Some of my friends here have posted their decorations. I have instructions stored somewhere on my hard drive for how to put multiple photos into blogs. But I'm too tired to look at them right now, so I'll just post this one photo.
My mother made both the tree and the nativity figurines a number of years ago. She was really into ceramics before she moved south. Even had her own kiln. These are my favorite decorations.
I am eating WAY too many of these Christmas cookies:
They are so yummy!
My grandma's recipe. And probably her grandma's before her.
They taste exactly like Christmas.
I wish I had a camera that could show the view from me:
Peripheral and everything I do and do not see.
And it would have to focus without zooming, and should stay
Attentive to the details and wide angles of each day.
Photographic memories! I’ve heard some people have them.
Not me, though, only words are stored, retrievable at random.
I cannot tell you what I saw unless I first told me!
Word pictures I’ll remember. That’s why I write poetry.
The Night Before Christmas -- 1967
S'posta be a big storm comin' ... Just looks like normal snow so far.
Youngest son is of the opinion it ought to wait a day, so they can close the schools on Monday.
Stopped by yahoo 360 the other day ... read a coupla blogs ... even left a coupla comments.
So, to my initial delight, I get email alerts from 360 that somebody's commented to my page over there.
Click the links. Then ... Huh?
Well, guys, remember a month or so ago when everything over there was disappearing? Guess it's been floatin' round in cyberspace. Landed in my email today. Comments from October.
Guess I'll tag this one "back to the future" ... Grin
Someone who matters a good deal to me
has changed something on his MySpace page
In his profile
Where they ask your religion
He used to have "atheist"
Today it says "Christian"
No other commentary, wee little hopes.
R.K.
(Oh, BTW -- you won't find him by going to my MySpace page ... he's not in my friends list. I just know how to find him.)
Ladybug, Ladybug
Fly away home
Your house is on fire
Your children will burn
I’d fly home if I could,
But I’m lost in this weed.
The flower I’d chosen
Has all gone to seed.
The seeds have made wings
Of their own, and I fear
The wind will blow them and me
So far from here
My children will burn
‘Fore my wings touch the sky
Why did I choose this damn flower?
Oh why?
-- Poem by Rani Kaye
All rights reserved
Have to play computer geek tonight. Hopefully I can get back to the fun stuff tomorrow.
Steve and Ardene have a place at the lake, but they live 'round the corner from us, on the edge of the ghetto. Mike and I were walkin' the dog one Saturday. We walk towards the east ... two blocks east and you're among manicured lawns and golden retreavers. Back in the 'hood, and one block west of our place, Steve was on the sidewalk near his house, poking a rake handle at some shoes draped over the telephone wires. "Shoes hangin' over the lines like that means a drug dealer lives here," said Steve; and I had no idea how he would know that, or if it's even true. Steve and Ardene were missionaries to Africa most of their lives; and then when they retired they moved back to a neighborhood no longer predominantly Dutch.
Ardene was my middle son's teacher in first grade, and Steve was my husband's best man at our wedding. We chatted with Steve while he tried to snag the shoes down off the line. Then we headed home with our dog. I suppose he eventually got the shoes down.
They had us up to their cottage at the Big Lake once. We walked the beach, and then went indoors and played dominoes. Steve and Ardene are older than Mike and me, 'though not by a lot. Their kids are our age, I guess ... but my own folks were roughly 20 when I was born, and 20 years age difference isn't so much when you're in your late 40s. So Steve and Ardene were 60-something. Big deal.
But Steve up and died one day, while we were eating dinner. We heard the ambulance come 'round the corner. Wondered about it. That's all.
Next morning, Steve's daughter knocked at the back door. Wanted to tell us herself. He died on his birthday. Gettin' ready to take Ardene to dinner, where they'd meet all their kids, to celebrate Dad's birthday.
It snowed the day of Steve's funeral. Hadn't snowed that winter till that day. Their church was like a gymnasium. Not very Dutch, even though it was CRC. We all sat on folding chairs. The place was packed, though. Had a nice luncheon, after, I suppose. Steve's funeral luncheon kinda melds in together with other funeral luncheons I've attended through the years. Cake and coffee and white paper over long tables with people scattered here and there. Probably some ham on buns, potato chips, potato salad, large assortment of jello salads made by ladies from the church.
