White?

No gray

Just black

Or

Just white

Good or Bad

No Okays

Right or Wrong

No Halfways

Yes or No

No Maybes

Always or Never

No Sometimes

Now or Never

No Laters

Sun or Storm

No Overcast

Just Black and White

No gray

Ever wonder if it would be a better life; an easier life?

One might think so

Just imagine…our world with its indeterminable amount of 50/50 questions

answered in just one of two ways

Could that ever work?

Would we want it to?

Ever wonder?

Ask yourself 5…just 5…questions, whose answers at the time, helped shape your life. I am imagining these to be the toughest that we must ask ourselves at every critical juncture as we travel our respective journeys.

Then, think about how your life would (or wouldn’t) be different had you only had the option to answer in black or white.

I chose my 5 questions carefully. I won’t share the questions because we have each traveled our own paths, but what I will say is this…because of the ‘no gray’ constriction, my life would be vastly different.

In fact, my life would be no life at all.

You see, even though I had 5 questions, I only needed the ONE to change my life forever. At the time, if we’d been living in a black or white, yes or no, now or never world, my journey would have ended.

So, if you do ever wonder, you really should ask this ONE question first:

Is it worth it? The anxiety, ambiguity, doubt, pain, confusion, fear…and on and on.

The short answer, YES.

The long answer, YES because it is all temporary. What hurts now may not hurt tomorrow, but if it does, we can fix it. Your fears and doubts can be conquered if you work at it. The best motivators in life are doubt and fear…knowledge is the key to overcoming doubt and action is the key to overcoming fear.

What of the love, family, adventure, learning, teaching, helping, guiding…and on and on.

Have you ever walked behind a gray-haired, old person, limping with their cane, and thought “I don’t ever want that to be me”? Or watched from a distance as a gray-haired and bent old man, leans in and pushes his white-haired and wrinkly old sweetheart in a wheelchair, not noticing that he’s whispering to her as they travel, and thought…”I don’t want to live to be that old”?

If so, think of all you’ll loose in not living long and large enough to not earn that glorious CROWN of GRAY! Think of all the choices you’ve made to extend that life, only to look upon the gray, white, and silver generation with pity and sadness, or to some, even disgust.

I know, when I look at a face like the one of that man in the picture above, that he is someone I want talk to, listen to, laugh with, maybe even cry with. His face speaks to me of life yet to be lived.

His face says to me “I Wonder”!

THAT’S the face I want.

That’s the face I’m working on beneath my ever changing CROWN of black, white, and gray!

And another thing…

I guess today’s the day for reflecting on this new retirement gig ’cause I have another thought to share…though this isn’t really about retirement so much as agin’…know what I mean? 🙂

This past weekend, we had family over for a cookout. I told them to come around 2 or so, and planned a bunch of appetizers for the afternoon, leading into grilling sometime between 5:30 and 6.

I got into the kitchen about 9:30 to prep for the day and realized I had 3 items on the dinner menu I could actually make ahead, that way my afternoon could be spent at leisure with our guests, with only grilling the meat for later.

Cool beans!

However, there was one ingredient missing, that I needed, to put that plan into action. I didn’t want the Mr to have to run to the store for one thing, so I asked him if he’d check with the neighbor.

He wasn’t thrilled because, well, I needed an onion.

“Who the hell asks the neighbor to borrow an onion?”

Well, the short answer is…I do!

I sat on the porch (hey,, I was still in my jammies, so I wasn’t gunna do it!) and watched him go to our closest neighbors.

A couple minutes later, I see him walking to the next neighbor’s house empty handed.

Hmmm

I heard his knock on their door, then a minute later, I see him walking up the drive empty handed.

Hmmm Hmmm

Before I could even ask if they didn’t have any or if they weren’t home…my mind went immediately to this:

Do a blog on the list of items you never ask to borrow from a neighbor in a retirement community!

Funny thing is, we don’t live in a retirement community, but I think the Mr and I are one of two couples in the entire neighborhood under the age of 70, and most are 80s and beyond!

Didn’t plan it, just happened to be the only place we could find a house with a first floor owner’s suite for my in-laws.

So…this list and the reasons why NOT to ask, began forming in my head!

(Not sure why all the responses I heard in my head were southern, hillfolk-y… but hey, it’s my head and that what I heered!)

  • Onions – (Heartburn)

Hunny, if I ete an onion at my age, I’d taste it ’til I done dropped dade!

