Whenever the objective of an institution is lost, then so is the institution. That's what has happened in at least 42 different VA facilities across America.
When employees see themselves as the important ones, the special people, then the very people for whom the system was created get shortchanged. The people who are supposed to be served BY the institution are instead objectified by the institution. You know, what is your number?
It will be years before all of the inner workings of this massive system are investigated and figured out, and some of it never will because people who should know better destroyed important documents.
When they do see what went wrong, there is one thing that seems clear to me at this point. Fake waiting lists in multiple facilities in different states do not just happen by chance. The whole thing points to some kind of directive from higher up. Doesn't that make you angry?
It bothers me a great deal. Promises were made to the individuals who signed up to serve in the nation's military. As a country that was founded on principles of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, we are bound by the oaths that we take just as surely as the military personnel are bound by the ones they take. We are beholding to them in so many ways, and they should not be waiting on interminable lists for services that they need.
The whole thing underscores something that rings true in every instance that I can think of. The government doesn't seem to know how to run anything. The government shouldn't be in the business of health care for our vets or for us. Where is the expertise? Where is the experience? Where is the dedication?
In business, because if a business is going to thrive it must be profitable, there is a clearly drawn business plan and a set of objectives. Everyone in the business has a job to do that propels the business towards its goals.
Have you ever had to go to a government office for something? I had to get a new social security card. It was quite an adventure and yet another lesson in the silliness of institutions, their policies and their procedures. They only sing one tune; there is no ability to improvise or think on your feet.
I see that the top official in the VA system has resigned. I hope that this will begin a difficult, painful, but needed pathway towards doing better.
As I see it, the dangers of the old cold war are nothing compared to the danger that looms today. And believe me, I don't like admitting this or believing it myself but everything points to it. We're having internal problems and we face external problems all at the same time. Fighting battles on multiple fronts. Struggling with what it means to be America.
One thing that I take away from all of this is that I don't want to forget what it is to LOVE my country, see the exceptional qualities of it, observe the beauty of it, and acknowledge the greatness of so many individuals.
We face challenges but there is enough resolve left to deal with them if we just keep caring, keep working. And most important of all, keep praying.
Light of Christ
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Friday, May 30, 2014
Riot of Color
This year the front of the house is decorated in all kinds of colors. A rainbow inspiration.
It's kind of fun, because there is a sense of excitement to see how the plants will look as they get bigger and fill in the pots and planters.
The plants are: zinnias, marigolds, dianthus, wave petunias, regular petunias, alyssum, grassy plants, another green plant that came back after last year, New Guinea impatiens, and a yellow flowering plant and a white flowering plant that I can't remember the names of.
So we have yellow, an orange-tone, red, white and cream colors all coming together. The pots mimic the front garden plants which boast red, yellow, salmon and even some pink.
Color has some an amazing effect on us -- rooms that soothe and calm, rooms that create energy and liveliness, and some rooms that combine some of both.
Color is an amazing gift to us. God allowed some of the Garden of Eden to remain as a little peak of heaven, I always think. Hope you are having fun at your house, mixing and planting.
We might even end up with more than three tomatoes this year. You just never know.
By the way, for anyone who is interested -- the Canal Fulton Farmers' Market will be back, but in a new location. It will be held at the Northwest Senior Citizens Center parking lot on Thursdays from 4-7 beginning in mid-July. I'm going to check it out again as I always do, and hope that they are very successful in this endeavor. It offers the residents in town and those outside of town a chance to get homegrown vegetables, and also to mix and mingle with old friends.
I don't have much to say this morning -- a little tired I guess. We went to see our grandson, Jacob, play baseball. When the kids are 10, six innings goes very slowly. There are pitches that go in the dirt, and any number of them that whiz over the umpire's head. There are walks aplenty, errors all over the field, and once in a while, something fairly spectacular happens. But mostly, you just sit and in last night's case, get colder. I wore shorts and sandals and that didn't turn out to be the best choice. I would have been fine in jeans and tennis shoes. It was beautiful weather, but with a breeze, there was just that bit of chill. The best decision was that I did have a jacket along.
So around 8:00, we headed on home and I was glad. The huge backup of traffic on I-77 that was coming south while we were heading north on the way to the game was gone. We zipped farther south and into familiar territory, and when we pulled into the drive, there was this AHHH moment. Home.
Take care, everyone. I'll try to do better tomorrow.
Karen
It's kind of fun, because there is a sense of excitement to see how the plants will look as they get bigger and fill in the pots and planters.
The plants are: zinnias, marigolds, dianthus, wave petunias, regular petunias, alyssum, grassy plants, another green plant that came back after last year, New Guinea impatiens, and a yellow flowering plant and a white flowering plant that I can't remember the names of.
So we have yellow, an orange-tone, red, white and cream colors all coming together. The pots mimic the front garden plants which boast red, yellow, salmon and even some pink.
Color has some an amazing effect on us -- rooms that soothe and calm, rooms that create energy and liveliness, and some rooms that combine some of both.
Color is an amazing gift to us. God allowed some of the Garden of Eden to remain as a little peak of heaven, I always think. Hope you are having fun at your house, mixing and planting.
We might even end up with more than three tomatoes this year. You just never know.
By the way, for anyone who is interested -- the Canal Fulton Farmers' Market will be back, but in a new location. It will be held at the Northwest Senior Citizens Center parking lot on Thursdays from 4-7 beginning in mid-July. I'm going to check it out again as I always do, and hope that they are very successful in this endeavor. It offers the residents in town and those outside of town a chance to get homegrown vegetables, and also to mix and mingle with old friends.
I don't have much to say this morning -- a little tired I guess. We went to see our grandson, Jacob, play baseball. When the kids are 10, six innings goes very slowly. There are pitches that go in the dirt, and any number of them that whiz over the umpire's head. There are walks aplenty, errors all over the field, and once in a while, something fairly spectacular happens. But mostly, you just sit and in last night's case, get colder. I wore shorts and sandals and that didn't turn out to be the best choice. I would have been fine in jeans and tennis shoes. It was beautiful weather, but with a breeze, there was just that bit of chill. The best decision was that I did have a jacket along.
So around 8:00, we headed on home and I was glad. The huge backup of traffic on I-77 that was coming south while we were heading north on the way to the game was gone. We zipped farther south and into familiar territory, and when we pulled into the drive, there was this AHHH moment. Home.
Take care, everyone. I'll try to do better tomorrow.
Karen
Thursday, May 29, 2014
CA Killing
One young woman who was in the path of the gunman's line of fire on Friday, May 23, was clearly shook up. She described the scene: she was alone on the street, no one else was around, it was quiet, and the gunman spoke to her first. Then he started firing, and as she put it, she hadn't even started running yet. Somehow the bullets missed her completely. She wasn't even grazed.
In something that took no more than a couple of seconds, her life will never be the same. She will begin asking questions that in her young life weren't necessary as she walked on that street in a California college town.
Why not me?
Why did the bullets miss?
Why did he want to shoot me?
Why was I all alone?
What is my purpose in life?
In other words, she will question everything because of what happened in those few seconds, when his hatred and her bewilderment collided. She will especially ask these questions because six other people didn't get that chance. Their lives ended in a hail of gunfire without warning and without reason.
