Oh, be careful little mouth what you say...

Several years ago there was an incident that involved my family. To this day, we are still dealing with the repercussions of words that were said with little thought by a person who really had no business in speaking up in the first place. It caused deep hurt, confusion, anguish. It altered a loved one's life. I don't know if that loved one will ever be the person they were before all this happened. I don't think the person who spoke up has a clue the damage they caused, the life-altering affect it had on this loved one of mine. But I know. I know.

The unbridled tongue. It's also called the unruly member. We humans have very little control over it, have you noticed? How often do we speak up, thinking we're being 'funny' or 'amusing' at the expense of someone else's feelings? How often do we put our 'two cents' in and don't think thru what we're saying ahead of time? Why do we give advice when no one's asked for it, or voiced opinions by sticking our nose into conversations we're only peripherally involved in? Do we weigh what we say? Do we plunge in? Do we end up regretting what we say? Or are we clueless?

I've written a couple of times about an older gentleman I knew several years ago. A wonderful, wise, and gentle man. A gentleman of the finest kind. He had an almost unheard of reputation of being a man who never said an unkind word about anyone. If he had nothing nice to say about someone, he wouldn't say anything at all. He'd smile benignly and remain silent. I have failed at times, but he is one of the best role models I've come across in my life and I have tried to follow his example. And since crossing his path in life and watching him in action, when I do slip and say something not particularly nice, Lloyd comes to my mind almost immediately. And I will apologize and ask for forgiveness. I am, after all, only human.

"Make somebody happy today. Mind your own business."

~ Ann Landers ~

In the presence of eternity, the mountains are as transient as the clouds. ~ Robert Green Ingersoll

I never get tired of my friend Leenie's photography.
From one little rock comes a whole Rocky Mountain Range.
Or is it,
from the whole Rocky Mountain Range
comes one little rock?

My mother is a poem I'll never be able to write... ~ Sharon Doubiago

It was 21 years ago today my Mom went to Heaven.

Looking back, you realize that a very special person passed briefly through your life, and that person was you. -- Robert Brault

Betty had this on her blog this morning. I like this one, so here goes:

1. Have you ever been so lost that you were really afraid? I was lost once as a very small girl. I went out in to the woods with my dad to find a Christmas tree. He got lost and couldn't find his way back to the car. But, to his credit, he didn't panic and made it seem like such an adventure that when we stumbled across the car it was no big deal. But otherwise...no. A little confused or concerned a time or two maybe, but never afraid.

2. Have you ever been to an island? Yes, the absolutely gorgeous San Juan Island in the Strait of Juan de Fuca between Washington State and British Columbia, Canada.

3. Are you more of a thinker or feeler? Most definitely a thinker. Sometimes my brain hurts I think so much.

4. Do you tend to see issues or situations in life as black and white or shades of gray? I'm very practical-minded so I'd say I see things as black and white for the most part. Tho, in situations involving the emtotions and feelings of loved ones, I am able to give them the benefit of the doubt.

5. If you were stuck on an island, what book would you hope to have with you (Let's pretend the Bible is already there, so you can't say that.) I would want a copy of "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn". Outside of the Bible, that is my favorite book of all time.

6. What are you most afraid of? The death or serious illness of loved ones.

7. Would you rather lose all of your old memories or never be able to make new ones? I'd rather not be able to make new ones. The past is with us always. Tomorrow may never come.

8. Pretend I'm looking at a scrapbook page about you. There are three spaces for you to drop in individual pictures. What are those pictures of, and why did you select them? There are not very many pictures of me in existence. But the first would be of the kiss Dear Hubby and I shared at our wedding when we were pronounced man and wife. Then the one of him and me that I'd had posted on my Facebook page. I can't think of a third one.

9. If you were re-doing your wedding, what would you do differently? (If you're single, tell me one thing you would do if you were planning a wedding OR huge party.) Absolutely nothing. As far as I'm concerned, it was perfect. And that was almost 36 years ago, so that ought to tell you something!

10. Tell me one thing you know/believe about forgiveness. The hardest person on earth to forgive is ourselves.

11. You're waiting in a doctor's office. What is your favorite way to pass that time? Read a magazine or a book I've brought along.

12. If there were a clone of you in a parallel universe what is one way you hope she/he would be the same as you and one way you hope she/he would be better? I would hope that person/clone is as compassionate as I am. Better? To be very free and spontaneous with affection. That is my one downfall in life with the people I love, outside of the grandboys.