"I want you to know, I will be okay," Ardene told us next time we saw her. "I don't want you to worry -- Steve left me okay off. I don't plan to move. I plan to stay." Those of us who still take care of our house and lawn, this close to the ghetto, sometimes reassure each other that we're stayin'. It's not the color of our skin that matters -- any neighbors who take care of their place and don't let their kids run wild are excellent neighbors far as we're concerned.
Sometimes when I drive through town on my way to work, I see shoes draped over the telephone lines, and I wonder whether Steve was right -- that they mean something, I mean.
So shoes that dangle, as those in this photo do, even though they're at the beach, make me think about Steve, and encroachment by drug dealers, and once-lovely neighborhoods with absentee landlords, and ghetto-edgers like us, who think if you plant enough flowers everybody will remember that Time Began in a Garden.
Oooo! Look what my husband got me for my birthday !!!!!!
DVD: "Northern Exposure -- The Complete Sixth Season"
Book: The Cat Who Had 60 Whiskers, by Lilian Jackson Braun
Lucious!
Today's "To Do" list is almost done! Had some before-winter preventive maintenance done on the car, did the laundry, dusted the furniture, (raked leaves yesterday), swept the kitchen, balanced checkbook, notified everybody that my internet will be down next week. All that's left to do is mop the kitchen floor, vacuum, and wash my hair. That'll do it!
We get an EXTRA hour tonight! (Daylight Savings Time ends.)
10 PM and all is well ... this time tomorrow it will be only 9 PM. I love it! Have a restful night, everyone!
We're going to be making some changes in our internet service, and beginning Monday, November 5th, until Tuesday, November 13th, we will be WITHOUT an internet connection at our home! (This is a household of 3 people & 3 computers, mind you.)
MAYBE I'll get a chance to flitter about online at the office, before & after work ... depends what else will be going on from day to day.
But IF you don't hear from me for a week, I HAVE NOT fallen off the face of the earth.
I have fallen off the edge of the world
I have landed in another time
I carry the memories of a former life
Uncharted waters: There be dragons here!
-- Poem by Rani Kaye, all rights reserved
Today is Friday, and here's my "Foto Friday -- Fall" submission. First you rake 'em, then you "fall" in 'em, then you pose for a photo in 'em. After that you get to come inside and have hot chocolate and pumpkin bread. They'll pose for me because they "fall" for my ploy -- pretty face for the camera and you get to have something sweet.
Here's the followup photo (which is NOT my Foto Friday photo ... simply an addendum to my blog).
Shared an apartment with Kath right after high school. Wasn't the last time I roomed with her, actually ... eventually we went off to college & shared a space there, too ... and over the years her love of cats finally rubbed off on me.
However, in 1970 I'd never had the pleasure of knowing a cat before, and Kathy's cat took a particular disliking to me, because I expected cats to RESPOND to my wishes ... such as, "Cats do NOT belong sitting on the open toilet seat."
I was forever chasing the cat out of the loo (as you Brits say). Kitty eventually got so she could hear me coming home, and would get down while my key was still in the apartment door lock, so that by the time I reached the kitchen (the loo was off the kitchen ... isn't THAT gross!), Kitty would be sauntering out the bathroom doorway, yawning at me all innocent-like.
Kitty KNEW what time I got off work (I got home sooner than Kath). HOWEVER!
One day, I came home unexpectedly for lunch, and evidently I startled Kitty cuz as I reached the kitchen, I heard,
SPA-LASH, ME-YOW-OW-OW-OW!
and out of the bathroom came a streak of wet cat, lifting dripping paws in disgust with every step.
I must say, I laughed my you-know-what off!
Sorry, Kitty.
Stuff and Nonsense by Rani Kaye
(formerly known as “Mystic Poet”):
This should be a cozy haunt:
Up and down the stairs I jaunt.
If I try to walk away,
I’ll find I’m asleep, and stay.
If I try to reach "awake"
I’ll discover my mistake:
(Flying through here in the rain ...
Lightening out my window pane ...
Pelting teardrops o’er my head;
I am really still in bed!)
Have you ever dreamed you waked?