She will never want to be out on a street alone for a long, long time. She will wake up at night in a sweat from terrible dreams. She will cry at the least little thing. She will cry very hard at the memorial services for the six because she has no idea why she wasn't one of them.
The gunman, whom everyone is trying to ignore as much as possible so as not to give him the attention he so clearly wanted, certainly had problems from a young age. He describes himself as being consumed with envy and jealousy and hated going to movies because he would see couples and get angry because he didn't have a girlfriend.
His brother who escaped death himself because the gunman saved him from drowning in the family pool was on his list of targets. His roommates were also on the list and he was successful in wiping them out.
The police came to the house in April, I think they said, because his parents asked them to check on the young man. The guns and ammunition were a scant few steps away from the officers as they questioned him.
They say he was a sociopath and that he was incapable of feeling for others, for having empathy. He never thought that he belonged and in the end he took his own life.
I don't have an ending for this blog other than to say that as a society we are moving farther away from one another rather than closer. Young people are especially affected by this, because of the media, computers, phones.
It does give one pause, doesn't it?
In something that took no more than a couple of seconds, her life will never be the same. She will begin asking questions that in her young life weren't necessary as she walked on that street in a California college town.
Why not me?
Why did the bullets miss?
Why did he want to shoot me?
Why was I all alone?
What is my purpose in life?
In other words, she will question everything because of what happened in those few seconds, when his hatred and her bewilderment collided. She will especially ask these questions because six other people didn't get that chance. Their lives ended in a hail of gunfire without warning and without reason.
She will never want to be out on a street alone for a long, long time. She will wake up at night in a sweat from terrible dreams. She will cry at the least little thing. She will cry very hard at the memorial services for the six because she has no idea why she wasn't one of them.
The gunman, whom everyone is trying to ignore as much as possible so as not to give him the attention he so clearly wanted, certainly had problems from a young age. He describes himself as being consumed with envy and jealousy and hated going to movies because he would see couples and get angry because he didn't have a girlfriend.
His brother who escaped death himself because the gunman saved him from drowning in the family pool was on his list of targets. His roommates were also on the list and he was successful in wiping them out.
The police came to the house in April, I think they said, because his parents asked them to check on the young man. The guns and ammunition were a scant few steps away from the officers as they questioned him.
They say he was a sociopath and that he was incapable of feeling for others, for having empathy. He never thought that he belonged and in the end he took his own life.
I don't have an ending for this blog other than to say that as a society we are moving farther away from one another rather than closer. Young people are especially affected by this, because of the media, computers, phones.
It does give one pause, doesn't it?
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Appetite
I'm one of those people who has an appetite no matter what. It is really rare that I'm not thinking about or looking for something to eat.
When I was working, the afternoon was the hardest because that's when you kind of "hit the wall" in terms of your blood sugar. As I'd be nodding off in front of the computer screen, the image of the candy machine down in the concourse would come to mind and pretty soon I'd be fishing in my purse or in my desk drawer for some change.
Then I'd get myself a fresh cup of tea and have the candy bar with it. Lovely!! And pretty soon I'd get my energy back and finish out the day with a bang.
People under stress often lose their appetite; I don't. In the absence of being busy doing something, I eat. It's ridiculous. And I've got my class reunion to attend, and not meaning to sound vain or anything, I'd like to go just a tad bit slimmer than I am right now. And more toned, i.e. arms.
This is what happens to perfectly good arms as you age. First, they kind of get bigger in the biceps region. Then without any kind of workout, the arm loses tone. Then the lower part of the arm develops a movement all by itself, a swing. Make a muscle and the tissue is still there, moving. Then the next thing that I hesitate to mention because it is so awful -- crepe skin. It shows up on the inside of the upper arm. Looks like crepe paper that's damp. Most probably, it doesn't go away no matter what you do. I'm going to see. Call it an experiment, but by September if my crepe skin is still there, then I'll admit it for all. And then what is there to do but delicately cover it.
My husband is not an exerciser. He avoid its, and instead focuses on working as a substitute. It isn't a very satisfying substitute in my book. I'd love to go walking on a Sunday down to the Lock 4 park and back, but not necessarily by myself. Maybe my neighbor would consider switching Wednesday morning for Sunday at around noon? It's worth a try. Also, my husband has feet problems, due to wearing the incorrect size of shoe for at least a year when he was a child. He also has back problems, probably related to the feet problems. And he has ankle and knee problems, and eye problems. He has some inner problems too, and on that score we are even.
So you can see where this is going or NOT going. Not going walking, that's for sure.
The other thing about the class reunion is that I'll be attending by myself. My husband really does not like gatherings of that kind, with noisy bands and people milling, especially people he doesn't really know. His favorite classmate of mine, Sandy, passed away about four or five years ago. I don't mind going by myself because then it's just me and I can go here and there, not having to worry how horrible of a time my husband is having. Oh, and he doesn't dance.
You know, we really do get along well. We've been married now for almost 30 years!! We tend to like the same kinds of entertainment, foods, and movies. We love the community, the Lions Club members, our church members, and our home. We especially love our family!
So you know -- when it is all added up -- it's about love. That's what they claim makes the world go around, and I'd tend to agree.
So if you ask me, it's a healthy thing that my husband and I do things together and we also do things separately. "And the two shall become one," still applies, because being joined at the hip isn't always a good measure of a successful relationship.
Now -- I got the four pound weights out of the basement and brought them upstairs where I'd be more likely to use them. I'll start doing sit-ups, push ups, and some other odds and ends, and TRY not to eat everything in sight.
More importantly, I'll do some regular exercising to get huffing and puffing. Walking, pulling the garbage can up the hill, that kind of thing.
Appetite -- behave yourself!
When I was working, the afternoon was the hardest because that's when you kind of "hit the wall" in terms of your blood sugar. As I'd be nodding off in front of the computer screen, the image of the candy machine down in the concourse would come to mind and pretty soon I'd be fishing in my purse or in my desk drawer for some change.
Then I'd get myself a fresh cup of tea and have the candy bar with it. Lovely!! And pretty soon I'd get my energy back and finish out the day with a bang.
People under stress often lose their appetite; I don't. In the absence of being busy doing something, I eat. It's ridiculous. And I've got my class reunion to attend, and not meaning to sound vain or anything, I'd like to go just a tad bit slimmer than I am right now. And more toned, i.e. arms.
This is what happens to perfectly good arms as you age. First, they kind of get bigger in the biceps region. Then without any kind of workout, the arm loses tone. Then the lower part of the arm develops a movement all by itself, a swing. Make a muscle and the tissue is still there, moving. Then the next thing that I hesitate to mention because it is so awful -- crepe skin. It shows up on the inside of the upper arm. Looks like crepe paper that's damp. Most probably, it doesn't go away no matter what you do. I'm going to see. Call it an experiment, but by September if my crepe skin is still there, then I'll admit it for all. And then what is there to do but delicately cover it.
My husband is not an exerciser. He avoid its, and instead focuses on working as a substitute. It isn't a very satisfying substitute in my book. I'd love to go walking on a Sunday down to the Lock 4 park and back, but not necessarily by myself. Maybe my neighbor would consider switching Wednesday morning for Sunday at around noon? It's worth a try. Also, my husband has feet problems, due to wearing the incorrect size of shoe for at least a year when he was a child. He also has back problems, probably related to the feet problems. And he has ankle and knee problems, and eye problems. He has some inner problems too, and on that score we are even.
