Yay! Today is the Vernal Equinox, or for you less geeky folks, the first day of Spring!
That said, it was VERY COLD here last night, and we got snow the day before… but I’m focusing on the officialness of spring rather than the reality of cold. Basically, I’m living in a very cold dream world. Oh well.
So, has your Spring been springy?
It’s springtime here in northern Michigan. Maybe not according to the calendar, I’m not sure of the “legal limits” on seasons — but it’s springy weather here, so by my calculations, that makes it spring.
For dog owners, spring doesn’t just mean birds twittering, trees budding, and flowers blooming — it means poop thawing. Admittedly, this year we didn’t get snow until after the new year, so our supply of poop isn’t as great as years past, but let’s face it, there is no amount of poo considered “good.”
Here’s the phenomenon: Tigger goes outside, and does his number (number 2, actually) in the snow. It sinks a little, and freezes. The snow piles on top of said poo, and the yard is again pristinely white. Tigger eats, poos, and the process repeats ad nauseam.
Here’s the part that makes me miss winter — when the snow melts, we have hundreds of perfectly preserved poopies scattered about the lawn. These poopies need to be picked up, usually by yours truly. Since Tigger doesn’t usually wander far from the porch in the winter, the area just outside the front door is a literal mine field waiting for unsuspecting shoes.
I’ll literally have a crappy weekend. Hope yours is nicer. 🙂
I love scented candles. I love the smell of fresh baked bread. In much the style Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups were invented, what if candles and bread crossed?
Would you like a fresh baked bread scented candle? I’ll tell you what, I’d buy that for a dollar!
(Incidentally, “I’d buy that for a dollar” is a rather famous, if not obscure movie quote from here.)
John Scalzi has a weekend assignment over at his By the Way AOL journal. The assignment is to post about something silly you or one of your children did when they were younger. So, with Lydia’s permission, I’ve posted one of her early “all by myself” trips to the potty…
It’s been a week since I posted. That’s horrible! I’m not feeling terribly well, so this is just a quick recap of the week.
22 — On Tuesday, I had a file server crash. Yes, it was the same file server from before, so I wasn’t terribly happy about it. I worked 22 hours on the server, and got everything running by Wednesday morning.
29 — On Wednesday, after that horrible Tuesday, I had 29 kids in our youth group. That’s the most we’ve ever had, AND I had to run the evening alone!!! It was rough, but the kids were really good.
Vomit — Then, on Friday, we had an overnight deacon’s retreat. The retreat itself was great, but Saturday afternoon, I started to feel sick. I spent Saturday night sicker than I’ve ever been. I actually pulled muscles in my back from throwing up so hard. Not fun.
Anyway, I’m still alive (I wasn’t sure last night), I’ve just had a rough week. Now I’m off to take some headache medicine. Ugh.
Yesterday, a really good friend let me use his wife’s season ticket and go to a Michigan vs Michigan State hockey game with him. (Yes, his wife approved) I’d never been to a hockey game before, so I planned to write about it. In fact, while I was there I was thinking about what I would mention.
5 minutes inside the Joe Louis Arena, I knew the focus of my post would be about the bathrooms. I didn’t take a picture, because, well, it’s the bathroom. Here’s the deal: at this multi-million dollar structure, where the Red Wings play and the Ice Capades do their capading, the bathrooms are like something out of a 1982 roller rink. There are long, bathtub-like troughs into which men stand and pee. Sword fighting not withstanding, it’s an odd experience. As I stood too close to the partially exposed man next to myself, I wondered WHY ON EARTH it was designed this way (the bathroom, not my… nevermind.) The space wasn’t more efficient, as only 3 men could write their names in the bathtub at a time, and each tub took the space of about 3 urinals. It was gross. No offense, but I don’t want to see another man’s urine “flow by” while I’m relieving myself. Add the drunken stupor of the 3rd period, and I was actually in danger of being splashed by a laughing, beer filled urinator. But I digress…
The game was actually the highlight (and most memorable part) of the evening. If you’re a hockey fan, and never seen a live game, you’re missing out. The rink was much smaller than it appears on TV, and you could see rich detail that looks so plain on the tube. The puck’s spinning, smacking, bouncing, and clunking make it seem so much more real. And yes, the body checks look more painful from 30 feet away.
I found myself jumping out of my seat when State scored, and shaking my fist right along with the masses during the fight song. That is SOOOOO not like me. The whole experience was quite surreal. I was excited to go, because I’d never done anything like it before, but it really exceeded my expectations. I actually want to see more college hockey! I want to get Dish Network so that I can see the games! (and the SciFi channel…)
Anyway, it was an awesome day. Thank you Terry and Maria, I’m sure it’s an experience I’d have never lived if not for your invite. GO STATE!!!
Ask me my favorite season, and you’ll get a different answer on any given day.
Fall, especially here in Northern Michigan, is absolutely stunning. The trees put on a show as they pack up for winter that makes the 4th of July fireworks seem pathetic. Summer, while often too hot for my taste, has long, beautiful days full of business and relaxation mingled together. Even if the only good thing summer provides is a reason to make sun tea — that alone is worth it. 🙂 Spring, while often cold and mucky (especially up here), brings promise of new life. The trees come back from their vacation, the seedlings begin to poke through the soil, and the birds are there to pester the squirrels away from their feeders again.