Took a walk, and couldn’t shake
Some fool notion you’re not there
But asleep in bed, somewhere?
If you do, just say a prayer!
And your spirit will recover;
Leaving dreamland, find the other
Place that is your true abode
(While the shades of death withhold
Your existence from the sky ...
In determined steps to try
To remember on which day
You assumed a shell of clay,
And were bound by time and space
To exist in but one place
Until time and space shall end --
Then you get to fly again!)
Puh-leeez tell me all the work I did till 3:30 last night putting those pictures back on my blogs has made it through the night ...... E-YES!!!!!
Happy day!
Later, y'all -- Time to earn my livin'!
Oh, I get it!!! I copied and pasted my photos (my very own photos!!!!!!) from my yahoo blogs into my Multiply blogs ... but they came with a nasty little yahoo link. They looked just fine last night ... but today they are little x-in-a-boxes, and when you click 'em you link to yahooooey. Blah!
Okay. I can deal with this. Give me some time. I will fix all the blogs by re-posting the photos from my computer, instead of from (good riddance) yahoo.
And just when I thought I was all moved in and gettin' settled, too. Sigh.
Hee hee hee -- Look what I just snagged (with permission) from our Yahoo Refugee Group site --- Thanx Alan!
Got up early this morning, after staying here late last night moving my blogs over from 360 and MySpace. Have spent the past hour-and-a-half strolling through the neighborhood, and trying to remember to say hi everyplace I go ... but I'm not very gregarious in real life (kinda shy) so remembering to comment is a newly-learned skill for me.
I have a recipe to post before the kids get up, but I wanted to say hi to y'all. I LIKE it here on Multiply! I LOVE the way the My Multiply page shows me all my friends' friends and what y'all are up to! Makes me feel so connected and so welcome!
Well, gotta type out that recipe. Got one grandson here for an overnight, and even HE loved eating this yesterday! Youngest son, of course, is almost 17, and eats EVERYTHING!
#1 "Too Many Poets"
There are too many poets
With nothing to say:
We look into ourselves,
We look out at the day.
There are too many poems
That get tossed aside:
They speak of the seasons,
They speak of the tide.
There are too many errors
In epochs of men:
What we've done in the past,
We keep doing again.
#2 "Eleven-fifteen"
It's tense, and tight,
And all we are is waiting;
With painful glances:
I at you, and you at me.
We would touch,
But fear is single,
And time ticks on.
STOP! STOP!
Oh, no, the end will come;
And our memories
Are only gray visions
Blurred with the rain.
--The above poem was written at 11:15 a.m., just before the bell was to ring, ending the last day of my favorite class in my last year of high school.
P.S. If you ever see a scary door like this one, I say slap some paint on it and plant some flowers!
“Rani Kaye’s always got her nose stuck in a book,” my dad would often say, and not without affection.
“Rani Kaye, get your nose out of that book, and go outside and play,” my mom would sometimes say.
And so I’d go outside, and swing on the swings in the back yard, and look at the trees or the sky, and daydream.
Sometimes I’d climb the bars on the side, and then hang by my knees and swing upside down. I did that more on the swings at school, but I did it at home, too, ‘til I grew too tall to hang from the swingset’s side brace because my fingers would brush the ground. You can’t dangle smoothly if your fingers touch the ground.
I played with my sisters much of the time. We played house. I was the oldest, and in order to pretend well, so that our play would be interactive, I was the one who told the story.
The story was always the same. We were three sisters, all grown up. We had husbands (imaginary men with names we had chosen who had jobs we had imagined) and we had children (all the dolls we’d gotten for Christmas through the years). We all lived next door to each other on the same street. My husband was a police officer. Debbie’s was a fireman, I think. Was Vickie’s a businessman? Possibly. I can’t remember.
House was my favorite game to play, but we were seldom allowed to take our dolls outside. What we could take outside were the “old” toy cars.
Did you know you can play house with toy cars? There was hard-packed dirt beside the driveway where one could draw houses with complete floor plans, and garages with a nail in the wall to hang the roller skates, and sidewalks, roads, and grocery stores and schools.
Same husbands, same children (but now the children had to be imagined as well) and the only thing real were the toy cars. These we drove from house to house and to the store and we had family barbeques and various adventures playing house with the “old” toy cars.