  • Sugar – (Diabetes)

Darlin’, we ain’t had sugar in this house fer nigh on a decade. Not since Ralph here got the di-a-beet-is.

  • Salt – (High Blood Pressure)

Oh Lordy Sugar, we got the blood pressure so bad, jes’ lookin’ at salt would keel us.

Bread – (Gluten Free)

Well you picked the right day to come by little lady…Ma just took a loaf outta t’oven! She’s a-makin’ that new fangled bread call glued-on free. Tain’t bad iff’n you toast it and have yer own teeth!

  • Eggs – (Cholesterol)

Oh goodness Chil’…with OUR co-less-trul? Shoot…if’n that don’t keel ya, the price of ’em sure as shootin’ would!

  • Butter – (Clogged Arteries)

Girl…ain’t you heered? Dont-cha-no that stuff’ll clog yer ar’trees faster than a mud pie? Here…take this-a-here. It ain’t half bad and wun’t keel ya ta boot. They done figured out howta make butter without no dairy init.

  • Milk – (Lactose Intolerance)

Oh now, let me tell ya, we sure do miss us some good ol’ fashioned, cold milk! An’ Ima serious. Wurs thing ’bout gittin’ up in years is losin’ the bowels. Cain’t abide no dairy no more or it’s goodbye kitchen chair – hello commode! Know what I mean? 

Tell me I’m wrong!

🙂

Do You Have G@S?

KIMG0094
GoT G@S?

Don’t blame me for the question  😆

I was actually headed down a whole ‘nother writting road when I was reminded of something I saw on Fartbook 😳 today that had me digging deeper to find out The rest of the story  🙂

It was about an overly flatulent passenger on a flight from Dubai to Amsterdam on which a passenger let fly 😉 toots that were sooo horrifyingly bad that….well, I’ll let you read some of the more descriptive headlines and you’ll figure it out!

 1. IBTIMES.CO.UK
Fart Attack: Plane makes emergency landing after passenger refuses to stop breaking wind on flight!

2. FINANCIALEXPRESS.COM
Transavia Airlines Emergency Landing: Reason As Explosive As It Is Hilarious!

3. NEWSHUB.CO.NZ
Transavia Airlines Flight Makes Emergency Landing After Passenger’s Farting Sparks Fight!

4. THEREGISTER.CO.UK
Farts Away! Plane Makes Unscheduled Stop After Man Won’t Stop Guffing! (that’s a new one on me!)

5. BOING BOING
Fart Rampage Forces Flight to Make Emergency Landing!

6. NYPOST
Farty Passenger Forces Flight to Make Emergency Landing!

7. King C-Note from HOT917FM.COM
“This flight was no GAS!”

8. INC.COM
How Farts on a Flight Led to a Fight and Alleged Racial Profiling.

9. GULFNEWS.COM
Bad Air Forces Emergency Landing!

10. FLIP.IT
Passenger Drops Farts So Putrid Pilot is Forced to Make Emergency Landing

11. DAILYCALLER.COM
Pilot Makes Emergency Landing Over Passenger Dropping Booty Bombs

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know about you all, but I think we needed a story like this to make the headlines today.

Don’t get me wrong…the stories monopolizing the various media outlets these days are important ones.  And we as a society must pay attention to and get involved in, finding solutions when and where we can.  Especially with regard to the tragedies at our nation’s schools.  Of this there is no question.

But something non-political or racially charged…

Wait…there is one headline that does not fall into this category…and to me, it’s just plain ignorant and self-serving; maybe even hate mongering rhetoric.

Did you notice?  Go back and read #8.

To claim racial profiling?  Really?  Do they think his flatulent emissions were trying to enter their country illegally?

Or perhaps their thinking was that his intolerable tootage was being used as a weapon of mass disgustion!

Whatever the reason behind that headline, it’s Just. Plain. Stupid.

Anyway…I was actually writing a post on another kind of gas when I was reminded of these headlines seen today.

If nothing else, I hope it brings a smile to your face.

Or maybe you’ll chuckle enough to release a little pressure of your own!

Hey, when you’re my age…the relief valve doesn’t always work!!!

Sometimes…it’s an effluent pump run amok!!

😆  Peace and Good Booty Bombs to All  😆

Should We Stay or Should We GođŸŽ¶đŸŽ¶đŸŽ¶

Okay.  So, I know it’s been a day or two since my last post 😉 and I wasn’t actually planning a post today ‘cuz it’s crazy busy for us right now, but…who the hell could resist?

