Inner Child - Which Way Does it Go?

Some of you may be old enough to remember the TV show with Art Linkletter called ‘Kids say the darnedest things’. I am old enough to remember. It was always cute and usually embarrassing to the parents, which, of course, made it funnier. I received the following message from my precious daughter-in-love(law) regarding a comment made by our six year old granddaughter, Rylie. She said, “Rylie told me today that she can't play the games that her friends want to play because she will have an allergic reaction to doing what she doesn't want to do.” Where do they get this stuff? It was funny but it very clearly represents a child’s mentality…..it’s all about me! Limited to children? I think not.

Looking at life through a child’s eyes our perspective is a bit narrower though I can not help but believe it is filled with far more wonderment and awe. They are more open and accepting than most adults, not yet jaded by the evil in this world, disappointments and disillusions. Perhaps that is why Jesus said in Mark 10:14-15 But when Jesus saw this, He was indignant and said to them, "Permit the children to come to Me; do not hinder them; for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all."

There is distinct difference between being child-like in acceptance and childish in attitude. Child-like is innocent, accepting, inclusive; childish is self-centered, self-serving, and exclusive.

The crux of the matter is we must learn to adopt the child-like acceptance of God’s supremacy and openly believe…TRUST, HAVE FAITH…in spite of our adult ‘worldly’ knowledge and life-tinted vision if we are to receive the kingdom of God. No small task, indeed, but the rewards are great and eternal, the struggle temporary.

To no surprise the Bible addresses this, too, in 1 Corinthians 13:11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; now that I have become a man, I am done with childish ways and have put them aside.

Note it says “…I am done with childish way..” not “…done with my child-likeness…”

The cuteness of Rylie’s rationale wears thin as we get older and it ceases to be cute very quickly. None are immune to lingering childish ways so we must be on constant guard. I, for one, have held on to a lingering rebellion. It is a small scale rebellion to me but it does reflect a heart that is not totally void of issues to clean out. I go IN the Exit doors and OUT the Entrance doors at stores. It just grates on me that someone is telling where I can and cannot go….so I rebel. That’s my sin, the secret is out. I have practiced this more years than I can count and it went virtually unnoticed until the grandkids lived with us. One of them noticed and asked about it. I explained what I was doing and they all thought it amusing. So, pitiful excuse of a grandmother that I am, I laid my rebellious heart open to the kids; they started doing the same thing. The actual action we were taking wasn’t so bad but the fact that I openly practiced rebellion in front of them was! It DID become an issue with my Honey one day when the kids explained to him he was going out the wrong door and why. Oops!

See? You have to be on guard every minute because when you get to Heaven you want to see the Entrance door, NOT the Exit sign!!

Of Course!

I’m having one of those days when all you want to do is crawl back in bed and pull the covers over your head. Nothing in my world is lining up right. It started out waiting in anticipation for that first cup of coffee, the nectar of the gods. I did my motherly morning duties for the dogs while I waited. Ah, now cup in hand I can jump start my very busy day. Wrong! Bringing my cup of obviously steaming coffee to my lips for a tentative sip, I was dismayed to find it was only lukewarm. Ekk! The deceptive steam was a product of the cold morning air hitting the lukewarm coffee. I poured it back in the coffeemaker and pour another before heading to my desk to find my internet is down…again! This occupied me for a bit because I need the internet working so I can send out the blog. My internet server has not, is not doing a very good job in the consistency department. This tends to raise my stress level on a regular basis. Living in the area we do has limited our choices of high speed internet providers to…oh, this one. Of course!

I have a family member having surgery this morning. I wanted to call for a ‘love you & praying for you’ time before the surgery but the phone number I needed for the hospital is in an email on my computer that I can not access. Of course!

