Thought it was Saturday when something nudged me awake.
Looked at my phone and thought 'Give me a break'.
Its Friday I'm grateful, but tomorrow looks sweet.
Up before 4 as the floor hits my feet.
Will be asleep quite early tonight there's no doubt.
Somethings shifting within me and turning about.
A prompt from my guides its time to work.
An idea has been spinning I have felt its lurk.
Who knows what will transpire, what will emerge.
Its been brewing a while, I have had this urge.
Opening up and allowing what shall come we will see.
This is my life, this is me.
Have a Wonderful Friday a beautiful day.
Peace on your journey, Up Up and away!!!
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Everyday is a New Adventure
No lipo no botox
no laser no tucks
I have much better things
I can do with my bucks$$
When I look in the mirror
I am happy with me
The lines on my face
Give me character you see
I love being me
I would not change a thing
But these hot-flashes coming
Gives Hell a new meaning
I am grateful for them
as the weather gets colder
The chilly air bites
more as I get older.
Off with the jacket
send the scarf flying.
The heat comes fast
I am not lying.
Each day is a journey
I look forward to see
What is next to explore
As I embrace being me.
no laser no tucks
I have much better things
I can do with my bucks$$
When I look in the mirror
I am happy with me
The lines on my face
Give me character you see
I love being me
I would not change a thing
But these hot-flashes coming
Gives Hell a new meaning
I am grateful for them
as the weather gets colder
The chilly air bites
more as I get older.
Off with the jacket
send the scarf flying.
The heat comes fast
I am not lying.
Each day is a journey
I look forward to see
What is next to explore
As I embrace being me.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Will Robinson is Lost in Space
I realized as I sat down to start writing that it has been a few months since I have written much at all. Radio show, work, business and buying a house all kept me away, which leads me to the subject matter at hand. Within two weeks of buying my new home and moving in, I was standing at the front window when I noticed a small bird building a nest on top of my wind-chime that was hung under the eave near the entrance to the porch. The bird had very soft colors of brown and gray with a mist of red upon the top of its head. I watched in wonder as this bird carefully tucked pieces of evergreen and dried grasses into the nest. Over the next few days, I witnessed this nest taking shape and my wind-chime transforming from an instrument for the wind to play into a musical home for its new resident.
I began telling friends of the magic that was occurring at my new home and listened in dismay as they made fervent remarks of impending doom with insistent suggestions that I remove the piece of intricate art that this bird had created. Each morning I would go to the window upon awakening and check the nest to find it vacant, as if it was waiting for something or someone to take residence, and each day 'others' would insist I remove the nest. It was a conversation with a woman I have known quite a few years that had me doubting my own beliefs.
My belief was the nest should stay where it was, that it was a beautiful piece of work to appreciate and leave alone. It was a home for a soon to be new family. How would I feel if my home disappeared upon returning one day? However, visions of the bird attacking my mail carrier or anyone entering the porch in order to protect her young started to enter my field of vision at the suggestion of my friend. She filled my mind with visions of 'waste' on the steps and porch rail. At first, I brushed these visions away, however, as the day wore on, they returned.
I found myself carefully lifting the wind-chime from its hook and bringing it inside the porch. After all, my friend had told me that the bird would still have time to build another nest before her eggs came, and I had not seen anyone 'sitting' in the nest as yet. As I admired this beautiful nest, thinking how intricate and carefully it had been constructed, the wind-chime fell from the nail I had hung it on. I was devastated as the nest hit the floor breaking apart somewhat. I began putting it back together as carefully as I could, just as I had witnessed it being done by this creature of God. I left it exactly as it was, still on top of the wind-chime resting on the floor where it landed.
As I was driving away from my house, I became filled with anguish. This was the mother bird’s anguish I was feeling. I could hear her cries and feel her pain at the nest being gone. I turned around and drove home and continued putting the nest back together, then carefully replaced the wind-chime on the hook. I had heard stories as a child that the bird would not return, since the nest had been disturbed. I took my prayer flags and cut small strips from each of them, fetched some bread crumbs and left them as an offering. I then said a prayer of forgiveness for my folly.