Since we’re in the middle of winter, this is currently my favorite season. If you are too southerly to get snow, boy are you missing out. Don’t get me wrong, I really don’t like the cold — but from the confines of a warm house, the blankets of snow seem wonderfully cozy. Add a fireplace or a wood stove, and you’ve got a recipe for poetry. Add a cup of tea or coffee, and you’ve got a taste of the divine.
And with that, I’ll close. I’m going to put the fire under the tea kettle, and steep some Earl Grey.
I have nothing interesting to say. Don’t get me wrong, I have lots of things I want to write about — but I can’t seem to “Use My Words” like Mom used to tell me. I want to write about my silly habit of curling up by the heater vent on a cold morning. I have some pretty deep thoughts regarding writing in general. Even the moon and it’s future colonization is rattling around my melon recently. I just can’t seem to write the thoughts in my head.
I think that a good writer is someone that can get their thoughts into words. Thoughts don’t suffer from repetitive word usage, grammar problems, etc. Thoughts are so non-linear, drifting, creative things, that writing them down is the art form, not dreaming them up in the first place. How I long for the Vulcan mind meld technology to surpass the current day voice recognition.
Anyway, I have to be careful, or this will become writing, and I’m convinced that I’m unable to write right now. Good night everyone. Maybe I’ll dream up the words to describe the beautiful snowfall we had today.
–20 minutes of pacing the house, etc–
See, here I am again. Couldn’t sleep. Still can’t write. It’s terribly depressing when the tool you use to express yourself is broken. I have an almost palpable weight in my chest. It’s like my heart is a little too heavy. Usually I’d resort to some snarky comment, or shallow but humorous diatribe about some equally shallow topic. (Restaurant spikes anyone?) I think the trouble I’m really having is that I realize my writing reflects what I want people to see rather than what is really down deep in my soul. Nothing rings true like truth. I should put that on a T-Shirt or something.
Why can’t I write what’s really inside me? Maybe because I’m afraid I’m really not that interesting. I can make things interesting, but I think deep down I’m afraid that if I were to write for real, REALLY REAL, it wouldn’t be very good. In other words, expose my soul only to find my soul is rather ordinary. If I write superficially, it can be fun to read, and fun to write — but it’s safe. If I write about my inadequacies, fears, inner conflicts, secret self-esteem issues, contradicting core beliefs, etc — it’s scary. There are things I don’t even think about, much less write about.
So is that what a good writer does? Expose their soul? Does it take a special kinda soul to be a great writer? If I’m afraid to be real in my writing, how can I expect anyone to connect with it? Writing is like standing naked in a huge room of fully dressed beauty pageant judges. The possibility of applause is so easy to squelch with the horrifying reality that even one of those judges won’t like the way you look.
Maybe this post, which will be read by half a dozen people at most, is the first step toward being a good writer. Writing is so much more than grammar and spelling. I want to experience it to the fullest. Maybe this paranoid, depressed, writers-blockism is all a part of it. Time will tell. For now, I’ll waffle a bit about whether to click “Publish” or “Delete.”
Donna’s been coaching volleyball for… 10ish years or so. (No, that’s not her team in the photo, it’s actually Roger Bacon High in Ohio, I didn’t have a picture our our team) I’ve grown to love the game, but there are a few things that really make me smile, even after so many years of watching.
Before any two volleyball teams play each other, they line up on opposite sides of the net, and proceed to slap hands with their opponents, and wish them good luck in the game. The girls are all good sports, but the enthusiasm level during the well-wishing isn’t at it’s highest. When you’re in the stands, you really can’t hear it well, but on the bench, it’s hilarious to hear both teams chant, “g’luck, g’luck, g’luck, g’luck, g’luck” right down the line.
What’s the point of my post? Not much, other than it’s one of the little joys in life that I’m making an effort to notice. 🙂 If you’re trying to enjoy the little things in life as well, I wish you g’luck!
No, not that, you sicko…
I was reading an article about being happy. It’s one of those things that I’ve always struggled with, so the article really sucked me in. I’ve been across the gamut when it comes to finances. Well, OK, I’ve been across the lower end of that gamut. I make around $40,000 — which should be very comfortable. I’ve noticed that in my life, I’m no more happier now (in general) than when we were financially struggling following a devastating car accident. In fact, I recall more happiness back then. Odd, no?
Here’s a quick list from the article that I’m going to try to adopt:
On a related note — I really suck at financial responsibility. More money hasn’t helped. Maybe if I live a little happier, I’ll be more likely to make wise decisions. I say that, because it seems as though a lot of the poor financial decisions I/we make are to make us happy. Even when it works, the happiness surely isn’t sustainable.
I’ll close with 2 things. One, I am constantly telling people, “If this is the worst thing that happens today, it’s a GREAT day!” — I need to heed my own wisdom.
Secondly, here’s one of life’s small pleasures that I noticed today. It reminds me of how much our dog enjoys playing with this, one of his only toys. All the “things” I have don’t bring me the pleasure this simple, beaten up toy brings Tigger. Which of us is smarter?
