Wednesday, February 28, 2007

The Heart Rocks.

Grandfathers. Grandmothers...

In the garden, on the porch,
in the living room, bedroom, bathroom,
in the kicthen window and built into the walls.
On my desk, in the car & sometimes, around my neck.
From the woods, the rivers and the salty sea
From places and spaces that used to be
to now and eternity...

Grandfathers & Grandmothers.

"The Grandfathers are rocks, stones, things I pick up and carry with me. They are called Grandfathers because they possess all knowledge. They have been here on Mother Earth for all time and have seen everything that man has done to Mother earth. They hold all the teachings. They are made from the bones and hair and blood of those that walked before us. So, we call them Grandfathers, (and Grandmothers)."~ Spado

Having Monday & Tuesday off I had hoped to go camping, but instead ended up taking the path photographed. The hills were deceptively steep & the soft, moist clay and dirt were riddled with deer prints...untainted yet by the summers' crowd. The trail itself disappeared upon us, opening up into a hillside field. We trapsed on through to the otherside. We stopped and listened. So quiet but humming with life.

At the basin of our trail laid a quick moving, rambling little creek which fed into the river where we had left the car. We ventured down to the creek. There was a log that went across the creek that looked like a great place to sit after our little hike.

I simultaneously tried
to straddle the creek and jump my bum up onto the fallen tree and when my hands grabbed onto the right one landed onto this little fellow. A small heart shaped grandfather...perhaps, the soul mate to my sisters' latest find.

Rocks. Seashells. Keepers. Savers & Givers.
Grandfathers & Grandmothers. So wise...

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Bill Gates & 11 Things Not Learned in School

I don't usually do much other than delete forwarded emails... but this one I thought I would forward to the blog world....

Love him or hate him, he sure hits the nail on the head with this! To anyone with kids of any age, here's some Bill Gates advice.

Bill Gates recently gave a speech at a High School about 11 things they did not and will not learn in school. He talks about how feel-good, politically correct teachings created a generation of kids with no concept of reality and how this concept set them up for failure in the real world.

Rule 1: Life is not fair - get used to it!

Rule 2
: The world won't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

Rule 3
: You will NOT make $60,000 a year right out of high school. You won't be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.

Rule 4
: If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.

Rule 5
: Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your
Grandparents had a different word for burger flipping: they called it opportunity.

Rule 6
: If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them.

Rule 7
: Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you were. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent's generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

Rule 8
: Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life HAS NOT. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

Rule 9
: Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF. Do that on your own time.

Rule 10
: Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually
have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

Rule 11
: Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Bumper Stickers: A Love/Hate Relationship

I have never been a bumper-sticker girl. In fact, I have a file from my college days that is chunked full of bumper stickers that never got stuck. My favorite of these would be 'f**k censorship,' but alas, I, in the end, censored myself.
When we were kids and wanted to plaster the family car with bumper stickers, our father would say 'No, they are trashy looking.' LOL, not that the coathangers holding the tailpipe up, the bungee cord holding the trunck shut and the Glad trash bag windows would have implied anything....
When I got married, I drove a little four-wheel drive pick-up truck with a camper shell & rack for camping & canoeing. Other then mud & beachsand, she was kept clean. No temporary tattoos of the bumper sticker kind.
I also had a little hatchback which was great on gas mileage. Even though that little baby came to me when she was ten years old for about a grand, I kept her clean... well, like my truck, clean of bumper stickers. ( A quick glance inside either of the vehicles would prove that they were like a freshly bathed drunk ...clean on external appearances, but littered inside)
Needless to say my husband took over my truck. It became his vehicle of choice and before I knew it, he had the back window covered in bumper stickers, a few on the sides and even one or two stategically placed on the front window.
I let it go. Afterall, I love to be entertained at the redlight with the verbage of the vehicle in front of me.
Most are political or pertain to someone's scholor acheivements(yawn), but every now and then we get the funny one... 'your village called, they want you to come back,' 'Jesus loves you, the rest of us think you are an ass,' 'This is not an abandoned vehicle' and the list goes on.
Still, with the knowledge that some of are slightly funny, I opt to be entertained...not to be the entertainer. So, armed with a razor, last summer I spent an afternoon carefully removing the bumper stickers from my truck. My husband was blatantly disappointed when he realized what I had done. A few weeks later another sticker popped up on the said 'Dog on a leash' and that was it.
LOL, I left it.