This just 'speaks' to me today,

for some reason.

Power of Words

Power of words...is it not amazing how words affect us? I was just reading some. I won't say where. I don't want to offend anyone, especially considering my own blog highlighting my spiritual views at times. We're each allowed to live our lives and write about our lives however we choose. But I must say I'm not impressed when blog entries are peppered with profanity, especially by someone who's a 'writer' by trade. Don't they know better? What does it add to what they have to say? I was always taught that only truly ignorant writers use profanity...they use it as 'filler' for words they don't know. For shock value. For lack of anything better to say. I guess you can see how much I don't like it. The writer was a 'feature' writer and I didn't want to offend those who chose her, either, but I think a better one could've been chosen.

And with that said, I'll step off my soap box and get on with my day.

What is fame? The advantage of being known by people of whom you yourself know nothing, and for whom you care as little. -- Lord Byron

My daughter was sitting in a parking lot downtown recently,

rummaging thru her purse,

when she happened to look up.

She made eye contact with a man

and they smiled at

each other.

She went back to rummaging thru her purse.

Suddenly,

it dawned on her.

She knew him from somewhere.

And when she looked up again and found him

looking at

her

again...

she realized it was

Timothy

Hutton.

It's but little good you'll do a-watering the last year's crops. ~ George Eliot

Another chapter of their babyhood gone.

Today,

I put the double stroller out in the front yard

with a

"FREE"

sign attached.

When I came home from church

it was

gone.

God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars. ~ Martin Luther

It's time once again to write about my back yard dwellers and friends. Mason bees. In fact, it's almost past time to write about them because they're already filling in their holes with mud, ready to hibernate until next Spring. Since I seem to be falling behind on so many things lately, this is just another one to add to the list. That's because I write about them every year, about how important they are in this world.

In the past decade especially, there has been a huge decline in the honey bee population. As we all know, honey bees play a major role in keeping the human population going. Without their pollination no food would grow and we'd eventually starve to death. When I first read about this it shocked and concerned me. And not long afterwards I visited a BackYard Bird Shop and was drawn to their Mason Bee display. I picked up one of the informational brochures to read and it all sounded so simple I purchased a Mason Bee House, took it home, and nailed it up on one of the posts on the back porch, high enough to be somewhat protected from rain but low enough where I could keep an eye on it and see if what I'd read was true...that if you put one up, bees would find it. Oh, the joy I felt when I saw the first Mason Bee flying in and out of the house! In the first year, maybe 18 of the 30 holes were filled by the end of their life season. The next year, all but one hole was used. Close to 10 years later I now have 3 Mason Bee houses up and it's like Grand Central Station, there are so many bees coming and going. And talk about two very fascinated little boys! Dylan and Cooper love to go down a couple of steps and then gaze up at the closest one. And I don't have to worry about them getting stung. Mason Bees do not sting. You can stand amidst a swarm of them and they'll dodge this way and that, intent on getting back to their home or back out to 'work'. I had one land on my cheek day before yesterday...it must've needed a rest stop!

Their season is short here in Portland. I usually begin noticing activity towards the end of March, when I'll go out to check and find one or two of the holes is missing its mud plug, a sure sign they're 'digging out' and heading out to work. They're prolific, hard workers. Now, towards the end of April, about 2/3 of the holes are again plugged. Won't be long and they'll be 'sleeping' until next spring.

So, if you're a gardener or someone who just enjoys watching Nature at work, invest in a Mason Bee Home. They're not that expensive; they seem to last forever. You'll be helping the environment, you'll be helping Mankind. And you'll be amazed at the sense of well-being it gives you the first time you spot a 'resident'.

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~ William Wordsworth

Once upon a time there was a young girl. There wasn't anything special about her, not to the naked eye anyway. She wasn't born with beauty or grace. But her love of life and thirst for knowledge was apparent at an early age. Throughout her life she recorded her joys, her sorrows, in the best way she knew how...thru the written word. She put it out there for the world to see when she reached her 50's...she grew up, by the way...never dreaming anyone would ever come read it. Never dreaming it would ever impact anyone.

She's really a pretty simple woman. On the outside, anyway, the 'side' most of the people around her see. She's not a woman of a lot of verbal words, verbal thinking. She observes and ponders and wonders and stews. Oh, she has opinions...yes, she does. But she doesn't dole out advice. If you want to know what she thinks you have to come to her and ask. Just like it is with the physical side of her, too...affection isn't always easily given, but it's appreciated and taken gladly when it's given to her. She appears to be open. She appears to face the world around her with a friendly, easy demeanor. She appears to be a lot of things. But she isn't.

