A "mostly" humorous look at real events - short stories, satire, and the vagaries of life. Join me on the couch. The doctor is wacked, but in.
"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine..." Proverbs 17:22a
Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.~Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare
Obscure Quotes:
Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them by people who claim they would do it but it isn’t their job.
There are no control freaks……only people who have to take over when everybody else drops the ball. ~Robynn’s Ravings
(And don’t be thinkin’ I’m talkin’ about myself. I don’t like control freaks and I’m makin’ it my business to do something about ‘em. Nobody else will!)
Once in awhile you find something that weaves its way into your heart and you know it will never leave.
A friend sent it to me by email and I've watched it ten times. I'll watch it ten more. And I'll never look at Minky and JoJo, my two beloved dogs, the same way. She put to words and music what I knew as a dog lover. But I would never be able to say it like she does.
My theories were sound and my rhetoric plentiful. I knew exactly what you should do with your children and why. Your missteps were easily identifiable and with simple grit, determination, and sage advice from me, all could be rectified in short order.
Mothers who allowed their children to run the grocery store aisles confounded and irritated me. More baffling still was the mother who refused to answer her demanding, persistent, or wailing offspring.
One of these moments is burned into my brain. I was standing in a Von’s supermarket trying to make a decision about a product when a persistent three-year-old began to harangue his harried mother.
“Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy”……..for Five. Whole. Minutes., all the while alternately yanking on his mother's shirt, shorts, hair, face, and possibly eyeballs.
She never changed expression. She continued to gaze vacantly at the store shelves. I wanted to look into her hanging eyeballs and inquire, “Why don’t you just answer him!! Say ‘Yes!’ or say ‘Mommy has left the building!’ but say something!” This is because I presumed she heard him.
Then I became a mother.
Slowly dawn broke, or fractured, in my psyche and I knew that if I answered every single “Mommy!” I would cease to have one nano-second for a quiet thought within my head. I would never make decisions or know what I thought because there would be no time for thoughts. Cue the birth of selective hearing.
It is based in pitch and tone, and has little to do with volume. We mothers make symphony conductors look like wimps. We can detect the slightest variation in our precious progeny’s modulation and multi-layered rhythms. We know what sounds signal impending disaster or genuine need. Our ears are unaffected by run-of-the-mill keening. It’s not that we ignore it willingly. We simply do not hear it. We can’t, if we are to remain sane. And sanity is a nurturing benefit in a mother.
Maybe we are being cruel to be kind. In the right measure.
Now, you might say, manage your child so they don’t DO all this whining and haranguing. And your theory would be correct. And you would be right to say so. The problem is, we can’t hear you. (You just have to watch this. It's only about 45 seconds but sums it up perfectly.)
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Grizzly and I had a chance to get away a few weeks ago. We don’t do this very often. Our kids were seven and eleven the first time we went out of town without them. We didn’t repeat it until last year. I don’t know if that makes us pathetic paramours, conscientious homeschooling parents (who can never see or do anything without commenting “Wouldn’t the kids love this?”), or simply lazy, but I’m pretty sure it’s all three.
However, last year we took the leap, left the kids here – kids who couldn’t have been happier to wave good-bye to us – and went to Cambria, on the central coast of California. Lovely. Refreshing. Full of reminders of why, after 23 years, we have consistently refrained from killing each other when it truly seemed the only logical answer more than once. We vowed to repeat these getaways more often, even if only for a night out. We didn’t. Life happened. The economy happened.
Then Bo stepped in. Bo, my college girl. For our birthdays, she bought us two nights in the little Cambria cabin we love. And then she told us to go away. And she made reservations for us so we couldn't weenie out.
Grizzly insisted he support my blog by buying a decent camera. He also thinks my blog needs an airplane, flying lessons, an extended trip to Hawaii, and three years on sabbatical. We traded off shooting photos, hence my shot of our feet. This is proof he had his chance to live peacefully ever after – I’m positioned in front of him – but he demurred. By the way, this is the best picture I have ever appeared in. From now on, when asked to be part of a group photo, I will stand out of the frame and simply insert my foot. I have thin feet and ankles. That’s where all thinness ends.
Now look at Grizzly’s work. He has an eye for beauty and I may be biased, but the man has talent. I’m wondering what he could do with a camera AND an airplane. In Hawaii. He comes alive with nature as his subject. One of his first jobs as a teen was delivering flowers and he likes to photograph them.
No trip is complete until you get to know the locals. These are friends we made.
Some treasure we found.
The photographer. I found this treasure years ago. It has grown immensely in value. But it is privately owned and will never be traded on the open market.
Copyright 2009
Be sure to visit 30 Day Throw Down! for healthy eating and to join us on our journey. Monthly contests. :)
Tomorrow is the only day in the year that appeals to a lazy man. ~Jimmy Lyons
Obscure Quote:
Tomorrow is NOT the only day in the year that appeals to a lazy man. I think I'm pretty excited about the day after tomorrow, cheered substantially over next week, and positively euphoric regarding the twelfth of never. ~Robynn
Copyright 2009
Click HERE to join us in the healthy eating challenge at 30 Day Throw Down! and your chance to win a $100 Amazon gift card. New post at30 Day Throw Down!
This isn't in english but it doesn't need to be. Vigilant fathers everywhere speak the same language. It takes less than a minute but is even funnier the next time you watch it because you know EVERYTHING. I'm STILL laughing. :)
New post up at 30 Day Throw Down! Recipes, photos, and derangement await you. Don't forget to sign up to follow (and comment, letting me know) if you take part in the 30 Day Throw Down! challenge. It's your ticket to a chance at a $100 Amazon Gift Card!
New post up at 30 Day Throw Down! It has recipes and pictures, finally. Thank you, Grizzly. You are a photog extraordinaire. :) And I wonder who will make me turn 200? Whoever you are, you will make my day, my month. I will even rename the month in your honor.
I have decided I can do it all and look fetching at the same time.
I will now voluntarily operate TWO blogs. The official launch of the "30 Day Throw Down!" blog has taken place. (I actually typed lunacy just now instead of launch – I’m frightened.) Now you can find out all about everything we're doing in one nice, neat little package right HERE. And I can get back to writing about my other life.
The one where I make mountains out of mole hills, or laundry, or Q-tips I've discovered that Minky, my border collie, has been chewing the heads off of and hiding from me. She fishes them out of the garbage can in the bathroom. That has a huge "Ewwwww!" factor. I wish I had never known this. I wish you didn't either. But now you do and there's nothing I can do about it.
It's this type of richness you come for. I know that. And now I can get back to it. But while I do, I'll be eating real food. Good food. Excellent food. And I'll be reporting about it, and about you, and squeezing in more info and a recipe or two, and shooting photos, and contacting sponsors, and homeschooling my 14-year-old son, and trying to wash some underwear now and then and cook a meal. If you need me, I'll be on the closet floor resting. In the fetal position.
I'd hire help but the $22.00 I've earned from Ad Sense in the nine months I've been blogging is all I could offer. And it seems the truly competent people are looking for at least $23.00. So, it's me. And it's you. And I'm reclaiming Robynn's Ravings.
(P.S. If you love me, and you've proven over and over again that you do, despite very good evidence why you shouldn't, will you please sign up to follow over at the 30 Day Throw Down? It would be much appreciated! :0) ) The official new blog address is http://30daythrowdown.blogspot.com/