Well, I can't wait for him to see what this skinny little blonde did. I put a bumper sticker on my new car (Ok, 7 years old, but new to me...compared to the stolen hatchback & now tattered pick-up truck)
Just Give Me Peace :)
But I bet he'll see it as "Just Give Me Grief'

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Turn on your love light, let it shine on me

Turn on your love light, let it shine on me
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine ...
Grateful Dead, Turn on Your Love Light...

Friday night was heated & I stayed up practically all night long in fits of finding peace. Before I found sleep, I had a personal revelation...thank you Spadoman.
I found a St Christopher cross at my backdoor... like marbles from the sky?

Saturday morning it was 22 degrees & I had a wedding to attend at noon. The day was gray but the wedding was very down-to-earth, very simple, most special & endearing. Love was in the air. It grows & grows & grows.

On the ride home I saw one little ray of sunshine poking through the gray skies. It looked like the lords above had a teeny, weeny flashlight poking through the cotton of the sky. I commented, 'I wonder who that sun is shining on.' It looked like it was big enough to shine down on, maybe, an area the size of a car.
A few more turns of the road & a moment of interstate later, I found that the ray of sunshine had grown into a light escaping great slices in the sky.(see pic above)
Finally I found those slices had grown into something more... (see pic to right.)
How beautiful.
What do you see in the skies?

Friday, February 16, 2007

Pray if you Want to Pray, Wish if You Will...

Pray, protest, think, wonder, dream, hope, wish, want, beleive...
Life has always been about quality, not quantity.
For some of us, knowingly, others not...

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Happy Valentine's

When I was in elementary school, a boy that I was actually fought all the time with me sent me a note.
He asked if I liked him & had the little boxes to check yes or no. I didn't like him at al
l... I, in fact, despised him.
Against all ration & intuition, I checked YES...just to see his reaction.
He responded in writing... 'I thought so... but I still hate you.'
For the first time, I think he warranted some actual respect from me. I loved his honesty.

Happy Valentine's!

Thursday, February 08, 2007

You Break It, You Buy It.... Fact or Fiction

Growing up in the seventies, we (being my mother & the 5 kids) spent our week-ends at the big old red barn. Farmers, we were not. Survivalist, maybe. Marketeers, definitely.

You see, the big old red barn had been converted to a flea market and this is where our life found livelihood. Selling what-ever we could get our dirty little hands on, we made ends meet.
Junk bought on Monday became an antique sold on Sunday. We bought discontinued clothes by the pound. We painted them & sold them as designer pieces. We cruised the neighborhood, picking up other peoples trash to take home and sand or paint and hopefully turn into some shoppers treasure.

We didn't become millionaires. But we survived.

There, at the flea market, as a little girl I learned a number of different things.
One of the things I learned right off the bat was "If You Break It, You Buy It."

Wheelers & dealers had signs posted that professed such. Some dealers would chant it if they saw unattended children. Some could communicate it just with their eyes. It was the number one rule at the market.

Well, one day this middle-eastern man came to the market. He looked funny trudging through the dirt in his silk suits and shiny shoes. All the dealers whispered as he walked by. Was he going to buy the flea market? Were our rates going to go up?

He came to our dirty little booth & then left. Other dealers swarmed around Momma... what did he say? What was he doing? Was he looking at anything? No....not really.
A few hours later, he returned with his partners. Straight to our booth, he came. He didn't pick up a thing. He didn't ask us anything. He & his comrades huddled, speaking in a foreign language.
Then, he offered Momma one hundred dollars for the old tattered rug thrown on the floor of our covered raw-earth booth. She's dirty. he said 'one fifty.' She's old and has holes in it. He said 'two hundred.' She said 'Cash?' He nodded and pulled a big, fat roll out of his pants pocket. She said 'Paige, help me roll this rug up.'