I decided that maybe, just maybe, the phone number was in my caller ID from previous conversations. I reached for the closest phone only to find the screen blank. I went for the next phone, we have three. Same thing, punch buttons till your fingers fall off and nothing. Blank screen. Tracking down the third phone I discovered the same irritating problem! And, yes, men folk, the phones were in their charging cradles. This is not new, but an ongoing issue with our lousy phones. They are not old phones, no; these are our latest new phones. If I had a dollar for every time I have clutched one of these phones in both hands trying to strangle it as I shook it to the now familiar tune of “I hate these phones!” I could buy more but what would be the point? These ARE the newest in a long line of phones, these are not cheap phones but they are just as lousy as the less expensive ones. Of course!

Deciding to make the most of the time sans internet and phones, I proceeded to move into the kitchen to take my meds and make a small repast. Once in the fridge my mouth sent my hand straight to the cold baked potato tempting me from the top shelf. I was practically drooling. I had visions of an egg draped over the steaming baked potato like a fur coat. My brain interceded and made my hand grab a carrot instead of the potato as my fantasy faded. Meatless meat, sautéed carrot and a farm fresh cage free egg now on the menu, I noticed that my computer was back online. I rushed over excitedly while the meatless meat was cooking and tried eagerly to bring my email up…maybe there was still time to make the “love you & praying for you” call….see how quickly I forgot the stinking phones weren’t working? Sad, huh? It was of no avail because the little blue light that indicates the computer is online was lying anyway! Yep, the cruelest trick of all; makes me THINK I can get online but nooooooooo! Meanwhile, sitting with head hung down in contained frustration, I realized I was very close to burning my meatless meat! Ekk! Of course, what else would fit my morning? Back to the kitchen I go.

Once breakfast was behind me I sundered back to the computer because there was no need to rush…but to my hesitant surprise, the blue was on once more. It let me get online so I thought things were looking up. It did not let me pull up my email. Of course!

Finally after ten different tries, I was able to see the number I was so anxious to get. I picked up the phone and was delighted to see the face of the screen. I quickly and thankfully placed the call to the far away hospital and my beloved family member. Finally reaching that familiar voice my hopes of being supportive and reassuring were dashed again….he’s old, lost some hearing, couldn’t hear a word I said. Of course!

The entire time it has taken me to write this the little blue demon light on my router has continued to blink and wink at me. It’s NOT supposed to do that. It is taunting me, letting me know it decides if I get to send this, not me! This might all have been taken in stride much more easily if I had been allowed my daily dose of caffeine. To this point I have not had a complete cup of coffee. While it has been left alone as I dashed to and fro between kitchen and computer only to get cold over and over I have had to accept the coffeemaker is on its last leg and is just not able to perform as it should and will need to be replaced…..again! Of course!

There is good news for today, however. Our son, Daniel, and his precious baby daughter, Madielynn, are coming to dinner tonight. The sun is brightly shining albeit windy and chilly. God is still on the throne today and forever just as He has been for eternity and all my worldly troubles of this morning fade into oblivion as I nestle down in the comfort and security of His hand. Troubles, my Friends, can only bother us and have power over us IF we let them. Since He is for us, who or what can stand against us? Nothing of consequence! Of course!

Winter Adventure

As I sit at my computer this morning I am huffing and puffing and my fingers can barely move over the keys because they are cold and stiff from my adventure outside in what our weather man is calling an ‘artic blast’! I have not found the leading from God on subject matter this morning, so I am simply writing off the top of my head; my cold head with numb cheeks.

Today, in our village, is trash day. The wind is howling and literally blowing anything not nailed down; this includes our large, ugly, nasty trash can down on the street….at the bottom of the hill….on the north side….where the wind is the strongest……and coldest.

Looking out my beloved kitchen windows I can see our large, ugly, nasty trash can being moved across the pavement dodging flying objects of unknown origin. Normally, my Honey brings the trash can back up in the afternoon when he returns from work. He just throws it in the back of his little truck and motors on up the hill. Fearing he would have to look on the next block to find it this afternoon, I decided…out of love and consideration for my Honey…..to trudge down the hill and bring it back up while it was still in the vicinity of our driveway.