So you can see where this is going or NOT going. Not going walking, that's for sure.
The other thing about the class reunion is that I'll be attending by myself. My husband really does not like gatherings of that kind, with noisy bands and people milling, especially people he doesn't really know. His favorite classmate of mine, Sandy, passed away about four or five years ago. I don't mind going by myself because then it's just me and I can go here and there, not having to worry how horrible of a time my husband is having. Oh, and he doesn't dance.
You know, we really do get along well. We've been married now for almost 30 years!! We tend to like the same kinds of entertainment, foods, and movies. We love the community, the Lions Club members, our church members, and our home. We especially love our family!
So you know -- when it is all added up -- it's about love. That's what they claim makes the world go around, and I'd tend to agree.
So if you ask me, it's a healthy thing that my husband and I do things together and we also do things separately. "And the two shall become one," still applies, because being joined at the hip isn't always a good measure of a successful relationship.
Now -- I got the four pound weights out of the basement and brought them upstairs where I'd be more likely to use them. I'll start doing sit-ups, push ups, and some other odds and ends, and TRY not to eat everything in sight.
More importantly, I'll do some regular exercising to get huffing and puffing. Walking, pulling the garbage can up the hill, that kind of thing.
Appetite -- behave yourself!
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
History
Ever hear that expression that if you don't know history, you are condemned to repeat it? It is so true. I am appalled today at the comments that some people make who just have no clue about the realities of life.
One representative just said that communism isn't all that bad. Really? Back in the 50s, maybe we went just a little overboard in identifying and punishing communists. They were blacklisted for jobs and probably worse. It wasn't one of our finer moments, but we were all dealing with Post World War II fears, and some of them were plenty justified.
So what is communism anyhow? Communism is the belief that we would be better off if everyone had exactly the same stuff and that at first there would have to be a governing body to "control" how everyone would have the same thing. The governing body would determine what goods would be manufactured, how much, where it was sold, etc. The governing body would collect money and would dispense it accordingly. The governing body would hold all land. The idea was that in due time, the governing body would no longer be needed and communism would morph into a purified way of living.
So what happened? First of all, they didn't seem to understand that we are given certain rights by GOD, unalienable rights (meaning that they can't be separated from us), and among these rights is liberty. Because our rights come from God and are not given to us by man, we will always yearn to be free. It is part of our DNA, the way we were made by the Creator.
Second, no communist state has ever gotten past the need for the "governing body." Why? Because people would rebel and they do rebel because they long for freedom. Someone would always have to keep them in line. And why else? Because the big cheeses that became the governing body didn't want to give up the authority and power they were able to get. That and the extras that they got for themselves that the regular folks didn't get. And what else? That the governing body didn't dispense fairly.
So what you ended up with was an impoverished, resentful, bonded people dependent on a more powerful group who held their lives in check and who often used fear to prevent uprisings.
The people who had allowed the communist state to exist either by election or apathy lived to regret their decision. With the thought that their lives would be easier and less stressful under this collective system, the people found themselves pawns. The money that the state collected was often spent on armaments, armies, and offensive military systems.
In the 1960s and 1970s, communes were established in the U.S. This was also an attempt to create a more perfect society but once again the experiment failed. Again, the same dynamics appeared. Some of them were disastrous such as the Jim Jones tragedy in Guyana when Jones and his henchmen served poisoned Kool Aid rather than giving up their power.
The beauty of our Constitution is that it takes into account man's unalienable rights. To preserve our freedoms, we need to exercise them -- especially the right to vote and not just vote willy-nilly but to cast an educated vote. We need the press to be free, our eyes and ears in Washington. There are some loose chinks in our armor. I pray that we are able to work through our difficulties.
The representative's beliefs about communism are naïve, but in America he's allowed to have them.
Take care. Hope you had a wonderful Memorial Day Weekend and got a chance to relax and dig in the dirt.
One representative just said that communism isn't all that bad. Really? Back in the 50s, maybe we went just a little overboard in identifying and punishing communists. They were blacklisted for jobs and probably worse. It wasn't one of our finer moments, but we were all dealing with Post World War II fears, and some of them were plenty justified.
So what is communism anyhow? Communism is the belief that we would be better off if everyone had exactly the same stuff and that at first there would have to be a governing body to "control" how everyone would have the same thing. The governing body would determine what goods would be manufactured, how much, where it was sold, etc. The governing body would collect money and would dispense it accordingly. The governing body would hold all land. The idea was that in due time, the governing body would no longer be needed and communism would morph into a purified way of living.
So what happened? First of all, they didn't seem to understand that we are given certain rights by GOD, unalienable rights (meaning that they can't be separated from us), and among these rights is liberty. Because our rights come from God and are not given to us by man, we will always yearn to be free. It is part of our DNA, the way we were made by the Creator.
Second, no communist state has ever gotten past the need for the "governing body." Why? Because people would rebel and they do rebel because they long for freedom. Someone would always have to keep them in line. And why else? Because the big cheeses that became the governing body didn't want to give up the authority and power they were able to get. That and the extras that they got for themselves that the regular folks didn't get. And what else? That the governing body didn't dispense fairly.
So what you ended up with was an impoverished, resentful, bonded people dependent on a more powerful group who held their lives in check and who often used fear to prevent uprisings.
The people who had allowed the communist state to exist either by election or apathy lived to regret their decision. With the thought that their lives would be easier and less stressful under this collective system, the people found themselves pawns. The money that the state collected was often spent on armaments, armies, and offensive military systems.
In the 1960s and 1970s, communes were established in the U.S. This was also an attempt to create a more perfect society but once again the experiment failed. Again, the same dynamics appeared. Some of them were disastrous such as the Jim Jones tragedy in Guyana when Jones and his henchmen served poisoned Kool Aid rather than giving up their power.
The beauty of our Constitution is that it takes into account man's unalienable rights. To preserve our freedoms, we need to exercise them -- especially the right to vote and not just vote willy-nilly but to cast an educated vote. We need the press to be free, our eyes and ears in Washington. There are some loose chinks in our armor. I pray that we are able to work through our difficulties.
The representative's beliefs about communism are naïve, but in America he's allowed to have them.
Take care. Hope you had a wonderful Memorial Day Weekend and got a chance to relax and dig in the dirt.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Personalities
Yesterday was "buy plants" day, so we made our yearly trip to Mazzocca's Nursery on Corundite Road in Tuscarawas Township. The nursery is right next to the home of the owners and it is just lovely.
They grow many of their own plants, plus they have a wide variety.
The daughter always works the register, and we've come to know her over the past three or so years since we discovered their place. She is very knowledgeable and spends time with the customers. We were talking about color combinations yesterday and I mentioned that this year I'm doing something different.
Why? Because I bought a door mat and the colors in it are orange, red, green and yellow. The lilac flowers that I used last year won't look very good on either side of the mat. So I decided that this year, it was time to do something radically different.
She said that about a third of her clients do the exact same thing every single year, and the rest change it up a bit.