Not I.

You all know how much I like a good ‘saga’  😂 😭 😓

Especially about cars.  Or moving.  Or houses.  Or other Shit-N-Stuff.

Right?

So…after all the blood, sweat, and tears, we shed before, during, and after, moving into our current home, we are considering selling.

Yup…2 years, 6 months in, picking up and moving again is actually being considered.

Nutz! đŸ˜”Â Â  Looney!  đŸ˜±Â Â  Coocoo for Cocoa Puffs! 🐒

Why?

Two reasons really.

The first, to be closer to my recently transplanted Mom, who is, apparently, one of those lucky people I’ve heard about when it comes to adventures in moving.  Her pack and move went smoothly.  Her house behaved when she moved in and didn’t reach out and break her leg or rain down through her light fixtures from the floor above.

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Remember my crying lights?

She has made a beautiful home for herself…and is quite content to remain where she is.  But, we are finding that even a mere 20 minute/10 mile distance, is 15 minutes too far!

{Hmmm, note to self…A Drive Too Far…Book?  Movie?  Copyright infringement?  Carry on self…}

The second, as important as the first, is because our beautiful Ms. Sadie needs a place to safely run and play in her own backyard, and we cannot give that to her.

Why?

Because we cannot fence it in đŸ˜Č

Why?

Bureaucratic Bullshit 🚧

We have a gorgeous back yard…

Northfield in the fall

What…don’t believe that’s mine?

What—everrrrrrrrrrrr  👀

Forget the mountains then.

Oh for Pete’s sake…take out the barn if it bothers ya!

Okay Okay (ya picky bitches), take out the fence, the trees, the other barn, and the rolling field in the background and you’ve got my yard.

Happy?

Anyhoo….because Virginia’s disclosure laws are a  j o k e, not one of the half dozen professionals involved in buying real estate, not to mention the previous owner, felt it necessary to inform us that this lot is one of the highest impacted lots in the neighborhood, rendering our little slice of Eden…all but USELESS.

Why?

There is a 60′ (yes, that is SIXTY) gas company easement from the back of the property towards the house and runs the entire width of the tad over a 1/3 acre lot.  From our way of thinking, that should have been mentioned by SOMEONE in the 2 month buying/closing process yeah?

Yeah……….No!

Add to that 60′ another 20′ for the build line which runs from the structure towards the back of the yard, making the total depth/width of what we cannot add to, plant on, or change in a way that would impede….a whopping 80′.

EIGHTY #$#$%#$ FEET  😖 😭 😕

Even though the gas company could work with us on a fee based waiver, they won’t.

But Wait!  There’s More  (oh goody)

There are also easements from the county that cannot be waivered.

One is a 16′ drainage easement, running back to front, the entire length of the property, but it’s on the side property line, so we didn’t give that one much thought.  At the time.  Not until we had to.  And we had to when we wanted to put a storage shed out there.  On the side.  Away from the gas easement.  Ya know, close to the garage and stuff.

Ummmm….Not gonna happen  đŸš«

Then {and I chuckle here} there is that all too common, everybody else must have one…FLOOD DAM FAULT LINE!  OR FAULT DAM FLOOD LINE!  OR DAM FLOOD FAULT LINE!  OR SOME DAMNED LINE GOING DIAGONALLY THROUGH THE ENTIRE BACK YARD!!

You got one, right?  And you?  And you, and you?  And you over there?  Everybody?  ‘Cause I’m thinking it’s so damned prolific as to be down right common-place.  Like we all got grass so why point out the grass?  Ain’t that why I’ve never heard of this effin’ thing?  Ain’t it?

What the hell is happening?????????????  đŸ˜±

The only friggin floods that I have ever heard of around here….were inside my damned house and that fault line didn’t help one daggone bit!!  (el squat-o)

Did I say this made me chuckle?

I lied  đŸ˜«

Of course, we wouldn’t do it if we didn’t think we’d get a decent enough return to buy another.  The market is good right now, the rates are still low, people may be looking to get into a place before the next school year….all good things right?

So I ask you…

đŸŽ¶ Should we stay or should we go đŸŽ¶

(sorry, I can’t help singing it…lol)

Oh geez…after all that, I forgot to mention why I even began this post.  While we muse over the possibility of listing (we’re about 98% there to be honest), we figured we’d do what we always do in this situation…invest more blood, sweat, and tears, not to mention 💰, into getting our imperfect 🏠 perfect so the next 👾 of the newly perfected 🏰 won’t have to lift a friggin’ finger or spend an effn’ dime!