Being dressed in multiple layers already, this seemed a small task but big in scale in the ‘consideration and love’ category. I LOVE MY MAN! Getting out of the storm door alone should have been notice enough that this was more than I had bargained for because it took considerable effort to push the door open against the northern wind. Door slamming behind me in spite of my best efforts to prevent it, I shoved my hands in the pouch of my sweatshirt that comprised my outer layer. Before I reached the driveway, I had been beaten by the fierce wind but pushed on….now it felt like a challenge.

At the bottom of the hill I up-righted the can, touching it as little as possible but that pesky wind necessitated the up-righting of the can over and over again! Uggg! I looked around for the lid because it was not with the can. I looked and walked the street in both directions looking for said lid. Nothing! My neighbor’s cans and lids where present and accounted for, if not in their place, but ours was not in sight. It did not take long before I decided trash can lids were highly overrated and we didn’t need one anyway!

My trip up the hill with the can in the wind was an effort. The wind repeatedly tried to blow it out of my fingertips…I would not touch it with my whole hand because, well, you know…ugg!!! Finally at the top I was dismayed to see the lid of the trash can. My precious man had not taken it down the hill in the first place! My hunt for the lid turned out to be a wasted effort that produced nothing but cold, stiff fingers. I might have shouted to the heavens but my lungs were screaming at me due to the cold air and accent up the hill fighting the trash can. Not a sound came out of my mouth but, boy, were the thoughts flying around in my head!

In the time it has taken me to write this, I have warmed up considerably and shed the top layer. My fingers are moving across the keyboard with a more normal pace and agility. The huffing and puffing has slowed to an occasional huff and puff and my lungs are no longer screaming at me. All is well in my world once more.

But, Honey, don’t be looking for me to bring that large, ugly, nasty trash can up the hill again. If God had intended for me to shuffle trash cans He would not have given me first brothers then a husband followed by sons and grandsons. Ya gotta love that God is in the details!

Love/Hate Procrastination?

I have a Love /Hate relationship with procrastination. This seems to be a common malady. You can get all kinds of books and articles on how to stop being a procrastinator. It seems no one applauds the upside of procrastination. Just for the sake of this article, we are looking at the bright side and acknowledging the positive aspects of Procrastination.

Procrastination is always looking out for your future. As a procrastinator you will always something to look forward to because the things you are putting off today will be waiting for you tomorrow….or the next day….or next month even. You don’t have to worry about what you will be doing because you can rest comfortably in the knowledge that it will be familiar stuff you’ve been looking at and saving for that proverbial rainy day.

Procrastination opens the door for variety in your life. Some procrastination is not chosen but dictated to us, rather like the prolonged kitchen remodel we’ve had going on. Circumstances have required that this be a slow…er, thoughtful process. Decisions made have plenty of time for change when you’re not getting around to implementing them quickly. Since we’re looking at the up side of procrastination we will focus on the…oh, let’s call it ‘opportunity’ to reconsider options. A fine example would be the wall color choice(s) I’ve made for the kitchen area. The initial plan did not call for a change in wall color. Then, necessity required us to change the countertop we had selected to something a bit more economically attainable. This dictated changing the color on the painted cabinets, which now no longer went with the wall color. So, many…many wall colors samples later….see variety!

Procrastination teaches you to be flexible. I am not an impulsive person. In fact, I probably think about things too long. Add to that my tendency to plan things to the point of being ridiculous and you’ve got one non-impulsive person. Procrastination would seem to be a fine companion for the impulse challenged such as myself. I do not enjoy shopping unless it is for my house (or grandkids). I have put things in my shopping cart, wheeling them around the store, only to put things back on the shelf and walk out having not purchased one single thing. I prefer to think of this as a good thing. I had a friend tell me once that I would shop myself right out of everything I ever wanted. She may have been on to something because I can not tell you how many times I have returned to said store to finally purchase the items I wanted only to discover they no longer were available. So, I’d have to start the whole process all over again and find something else. See…teaches you to be flexible.