For two days, I watched with no sign of the bird returning. I left to go out of town for two and half days and thought about the nest and mother bird the entire time I was away. Upon returning from my trip, I ran to the window, only to see an empty nest. Monday morning I walked slowly to the front window with no expectation and saw again the empty nest that did not hold the same beauty it had held prior to my invasion of this sacred home. Later in the day, as I was thinking about the bird and nest, I caught myself driving up my road and pulling in the driveway. I looked up to the wind-chime and to my surprise there sat a bird in the nest, but it was not the bird that I had watch build the nest. Now I am not a birdwatcher and know little of their habits, but I knew this was not the same bird, the mist of red was missing from it head.
When I returned home after work, I went straight to the window and there sat my mother bird. I stood in awe of this magic, reflecting on many things I had been told throughout my life, wondering when I became so susceptible to others’ fears. I wondered if this mother bird was disappointed in the nest that I now knew the father bird had built. I could almost hear her and knew that it did not matter; this nest was built with love and care. I could almost hear her whisper to herself “not the best nest, but it will do.” It became a ritual to walk to the window upon awaking in the morning, and stopping at home during the day to check on the mother in her nest.
Then one afternoon as I approached the window, I was surprised to see that the bird had changed, at least, at that moment it appeared to have changed. The softness was gone and the bird looked like it had been through a really stressful day. The colors were similar, but different. The soft grey was not there, it was a patchy brown and white. Very confused, I watched for as long as I could while this bird sat with a look of determination. I was unable to return to the nest until the next morning and lo and behold, there sat my mother bird, not looking anything like the bird I had seen the day before. I was quite confused as I was certain I was seeing things. Now I had seen three different birds at this nest.
It had been a few days when I noticed the nest was empty, so I grabbed my camera and tripod and was able to hold the camera high enough, and with my handy remote, snapped a picture of the inside of the nest. In the picture, I saw four blue eggs with brown specks and one cream egg with brown specks that reminded me of the strange bird I saw a few days prior.
Suddenly, I felt like I was on Millionaire and “phoned a friend.” I learned something I had never known before. There is something called a brood parasite. A brood parasite is a bird that lays its eggs in another birds nest. They generally only lay one egg in each nest to ensure the survival of at least one. They are generally larger and more aggressive, so when the other eggs hatch, the baby birds have less of a chance for survival. This troubled me greatly as I had begun to see the father bird returning to the nest to feed Jesse, the mother bird as she sat on their eggs. All kinds of thoughts occurred to me. First they nearly lost their home and now they are in jeopardy of losing their family. After all this was the information I had been told by my friend and confirmed in my internet research.
After a couple days, I made up my mind to remove the brooding parasite egg from the nest, but I just did not have the heart to ‘dispose’ of it as someone had suggested. It is not within me to cause harm. I carefully brought the egg inside and put it into a makeshift incubator.
I have rescued and raised many animals over the years. A kitten born with a dislocated shoulder that the mother would not care for became a very dear companion. Jo-Jo travelled with me everywhere those first few weeks. Daisy, a crippled runt pig, whose mother cast her aside wore Popsicle sticks on her front legs until they straightened out and slept with one of my cats until she was too big for the house. A baby bird should be easy, I told myself, provided my makeshift incubator actually worked. Well, the next morning while I was in the shower my son came running in the bathroom screaming “it’s hatching;” and hatching it was. I raised the towel to see George emerging from his shell. Frantically, we logged onto the internet to see what we could feed this bird that was no bigger than the first knuckle of my little finger. Believe it or not, cat food was what we found was the most complete nutrition for this small bird. Since I did not currently have a cat, we hurried to the store and came home and started preparing George’s first meal.