‘Cause that’s how we role…we Hernandezeseses (Hernadezi?)

We buy, we fix, we do……..and we move.  So we can then…buy old and broken, fix to new and pretty, sell to others who don’t have to do a damned thing…just so we can buy old and broken, fix to new and pretty….blah de blah de blah!

In that vein…
We have had the fireplace that hasn’t worked since the day after we moved in, fixed.
We had the Jacuzzi tub’s leaky-ass faucets that we haven’t touched since the first time we went to use it and didn’t because it leaked, repaired.
We’re giving our wood floors a facelift so they don’t offend the next matriarch with their little Sadie scratches.
We’re resurfacing our pinkish, post-form, laminate countertops that somehow were good enough for me, but certainly will put off today’s savvy buyers looking for the trendier granite because ‘It’s so shiiiiny’.

And I’ve saved the best for last…

and the hardest for me…

the die-hard DIY’er:

Hiring someone to do what I do, and do well is tough. But time, old shoulders, bad, up close & personal, eyesight, added to my increased lack o’ patience, has dictated that this time around…we must bite the proverbial and hire a pro.

You all know me and my history with hiring professionals.

Though you know I pride myself in doing my due diligence, you also know it has gotten my leg broken, my house flooded, my toothbrush packed with the toilet brush, and my car dying at 70 MPH on Interstate 91 in New Haven.

Shall we agree that you know this Wonder Woman of Wacky Workmen?

Okay then…we’re off.

We hired a ‘Pro” to paint the interior of our 4BR, 3BA home, top to bottom, head to toe, and everything in between.  The references were stellar. The estimate reasonable. The time frame – 7 days. Perfect.

That should have been my first clue!

When. Will. I. Learn?

Nothing is perfect, nor apparently, what it seems!

I’m getting ahead of myself…let’s see.  To be pro-active, we removed all wall dĂ©cor, switch plates, outlet covers, electronics, all items in/on/around furniture, packed everything in boxes, moved all furniture to middle of rooms to be covered, placed all non-necessary furnishings, boxes, small items, etc., in the garage, took up all rugs, and basically had the house ‘paint-ready’ for the start date.  Oh, and we moved into my mother’s to give them free reign to only have to cover stuff once and not worry about finishing one room at a time.  The house was theirs.  They had to do nothing but cover, patch, sand, and paint.

Two painters began on Monday the 6th.  The owner’s son who is taking over the business, and his side kick with 25 years under his belt, cut-in and first coat, guy.

Come Saturday, the 11th, one was left and the other one gone.  I fired the side-kick for lack of production and sloppy work.  His smoke breaks alone used half his hours and all of his work needed to be re-done.

He blamed the paint.  I blamed the painter.  I win.

Boom!  You’re outta here! 

I was told he would be replaced with a more professional side kick, but as of today, the 17th, there is still but one.

Mr Painter Man

Who I call IMA

IMA fix it – IMA gonna do it – IMA be here late tomorra – IMA sorry – IMA IMA IMA

By end of business today, there will have been a total of 11 painting days.

Know what’s done?  Hah…stop that laughing.  Wanna know?

Upstairs.

This is still my downstairs…11 days later

Know what else?

There are 3 walls upstairs that need to be redone.  But I told IMA to save that for dessert cause I needed his ass downstairs in the kitchen!  I’ve got a counter top being redone on MONDAY!!

I even returned the remaining 6 gallons of my accent color, a beautiful Crushed Oregano green, for IMA because he keeps blaming the paint…I changed my design for him!

IMG_20160616_101407_640[1]
Does this color scare you?  It’s on my front door, which I painted, without trouble
 What the hell is wrong with me???  IMA STUPID!

Know what I’m doing right now?

😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 etc etc etc

Why bother going through all of this some might ask.  Especially when my house always looks good whether trendy or not.  Always up to date, clean, and comfy.  Homey!

Because Lord knows, today’s modern and discerning buyer would no doubt, walk into a home with red in the kitchen and yellow in the living room; green in the bathroom and a cloud painted blue sky ceiling in the bonus room, would run screaming into the street for the horror!

None of which I put on the walls but was perfectly fine with it until the day I decided to change it.

Boy oh Boy…we can’t expect someone else to think that way now can we?

Or so the real estate professionals tell me. After all, this is only the 6th house we will have sold, so how would I know anything about what sells and what doesn’t?