Procrastination encourages patience. With the aid of procrastination, you develop fine tuned waiting skills. Always putting off getting started on what ever; lack of action builds tolerance for status quo and patience by not having things change quickly. In what may seem like conflicting traits, I love change yet have a high tolerance (in some areas) and patience in waiting for things I want. I believe procrastination plays a big part of that. Not starting something makes it easier to wait for it to be finished.

This tongue in cheek look at procrastination shows that, although it gets a bad rap most of the time, there are positive aspects if you look hard enough and tilt your head a bit to the right.

You can’t hate the wait when you procrastinate!

To Catch a Thief

As I sit writing this, I am wearing one shoe. No, I’m not trying to start a new fashion statement; I’m just trying to hang on to my shoe! We have a new puppy, Pan Dulce. (Long story on his name, that’s for another day.) He’s a precocious little thing that entertains us regularly with his antics. The hardest day can be washed away by simply sitting on the couch and watching the puppy power show!

It seems he has a scandalous scavenger streak…largely for my things. The missing shoe in question is not a big deal as far as a loss would go. It’s one of those rubber Croc shoes. They were the first things he started making off with the day we brought him home. They are light weight, easily towed by the mini-pirate. We thought it was so sweet, he’d make off with one and take it to his bed and snuggle up with it as he napped. Who could be irritated by that?! The baby loves me!

His scavenging ways have gained momentum as he has settled in more, feeling his Wheaties! Today, as I worked on the computer, I could hear a theft in progress. I couldn’t see him but I could hear him! Plop, plop, thud…plop, plop, thud…plop, plop,thud… sounds of Pan Dulce in action. When he finally appeared in the room, he was struggling to drag my Honey’s flip flop. It was bigger than he is and far heavier. They are that hard rubber kind, not the light Croc stuff like mine. The plop, plop part was him attempting to lift the flip flop in a forward motion. The thud part was him hitting his head as he flipped over the shoe head first. Amazing!

Tonight at dinner, I slipped off my shoes (leather strappy sandals) as I normally do to sit cross legged in my chair. I’m short, my feet do not go all the way to floor…what can I say? Anyway, no sooner had I slipped off the last one and had not even gotten the second leg crossed in my lap when our petite pirate came dashing out from under the table with the first shoe. A mad dash back and he made the return trip with shoe #2. Hey, I LIKE those shoes…come back here! ‘No way, Mamacita,’ his guilt-free glance told me. I guess he felt safe under the protection of his chuckling daddy!

Uh oh, that didn’t sound good……

OK, NOW I’VE HAD ENOUGH! As I sit here wearing one shoe to write about our precious little puppy burglar, I see the all too familiar flash of fur dashing across the livingroom. Then I hear a clunk. No plop, plop thud…but a hard clunk. This needed investigating! To my horror the little scoundrel had procured one of my awesome new sexy red heels!! These are the sexiest shoes, not to mention most expensive shoes, I’ve ever owned and the puppy is taking one to who-knows-where!! This ceases to be a funny game now! It’s not so cute when it’s a delicate red heel instead of a clunky Croc!!

Retrieving my ravishing red beauty, I quickly made my way to my bedroom to assess the state of its mate. It was with great relief to see the other red beauty under the bed where I foolishly thought they were safe. I reached down to pick up my prized heel and low and behold, my missing Croc was abandoned next to it…probably left behind in exchange for the more tempting red one.

Note to self….limit Pan Dulce’s access to bedroom. Ah, yet another baby gate to step over… the things we do all for the love of a puppy!

Pan Dulce, shoe thief

Soapbox Observations

Customer Service - where did it go? This has me jumping up and down on my soapbox. Wouldn’t you think in this hard economic time with more people unemployed than there are jobs that those blessed enough to have a job would do everything in their power to insure they actually get to keep it? If we are to believe mass media, questionable sanity required, we are being told that fifteen million people are competing for two million jobs. This just addresses those folks listed on any such statistic.

So, doesn’t it seem this would step up the quality of job performance of Joe Q. Public, working person? I think so but my humble opinion is apparently not shared by the masses. The quality of customer service on an average shopping or service seeking trip is at an unsettling low.