George was very active, eating and chirping and moving around looking like a miniature prehistoric beast. I had read that George needed to be fed approximately every 15 minutes and he seemed to eat every 20, so all seemed well. Later that day the activity in the nest assured me that Jesse’s little fledglings were also hatching. Luckily for me, baby birds do not have to be fed through the night and the next day I packed George and his food and off to work we went. Now, baby birds not only have to be fed frequently, they need to stay at a relatively constant temperature, and travelling around with me was hard on George and eventually was too much for him. I am sad to report that George is tucked away in an Alltoids box in my flower garden now. He passed away while I was driving and I was unaware that he was in need of attention.
As the days went on, watching this family of birds, I was amazed at the attention both mother and father paid to the baby birds; taking turns feeding as each was out getting more food. I continued to take photos of the babies as they grew each time Jesse was away. Only three of the four eggs hatched which had me wondering if George should have stayed safely in the nest. However, my subsequent research indicated that the diet of the House Finch is different than that of the cowbird and it may not have survived after all.
One day I noticed one of the babies popping its head above the nest and ran to get my camera. As I opened the door and raised the camera to get close, it went into a panic and leapt from the nest flying away yelling “danger, danger.” I ducked back inside watching for him to return and very quickly both mother and father bird were on the scene perched atop of my shepherd hooks that hold my hanging baskets calling to him. I named this young bird Will Robinson, because after an hour he had not returned and I knew he was “Lost in Space.” For hours that afternoon both Mother and Father would fly up above the porch and come back down below calling to their young son but he did not return. Jesse returned to the nest that evening and continued to sit with her other two babies. The next day the nest was empty, the other two babies full of feathers had left on their journey to adulthood, or possibly they are all “Lost in Space” together.
I learned many things through this experience, I learned that we should always listen to our own intuition and the opinion of others is just that, an opinion. The father bird built this nest; he did not have the mother bird standing over his shoulder telling him how to build it. The mother bird accepted this nest as it was, regardless of my tampering with it. I never once witnessed arguments between the parent birds on ‘whose turn it was’ to feed these birds. The love that I felt as I watched the interaction between these two birds was immense. I learned about the habits and nature of the House Finch. The mother bird removed the waste from the nest until the baby birds are older and then they waste along the top edge of the nest. Never a dropping on my porch as had been predicted by my friends and acquaintances. Each bird had a role and they fulfilled it graciously working together. The mother bird had even accepted the cowbird egg and subsequently accepted when it disappeared. I have always felt that acceptance was the key to happiness and watching the behavior of these birds reinforced that opinion.
When you lack acceptance, you are actually creating a resistance in your life. Creating a block in the energy flow that brings things into your life. Had Jesse not accepted the other egg, she might not have returned to the nest and seen her own eggs hatch. Life itself is a cycle, ever changing with new experiences and opportunities for growth. Any resistance to these cycles slows the growth and lessens the opportunities. There were so many lessons in this experience that I reflect on daily. Probably the most important lesson is that when you resist, you can find yourself Lost in Space.
Published in the August issue of Bellesprit Magazine
I began telling friends of the magic that was occurring at my new home and listened in dismay as they made fervent remarks of impending doom with insistent suggestions that I remove the piece of intricate art that this bird had created. Each morning I would go to the window upon awakening and check the nest to find it vacant, as if it was waiting for something or someone to take residence, and each day 'others' would insist I remove the nest. It was a conversation with a woman I have known quite a few years that had me doubting my own beliefs.
My belief was the nest should stay where it was, that it was a beautiful piece of work to appreciate and leave alone. It was a home for a soon to be new family. How would I feel if my home disappeared upon returning one day? However, visions of the bird attacking my mail carrier or anyone entering the porch in order to protect her young started to enter my field of vision at the suggestion of my friend. She filled my mind with visions of 'waste' on the steps and porch rail. At first, I brushed these visions away, however, as the day wore on, they returned.