A couple of things I've learned about putting outdoor pots together:
So happy planting, everyone! I'm going to be outside a lot today -- looking forward to it.
First, a big bowl of frosted mini-wheats and I'll be raring to go!!
Karen
They grow many of their own plants, plus they have a wide variety.
The daughter always works the register, and we've come to know her over the past three or so years since we discovered their place. She is very knowledgeable and spends time with the customers. We were talking about color combinations yesterday and I mentioned that this year I'm doing something different.
Why? Because I bought a door mat and the colors in it are orange, red, green and yellow. The lilac flowers that I used last year won't look very good on either side of the mat. So I decided that this year, it was time to do something radically different.
She said that about a third of her clients do the exact same thing every single year, and the rest change it up a bit.
A couple of things I've learned about putting outdoor pots together:
- Change the potting soil about once every two years.
- The second year the build-in fertilizer will have been spent, so use a good fertilizer when you plant.
- Put in a lot of plants because some will do better than others, and this way your pot will look full and lush.
- If you see any signs of disturbance, it would probably mean that either a skunk or a raccoon has been around. Use "Critter Ridder," a simple spray that keeps the animals away. It lasts for about a month. Just follow the directions. For pots, you don't have to spray the dirt itself but spray all the way around the pot.
- When flowers start getting "leggy" in the latter part of summer, don't be afraid to cut them back. You'll get a lovely second growth to appreciate into the fall.
- Use plenty of greenery and less color. My niece discovered that when you do this, the colors pop and are not overwhelming each other. Asparagus fern, blue fescue (which you can plant in the garden at the end of the season) and green spikes are very nice.
- Alyssum gives your pot a lace-like look, even though the plants are not all that delicate.
- Don't be afraid to be adventurous.
- Use coleus for really bright dashes of color.
- Water regularly; don't wait until the plants are wilted. Many of them won't recover from that.
So happy planting, everyone! I'm going to be outside a lot today -- looking forward to it.
First, a big bowl of frosted mini-wheats and I'll be raring to go!!
Karen
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Passwords
Did you hear that Ebay was hacked? I just bought three tubes of lipstick (no kidding) about three weeks ago, so I changed mine last night.
It's not too hard. No need to give the thieves a chance to make your life more difficult.
About the purchase -- the lipstick. I'd been buying the same Cover Girl lipstick at the grocery store or wherever for YEARS. It never occurred to me that maybe they'd do away with it, but they did. When I couldn't find it at the grocery store, I checked Rite Aid and it was the same thing. Not just new packaging but new colors, new consistencies, new everything and it wasn't a good new for me.
I missed my old stuff and I had only about one-half of a tube left. Not even enough to put one older tube in my purse.
So I went to trusty old Ebay and looked up the lipstick. There it was!! I bought three tubes and that will give me a breather in order to make a transition to something else down the road. Part of it is just that I am used to the color and the way the lipstick looks; part of it is that the lipstick is just a good color for me.
If you've done business with Ebay and have an account, take five minutes and change your password. And make a note of it. There is nothing more frustrating than trying to enter into a website and realizing that you don't remember the password!!
I have a sheet of paper with all of my associations and related passwords. It's handy for me and it keeps me from getting upset and frustrated. It's time to update it and do a fresh one!! I've got writing all over the place.
On another subject -- art. My friend, Peg, and I have been having our own art class. We are working in watercolor, a medium that was not a good experience for me in the past. When I'd try watercolor, most of the time it felt like I was in grade school again struggling with some sort of project. I felt inept and incapable. Since people tend to do things that make them feel successful, I shied away from watercolors for years until we started the class. I'm loving this!! We have had the best time and have already produced a couple of things worthy of a frame. I have a feeling the best is yet to come.
The wonderful thing about art is that you can go to the web and find fabulous art lessons for free. They are understandable and fun. After about 10 or 20 minutes, you will have a better understanding of some technique or skill and feel ready to try it yourself!! If you want to try it yourself, there are some nice art stores out there that will give you expert guidance on buying materials, such as Cook's on Portage. That way you don't waste money buying products you don't need.
Okay -- that's it for today. I'm off to get some breakfast and then a quick routine doctor visit, then an appointment for a cut/perm. Oh, I need it too!!
Take care, everyone.
Karen
It's not too hard. No need to give the thieves a chance to make your life more difficult.
About the purchase -- the lipstick. I'd been buying the same Cover Girl lipstick at the grocery store or wherever for YEARS. It never occurred to me that maybe they'd do away with it, but they did. When I couldn't find it at the grocery store, I checked Rite Aid and it was the same thing. Not just new packaging but new colors, new consistencies, new everything and it wasn't a good new for me.
I missed my old stuff and I had only about one-half of a tube left. Not even enough to put one older tube in my purse.
So I went to trusty old Ebay and looked up the lipstick. There it was!! I bought three tubes and that will give me a breather in order to make a transition to something else down the road. Part of it is just that I am used to the color and the way the lipstick looks; part of it is that the lipstick is just a good color for me.
If you've done business with Ebay and have an account, take five minutes and change your password. And make a note of it. There is nothing more frustrating than trying to enter into a website and realizing that you don't remember the password!!
I have a sheet of paper with all of my associations and related passwords. It's handy for me and it keeps me from getting upset and frustrated. It's time to update it and do a fresh one!! I've got writing all over the place.
On another subject -- art. My friend, Peg, and I have been having our own art class. We are working in watercolor, a medium that was not a good experience for me in the past. When I'd try watercolor, most of the time it felt like I was in grade school again struggling with some sort of project. I felt inept and incapable. Since people tend to do things that make them feel successful, I shied away from watercolors for years until we started the class. I'm loving this!! We have had the best time and have already produced a couple of things worthy of a frame. I have a feeling the best is yet to come.
The wonderful thing about art is that you can go to the web and find fabulous art lessons for free. They are understandable and fun. After about 10 or 20 minutes, you will have a better understanding of some technique or skill and feel ready to try it yourself!! If you want to try it yourself, there are some nice art stores out there that will give you expert guidance on buying materials, such as Cook's on Portage. That way you don't waste money buying products you don't need.
Okay -- that's it for today. I'm off to get some breakfast and then a quick routine doctor visit, then an appointment for a cut/perm. Oh, I need it too!!
Take care, everyone.
Karen
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Mornin'
So what's new? The weather has been really good for working outside. Finally, we have a chance to enjoy the yard again -- other than the head congestion and sniffles from allergies.
I have absolutely no idea what to write about today. I went to the class reunion committee last night and just feel completely pooped. My brain is fried. I had restless legs last night in spades. But here goes a small recollection of the day.
Here's how it all started out. Rt. 21 to Rt. 18 was good, uneventful. Even Rt. 18 to Rt. 71 was pretty good. But very early on Rt. 71, I espied something in the corner of my eye, from my peripheral vision. It was a spider dropping down on a web from the roof of the car down past the window to the door handle.
Right there, I almost lost it. I had to calm myself in order to concentrate on the road which at the moment was all but deserted, thank you God. The whole rest of the way my eyes were divided between watching the road and watching to see where the spider went. This continued on and on and there was no place to stop and do anything about the dumb thing. I spent about five minutes driving with one hand and fishing in my coat pockets with the other in order to find a Kleenex (or in other words, a portable insect disposal device).