Now before there are mobs formed to throw rocks at me, let me qualify these remarks. There are fine employees and business owners dedicated to quality customer service. This is not about those entities at all but rather a look at places where such is not consistently found.

I’m not sure if it is an attitude in the workplace or the lack of training in customer service that is to blame; probably both. Rather than an attitude of gratitude for even having a job, it is not uncommon to hear disgruntled employees venting to one another about their plight. This is happening everywhere in front of customers! I know this because I hear this. I’ve had employees ‘helping’ me complain about their job situation to me. That’s never good.

I’ve been shopping in large stores and found no salesperson in sight to answer a question, only to stumble across a gaggle of them huddled together in a remote location sharing whatever with one another. Group training? I don’t think so.

Then there is the emotionless cashier that scans their way through your purchases with nary a smile or interaction. Do you feel the love?

There is the inevitable employee that looks up in disgust when you have the nerve to make an inquiry. Can’t you see they are busy? They don’t have time for people and their pesky questions.

I play out my own version of Donald Trump in my head when I run across such an employee. I fire them! It's important that you note the "in my head" part. I know that those I mentally fire would never be allowed to work in my place of business.

Has it always been this way? Maybe in isolated cases but it seems to be getting worse with time. Common courtesy is an endangered species. Customer service is woefully lacking. Not only is the customer no longer always right, the customer is regarded as an intrusion. Commercialism at its best? No way!

I’m not a chronic complainer. I’ve only sent food back at a restaurant once and only then because it was inedible. But I do think people have the right to be treated with common courtesy and at least adequate customer service. I think employees and business owners have that same right and should be treated with respect, as well.

Just so you know, I am self-employed as a freelance writer and place a higher standard on myself than I expect from others. I need customers and need them to be happy with the quality of my work and the way they are treated. If my employee (me) gets sloppy in her treatment of customers we’re gonna have a serious talk!

The Secret Life and Breeding Habits of Mugs

Coffee mugs are a pain in the backside for me. I understand that many people love their coffee mugs and more power to them. I am not one such person. This is not to disparage those fine folks but merely to vent frustration in my attempts to remain mug free and failing miserably.

Mug vs. Cup
There is a difference between a mug and a cup. Not always but more often than not, mugs are larger and heavier than a cup. Cups typically come with saucers. Cups are standard in dish ware sets but you can now find sets with the larger mugs sans the saucer, of course.

Additionally, there are Cappuccino cups, Espresso cups, tiny Demitasse cups, Latte cups, Irish coffee cups, and, at an internet site near you, Crème Brulee cups. Do we really need a separate set of cups and saucers for Crème Brulee?! When was the last time you tried to serve Crème Brulee at home but were thwarted by the lack of Crème Brulee cups? Seriously! This has gotten out of hand.

I digress. Back to the secret life and breeding habits of mugs.

My theory is they breed in the dark of the cabinets behind closed doors. I’ve ushered out more mugs than I can count, yet invariably the odd mug will pop up as if to taunt me. My husband has a mug sitting on his bathroom vanity that our grandson won and gave him on a recent camping trip. Sweet, right? What sort of person would it take to get rid of a heartfelt gift like that? A Cruella Deville type, that’s who! Yet, if left to itself, that dang mug will breed and become four mugs before you know it! Mugs love company!

People seem to like to give mugs as gifts. At least the people I know. I have graciously accepted many a Christmas mug with a smile. Inside I am wondering what the shelf life has to be before this mug can disappear. I’ve used them as pen and paper clip holders in my office. I used them to stash the make-up-containers-that-have-too-much-to-throw-away-and-maybe-will-be-needed-in-an-emergency under the sink. Let it be said I have NEVER used any of that stuff but at least the mug had a job. I’m not a bad person.

I do have my reasons for the mug aversion; some practical, some aesthetic.