I found myself carefully lifting the wind-chime from its hook and bringing it inside the porch. After all, my friend had told me that the bird would still have time to build another nest before her eggs came, and I had not seen anyone 'sitting' in the nest as yet. As I admired this beautiful nest, thinking how intricate and carefully it had been constructed, the wind-chime fell from the nail I had hung it on. I was devastated as the nest hit the floor breaking apart somewhat. I began putting it back together as carefully as I could, just as I had witnessed it being done by this creature of God. I left it exactly as it was, still on top of the wind-chime resting on the floor where it landed.
As I was driving away from my house, I became filled with anguish. This was the mother bird’s anguish I was feeling. I could hear her cries and feel her pain at the nest being gone. I turned around and drove home and continued putting the nest back together, then carefully replaced the wind-chime on the hook. I had heard stories as a child that the bird would not return, since the nest had been disturbed. I took my prayer flags and cut small strips from each of them, fetched some bread crumbs and left them as an offering. I then said a prayer of forgiveness for my folly.
For two days, I watched with no sign of the bird returning. I left to go out of town for two and half days and thought about the nest and mother bird the entire time I was away. Upon returning from my trip, I ran to the window, only to see an empty nest. Monday morning I walked slowly to the front window with no expectation and saw again the empty nest that did not hold the same beauty it had held prior to my invasion of this sacred home. Later in the day, as I was thinking about the bird and nest, I caught myself driving up my road and pulling in the driveway. I looked up to the wind-chime and to my surprise there sat a bird in the nest, but it was not the bird that I had watch build the nest. Now I am not a birdwatcher and know little of their habits, but I knew this was not the same bird, the mist of red was missing from it head.
When I returned home after work, I went straight to the window and there sat my mother bird. I stood in awe of this magic, reflecting on many things I had been told throughout my life, wondering when I became so susceptible to others’ fears. I wondered if this mother bird was disappointed in the nest that I now knew the father bird had built. I could almost hear her and knew that it did not matter; this nest was built with love and care. I could almost hear her whisper to herself “not the best nest, but it will do.” It became a ritual to walk to the window upon awaking in the morning, and stopping at home during the day to check on the mother in her nest.
Then one afternoon as I approached the window, I was surprised to see that the bird had changed, at least, at that moment it appeared to have changed. The softness was gone and the bird looked like it had been through a really stressful day. The colors were similar, but different. The soft grey was not there, it was a patchy brown and white. Very confused, I watched for as long as I could while this bird sat with a look of determination. I was unable to return to the nest until the next morning and lo and behold, there sat my mother bird, not looking anything like the bird I had seen the day before. I was quite confused as I was certain I was seeing things. Now I had seen three different birds at this nest.
It had been a few days when I noticed the nest was empty, so I grabbed my camera and tripod and was able to hold the camera high enough, and with my handy remote, snapped a picture of the inside of the nest. In the picture, I saw four blue eggs with brown specks and one cream egg with brown specks that reminded me of the strange bird I saw a few days prior. Suddenly, I felt like I was on Millionaire and “phoned a friend.” I learned something I had never known before. There is something called a brood parasite. A brood parasite is a bird that lays its eggs in another birds nest. They generally only lay one egg in each nest to ensure the survival of at least one. They are generally larger and more aggressive, so when the other eggs hatch, the baby birds have less of a chance for survival. This troubled me greatly as I had begun to see the father bird returning to the nest to feed Jesse, the mother bird as she sat on their eggs. All kinds of thoughts occurred to me. First they nearly lost their home and now they are in jeopardy of losing their family. After all this was the information I had been told by my friend and confirmed in my internet research.
After a couple days, I made up my mind to remove the brooding parasite egg from the nest, but I just did not have the heart to ‘dispose’ of it as someone had suggested. It is not within me to cause harm. I carefully brought the egg inside and put it into a makeshift incubator.