So I get to my sister's house in Westlake, gingerly pull the door handle, thought I saw something dart across the back wall of the handle assembly, and I stood there like an idiot -- opening and snapping shut the handle. I was hoping the spider would come out and my little Kleenex would be enough to take care of the problem. Oh, he came out all right, but as soon as I closed the handle in order to get to him, he'd jump back in there again.
Did I tell you he was one of those jumpy little spiders that just kind of hops around? That's what I don't like. I don't like calm spiders either but jumpy ones are very, very bad. So my sister who is now 81 comes to the door wondering what on earth I'm doing out there snapping the door handle over and over.
She came out, opened the door handle, held it open and used my Kleenex to brush the spider out. I didn't see where it landed and that's never good because you HAVE to see where they are at all times, squish their bodies good and flat, and then you know that the threat is past. I had no such closure but figured the crisis was over. That was -- until we were in the house and I was having tea -- and about a half hour had gone by.
I saw something out of my peripheral vision again, this time higher up -- on my BANGS. It was the spider again, it was in my hair, and I jumped up like an crazy person frantically brushing my hair with my hands. This time I saw it land on the floor and my sister came over and stepped on it. NOW maybe I could enjoy my visit for five seconds without some other drama. And indeed, that was my last brush with drama during the visit but it makes for a good story, doesn't it? Can't you just see me being nuts over a spider probably a quarter of an inch long if that?
Well, that arachnid picked the wrong car to sneak into and he paid for it.
So that's that. I did think of something to write about after all. I'm grateful for the chance to be with my classmates, and I'm grateful for safe passage back and forth. When we were talking yesterday, I told my sister that I would never want to go back in time and relive anything, but if I did, one thing I wish I could do is appreciate my classmates more. They are special folks!!
Take care.
Karen
I have absolutely no idea what to write about today. I went to the class reunion committee last night and just feel completely pooped. My brain is fried. I had restless legs last night in spades. But here goes a small recollection of the day.
Here's how it all started out. Rt. 21 to Rt. 18 was good, uneventful. Even Rt. 18 to Rt. 71 was pretty good. But very early on Rt. 71, I espied something in the corner of my eye, from my peripheral vision. It was a spider dropping down on a web from the roof of the car down past the window to the door handle.
Right there, I almost lost it. I had to calm myself in order to concentrate on the road which at the moment was all but deserted, thank you God. The whole rest of the way my eyes were divided between watching the road and watching to see where the spider went. This continued on and on and there was no place to stop and do anything about the dumb thing. I spent about five minutes driving with one hand and fishing in my coat pockets with the other in order to find a Kleenex (or in other words, a portable insect disposal device).
So I get to my sister's house in Westlake, gingerly pull the door handle, thought I saw something dart across the back wall of the handle assembly, and I stood there like an idiot -- opening and snapping shut the handle. I was hoping the spider would come out and my little Kleenex would be enough to take care of the problem. Oh, he came out all right, but as soon as I closed the handle in order to get to him, he'd jump back in there again.
Did I tell you he was one of those jumpy little spiders that just kind of hops around? That's what I don't like. I don't like calm spiders either but jumpy ones are very, very bad. So my sister who is now 81 comes to the door wondering what on earth I'm doing out there snapping the door handle over and over.
She came out, opened the door handle, held it open and used my Kleenex to brush the spider out. I didn't see where it landed and that's never good because you HAVE to see where they are at all times, squish their bodies good and flat, and then you know that the threat is past. I had no such closure but figured the crisis was over. That was -- until we were in the house and I was having tea -- and about a half hour had gone by.
I saw something out of my peripheral vision again, this time higher up -- on my BANGS. It was the spider again, it was in my hair, and I jumped up like an crazy person frantically brushing my hair with my hands. This time I saw it land on the floor and my sister came over and stepped on it. NOW maybe I could enjoy my visit for five seconds without some other drama. And indeed, that was my last brush with drama during the visit but it makes for a good story, doesn't it? Can't you just see me being nuts over a spider probably a quarter of an inch long if that?
Well, that arachnid picked the wrong car to sneak into and he paid for it.
So that's that. I did think of something to write about after all. I'm grateful for the chance to be with my classmates, and I'm grateful for safe passage back and forth. When we were talking yesterday, I told my sister that I would never want to go back in time and relive anything, but if I did, one thing I wish I could do is appreciate my classmates more. They are special folks!!
Take care.
Karen
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Crime-aholic
How do you know when you've watched a few too many CSI, Criminal Minds, or Law and Order episodes?
Answer: When the Chobani ad comes on that shows a tree loaded with vials of red and yellow.
It's catchy, good music, beautiful visuals, but one day after having seen the ad a few times, I realized that my interpretation of it was strange.
I was actually thinking that the vials of red and yellow were blood and urine samples!! Yikes!
Did anyone else do this or am I just weird?
One of the byproducts of all of this TV crime stuff is that criminals have less chance of getting away with things. People know what to save, what to preserve, what to avoid in order to have a better chance of catching the perpetrator. Or the unsub if you watch Criminal Minds.
One of my games is to count how many times they use the word "unsub" in one episode. The term "suspect" used to be used, as did the term "perp." But now we get "unsub" or unknown subject. It has less of a derogatory sound to it, I guess, and of course we are always supposed to presume someone innocent until proven guilty.
Two of us recently completed the task of choosing scholarship winners from an Akron company. The CSI thing is still alive with at least three applicants mentioning a career in criminal justice with a focus on forensics. We hadn't seen that many in several years.
Must be something that young folks are watching besides the usual series.
So it's Tuesday, a great day in which to get something done. I'm going to Cleveland again for the class reunion committee meeting.
Hope you are enjoying yourself.
Not much new here. Bought some new plants to take the place of the dead ones, thanks to the brutal winter. We are in Zone 5 here, and near as I can tell, the temps for Zone 5 bottoms out at around 25 degrees below zero. That one night with the 40 plus MPH wind chill was probably the culprit. The ivy if finally starting to make a comeback too. It's been there for probably 23 years!
Take care.
Karen
Answer: When the Chobani ad comes on that shows a tree loaded with vials of red and yellow.
It's catchy, good music, beautiful visuals, but one day after having seen the ad a few times, I realized that my interpretation of it was strange.
I was actually thinking that the vials of red and yellow were blood and urine samples!! Yikes!
Did anyone else do this or am I just weird?
One of the byproducts of all of this TV crime stuff is that criminals have less chance of getting away with things. People know what to save, what to preserve, what to avoid in order to have a better chance of catching the perpetrator. Or the unsub if you watch Criminal Minds.
One of my games is to count how many times they use the word "unsub" in one episode. The term "suspect" used to be used, as did the term "perp." But now we get "unsub" or unknown subject. It has less of a derogatory sound to it, I guess, and of course we are always supposed to presume someone innocent until proven guilty.
Two of us recently completed the task of choosing scholarship winners from an Akron company. The CSI thing is still alive with at least three applicants mentioning a career in criminal justice with a focus on forensics. We hadn't seen that many in several years.
Must be something that young folks are watching besides the usual series.
So it's Tuesday, a great day in which to get something done. I'm going to Cleveland again for the class reunion committee meeting.
