Ring-A-Ling Ring-A-Ling

For the past couple of days, I've been thinking heavily about what I recently heard a weatherman say about snow. Snow is an annoyance or an adventure depending on your point of view or your age. Pretty poetic for a forecaster, don't you think? I imagine this could be applied to just about anything, though.

Perhaps, I've grown a little cynical, but lately things seem less adventurous and more of a annoyance. Maybe it's the fact that I turned 45 this week or because it's the holidays. Maybe it's a combination.

I was shopping the other day and found myself getting really annoyed. As I waited in line, the muscles in my neck grew tense and beads of sweat rolled down my back. It was then that I realized the song that was playing. It was Silver Bells.

That song conjures up the worst of Christmas memories, worse than the Ronco Bottle And Jar Cutter, a gift from my dad one year, which is a different story.

This song is psychological warfare to me. Keep this in mind when you need me to surrender the compound.

In the first grade Christmas pageant I was cast as a Silver Bell, not Susie Snowflake, and most importantly, NOT The Virgin Mary-the most coveted role among all 6 year old Catholic girls. This seems rather absurd, now that I think about it.

Had those nuns known the repercussions of casting be as a bell and not The Virgin, my life would have been completely different. I wouldn't be sweating like Pavlov's dog every time I hear a ring-a-ling, ring-a-ling . I think he salivated, but either way there was a bell involved.

Things would have been different alright.

Who knows, I may have even liked the snow.

Ring-A-Ling

Ring-A-Ling

Soon it will be Christmas day.

Vegetable With No Cream

The German word for snow is Schnee, when pronounced correctly rhymes with the English word, knee. When we lived in Germany I found it amusing that something so dreadful that could last for months on end had such a cute little name. It sounded like a petite sneeze. A sneeze is defined as a semi-autonomous, convulsive expulsion of air from the lungs through the mouth. No offense to the Germans, but that pretty much sums up the rest of the language. Not a series of sneezes, but convulsive expulsions. In the three years we were there, I learned a few words and could fake my way through a conversation. I knew when to nod and laugh. The Germans learn English in school and welcome the opportunity to show off their multi-language skills, therefore, I learned to speak English with a German accent.

The one phrase I had down was what kind of dog I had. This I had to recite to every passerby on our daily walks. After a while, I thought I get creative and add a little more to the phrase. My dog's name is Sienna. She is a mixture breed and she has no teeth. I said this phrase for the first two years and always felt so proud of myself. I was speaking German!

One day John was with me and I felt like showing off. Since he spoke perfect German and taught himself, well...whatever, he laughed and asked if I really knew what I was saying. Of course, I added," my dog is a mixture and she has no teeth". Except I had the two most important words wrong. The word for mixture is Gemisch and I was saying vegetable, which is Gemüse. The word for teeth is Zähne and I was saying cream, which is Sahne. Hello, this is my dog Sienna. She is a vegetable with no cream.

Now that we live in Ohio and it's sneezing outside for the first time this Winter, I wonder if the people in our little German village ever ask what happened to that woman who walked her dog that was a vegetable with no cream.

Searching For The Box

I have often been applauded for my ability to think outside of the box. I don't necessarily think it's such a grand feat. I'm rather disturbed by the way my brain operates. You see, if I actually knew where the damn box was, then I'd be more comfortable with the way I come up with solutions. I could be considered more of a rebel.

The "box" is defined as what is obvious. I imagine this box filled with all the obvious answers, the ones I never thought of. I hate this hidden box.

I will never forget the first time this circuitous way of thinking took the stage. It surely made a grand entrance as I played first base on my 8th grade softball team. The batter hit a ground ball directly to me as I stood slightly off the base. Instead of grounding the ball and touching the base, I got on the base and dove on the ball. I'm embarrassed still now. I can still hear my coach saying, "well that's one way to do it".

Yea...let's hear it for thinking outside of the box!

I tend to make the easiest directions more difficult. It's been this way for as long as I can remember .

We had hearing tests in the 1st grade. The nurse conducting the test told me to raise my right or left hand depending which ear I heard the little beep. Simple enough, right? I raised the opposite hand and came very close to wearing hearing aids.

There's been numerous examples throughout the years. Although, I am having trouble thinking of them. All I can recall is the stupefied look on peoples's faces as they shake their head and say, "well, that's one way of doing it".

I've learned to steer clear of those types of people. They act so superior because they know the location of the box. Heck some, simply live there.

I have recently found a group of women that think similarly as me.

It's funny being surrounded by a group of us outside of the box thinkers. I like to imagine being a boxed thinker and what they might think listening to us.

Now that's really thinking outside of the box!