I have rescued and raised many animals over the years. A kitten born with a dislocated shoulder that the mother would not care for became a very dear companion. Jo-Jo travelled with me everywhere those first few weeks. Daisy, a crippled runt pig, whose mother cast her aside wore Popsicle sticks on her front legs until they straightened out and slept with one of my cats until she was too big for the house. A baby bird should be easy, I told myself, provided my makeshift incubator actually worked. Well, the next morning while I was in the shower my son came running in the bathroom screaming “it’s hatching;” and hatching it was. I raised the towel to see George emerging from his shell. Frantically, we logged onto the internet to see what we could feed this bird that was no bigger than the first knuckle of my little finger. Believe it or not, cat food was what we found was the most complete nutrition for this small bird. Since I did not currently have a cat, we hurried to the store and came home and started preparing George’s first meal.
George was very active, eating and chirping and moving around looking like a miniature prehistoric beast. I had read that George needed to be fed approximately every 15 minutes and he seemed to eat every 20, so all seemed well. Later that day the activity in the nest assured me that Jesse’s little fledglings were also hatching. Luckily for me, baby birds do not have to be fed through the night and the next day I packed George and his food and off to work we went. Now, baby birds not only have to be fed frequently, they need to stay at a relatively constant temperature, and travelling around with me was hard on George and eventually was too much for him. I am sad to report that George is tucked away in an Alltoids box in my flower garden now. He passed away while I was driving and I was unaware that he was in need of attention.
As the days went on, watching this family of birds, I was amazed at the attention both mother and father paid to the baby birds; taking turns feeding as each was out getting more food. I continued to take photos of the babies as they grew each time Jesse was away. Only three of the four eggs hatched which had me wondering if George should have stayed safely in the nest. However, my subsequent research indicated that the diet of the House Finch is different than that of the cowbird and it may not have survived after all. One day I noticed one of the babies popping its head above the nest and ran to get my camera. As I opened the door and raised the camera to get close, it went into a panic and leapt from the nest flying away yelling “danger, danger.” I ducked back inside watching for him to return and very quickly both mother and father bird were on the scene perched atop of my shepherd hooks that hold my hanging baskets calling to him. I named this young bird Will Robinson, because after an hour he had not returned and I knew he was “Lost in Space.” For hours that afternoon both Mother and Father would fly up above the porch and come back down below calling to their young son but he did not return. Jesse returned to the nest that evening and continued to sit with her other two babies. The next day the nest was empty, the other two babies full of feathers had left on their journey to adulthood, or possibly they are all “Lost in Space” together.
I learned many things through this experience, I learned that we should always listen to our own intuition and the opinion of others is just that, an opinion. The father bird built this nest; he did not have the mother bird standing over his shoulder telling him how to build it. The mother bird accepted this nest as it was, regardless of my tampering with it. I never once witnessed arguments between the parent birds on ‘whose turn it was’ to feed these birds. The love that I felt as I watched the interaction between these two birds was immense. I learned about the habits and nature of the House Finch. The mother bird removed the waste from the nest until the baby birds are older and then they waste along the top edge of the nest. Never a dropping on my porch as had been predicted by my friends and acquaintances. Each bird had a role and they fulfilled it graciously working together. The mother bird had even accepted the cowbird egg and subsequently accepted when it disappeared. I have always felt that acceptance was the key to happiness and watching the behavior of these birds reinforced that opinion.
When you lack acceptance, you are actually creating a resistance in your life. Creating a block in the energy flow that brings things into your life. Had Jesse not accepted the other egg, she might not have returned to the nest and seen her own eggs hatch. Life itself is a cycle, ever changing with new experiences and opportunities for growth. Any resistance to these cycles slows the growth and lessens the opportunities. There were so many lessons in this experience that I reflect on daily. Probably the most important lesson is that when you resist, you can find yourself Lost in Space.