So…next week, it’ll be Mr. Painter-man who best have my kitchen done by tomorrow (or else ) and the counter-top crew.  That, should be an interesting day  😂

đŸŽ¶ đŸŽ¶ We Should’a Stayed and Let Him Go đŸŽ¶ đŸŽ¶

 

In the blink of an eye…

Last post was a week until…
This post is a week gone since…
In the blink of an eye it’s over
*
Last post I showed you where…
This post I’m showing you why…
In the click of a button it’s forever

*

1.)  Human Fun & Games

(Hover over photo or click on it for captions)

*

2.)  Nature Au Naturale

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“Will ya looky there Junior…them’s called bipeds. If’n it t’were huntin’ season, I’d show ya how to cook ’em real good in lots o’butter!”

DSC_4099
“Hey Ground Walker! Can’t you read?? You can’t park here! Just look at ’em Ralph…think they own the joint!’

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“STOP THAT I SAID!!!”

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“Good grief, can’t fly ANYWHERE around you bitches!”

DSC_3404
“Oooooh, look at that jet Pops!”

DSC_3102
“That ain’t no jet kids…that’s your cousin George”

DSC_3037
“Ma?  Where ya going Ma?”

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“Louise, get back here!”

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“No worries Pops…I’ll get her.”

DSC_3127
“Jeez Louise…can’t a fella visit his relatives?”

DSC_3807
“Hey Georgie…you can come visit me. I’m free as a bird tonight. Dinner?”

DSC_2981
“Whassat? Let me just clean my ears, thought you invited me to dinner.”

DSC_3183
“Well, alrighty then! I’ll just hop, skip, and a….

DSC_3192
…juuuuuuuump on over sweet thang!”

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Random man / bird fly by

DSC_3459
Random man caused fly away

DSC_3600
“I AM…’nuff said”

DSC_2547
“Oh he’s SUCH a show off!”

DSC_3871
“Hey…if I got it flaunt it right?”

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One…

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Two…

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Three…

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Dinner!”

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“Really? He’s this desperate? I’m BAIT not dinner!  The bird brain!!”

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heeheehee

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Heeeeey……..

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…that tickled ma belly!

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“I don’t get the whole beach thing Dorrie, do you?”

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“No, me either Handsome. Why hang out in all that sandy muck when you can lounge around with me surrounded by all this love stuff?”

DSC_4096
“Gee, I wonder if he’s noticed I’ve picked out the wedding bouquets? Oh Handsooooome? Wanna play Peek a Love-Dove?”

DSC_4078
“Handsome? Handsome? Hmmmm, I guess he noticed…that CHICKEN!”

*

3.)  Art…Is Where You Feel It

(click on a circle for captions)

*
Thanks for coming along…I do hope you enjoyed.

Next time it’s sand and surf, then worshiping the heavens

🙂

Schooled

Karate Kid Anyone?

Karate Kid - The Challenge
The Challenge – WAX ON KID?

Karate Kid - Challenge Accepted
Challenge Accepted – YOU’RE ON OLD MAN!

karate sounds - Copy

 

 

 

 

Karate Kid - Hiiiiii Ya
THAT ALL YA GOT OLD MAN?

karate sounds

 

 

 

 

Karate Kid - Wax Off Kid!
NOW…WAX OFF KID!

karate-kid-crane-kick1
Come on….anyone imagine this besides me?  LOL

 

Home is where you learn to walk

Walking.

Like riding a bike…once you learn how…you don’t forget.

Choose not to, sure.  But you don’t forget.

When I was a girl I used to walk everywhere.  I would stomp with purpose in my Wonder Bread bag covered shoes to school in the winters, hoping to get the bags off and stowed before the LL Bean boot-wearing kids could see them.

I’d march, like a good little soldier, the kiddie version of a 50 yard mile to church on Sunday, fiddling with the all too popular, bang-holding, enormous, white, clip-on bow my mother insisted I wear.  One that made my hair sit pregnant and waiting to pop its clip from atop my head, and in doing so, birthing my bangs back onto my forehead where they belonged!  The post clip-on years saw my 9 to 14 year old self, stomp the yard the longest 1/4 mile known to adolescents…especially on Catechism Saturdays, where God’s own wicked witch of the north ruled with an iron fist!