Our one little brother would sometimes play house with us too. He didn’t own dolls, but he did have a Yogi Bear. It was easier for him to play with us outside with the cars. We said he had to be the dad of the Yogi Bear doll, and he didn’t quite know what to do with it. He was good with the cars, though, even as a toddler.
When he was about eight or nine they came out with Matchbox cars, and well into puberty he would create entire towns on the floor in his bedroom using blocks and I don’t know what-all so he’d have a place to drive his fleet of Matchbox cars.
Until my parents moved South in their retirement, Dougie’s Matchbox cars were still at their house, and my sisters’ sons and mine would play with them; but we girls made sure our sons treated those toy cars with reverence. “Those are Uncle Doug’s toy cars. They’re really old. Take good care of them.”
When Doug was two, my parents gave us one more little sister. I was nine by then. It’s almost her 45th birthday as I write this down today. Her name’s Jeri Lynn. She was named after Daddy, or maybe after my mother’s cousin Jeri Louise.
Most of my memories of childhood, though, are before the baby was born. I called us the “Sisters Three.” We used to practice songs together, and then make our parents sit on the couch and listen to us sing. We sounded like the Andrews sisters, or at least that’s what I thought.
Believe it or not, my whole family used to sing together, every time we went for a drive. Mom and Dad taught us to sing “Let Me Call You Lizzy, I’m in Debt For You,” and “Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”
Grandma and Grandpa (my mom’s parents) taught us songs too. Grandpa taught me all the words to “The Old Kent County Jail” before I was old enough to go to kindergarten. Mom was terrified I’d offer to sing that for the teacher once I started school, and she made Grandpa stop singing it with me.
“Ka-ka-ka-Katie” is a song I learned from Grandma, who also used to sing, “I’ve Laid Around and Played Around This Old Town Too Long.”
When I was in sixth grade and Debbie was in second, The Singing Nun sang a song called “Dominique” and I learned the words and taught it to Debbie. When we sang it for our mom she seemed really, really happy.
The last time I ever sang with Debbie was in the mid-seventies when she was married to, or maybe just dating Dave. Dave played guitar in my mom’s kitchen and had Deb and me sing “Time in a Bottle” by Jim Croche. Dave was a music major at Grand Valley. I took a 20th Century American History Class with him at night school not long after that. Pretty soon Dave and Deb split up. Many years later I read in the Grand Rapids Press that he had gained some renown as a composer.
When Jeri’s son got married, she tried to get me to sing Karaoke at his wedding reception. She thinks I have a lovely voice. I do not have a lovely voice, though. She is mistaken.
I really haven't thought much yet about who I hope runs for president, and I thought I was leaning towards the democrats (I was raised to be an independent voter -- you vote for the person, not the party, my parents always said). But a quiz I took today at USA Today shows me that, based on my own views on various issues, John McCain is the candidate whose views on these issues most closely match my views. Interesting. Click on the link to take the quiz yourself.
http://www.usatoday.com/news/politics/election2008/candidate-match-game.htm?s...
The woman in the white Ford van
Is aching for a song ...
She turns on a country station,
But the ones they play are wrong.
She flips to a gospel station --
A commercial is on the air.
She parks the van,
Walks to the back,
And kneels herself in prayer.
She wants pain set to music,
Deliverance set to rhyme,
The questions, without answers, rolling 'round time after time.
1 pkg. split peas, rinsed & sorted
3 cans chicken broth
4 cups water
sliced carrots
chopped onion
1/2 teaspoon thyme
1 bay leaf
1 & 1/2 Tablespoons celery leaves
diced, uncooked turkey bacon
Combine all ingredients in a large kettle, and place over high heat. When it starts to boil, reduce the heat. Cover and simmer until done, stirring occasionally to keep it from sticking. I think it takes about an hour and a half. You will know when it is done, because it will look like pea soup. 
Remove the bay leaf before serving.
I recently heard that what we post online is automatically copywrited. Please, don't anybody steal my words. But I think I'm going to start posting some of my own poetry. Because maybe things I've struggled with and figured out, will be helpful to someone else along the way. Peace, Rani
Written by Rani Kaye on June 17, 1989:
Five or six people in each age of men
Express something true with the brush or the pen
And others repeat it again and again.