Published in the August issue of Bellesprit Magazine
Friday, February 1, 2013
The Joy in Creating
I have been told that I am crazy and maybe I am but if that
is the case, then I enjoy being crazy because I enjoy being me. Ideas will
strike me out of the blue and I am compelled to make them real, and I usually
do. This power we own of manifesting our desires is so real to me that I don’t
know any other way than to create what I see in my mind. Creating is something
that brings me great joy and when I create for others this joy is enormous. You
see, I am an Artist. I wish I could tell you when this phenomenon started, it
may have been one day while sitting in a tree. I had a favorite tree that loved
to hear me sing. I think the tree is the only being that ever enjoyed hearing
me sing. But sing I did and when I learned to make letters on paper these words
started to take form in verse. I am not a professional vocalist by any means,
but I enjoy making noise with my voice.
I am not a professional seamstress, but in high school made
my own prom dress. I had a visual of what it would look like but no store had
it to my distress. My cheerleading skirt caught my eye, and ideas started to take
shape. I would make my dress for prom, and I would even wear a cape. Cutting
and sewing, and ripping out the thread, more cutting and sewing a task sure to
dread. In the end I was happy, I was filled with Joy. I had a date you see with that special boy.
I do not draw pictures to pay my bills, nor paint on canvas
or windowsills. But many a time the image appears and suddenly I find myself
switching gears. Out comes the paper, the pencils inspired. A fine artist I am
not, at least not the kind hired. At nineteen years old I drew a mother with
two. When I turned 27 I gave birth to a girl and at 37 my son made up the two.
Note to self, be careful what you draw, this manifesting thing is powerful.
I am not a professional crafter, nor cake decorater,
however, my son would refuse to eat a cake not made by his mother. He tells me the theme and flavor of cake, to the store for props the batter to bake.
When my daughter was carrying my granddaughter and wanted that special touch. Off to the store I went I knew it meant so much. Butterflies and flowers I could not find on the shelf. So visualize the image and enlist my crafty elf. A cake topper and card basket would soon manifest. It may not be perfect, but it surely was my best.
I do not make jewelry as a profession, however I have many times. When I cannot locate searching every store, I create it myself and this one I adore.
I am not a professional sculptor but stacking rocks I love. It amazes me how they balance, it is magic from above.
I am not a professional baker, but Apple Pie is sweet. An entire bag of apples, go into the pies I bake. Homemade crust made with love, oh what a treat.
I am not a professional photographer, however, my camera stays near by. I never quite capture the beauty that I witness with my eye.
To live InJoy is easy to do, acceptance is key; acceptance of you. Live true to your soul regardless of others. Do not let their judgment or criticism be your druthers.
I am not a professional model, and a professional I do not need be. I can have fun in front of the camera, there is no pressure in being me.
I am not a seamstress, a painter or a baker; not a model, or crafter or even a cake maker. I am an artist at heart a manifesting machine; a creator of visions that have yet to be seen. I live in Joy, but it has not always been so. I had to learn when to say yes, and how to say no. Boundaries are important when Joy is at stake; the misery you encounter is the misery you make. The same holds true with the Joy in your life; it does not exist when you focus on your strife.
I created that too....
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Making Joy A Habit is All About Perspective
Did you ever sit down and start writing and the words were just flowing and flowing and suddenly......nothing. This occurred yesterday and as I came back to it today I realized I never saved it and it is gone. It was truly a powerful message and I could be upset that this masterpiece of words has self-destructed from my computer or I can shift my perspective knowing that the message was for me and that it needed to be re-written for you through new eyes.
Making Joy A Habit truly comes through your perspective of events and situations that you find yourself in on a continuous basis. When you finish your shopping at the Grocery store do you glance at the receipt and see a decline in your checkbook or do you see an abundance as you put the groceries away? When you wake up and look in the mirror and see gray hair that you just know was not there the day before; do you smile at the new character feature? Or do you cringe and run to the drugstore for a box of color to hide your age? What is your perspective and how does it affect your level of Joy?
