Leslie said, “this is how it’s done.”
No Mom! Said Jake, THIS is how it’s done!”
Now wait, says Grandma, this is how it’s REALLY done!”
(Videography by Joscelyn Studios)
Skipping through social media, as best as I could this morning, waiting for the ads to load so I could scroll, I stumbled across the word “emoji,” and have thought about it some. As I scroll, I hit these little icons of like, love, thankful, wow. I rarely do any of the others, I just keep scrolling. Sometimes I remember to delete the ads I’ve seen way too much, for fear of saying something spiteful, we shouldn’t dwell in a negative world.
Then my break comes. Gracie, the black lab. She gets up in the morning, and while I am hovering over the laptop and a cuppa joe, she wants her hugs. “You are the best puppy ever!” I state, and she shudders and chatters her teeth, her happy sign. I wish I had an emoji for that. Wait. No I don’t. She is alive and affectionate. We step outside, where her “babies” wait for her (a stuffed bone, and a stuffed skunk, she takes her pick). The morning birds announce the morning, despite the dark rain clouds that keep the sun from shining.
And the birds, we keep the bird feeders full, despite instruction that they need to now find food on their own. We are enjoying them way too much. We even saw Baltimore orioles the other day!
We found her crying in the box of sawdust. The stray kitten that wandered from mama’s nest, somewhere in that haymow. She cried and cried. Barn kittens, we leave them for mama to find. (She did find her!)
All signs of life, a full life, and in the circle of life. Life in signs: the apple blossoms, the dogwood trees, the daffodils and tulips as they awaken, and now, the lilacs. (As soon as the sweet honeysuckle blooms, I am reminded that heaven exists.)
Stop and listen. Just for a moment. The world goes on. It’s a better place.
Painting an old house is full of challenges. Uneven walls, coats of paint over paint, mixed in with wallpaper and the past.
Efforts today have been focused on painting the hallway. I decided two walls ago (very small walls, by the way) that this color was definitely not the right color! My attempt to cut a corner and paint over the mostly stripped off border was defeated by the paper curling (note to self, paper curls when painted over, you’d think I would’ve learned that the last time). So I had to scrape. Amazing how easy it comes off when coated with paint! Balanced precariously on the top of the big old ancient upright piano, I carefully started peeling…
I can’t say much for taste here, but I am amazed and curious over the wallpaper that was chosen many years ago. I imagine it had to be early 20th century. Never mind…now I just need to finish and get to the store and visit MJ, my personal assistant in paint. (And no, my hair really isn’t as streaked as it now looks! It’s all about the paint!)
Some of us go to the lunchroom to dine. I go to the pond. I love to see what the leaping frogs are up to. They hear me coming. Listen and hear the last one “chirrip!” The scene is never boring, and it brings me back to realizing what is important.
Random thoughts occur each day. Every day I speak to my mind, “this is good book material,” and the rest of the day goes by, uneventfully, when it comes to the written word.
I said today, to The Farmer, “I think I’ll write a story and add to the Indian Joe legend.” The Farmer, who listened to my rather profound thought, stated, “well, I do that!”
So, I erase Indian Joe, and tell you the stories of The Farmer, who says many wise things.
The inspirational story of today comes during 90 degree heat (accompanied by humidity).
The Farmer, coming in from the field, rinses his arms with water to wash away the chaff and grass from his suntanned arms. Mindfully, he soaks his wrists beneath the cool running faucet water, cooling his body temperature, because this is where the blood is closest to the skins surface.”
(Please note, Indian Joe would use the stream.)
But The Farmer is here today, while Indian Joe is off in the woods, so The Farmer gets all the credit! 🐃🐄🐖🐓
Have we really turned into a nation of crybabies, wearing our hearts on our shoulders? Where is integrity, where is their mother, who always said, “if you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all?” I have been watching these potential leaders, who should know better, slam each other, each other’s spouses, stating off the cuff possible improprieties financially and morally. I am watching candidates say “well, that was the going rate…” on what they were paid for speeches, etc.
Our country is crying out in poverty. Detroit is shutting down its schools, Flint has polluted water, not suitable for drinking or bathing. There is a great number of us who cannot afford the health care that insurance providers want to charge us (and cause possible ruin to this small number…) And we, as Americans, sit here and watch the news, watch grown people, who want to rule our United States, argue about whose wife wore what, question backgrounds, etc.
Is the position of President of the United States one where there are no background checks? Think about it. I needed a resume and references. For some of the jobs I’ve taken, I’ve had to have a background check and fingerprints. And yet we’ve got candidates who have questionable backgrounds, questionable citizenship, and questionable integrity.
Upon this consideration, I did look up the qualifications for someone interested in running for the presidency. It states:
I do like what Bob Schieffer said last night on the CBS Evening News:
I wish we had a Teddy Roosevelt back. But then, he’d be questioned because of his hunting, so….