The better walking days were when I was old enough to sashay and glide; take my time meandering and strolling, to the place where all good things happen.  Overstreet.  Which, for those who don’t know, is our far north yank-speak for Downtown.  I could spend my fifty cent allowance buying nickle candy at the Economy Store, making sure to save the quarter I needed for the Sat’dy matinee a couple doors down at the Savoy.  And often times, I’d even have enough to stop at The Candy Kitchen for a creamie on the way home, if that’s what the gang wanted to do.

In the pre-bicycle summers, walking to the pool was the equivalent my now-self walking 5 miles on the huff and puff scale.  I’ve actually checked since then and know now it was just a hair shy of a mile…but it was the last half that was a killer.  Or so it seemed at the time. And looking back…having a bike didn’t improve that hill any…not one lick!  I don’t think I managed to stay ON the bike the whole way up but once, and only then because I rode that hill like it was a Donkey Kong trail, without the ladders!  Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.  It was easier to push it (or leave it home).  Besides, kids pushing bicycles up that hill was just the way of it…until the 10-speed arrived.  YeeHaw…what an invention.  Not that I ever had one, but boy could those kids ride that hill like it was nothing!

Our’s was a small town; a good, walking town for a kid when you come right down to it. Nestled in a little valley surrounded by the Green Mountains; a college town without acting like a college town because we didn’t really sport the kinds of places college kids like to hang.  And those we did have, the cadets managed to get thrown out of more often than not, so it was really just us town folk most of the time.

I loved walking that town, and I know it’s from walking that town that I feel so drawn to the beauty in everyday things that I often take pictures of.  Imagine walking down the street where you live, and everywhere you look, there’s a mountain, or a brook, or a river. Walk to the end of that street and you can chose to go straight over the footbridge, crossing the river towards downtown and what adventures lie there.  Or left over the tracks towards one of your schools or a shortcut to your friend’s house, the side street tree lined and leaf covered.  Or better yet, turn right and walk to where the pavement ends and the dirt begins.  Fields full of wild flowers and cows; promises of swimming holes and tire swings, and mountains as far as the eye can see.

All the time looking up.  All the time thinking…I want to live in those mountains.  I want to hear the brooks run and the smell the spring mud; feel the snow tickle as it falls on my face, and crunch under my feet for as long as I live.

I no longer live in that town.

But that town lives in me.  I take it with me everywhere, as I take all those things I fell in love with there too.

It’s the peace I reach for when I can find none where I am.

No matter where I hang my hat, my  heart remains there…in my little town.  Where walking the streets is not a profession…it’s a path to connection.  To God, to community, to nature, but most importantly, to oneself.

When I need it, I put on my boots and hit the road and remember.  I remember to keep my ears open, my eyes wide, and my mind quiet.  I remember to be thankful for some of the absolute best memories of my life…and more so, to be thankful for giving me the mountains my mind ran away to; where I’d sit under a glorious burnt orange tree while it bathed in the red-gold light of a late fall sun…for the absolute worst of my life.

The little town where I learned to walk; to never take for granted the beauty in the simple things; to accept with gratitude, the gifts it gave me every day; and learned too, the true understanding of what it is…the power…to have a place to call home.

Northfield in the fall
My town, where I learned to walk

 

(photo by Carol of Carol’s View of New England on blogspot)

Is there a Q in Creation?

Hello Hello!

And Happy New Year!

It’s been almost 3 months since I last laid fingers on this spot and quite frankly, I’m stumped as to why.  It’s not as though nothing has been going on in my life; not like I couldn’t have found something to regale you with.  But I didn’t, so there it is.  What to do, what to do?

My Quandry

It’s me and not what’s going on in my life, that is the…

queller of quills that once quivered in quickness as they quilted quality quarters in the quest of her quair; chock-full of the queenly and quintessentially queer, the quacky and quaggy and quixotically quaint.

It is me and me alone who can say…

quiescence remains in this quaffer’s quaich. What’s quashing that quorum of quarrels, quibs, and quips that querimoniously queue up in the quar of my gray- matter quag; quit of its quant?

As it is also me, the once…

quartermaster, now turned querulous quester, who is lost in quassation.  A quat, a quidam, a word-quean, bereft of her quean-dom; whose quiritation quickens toward quotidian.

Quit?

Qualify?

Quantify?

Quiver?

Quash?

Quell?

No

Hence the exercise in the little used and under appreciated

Q

A little warm up to get the juices flowing.

Maybe?

Hopefully?

For if this does not work…

I’m off to the Zees

Yikes!

Is there a Z word for HELLA-NO?

[I looked it up]

Z I P

Wish me luck  🙂