Working many years in corporate america has given me the opportunity to view many a persons perspective. Recently I had the joyous opportunity to listen to an individual complaining about the health insurance they receive through their employment. My first thought was "you are unhappy someone is giving you health insurance?". As I listened to this tale of woe I discovered that they were unhappy that they paid over $500 for some lab work. So of course I started asking questions and in doing so found that this individual never called the insurance company up front to make sure the lab they were using was 'in-network'. I also discovered that the 'in-network' cost would have been $25 and that the company pays 80% of the premiums for this insurance. What a Joy it must be to work for a company that feels you are so valuable that they will foot 80% of the cost of your health insurance and your only responsibility is to use 'in-network' providers. Perspective.....
I challenge you to write down one thing each day that upsets you and then shift the perspective to find the Joy in the event.
Making Joy A Habit truly comes through your perspective of events and situations that you find yourself in on a continuous basis. When you finish your shopping at the Grocery store do you glance at the receipt and see a decline in your checkbook or do you see an abundance as you put the groceries away? When you wake up and look in the mirror and see gray hair that you just know was not there the day before; do you smile at the new character feature? Or do you cringe and run to the drugstore for a box of color to hide your age? What is your perspective and how does it affect your level of Joy?
Working many years in corporate america has given me the opportunity to view many a persons perspective. Recently I had the joyous opportunity to listen to an individual complaining about the health insurance they receive through their employment. My first thought was "you are unhappy someone is giving you health insurance?". As I listened to this tale of woe I discovered that they were unhappy that they paid over $500 for some lab work. So of course I started asking questions and in doing so found that this individual never called the insurance company up front to make sure the lab they were using was 'in-network'. I also discovered that the 'in-network' cost would have been $25 and that the company pays 80% of the premiums for this insurance. What a Joy it must be to work for a company that feels you are so valuable that they will foot 80% of the cost of your health insurance and your only responsibility is to use 'in-network' providers. Perspective.....
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Even Happy People Have Pet Peeves
Have you ever heard that cats always land on their feet? I have been witness to this phenomenon, having always been a cat lover of sorts. Cats are not my pet peeve, but do have a place in this blog that you will find out about later.
No matter how happy you are, I am certain that you have at least one 'Pet Peeve'. I have a few, however, was reminded of one this morning as I cooked some eggs and toast for breakfast. As I was buttering the toast I recalled this pet peeve. There is nothing worse than trying to butter a piece of soft cold bread with hard cold butter. How many times have you gone to a nice restaurant and been presented with beautiful slices of soft fluffy bread only to find that the butter they also brought you was frozen to the point that it had condensation on the surface from the warm air. Now, if you attempt to butter the bread with this you will end up with a perfect piece of circular crust that only has one purpose. Bring it up to your face, look through it at the others at the table and say: Romper, Stomper, Bomper Boo. Tell me tell me tell me do. Magic Mirror tell me today did all my friends have fun today...... If you were born after 1980 you are probably thinking MentalWard would have been a better name for this blog, but it was taken, I checked.
My other pet peeve is when you have nice warm soft butter to put on the soft fluffy bread and you drop it before getting to eat it. Murphy makes sure that the bread always lands butter side down which does not leave open the option of the '5-second rule'. It is impossible to dust the specs off the butter. And picking them off one at a time is a tedious affair. Okay the germaphobes just left screaming, "omg she is really going to eat the bread that hit the floor".
After recalling this pet peeve I was led to a never-ending question I have had most of my life and will probably never have the answer to because I cannot initiate the experiment.
If you strap a piece of buttered bread butter side up to the back of a cat and throw the cat in the air (not high enough to hurt the kitty), will the cat still land on its feet? Or will Murphy Win?
No matter how happy you are, I am certain that you have at least one 'Pet Peeve'. I have a few, however, was reminded of one this morning as I cooked some eggs and toast for breakfast. As I was buttering the toast I recalled this pet peeve. There is nothing worse than trying to butter a piece of soft cold bread with hard cold butter. How many times have you gone to a nice restaurant and been presented with beautiful slices of soft fluffy bread only to find that the butter they also brought you was frozen to the point that it had condensation on the surface from the warm air. Now, if you attempt to butter the bread with this you will end up with a perfect piece of circular crust that only has one purpose. Bring it up to your face, look through it at the others at the table and say: Romper, Stomper, Bomper Boo. Tell me tell me tell me do. Magic Mirror tell me today did all my friends have fun today...... If you were born after 1980 you are probably thinking MentalWard would have been a better name for this blog, but it was taken, I checked.