Hope you are enjoying yourself.
Not much new here. Bought some new plants to take the place of the dead ones, thanks to the brutal winter. We are in Zone 5 here, and near as I can tell, the temps for Zone 5 bottoms out at around 25 degrees below zero. That one night with the 40 plus MPH wind chill was probably the culprit. The ivy if finally starting to make a comeback too. It's been there for probably 23 years!
Take care.
Karen
Friday, May 16, 2014
News, news
Too much news, I think. My boss at the university stepped away from watching the news and I don't think he ever went back. He does read the paper so he isn't in seclusion or anything. It's just that he started to realize that the TV news was affecting him in a bad way.
Most of my news is gained from the Internet actually. I don't go looking for it, but FOX is my default web page. As soon as I go into the computer for anything during the day, the top news stories and many other ones pop into view. However, if I don't want to know about it, I don't have to read it.
Did you see the cat who rescued the little boy from the vicious dog? That was one story that was worth it. Of course, as soon as the snippet aired, the prognosticators started analyzing the film and downplaying the cat's motives and behavior. Does it really matter? In any case, a little boy was literally being dragged by a dog like prey in some primeval forest. The cat took the dog by surprise and showed uncanny strength, agility and cunning.
If that family chooses to call their cat a hero, then so be it. The cat certainly altered a situation that was going bad.
Take a moment today to do a little mental exercise. Look back maybe 20 years and think about what you were like. Think about your relationships then, your attitude, your behavior. And then contrast that with today. Try to be as objective as you can. And then assess for yourself if you've grown as a person, in what ways, for what reasons. Assess for yourself if you have gained courage, strength of character, faith, hope, and love.
Often, the changes that occur in us are so very gradual that they don't even register with us. Doing one of these "look back" exercises helps us see the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives and allows us the chance for gratitude. Not like the nine lepers who ran away after being cured, but like the one who returned.
The old song, Amazing Grace, has a line that says, "saved a wretch like me." In so many ways, we might have been wretches going through life without asking God to help us. Tossed around like a tiny toy boat on the ocean. With God, we have a foundation, a permanence that gives us something the world seeks all the time but doesn't find in the world -- a rock of faith.
Today I'm going to meditate on this and so many other things during holy hour. Already, the time spent in the chapel has made a difference.
Enjoy the weather the next few days. It should be good for working outside and getting some things done without sweat pouring off of you. The other morning I mowed the grass and I was just sopping wet when I got done. This will be much better.
Take care, and we'll talk tomorrow.
Karen
Most of my news is gained from the Internet actually. I don't go looking for it, but FOX is my default web page. As soon as I go into the computer for anything during the day, the top news stories and many other ones pop into view. However, if I don't want to know about it, I don't have to read it.
Did you see the cat who rescued the little boy from the vicious dog? That was one story that was worth it. Of course, as soon as the snippet aired, the prognosticators started analyzing the film and downplaying the cat's motives and behavior. Does it really matter? In any case, a little boy was literally being dragged by a dog like prey in some primeval forest. The cat took the dog by surprise and showed uncanny strength, agility and cunning.
If that family chooses to call their cat a hero, then so be it. The cat certainly altered a situation that was going bad.
Take a moment today to do a little mental exercise. Look back maybe 20 years and think about what you were like. Think about your relationships then, your attitude, your behavior. And then contrast that with today. Try to be as objective as you can. And then assess for yourself if you've grown as a person, in what ways, for what reasons. Assess for yourself if you have gained courage, strength of character, faith, hope, and love.
Often, the changes that occur in us are so very gradual that they don't even register with us. Doing one of these "look back" exercises helps us see the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives and allows us the chance for gratitude. Not like the nine lepers who ran away after being cured, but like the one who returned.
The old song, Amazing Grace, has a line that says, "saved a wretch like me." In so many ways, we might have been wretches going through life without asking God to help us. Tossed around like a tiny toy boat on the ocean. With God, we have a foundation, a permanence that gives us something the world seeks all the time but doesn't find in the world -- a rock of faith.
Today I'm going to meditate on this and so many other things during holy hour. Already, the time spent in the chapel has made a difference.
Enjoy the weather the next few days. It should be good for working outside and getting some things done without sweat pouring off of you. The other morning I mowed the grass and I was just sopping wet when I got done. This will be much better.
Take care, and we'll talk tomorrow.
Karen
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Thought Provoking
In recent days we have heard about the abduction of more than 200 girls in Nigeria. They have been split up into groups most probably and taken to various holding places before being sold into slavery or married off for as little as $12.
If you want to get an idea of the vastness of the area we are talking about, use your Google Earth to look up the Sambesa Forest. It is inhospitable land teeming with poisonous snakes and wild animals.
The group that takes responsibility for the abduction is a radical Islamic group called Boko Haram and they are now using the girls as leverage to get other radical Islamists currently imprisoned out of jail. Even the father of one of the girls doesn't think that this would be a good idea. The old adage -- we don't negotiate with terrorists -- comes into play. And why is it? Because ultimately it doesn't work and it only makes things worse.
The men who are part of this group seem to be affected by an addiction that is growing in the world -- the addiction to power. The U.S. Department of State had a chance to designate Boko Haram as a terrorist group on the world's watch list but did not. It might have made a difference.
If you want to get an idea of the vastness of the area we are talking about, use your Google Earth to look up the Sambesa Forest. It is inhospitable land teeming with poisonous snakes and wild animals.
The group that takes responsibility for the abduction is a radical Islamic group called Boko Haram and they are now using the girls as leverage to get other radical Islamists currently imprisoned out of jail. Even the father of one of the girls doesn't think that this would be a good idea. The old adage -- we don't negotiate with terrorists -- comes into play. And why is it? Because ultimately it doesn't work and it only makes things worse.
The men who are part of this group seem to be affected by an addiction that is growing in the world -- the addiction to power. The U.S. Department of State had a chance to designate Boko Haram as a terrorist group on the world's watch list but did not. It might have made a difference.
Edmund Burke, on the addiction to power:
"Those who have been intoxicated with power... Can never willingly abandon it."
– Edmund Burke
The quote above tells the story. For those addicted to power, their greatest satisfaction is being able to control others. For the Boko Haram to get some of the girls to wear muslim garb and say phrases honoring Allah is probably very intoxicating. To be able to dictate the fate of the girls is more intoxicating.
We can't know for sure, but the girls who may have refused are probably in very bad shape.
The desire for power to begin with, in my opinion, comes from deep-seated insecurity. If everything seems out of whack, then the ability to control others is appealing. Bullies come from this same frame of reference.
The lack of "love" within the Muslim faith leaves all of them at a disadvantage in life. That's my opinion and it is echoed by a noted Muslim and Christian scholar who was once a Muslim. The Christian belief in God's love for us strengthens us, fortifies us, and makes us less anxious. And yet, there are Christians who have fallen into the power trap with disastrous results.
When writing the story of a person addicted to power, the ending is always very similar. Addiction brings destruction, no matter what kind of addiction. In the end, the person lording their power over others falters and then fails and the victims are also left injured.