And falsehood, if clothed in a nice-enough rhyme
Is also inscribed in the marble of time.
Written by Rani Kaye on February 22, 1988:
More than a year without a poem
... and they used to come every day!
Oh, they still do, but I don't write them down
I just sing them, then they drift away.
(Somebody's Journal records all the rhymes
... and notes all the harmonies playing behind.
And He loves an old song
... and He loves a new song
... and He loves diversity, comedy, and hue!)
And I love to sing them
... and I love to bring them
On altars of frailty,
Transformed by His holiness,
Made fit for His view.
And He hears my every prayer!
Those spoken ... those breathed unaware.
Before and behind my life:
Yhwh ever there!
Reigning, although unseen
The comedy of God has been
A servant on horseback
And a king on his feet!
A maid who's her mistress' heir
(Whom Mary and Sarah bare)
And Oh! How the earth will move!
When the Servant is King!
Does anybody know the author of this poem?
I found a handwritten copy of this poem in a shoebox belonging to a 91 year old cousin:
On the banks of Allan Water
When brown autumn spread its store;
There I saw the Miller's daughter
But she smiled no more.
For the summer grief has brought her,
And the soldier false was he;
On the banks of Allan Water,
None as sad as she.
Rani Kaye   |
|
Current mood: 
contemplative
Those of us who make friends online feel quite connected to our penpals. We congregate around our particular interests on the web ... "birds of a feather flock together," as the old saying goes.
I, too, have some forums that I frequent ... and my penpals mean a lot to me.
I just read an article from our local tv news rss feed about a Virginia Tech student who was well known at an online forum for our Detroit Tigers and West Michigan Whitecaps. I don't frequent that forum, not being into sports myself, but I understand.
If you wonder whether our online connections are "real" -- take a look at this link:
1 chocolate cake mix
2 eggs
1 can cherry pie filling
Mix all ingredients with an electric mixer. Add no other liquids. Bake according to directions on the cake mix package. When cooled, frost with canned chocolate frosting.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
1 egg, beaten
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 cup milk
3/4 cup rolled oats
1 1/2 t. Lawrys seasoned salt
1 t. minced garlic
2 lb. ground beef
1/4 t. pepper
1 t. dry mustard
1 t. paprika
1 t. worchestershire sauce
dash of allspice
2 T. red cooking wine
Bake at 375 degrees for 1 1/2 hours.
1 c. diced Vidalia onion -- cook till transparent in 1 T olive oil & 1 t butter; add 2 cloves fresh minced garlic & 1 T celery flakes. Add 2 cans chicken broth & 1 can water. Rinse & chop 1 lg. bag frozen broccoli & add it to the stock. Peel, rinse, & dice 1 medium Idaho potato & add it to the stock. Bring to full boil; reduce heat, cover & simmer 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Whisk together 1/2 c. flour & 2 c. milk; stir that slowly into broth; stir in 12 oz american cheese & heat through -- be careful not to scorch.
Funniest blog quote from yesterday:
"... Its 256 MB of RAM and crapload of crapware from HP are making the updates painfully slow ... "
Here's the link to the blog:
http://www.bbspot.com/Log/?module=Log&function=browse&id=844
 | Currently listening : Itzhak Perlman's Greatest Hits By Fryderyk Chopin Release date: By 17 February, 1998  |
Excerpts from some things I've read today:
"It is not God's will that His people be bored and lonely. He wants us to enjoy great fellowship and companionship. He wants us to feel great physically, not just drag our bodies around every day. He wants us to be vibrant and energetic, to enjoy life and live it to the fullest. He also wants us to be sharp mentally, have good memories and not live in a confused and worried manner." -- Meyer, Joyce, "How to Succeed at Being Yourself" (c) 1999 by Joyce Meyer, Life In The Word, Inc., Published by Harrison House, Inc., Tulsa, OK.
"...if by "Liberal" they mean someone who welcomes new ideas without rigid reactions, someone who cares about the welfare of the people -- their health, their housing, their schools, their jobs, their civil rights and their civil liberties, someone who believes we can break through the stalemate and suspicions that grip us in our policies abroad -- if that is what they mean by liberal, then I am proud to say that I'm a liberal." -- John F. Kennedy on the campaign trail in 1960.