We left the market about an hour early that day. Before we went home, Momma stopped at the grocery store. In the car, she told us...Each of you may pick out one item and I don't care what it is, but pick out one item you want & today, I will buy it for you.'

We scattered throughout the store like salt sprinkled over a large pot of potatoes.
I think some of my siblings got chocolate & others got steak.
I stood in the first aisle, contemplating the seriousness of the situation.
I wanted something good.
I wanted something that would last a long time.
I wanted something I could savor for a good, long time to come.

I finally figured out what would be my best best & I headed to the condiment aisle.
I remember passing Curt & Kim...they were already waiting with their goodies.
On the bottom shelf sat my hearts desire... the largest jar of dill pickles ever. It was as big as the ones on the counter of the corner store.
I crouched down & picked it up.
I didn't even get to take my first step before BAM!
It crashed to the floor.

Immediately I flipped the jagged glass filled lid & started dropping shards of glass in it. The dirt on my toes turned to mud as the splattered pickle juice ran down my legs.
A boy with an apron showed up with paper towels and a dust pan.
I looked up & although, I didn't really cry...the tears came down my cheeks.
I apologized & told him I would clean it up.
He said he had it & he began to sweep than broom over my pickles.

My voice cracked 'I know, I break it, you buy it. But if you could just give me some of your paper towels...I can save some of these pickes...they don't all have glass in them and I promise I'll clean this mess up. My mom will pay for this jar. She said she would buy any ONE item I wanted and well, this was it. I'll throw the glass away but I want to keep the pickles'
He crouched down beside me.
'Tell you what kid...I'll carry a fresh jar to the front for you. I'll clean this mess up & no-one will ever know. I'll tell my boss & he'll be OK with it. Don't worry, you won't have to pay for it, OK?'
'Are you sure?'
"Yes, 'You break it, you buy it' isn't always true, okay?"

I told my Momma about breaking the jar & the nice boy in the apron. I wondered if he would get in trouble. She laughed 'No honey, probably not.'

Our hearts, sometimes like that big old jar of pickles...
too heavy, sometimes, to carry just right
too valuable to just leave behind
broken, sometimes, but always with something to be salvaged
and just because someone broke it, doesn't mean they bought it...

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Hug Someone

Hug Someone New Today ...

Saturday, February 03, 2007

An Old Post Revisted...

Inspired by some comments left on last post, I thought I might should share something with those of you who are trying to fit the puzzle pieces together.

Until Next Time:) ~ P&L

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Once When I was a Child...

Running the streets from dawn til dusk was what I did as a kid. I never liked staying indoors. I never liked being told what to do. I never liked TV.
Climbing trees, running, swimming, canoeing, catching tadpoles, picking flowers & such...these were the things I like to do.
When you're little, big people like to ask questions, such as 'What do you want to do when you grow up?'
Most of my girlfriends said they wanted to be an animal doctor & the boys wanted to be Evil Knieval. I wanted to be a flower child.
I saw these girls at the drug store & super market with their super-big umbrellas and all their fresh flowers. I knew that I wanted to have their life... sitting in the sun, sharing smiles with passer-bys, and selling those beautiful flowers. What a peaceful way to make a living!
This was my dream for years.
That dream started on Sylvan Drive, before I entered school & it came crashing to a halt 3 houses later, in fifth grade when, I with my siblings took a ride to Goodings in my sister's '57 Chevy.
Things aren't always the way they are cracked up to be.
I still love to climb trees, swim & go canoeing. I still love flowers & frogs & such . I still refrain from TV (although my hubby turns it on the moment he wakes) and I don't necessarily like to be told what to do.
But, my flowers...and I have a yard full of them...they are just for picking.