My other pet peeve is when you have nice warm soft butter to put on the soft fluffy bread and you drop it before getting to eat it. Murphy makes sure that the bread always lands butter side down which does not leave open the option of the '5-second rule'. It is impossible to dust the specs off the butter. And picking them off one at a time is a tedious affair. Okay the germaphobes just left screaming, "omg she is really going to eat the bread that hit the floor".
After recalling this pet peeve I was led to a never-ending question I have had most of my life and will probably never have the answer to because I cannot initiate the experiment.
If you strap a piece of buttered bread butter side up to the back of a cat and throw the cat in the air (not high enough to hurt the kitty), will the cat still land on its feet? Or will Murphy Win?
MentalWard, PsychoWard, Really? Finding a Name for my Blog
When a friend asked me a couple of years ago, "when are you going to start a blog?", I laughed and said never. Yet, here I sit this morning writing my first blog, after an hour and a half of 'name not available'. It became a game, choosing a name for my blog, searching random names such as 'mentalward, psychoward, really?'. Yep, really, was taken also.
I decided that creating a blog would be a good idea as we move into the New Year, the ascension, the shift, the 'I don't know if the Mayans were messing with us' period of human confusion or is that consciousness. . . The Partzheimers (I only remember parts) sometimes kicks in and I am not certain. Of course, a lot of people are uncertain of what is actually occurring in these changing times. The only certainty is that people have questions, and I hope I can provide some answers through this blog . . . at least for a few.
I know a couple of people who have the 'habit' of being happy all the time. And yes, it is a habit. A habit is something that you do unconsciously without thought; how we create habits is through repetition. Unfortunately I know many more people with the habit of being 'unhappy'. Habits are those things that rule our lives, and once you develop a habit by training your brain to make it an unconscious part of your routine, it is difficult to break it. There are quite a few ways that habits are created. We consciously do things over and over and eventually we do them without thinking about it. Such as locking your car when you get out of it. Habits are also created by the language that we use to talk to ourselves and by the generic responses that we give to others,
What you say to yourself when you first wake up in the morning sets the entire tone for your day. Do you have the habit of saying "ugh its Monday, I have to go to work?" or do you say "woohoo its Monday and I am alive!".
What self talk habits are designing your day, week, year....your life? Are your moments filled with Joy or Sorrow and how are you affecting that?
I decided that creating a blog would be a good idea as we move into the New Year, the ascension, the shift, the 'I don't know if the Mayans were messing with us' period of human confusion or is that consciousness. . . The Partzheimers (I only remember parts) sometimes kicks in and I am not certain. Of course, a lot of people are uncertain of what is actually occurring in these changing times. The only certainty is that people have questions, and I hope I can provide some answers through this blog . . . at least for a few.
I know a couple of people who have the 'habit' of being happy all the time. And yes, it is a habit. A habit is something that you do unconsciously without thought; how we create habits is through repetition. Unfortunately I know many more people with the habit of being 'unhappy'. Habits are those things that rule our lives, and once you develop a habit by training your brain to make it an unconscious part of your routine, it is difficult to break it. There are quite a few ways that habits are created. We consciously do things over and over and eventually we do them without thinking about it. Such as locking your car when you get out of it. Habits are also created by the language that we use to talk to ourselves and by the generic responses that we give to others,
What you say to yourself when you first wake up in the morning sets the entire tone for your day. Do you have the habit of saying "ugh its Monday, I have to go to work?" or do you say "woohoo its Monday and I am alive!".
What self talk habits are designing your day, week, year....your life? Are your moments filled with Joy or Sorrow and how are you affecting that?
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