It always boils down to her words, her written words. That's where you find her, tucked in to her almost-daily musings. You read about her life, her loves, her heartaches, her losses. You come to know the woman behind the name of "Grandma". You feel her contentment with her life even amidst the busyness and fullness of her days. You can feel the peace in her soul as she writes about her love for her grandboys, for her books, music, and her garden. For The Man She Loves and her family.

And that is where this is taking me this evening, to my written words. To those of you who asked for, received, and responded to my life story. It is to thank you for opening your hearts to me, for not judging me. For reading my written words and knowing it was written from my heart, which is where all my written words dwell anyway.

Uh Oh.....

Spot and HoHo departed to

Fish Heaven

overnite.

UPDATE:

The boys handled it well.

The first thing they do when they arrive is run to feed the fish.

They noticed right away the fish bowl was gone.

Grandma explained they'd gone to heaven

to keep all the other gold fish who are already there

company.

That seemed to satisfy them.

Only in quiet waters do things mirror themselves undistorted. Only in a quiet mind is adequate perception of the world. ~ Hans Margolius

I've been committing blogging suicide lately, not writing much here. I've been pondering why I haven't been drawn to the keyboard to write. Instead, I've been sitting here playing Rainbow Web in the evenings. The answer is, as I told Dear Hubby last nite, it's awfully hard to sit down when you only have 15-20 minutes before bedtime and then write anything that's worth reading by anyone out there. That includes my grandsons off in the distant future, too. Last nite they weren't picked up until 5:20...I had dinner to cook, dishes to wash...and I crashed at 7 pm. I'd been fighting a sinus headache the past two days and thankfully I was able to sleep that off last nite. I feel like a new person this morning!

Also, I worked on a writing project that really wiped me out emotionally. It sucked me dry down to the very marrow. It will be published in the not too distant future and when it is I think I'll post it here on my blog. I haven't made up my mind about that yet, or if I'll just send it off individually to those of you who might want to read it. It was basically my life story, about how I got drawn into satanism and the occult, and it dredged up a LOT of memories and life experiences I usually keep stored way down deep inside. It's made me feel emotionally unbalanced in the sense of the heartache it caused for me thru my younger years and I guess it's left me feeling raw and wounded, too.

As for now, the clock ticks ever onward and I have some loose ends that need to be taken care of before the grandboys arrive. I'm still here, tho...just...quiet. Sometimes a person needs to sit still and focus on the inside.

Home is a shelter from storms - all sorts of storms. ~ William J. Bennett

Looking out at the mouth of the Columbia River from our motel.

It was peaceful. It was restful.

But, truly...there's no place like home.

Inside myself is a place where I live all alone, and that's where I renew my springs that never dry up. ~ Pearl Buck

I'm working half a day today and then Dear Hubby and I are heading out of town for a much-needed weekend of rest and relaxation. Can you tell by the lack of writing these past couple of weeks just how overwhelmed I've been? I can, and it's time to go recharge the batteries and refresh myself....

Learning is a treasure that will follow its owner everywhere. ~ Chinese Proverb

Guess what we had for dinner!
And guess who cooked it!
The grandboys!
Dylan, aged 4, browned up the turkey meat and added the spices.
Cooper, aged 2, helped stir.
Both added all of the kidney beans.
They stirred it up well.
We put a lid on it.
It simmered on the back of the stove.
Delicious!

A class act won the Masters golf tournament today!

Congratulations to my favorite famous fellow lefty!

Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop. ~ Lewis Carrol

Dear Moi...

Are you really here? Are you really writing? More than just a few-lined filler to post in otherwise empty space? Is it Friday evening? Or are you dreaming this like you dreamt during your short-lived nap this afternoon, that it was already Saturday and you were out walking in the sunshine? Sunshine? What's sunshine?

Ever hopeful,

Point-me-in-the-right-direction-and-I-might-reach-my-destination-but-then-again-I-might-not

--------------------------------------

Dear Moi...