On the practical side;
1. My hands hurt a lot. I have joint and tendon issues that make holding the average mug full of coffee difficult. They feel like boulders to me and, quite frankly, I do not need the unnecessary additional pain.
2. Storage is at a premium here. At one point, the entire top shelf of my pantry cabinet was taken up by an assortment of unwanted, albeit colorful mugs. This is what happens when mugs are allowed to breed unchecked!
3. We no longer have children living here so the more delicate coffee cups are not in imminent danger….as long as my husband is not doing dishes.

Aesthetics:
1. Our house is saturated in color; rich, intense color. We like it this way. So, a bunch of prolific, brightly decorated mugs tend to seem too busy and distracting. All my dishes are white. This gives the eye a place to rest. It’s soothing. Life needs soothing. I need soothing.
2. I don’t do cutesy! There are, indeed, some beautiful mugs out there, let my say I know this to be true. However, there are a lot of cutesy mugs, too, and those seem to be the ones that breed like rabbits in my cabinets. I repeat; I do not DO cutesy! You can do cutesy till your heart is content and I’ll applaud your efforts. No cutesy for me, thanks.

On a parting note let me say that it is not required that you share my opinion. Like your old stinkin’ mugs, I don’t care. This tirade was not the unprovoked ramblings of an anal retentive obsessive compulsive mug hater. I was washing up a handful of dishes this morning and lo and behold, there were two, count ‘em TWO mugs in the mix. WHY?! The secret life of mugs is alive and breeding!!

No, It Is Not Fine!

One of the most vile four letter words for most women is the word ‘fine.’ This is not just my opinion; I do not know any woman that likes to hear something is ‘fine.’ Dinner is not fine. Her hair is not fine. You get the point.

I remember being in high school when I first realized this was an issue. My little mother, quite frustrated at the dreaded ‘fine’ response to inquiries as to whether the family enjoyed dinner, blew a gasket. Guess she heard that reply one time too many! She stormed out of the dining room shouting, “I’d rather you tell me it tasted like %#@* than to say it was fine!” My eyes were open to the not so fine situation with the word fine.

There are all kinds of application and uses of the word fine, such as having fine hair; meaning hair that is thin in texture or fine small grained sand. Those uses do not generally incur wrath. A man saying a woman looks “FINE” drawing his word out in a tone an obvious admiration is acceptable. Any other use beyond that is a slippery slope of potential problems. Wise is the man that resolves not to use fine as a description for anything else when it comes to relational harmony.

A good case in point is a recent situation concerning my precious son-in-law. He is a good man. I’m very proud of him and how he takes care of his family. Typically, I would say he was an intelligent man. This is a story of how that intelligent man slid down the slippery slope of ‘fine’ and into a quagmire of hostility. Preparing for a big night of dinner with his new bosses, my daughter wanted to represent her husband well and groomed meticulously for the event. As every woman knows, this involves time and effort; a labor of love to make her man proud. Sadly, my son-in-law carelessly neglected to make note of said effort and told his wife she looked fine. Where is all that intelligence now? This caused an immediate reaction from the bathed, shaved, moisturized, coiffed and perfumed woman standing across from him in full make-up and best flattering outfit. Can you hear the shovel hitting the dirt as he digs his own grave?

My daughter, in a very similar scene to her grandmother all those years ago, replied she was so thankful she spent the whole day working and primping just to make herself look fine for dinner with HIS bosses. Her choice of words was a bit more colorful than mine but you get the point. Now as if this was not bad enough (and don’t you think it should be), my poor misguided (kinder word than stupid) son-in-law told his now deflated wife that the next time they have an event she could go out and spend whatever it took to make herself look better than fine. Bring in the backhoe, the boy is a goner! I’ll miss that boy!

Relationships 101 – never tell a woman she looks fine. This is an insult of huge proportion.

We do not want to look fine. We want to look lovely. We want to look ravishing, breath-taking and/or beautiful. We want to know our efforts are noted and appreciated. This is not restricted to how we look either; it applies to life in general.

Life is full of adjectives, Mister; use them!

Assuming my son-in-law comes out of the coma, I plan to buy him a Thesaurus.