This takes about an hour from the time you enter the kitchen till you serve it to your family.
First thing to start -- Mild Sauerkraut:
Drain one can of sauerkraut, rinse with cold water, and drain again. Put into medium-sized saucepan. Add 1/4 cup dry minced onion, 1/8 cup sugar, 1/2 teaspoon poultry seasoning, 1 bay leaf, and 1 can chicken broth. Boil together till nearly all the liquid is absorbed/evaporated. Remove the bay leaf before serving. Makes 4 servings.
While the saurkraut is cooking, start the Brown Bread Muffins:
Preheat oven to 375. Put 2 cups bran flakes, 1/4 cup raisins, 1 cup milk, and 1/2 cup water into a microwave-safe mixing bowl. Microwave on high for 1 minute. Remove from microwave and add 1 large grated carrot, 1/4 cup vegetable oil, 1/2 cup molasses, 1 egg, and 1-1/2 cups Bisquick. Stir until well blended. Spoon batter into muffin tins that have been lined with cupcake papers. Bake at 375 for 8-10 minutes. Check with a toothpick inserted in center of muffin to see if they are done. Makes 15 muffins.
While the muffins are baking, start the Mild Skillet Barbeque Chicken:
Brown 8 boneless, skinless chicken thighs on high heat in skillet with 2 tablespoons olive oil, turning frequently. Sprinkle chicken with garlic powder and curry powder. Pour about 1/4 cup red cooking wine over chicken and continue cooking. In a separate bowl, mix together 1 can tomato soup, 1 tablespoon brown sugar, 1 tablespoon cider vinegar, and 1/4 cup water. Pour this over the chicken. Continue to cook the chicken, turning frequently, until it is tender and cooked through. Remove from heat. The extra sauce from the chicken will be used for the beans.
After the chicken is done, put one can of Butter Beans (undrained) into a microwave-safe covered dish and microwave on high for 4 minutes. Drain the beans, and return them to the dish. Spoon the tomato soup mixture from the chicken pan over the beans and stir to coat them.
I re-warmed the saurkraut at this point before serving everything. This was an awesome meal which my family really loved.
Is there such a thing as random?
Some computer games ... like chess, for instance ... seem to choose the computer's plays at random. However: the computer had to be programed to choose the plays at random. Which means that there are "rules" for random.
I betcha there's rules for random in the universe, as well. Rules that cover every seemingly random occurrence, like weather for example. But I'm not writing this because of a concern for weather. What I'm thinking about ... what I want to write about ... is knowledge versus superstition.
Probability can be computed mathematically, I know. Problem is, we aren't aware of all the variables in the universe.
Nevertheless, we humans, collectively, do know a lot. We can't predict or control every "random" occurrence. But, for crying out loud, we can acquaint ourselves with the cause and effect of things!
Do you remember Y2K? Back in 1999, my immediate supervisor where I worked was very into the idea that all hell was gonna break loose at midnight December 31st, 1999 -- just because of the date change to a new millennium. He was, in my opinion, a very superstitious man; but in his own opinion he considered himself to be expecting chaotic events because of his religion. He'd been listening to the preaching of some guy who had a foolish notion, and this guy preached it quite charismatically and articulately.
Because he believed this fellow's foolish notion, my boss borrowed lots of money from his 401-k and prepared his home for a siege. No kidding. And since my boss supervised quite a few fellows younger than himself, he convinced some of them to do the same. So they all spent their borrowed 401-k money; which, by the way, you have to pay back or the IRS imposes tax penalties. I guess they believed there'd be no more IRS after 1/1/2000. Sigh.
Since I've been blogging on MySpace, I've come across some other fool notions. There seem to be quite a number of people who think the cause-and-effect of everything is either random, or controlled by other-worldly forces that operate by rules that cannot be understood by human beings ... that there are "gods" that must be appeased, so to speak.
I do believe that there is one God who created all of everything that we can sense or explore. But for crying out loud, people -- look around you! There are rules for how things work!