It's an age-old question: Why do you buy 'real' toys? Or maybe I should say, why do you buy expensive toys? Children don't know the value of money. Be thankful most of what you have overflowing from your toy bins are things you've picked up in thrift stores for next-to-nothing. Why? Because, as of today, the grandboys' favorite toys are a couple of bags of colored dinosaurs you picked up at Fred Meyer for $2.99 each that they put in to their little plastic garbage cans and fill and empty into their toy garbage trucks all day long; two extender tubes from the vacuum cleaner they use as telescopes and imaginary ice cream cone makers...the choices are endless -- "Would you eat a gravy ice cream cone?" "Ewwwwwwwwww!" "How about pumpernickel ice cream?" "Ewwwwwwwwww!" See what I mean?

Sincerely,

On-my-budget-they'll-never-go-to-Disneyland-but-that's-ok-they're-still-having-the-time-of-their-lives

--------------------------

Dear Moi...

Would you even know what to do to keep a little granddaughter occupied if you had one? When my neighbor Sharon brought her 2 1/2 year old granddaughter Lily over to visit today, they caught us right in the middle of playing "Alvin". "Alvin" is the name the boys have given to our yard debris collector. Our real human yard debris collector. The game of "Alvin" consists of the boys taking two of their toy-sized garbage cans and placing every toy they have here, no matter what size it is, and putting it 'in' the can and handing it to me. It originally started out where it was small toys only that I would dump into the green recycling truck and say, "And here's some more, Alvin". Well, of course they thought that was hilarious and now it's an elaborate game that includes every. toy. in. the. bins. The nice thing is, they do help me pick it up. But! The mountain of toys is...well...a bit overwhelming. It takes up the entire middle of the living room and is about 3 feet high. So when Lily and Sharon came in, we'd just finished putting the last toy on the pile. Lily stood there in wide-eyed wonder sucking on her fingers. I don't know whether she wanted to stay or run. Sharon said, "Boy, Kris...that's a LOT of toys". I know. But every time I try to purge it seems I think "Well, they could use this for this" or "use that for that". The only toys really gone now are the baby toys.

In all honesty,

I'm-ducking-my-head-in-embarrassment-because-I-know-I'm-hopelessly-over-indulgent-but-that-is-a-grandma's-right-so-there

-------------------------------

Dear Moi...

I am still gobsmacked (I love that word and use it whenever I can) by what happened to us at Little Caesar's pizza the other day. We ordered a cheese pizza and when the employee took my debit card from Dylan -- Dylan likes to pay and 'buy' my pizza -- to slide it thru the machine...nothing happened. He slid it again. And again. Ditto. Zilch. A much younger woman and her little girl had come in the door behind us and was watching it all transpire. There was no internet connection on either of the debit/credit machines. Uh oh. I'd have to pay cash if I wanted to buy a pizza. I looked in my wallet. I'm notorious for never carrying cash and, true to form...actually, better than usual!...I had $2! But $2 wasn't going to pay for it. So as Dylan stood there saying, "Grandma, I really wanted a cheese pizza!" the young mother had gone up to the other employee to pay for her order. With cash. And the next thing I know, the other employee is handing me a pizza, too, and telling me, "Here's a cheese pizza for you!" "No, no!" I told him. "I can't pay for it! I don't have cash!" And he nodded at the young mother and said, "I know, but she does and she just bought you this pizza." I stood there and gaped for a full 10 seconds or so, then told her, "You didn't have to do that! My goodness! How kind of you!" And she smiled and said, "They had to get their pizza. They're kids and I couldn't let them be disappointed." By that time, the employees were smiling, too, and I'm flabberghasted and thanking her all over the place! And as she went out the door I said, "I'm going to write about you in my blog tonite!" But never found time to sit down and do it justice until now.

With a very grateful heart,

A-grandma-who-could've-had-a-disaster-on-her-hands-if-it-hadn't-been-for-the-kindness-of-a-stranger-and-I-know-the-good-Lord-must've-blessed-you-the-rest-of-the-day-for-it-lovely-lady

----------------------------

Dear Moi...

Isn't it wonderful to find handymen who still take pride in their work and do an excellent job? Who are honest and show up when they tell you they're going to show up? Who finish the job? Aren't you glad you found Andres? Aren't you glad you paid him $40 more than what he originally charged you, just to say an extra thank you for a job well done? And you'll recommend him to anyone in the Portland area who needs an odd job done like putting up a bit of fence and gate, won't you? And didn't it warm your heart that he put the latch up high enough and with a hole in it where you can padlock it shut to keep the grandboys safe inside?