Rummage Sale

I came across an on-line rummage sale where locals can post photos of their wares.

I like to look at it not only for good deals, but mostly for amusement.

With a background as a visual merchandiser, it's difficult not to be critical of some of the photos.

Don't people realize the importance of a good photo when they are trying to make a sale?

The word, 'rummage' is more commonly used as a verb; a haphazard search. This makes sense when it's used as an adjective to describe this type of sale. It's haphazard, alright. I know it's not Sotheby's, but come on people.

I ask you,"How tempted are you to buy this mirror?"

I saw an ad for a set of chester drawers for 30 dollars. There was no photo, which only made me curious. Apparently 30 dollars was a steal, because they sold right away, sight unseen. They must have thought it was a "blessing in the skies". So I guess, a good photo is not always necessary. Perhaps, it was the seller's kitchy way of talking that sealed the deal.

Today I am hoping that someone buys that eslectic stove.

Again there is no photo.

I tell you these people are so clever.

Head Up

Yesterday I saw a farmer pulling a cart on his tractor. A pretty normal scene where I live, until I noticed his daughter scrunched down in the back with her head between her knees.

It was then that a thousand feelings rushed over me.

You see, I spent most of my pre-teen and early teens in that very same position.

Looking back, I actually believe that my father got a certain thrill out embarrassing me. Such an easy task, though, at that age when you think the whole world is laughing at you.

He had a 1954 old Chevy truck that barely ran. He would start working on it early Saturday and by Sunday afternoon it was up and running. Through a black cloud of smoke one could see a proud father driving this loud stinking calamity through suburbia. It was at the exact time that all the good people did their normal suburban weekend activities like washing their cars and mowing their lawns. If you happened to look inside, you would have a seen a blond ball of shame on the floorboards in the very same position as the farmer's daughter.

I knew exactly how she felt in the back of that tractor. There were people watching, lots of people watching. Come on Dad!

Now that I am older, I feel a little guilty that I didn't pick my head up and enjoy the ride. I think of all the things I missed with my head down, worrying about what people thought.

If I could, I would have shouted to that young girl to pick her head up because she may regret it someday.

But some lessons, I guess folks need to learn on their own.

I am trying to learn this even at my age. Trying to hold my head up, so I don't miss a thing even through all the loud stinking calamity.

Thanks Dad.

I love you.

A Series Of Firsts

A group of us were talking the other night about how quickly time flies as an adult compared to when we were younger....much younger.

Here it is already Fall. It's like I went to bed one sticky Summer night, and woke up surrounded by vibrant colors wearing my favorite jacket.

I found that the reason time seems to speed by as an adult is that you don't experience as many first time events. First time events create lasting memories, which help slow down the illusion of the passing of time . I will never forget my first kiss. We both had braces and we were both scared of being permanently attached. A long time ago, yet it feels like yesterday, because it was a first.

Since I found this out, I want to lead my life as a series of firsts. It's already happening.

I grew up in Texas and didn't have the advantage of experiencing seasonal change. I remember 3 seasons-hot, hotter, and hottest.

Six years ago, I saw my first Fall, while living in Germany. It was breath-taking. Something inside me came alive, a feeling I had never felt before.

We now live in Ohio where the climate is quite similar. Each day there are more and more colors. Colors you wouldn't believe found in nature! God's palette is hard to replicate.

Believe me, I try.

Fall...

It's still a first for me.

One I know I will never forget

year after year.

What is It ?

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."

— Marilyn Monroe

What a profound, simplistic way of viewing things. It makes you wonder why she chose to leave this life in the manner in which she did.

Lately, I have been hearing the phrase, " it is, what it is". I have to admit that I have been saying it a lot too.

But it got me thinking. What exactly is," it " and is " it " a constant?

I came up with this loose correlation.

If, "it" is what we perceive to be real, thus becoming reality

and reality is all, meaning everything;

then

" it " must be all.

Some believe the way we perceive the world is an illusion and that nothing is real. I believe there is some truth to that. But that can be a scary thing, because an illusion can become a reality. Some people may spend their whole life in an illusion.

The only way their perception can change is through experience and awareness.

Marylin appreciated the good by experiencing the bad.

Her "it" was not a constant.

Being able to see through an illusion is a very difficult thing to do, since we all see the world subjectively.

It's important to surround yourself with those that validate your perceptions.

But, most importantly, that validation should come from within.

I believe Marylin was right. She figured the only way to overcome was to know and trust herself.

She was aware of the illusion and she was also aware of the dual nature of good and bad.

This was her knowing.

It still makes you wonder..

Perhaps, she knew too much....

So what do you think?

Is it what it is?

Perhaps, only if YOU allow it to be.