During America's fight for independence, our forefathers had to decide if they were going to serve under a group of people similarly addicted to power. They decided they would not. Although they all paid a high price for that choice, their perseverance won them victory. Freedom is always worth it.
Let me know what you think.
Karen
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Inspiration
Where do you get your inspiration? We all need to be inspired, I think. It's part of our nature.
For me, nature supplies a good chunk of it. And then there are stories of amazing people, the accounts of miracles, the goodness that just exudes out of some, sacrifices, and bravery.
I'm inspired by young men and women who would serve their country in our Armed Forces, who move frequently, who don't get paid nearly enough, and who do the really tough things, see the really tough things, and sometimes pay the price in one way or another.
I'm inspired by creativity, by what a person can do with the simplest of objects, by the genius of artists, by the brilliance of the human brain.
I'm inspired by the Word of God -- the Bible. In such deceptively simple language, so much is conveyed to us. One sentence can answer many, many questions that we ask. I'm inspired by a grateful heart, a person who knows whom to thank in life when so many forget to say those simple words at all. God doesn't need our thanks but we need to extend the words to Him.
I'm inspired by children, by their willingness to forgive, by their generosity, by the bright innocent faces. I'm inspired by my grandchildren.
A person gifted with creativity hungers for inspiration. It is the fuel that keeps their engines going.
I hope that you get your daily dose of inspiration, and that the people around you are part of that.
Yesterday, the temperatures were really too warm for me. I felt wilted, but today we are promised mid-60s and that ought to do the trick.
This is the time of the year when the landscape offers us some surprises and some disappointments. I don't know about you but we lost quite a few plants this past winter, a testament to the severity of it. We'll work on it, try to get it back to the way it was. Meanwhile, a lot of folks are struggling with water in basements and flooding.
Let's say a prayer for them. It can be overwhelming and depressing.
Take care, talk to you tomorrow then.
Karen
For me, nature supplies a good chunk of it. And then there are stories of amazing people, the accounts of miracles, the goodness that just exudes out of some, sacrifices, and bravery.
I'm inspired by young men and women who would serve their country in our Armed Forces, who move frequently, who don't get paid nearly enough, and who do the really tough things, see the really tough things, and sometimes pay the price in one way or another.
I'm inspired by creativity, by what a person can do with the simplest of objects, by the genius of artists, by the brilliance of the human brain.
I'm inspired by the Word of God -- the Bible. In such deceptively simple language, so much is conveyed to us. One sentence can answer many, many questions that we ask. I'm inspired by a grateful heart, a person who knows whom to thank in life when so many forget to say those simple words at all. God doesn't need our thanks but we need to extend the words to Him.
I'm inspired by children, by their willingness to forgive, by their generosity, by the bright innocent faces. I'm inspired by my grandchildren.
A person gifted with creativity hungers for inspiration. It is the fuel that keeps their engines going.
I hope that you get your daily dose of inspiration, and that the people around you are part of that.
Yesterday, the temperatures were really too warm for me. I felt wilted, but today we are promised mid-60s and that ought to do the trick.
This is the time of the year when the landscape offers us some surprises and some disappointments. I don't know about you but we lost quite a few plants this past winter, a testament to the severity of it. We'll work on it, try to get it back to the way it was. Meanwhile, a lot of folks are struggling with water in basements and flooding.
Let's say a prayer for them. It can be overwhelming and depressing.
Take care, talk to you tomorrow then.
Karen
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Believing
Fr. Kevin said that he was one of four priests who took part in a wedding on Saturday. The bride has spina bifida and is in a wheelchair. He said it was one of the most special times in his priesthood.
I'm thinking that we know the mother of the bride because years ago she spoke at a Magnificat breakfast. She had a number of adopted children at that time, one of whom had a very serious illness and needed hospitalization and complicated surgery. A younger daughter who was also very ill had to be left at home in the care of hired nurses, who although they tried to do a good job did not notice the early signs of trouble. That trouble led to the little girl's death, and the mother was still just terribly sad at her loss.
One of the most remarkable parts of the story that she told is that the day after the little girl died, a friend called who also had a special needs child. The friend inquired about the little girl, not knowing what had happened. When she was told, she expressed her profound grief, and then suddenly said, "Oh, my goodness, now I know what Jimmy (made up name) was talking about this morning."
The woman went on to say that her son had told her that the little girl had come to his room the night before, and he was so surprised, particularly because she was DANCING. This little girl had never been able to dance. He kept saying she was so happy, so joyful. He had no trouble believing in the miracle of being able to see her again, of being able to share in her happiness, and perhaps even to anticipate what awaits him when his own time comes.
That's what I love about children. They are so willing to believe. If they can believe an older, obese man wearing awfully heavy and hot clothing no one would choose can huff and puff all over the world in a single night bringing sacks full of toys and assisted by diminutive little people -- if they can believe that a bunny comes on Easter morning to each house bringing not only candy but also eggs AND he has the time to hide them -- if they can believe that a fairy knows when they've lost a tooth and flies to their house, takes the tooth from under their bed and leaves money -- then why should it surprise us that children believe in actual miracles.
And that's what God wants of us -- to believe as the little children do. To never lose that wonder, that sense of the amazing, that willingness to credit God, and to never forget what children understand so well -- that stuff happens we can't figure out from science.
I have absolutely no doubt that the little special needs boy saw his friend that night; she wanted him to know that everything was all right.
A friend of mine died from ovarian cancer. During her final days in the hospital, a nurse asked about the fragrance in her room -- the scent of roses. She wondered who was wearing that perfume. No one was. The scent that she noticed was the presence of Mary.
A few days after she died, I had a vivid dream about her and saw her at some sort of event. I was shocked to see her there, knowing that she had passed on, and went to her. She told me that she was well and very happy.
Another friend said that this dream was not just some kind of happenstance. That she was able to come to me in the dream so that I would know she was all right. And that I should share that information with her grieving husband.
If you ever have a dream like that, a dream about a loved one, then perhaps they are trying to tell you that they are well so you won't worry. Of perhaps someone else might tell you about a dream they had about your loved one. Again, this might be the way that those who have died are able to communicate with us.
It is so easy to become jaded and suspicious of the miracles that occur, to look for some other explanation. And we aren't expected to be simpletons because we have a brain, and there are fakes out there. But there is a time to just let go and allow ourselves to be in the presence of God and thank him for his help. There is a time to be little again.
Hope you had a wonderful Mothers Day! It was beautiful.
Karen
I'm thinking that we know the mother of the bride because years ago she spoke at a Magnificat breakfast. She had a number of adopted children at that time, one of whom had a very serious illness and needed hospitalization and complicated surgery. A younger daughter who was also very ill had to be left at home in the care of hired nurses, who although they tried to do a good job did not notice the early signs of trouble. That trouble led to the little girl's death, and the mother was still just terribly sad at her loss.
One of the most remarkable parts of the story that she told is that the day after the little girl died, a friend called who also had a special needs child. The friend inquired about the little girl, not knowing what had happened. When she was told, she expressed her profound grief, and then suddenly said, "Oh, my goodness, now I know what Jimmy (made up name) was talking about this morning."
The woman went on to say that her son had told her that the little girl had come to his room the night before, and he was so surprised, particularly because she was DANCING. This little girl had never been able to dance. He kept saying she was so happy, so joyful. He had no trouble believing in the miracle of being able to see her again, of being able to share in her happiness, and perhaps even to anticipate what awaits him when his own time comes.