With great appreciation,

A satisfied customer

------------------------

Dear Moi....

Do you realize every letter you've written to yourself tonite has referred to the grandboys in one way or another? Do you care?

Love,

These-are-my-babies-and-this-is-my-blog-and-if-you-don't-like-it-oh-well-put-a-cork-in-it-like-I-tell-Cooper

Won't you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you. ~ Richard Brinsley Sheridan

Someday,

when I have some extra time,

I am going to go here

and have some FUN!

Thoughts that make you go "Hmmmm..."

Here's a serious thought-provoker for the day:

"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."

~ Mohandas Gandhi ~

Now, if that doesn't make us stop in our tracks and think about what example we're leaving behind with every person we come in contact with today, I don't know what will.

Get mad, then get over it. ~ Colin Powell

I am just SICK! I had a little extra time this morning and started scrolling down my page here.

I'm finding I'm STILL not getting notification of every comment left.

Nothing...and I mean nothing...I do on here seems to take care of this problem.

So, if you think I'm a terrible snobby rude sanctimonious stinker

because I don't come say hello and

thank you

in return..

BLAME IT ON BLOGGER!

My Dear Hubby is a quiet, unassuming man who never pursues the limelight. But when asked to do something, he rises to the occasion. Easter Sunday was one of those occasions. He took part in a musical our church presented in the morning and evening services and he and the rest of the cast, musicians, and choir did an AMAZING job. You can't see his face here...he's the guy in the glittery robe...but aren't these costumes authentic? I was very proud of him.

I am the Resurrection and the life....

There once was a man named George Thomas, pastor in a small New England town. One Easter Sunday morning he came to the Church carrying a rusty, bent, old bird cage, and set it by the pulpit. Eyebrows were raised and, as if in response, Pastor Thomas began to speak....

"I was walking through town yesterday when I saw a young boy coming toward me swinging this bird cage. On the bottom of the cage were three little wild birds, shivering with cold and fright.
I stopped the lad and asked, "What do you have there, son?"
"Just some old birds," came the reply.
"What are you going to do with them?" I asked.
"Take 'em home and have fun with 'em," he answered. "I'm gonna tease 'em and pull out their feathers to make 'em fight. I'm gonna have a real good time.."
"But you'll get tired of those birds sooner or later. What will you do then?"
"Oh, I got some cats," said the little boy. "They like birds. I'll take 'em to them."
The pastor was silent for a moment. "How much do you want for those birds, son?"
"Huh?? !!! Why, you don't want them birds, mister. They're just plain old field birds. They don't sing. They ain't even pretty!"
"How much?" the pastor asked again.

The boy sized up the pastor as if he were crazy and said, "$10?"
The pastor reached in his pocket and took out a ten dollar bill. He placed it in the boy's hand. In a flash, the boy was gone. The pastor picked up the cage and gently carried it to the end of the alley where there was a tree and a grassy spot. Setting the cage down, he opened the door, and by softly tapping the bars persuaded the birds out, setting them free.

Well, that explained the empty bird cage on the pulpit, and then the pastor began to tell this story:

One day Satan and Jesus were having a conversation. Satan had just come from the Garden of Eden, and he was gloating and boasting.
"Yes, sir, I just caught a world full of people down there.
Set me a trap, used bait I knew they couldn't resist. Got 'em all!"
"What are you going to do with them?" Jesus asked.
Satan replied, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun! I'm gonna teach them how to marry and divorce each other, how to hate and abuse each other, how to drink and smoke and curse. I'm gonna teach them how to invent guns and bombs and kill each other. I'm really gonna have fun!"
"And what will you do when you are done with them?" Jesus asked.
"Oh, I'll kill 'em," Satan glared proudly.
"How much do you want for them?" Jesus asked.
"Oh, you don't want those people. They ain't no good. Why, you'll take them and they'll just hate you. They'll spit on you, curse you and kill you. You don't want those people!!"
"How much?" He asked again.
Satan looked at Jesus and sneered, "All your blood, tears and your life."
Jesus said, "DONE!"

Then He paid the price.

The pastor picked up the cage and walked from the pulpit.

On a stormy, rainy day.....

...sometimes, this looks like the best way to spend it.

We live in a very tense society. We are pulled apart... and we all need to learn how to pull ourselves together ~ Helen Hayes

Why would anyone in their right mind want to be famous?!
Can you imagine having all of your 'private business'

plastered out there for all the world to see?