One of my "friends" on MySpace re-posted a superstitious "bulletin" the other day. It was like the superstitious threatening chain letters kids used to circulate when I was in Junior High. If you break the chain, all sorts of curses are supposed to befall you. My "friend" was afraid of what might happen if she didn't re-post this threatening bulletin she had received from one of her own "friends."
Another MySpace "friend" of mine is deeply involved with astrology.
Out in the real world (where I know people face-to-face) I've known lots of intelligent people who have the strangest notions that they think they get from their religion.
When I was a good deal younger, I was pretty superstitious in my own faith. But I've learned a thing or three along the way. The reason I've decided to blog is this, and only this: I'm hoping I can find the words to help a few folks figure things out ... then they can help a few folks ... then they can help a few folks ...
I used to think that good and bad and everything about the future was set in stone long ago. I don't think so anymore. I have seen that some generations made life better for all -- but also some generations made matters worse. I figure there's no reason this generation can't be better than it's been. Irregardless of how and when the universe will or will not end. We could be a good generation. We could.
And I think it would be cool, if y'all never even really knew my name, but I gave you a little spark and then you gave a spark to someone, and on, and on; and a hundred years hence people looked back on this generation as being "the good old days."
There is such a thing as GOOD, you know. And good is just as possible as evil. In fact, I tend to believe that the random odds are in its favor.
Do you remember being so young that you didn't know all the words?
I remember sitting on the floor in the living room ... playing with my toys ... My mom was stuffing cotton in the keyhole of our front door.
I asked her why she was doing that.
I thought she said, "To keep out the giraffes."
"How could giraffes get in through there?" said I.
"No ... not giraffes -- cold air -- the word is drafts," said Mom.
... Fifty years later, on a cold, winter's night ... I think about giraffes in the keyholes ... and how it felt to be so very young.
It just seemed a lonely spot, and for some reason it drew my attention.
What I did not know when I drew the picture ...
Did not find out until I was doing genealogy research at the public library in 2006 ...
Is that this is where my mother's father fell to his death from a scaffolding ... many, many long years before I was even born.
He was an artist, I've been told.
His father was a preacher.
His 9th great-grandfather was William Brewster -- the man who wrote the Mayflower Compact.
God bless you, Grandpa
Corn Chowder
1 pound ground turkey
1 teaspoon dried basil
1 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme
1/2 t. McCormick Garlic Pepper
1 can chicken broth
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 soup can water
1 can whole kernel corn, incl. liquid
1/2 cup grated cheddar cheese
Brown 1 pound ground turkey with 1 t. dried basil, 1½ t. dried thyme, and ½ t. McCormick Garlic Pepper.
Add: 1 can chicken broth, 1 can cream of mushroom soup & one soup can of water, and 1 can whole kernel corn, including liquid.
Bring to a boil, and then add 2 cups uncooked noodles.
Simmer until noodles are tender and then add ½ cup grated cheddar. Stir until cheese is melted, and serve.
Here's a link to some pictures of the life of President Ford from the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Museum:
http://www.woodtv.com/Global/link.asp?L=174467
Here's a link to a story about the National Media converging on Grand Rapids:
"System Restore is a component of Windows XP Home Edition that you can use to restore your computer to a previous state, if a problem occurs, without losing your personal data files (such as Microsoft Word documents, browsing history, drawings, favorites, or e-mail). System Restore monitors changes to the system and some application files, and it automatically creates easily identified restore points. These restore points allow you to revert the system to a previous time. They are created daily and at the time of significant system events (such as when an application or driver is installed). You can also create and name your own restore points at any time. " -- definition copied from the Help file on my computer.
Sometimes Life gets a little bit crazy. Maybe our thought lives get challenged by adding too many new "programs" in too short a time. Maybe we forgot to "reboot" after installing a component. Maybe we got infected by a thought virus sent our way by someone who just thought it would be fun to wreak a little havoc. If Life gets crazy, try System Restore.
Send your thought life back to when things did make sense. Remember who you are. Remember who and what matters. Remember what has worked, and what has not. Look things over. Then, no matter how you FEEL, if you find that your body is still alive, then DUDE, TRY AGAIN, MAN!
BTW, anyone that's human is allowed to pray. And allowed to "repent" and try again.
