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
Summer has been a petulant child refusing to loose its grip on the heat of scorching sun. It bullies the breeze and keeps billowy clouds hiding in mountain shadows.
Summer will not let Autumn play.
But today, watching green leaves bounce in the wake of a stealthy gust I witness the Relentless lift its head draw breath and heave a sullen sigh.
Promised glimmers of hue and glow are heralded on the stage of memory. A timid cloud scurries across the sky and escorts me toward my seat to watch the scene unfold.
Autumn will have her way.
~Robynn (Copyright 2009)
Painting by John Everett Millais
1829-1896
New Post at 30 Day Throw Down! Please drop in and join us. I'm actually still a humor writer over there. But then, I presume a great deal.
As I bark and cough at the monitor I’m gazing into, I find myself deplorably lacking in humor. I also apologize for not visiting around. I know you will understand when I tell you we are laid up and laid out. I hope I can at least offer a breath of inspiration. Be glad I'm not there to breathe anything else on you.
The father in this video is beyond my realm of personal experience or comprehension. He is the polar opposite of what I witnessed. The same is true for some of you, I know. I’ve read the posts and felt the pain you have endured. Others of you will recognize this dad in a heartbeat because you have (or had) one with the same heart, or you ARE a dad who loves at this level. I can’t tell you what happiness and hope that gives me. I smile with each story of love, humor, and sacrifice. So, you’ll forgive me if I steer you to this meaningful piece while I go toast it with a nod to my cough medicine.
Dick Hoyt is a shining example of what it means to have the heart of Christ. The media never fail to portray Christians in an unfavorable light and frankly, we sometimes do a pretty good job shooting ourselves – or others - in the foot. But the real thing? A person with a true heart for God and people? Now that is a lovely thing to look upon.
An excerpt from an article about this father/son team has this to say, “When asked if he has questioned God why his son has had to undergo such difficulties, Dick is philosophical. ‘We don’t know why,’ he says. ‘We didn’t dwell on why. I believe God has used Rick to help others. He’s been a pioneer. Any time someone wants to try something new, they go to Rick because he’s got the patience and personality to handle everything. He understands their frustrations and hopes.” To read the full article go here: http://www.southerngospel.com/Family/Parenting/1271755/
What I thought was food poisoning for The Wild Man last week may have actually been the swine flu. Apparently, it is not unusual for kids to develop stomach issues along with this virus. I took him to the doctor yesterday after a week of this and he has upper respiratory involvement as well which wasn’t even detectable amid all the other symptoms. After hours searching through websites and the CDC and NIH about swine flu I discovered this:
Kids often have stomach involvement with diarrhea. A small percentage of adults may experience this as well.
You can have the swine flu and not have a fever, though TWM had a heck of a fever. That was an extremely baffling component of the outbreak in Mexico. They had people testing positive for H1N1 who were sick but had no fevers.
It can manifest itself differently in different individuals. At Bo’s college they had five kids test positive the first day. One left in an ambulance and others were mildly ill.
Monday, it took me about three hours to develop a horrid cough. Grizzly came home from work with the exact same symptoms. We literally got sick within one hour of each other. He spiked a high fever and looked like he was going to die. Had he gotten any more cantankerous, I might have accommodated him. We sound like a TB ward around here with all the coughing and hacking but I am less sick than he is. I just feel like a Mac truck hit me and want to lay down every minute and sleep. But we eat VERY well, take our vitamins, and are showing some signs of improvement today.
You can’t avoid this thing entirely. But you can eat well and take care of yourself so if it comes to visit, it doesn’t feel welcome to stick around. I can’t help you with your relatives.
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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
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