That's what I love about children. They are so willing to believe. If they can believe an older, obese man wearing awfully heavy and hot clothing no one would choose can huff and puff all over the world in a single night bringing sacks full of toys and assisted by diminutive little people -- if they can believe that a bunny comes on Easter morning to each house bringing not only candy but also eggs AND he has the time to hide them -- if they can believe that a fairy knows when they've lost a tooth and flies to their house, takes the tooth from under their bed and leaves money -- then why should it surprise us that children believe in actual miracles.
And that's what God wants of us -- to believe as the little children do. To never lose that wonder, that sense of the amazing, that willingness to credit God, and to never forget what children understand so well -- that stuff happens we can't figure out from science.
I have absolutely no doubt that the little special needs boy saw his friend that night; she wanted him to know that everything was all right.
A friend of mine died from ovarian cancer. During her final days in the hospital, a nurse asked about the fragrance in her room -- the scent of roses. She wondered who was wearing that perfume. No one was. The scent that she noticed was the presence of Mary.
A few days after she died, I had a vivid dream about her and saw her at some sort of event. I was shocked to see her there, knowing that she had passed on, and went to her. She told me that she was well and very happy.
Another friend said that this dream was not just some kind of happenstance. That she was able to come to me in the dream so that I would know she was all right. And that I should share that information with her grieving husband.
If you ever have a dream like that, a dream about a loved one, then perhaps they are trying to tell you that they are well so you won't worry. Of perhaps someone else might tell you about a dream they had about your loved one. Again, this might be the way that those who have died are able to communicate with us.
It is so easy to become jaded and suspicious of the miracles that occur, to look for some other explanation. And we aren't expected to be simpletons because we have a brain, and there are fakes out there. But there is a time to just let go and allow ourselves to be in the presence of God and thank him for his help. There is a time to be little again.
Hope you had a wonderful Mothers Day! It was beautiful.
Karen
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Good Day
Four of us went over to a friend's house today to do some cleaning. Our friend has been really down with a serious illness and just hasn't been able to get the work done but it bothers her.
It was really very fun. I brought my trusty Hoover vacuum cleaner, the one that we had refurbished last month. It works great! Suction is everything in a vacuum.
Our friend's house was built by a lumberman. He used plenty of it in the house too, and it's lovely inside. Lots of built-ins and nooks and crannies. Charming.
So when we left it looked and felt much, much better. I just had enough time to get to the chapel at church for my 2:00 p.m. holy hour. Another lady was there, not scheduled, but she'd been there for an hour already. She was still there when I left at five minutes before 3:00.
Picked up Lauren and we headed home, so it was a long but really good day.
Tomorrow, Saturday, I'll head over to watch Ella play softball in the Canton Challenger League, a league for developmentally disabled kids. A few kids are in wheelchairs; some use walkers, and some are able-bodied but struggle with cognitive functioning. They all have smiles on their faces though, and they seem to really get something out of America's game.
What's the deal with the NFL draft? I just can't get excited about it, honestly. I know lots of people do, but it just doesn't seem all that meaningful to me. We don't watch professional football games much anymore either, other than usually the playoffs that lead to the Super Bowl. As far as college football, I still like that but hope that the players or whomever know better than to unionize the sport. It's been pushed, prodded, and marketed enough as it is. It's moved away from students in a classroom to something akin to minor league football, Canadian football.
So let's see -- what else? Akron has a new president. Youngstown has a new president. I hope it works out for both places.
I was talking to Mary Tohill this morning and she was saying that the ratio of what the state pays towards higher education and what the student pays is now 25% - 75%. In other words, the student is paying three quarters of the actual cost of a higher education and the state is only coughing up a quarter. When I was at Kent, that ratio was 33% - 66%. I was only paying 33%. Add in the technology costs of labs that didn't exist back then, computer equipment that didn't exist, and so on, it isn't hard to understand why tuition rose so much. And then in Ohio, we have this thing that hardly anyone ever talks about -- the brain drain. It means that Ohio kids go to school in Ohio and then leave the state for employment and a future. The map showing where all of my 1964 high school class went is rather amazing. They are all over the place. While more are in Ohio, many moved not only out-of-state, but also out of the country in some instances.
And once gone, most of them did not come back.
Maybe we're starting to get a grip on that now, with some improvement in good paying jobs in Ohio. And all the while, the pool from which colleges recruit grows smaller.
Hope I didn't bore you too much on all of this today.
Enjoy your Sunday! Forget the weather; we can have a good time no matter what.
Karen
It was really very fun. I brought my trusty Hoover vacuum cleaner, the one that we had refurbished last month. It works great! Suction is everything in a vacuum.
Our friend's house was built by a lumberman. He used plenty of it in the house too, and it's lovely inside. Lots of built-ins and nooks and crannies. Charming.
So when we left it looked and felt much, much better. I just had enough time to get to the chapel at church for my 2:00 p.m. holy hour. Another lady was there, not scheduled, but she'd been there for an hour already. She was still there when I left at five minutes before 3:00.
Picked up Lauren and we headed home, so it was a long but really good day.
Tomorrow, Saturday, I'll head over to watch Ella play softball in the Canton Challenger League, a league for developmentally disabled kids. A few kids are in wheelchairs; some use walkers, and some are able-bodied but struggle with cognitive functioning. They all have smiles on their faces though, and they seem to really get something out of America's game.
What's the deal with the NFL draft? I just can't get excited about it, honestly. I know lots of people do, but it just doesn't seem all that meaningful to me. We don't watch professional football games much anymore either, other than usually the playoffs that lead to the Super Bowl. As far as college football, I still like that but hope that the players or whomever know better than to unionize the sport. It's been pushed, prodded, and marketed enough as it is. It's moved away from students in a classroom to something akin to minor league football, Canadian football.
So let's see -- what else? Akron has a new president. Youngstown has a new president. I hope it works out for both places.
I was talking to Mary Tohill this morning and she was saying that the ratio of what the state pays towards higher education and what the student pays is now 25% - 75%. In other words, the student is paying three quarters of the actual cost of a higher education and the state is only coughing up a quarter. When I was at Kent, that ratio was 33% - 66%. I was only paying 33%. Add in the technology costs of labs that didn't exist back then, computer equipment that didn't exist, and so on, it isn't hard to understand why tuition rose so much. And then in Ohio, we have this thing that hardly anyone ever talks about -- the brain drain. It means that Ohio kids go to school in Ohio and then leave the state for employment and a future. The map showing where all of my 1964 high school class went is rather amazing. They are all over the place. While more are in Ohio, many moved not only out-of-state, but also out of the country in some instances.
And once gone, most of them did not come back.
Maybe we're starting to get a grip on that now, with some improvement in good paying jobs in Ohio. And all the while, the pool from which colleges recruit grows smaller.
Hope I didn't bore you too much on all of this today.
Enjoy your Sunday! Forget the weather; we can have a good time no matter what.
Karen
Friday, May 9, 2014
Heat
The heat yesterday was a little uncomfortable. We got the mowers running and so it was my turn to do the lower section by the gully. It was still early, around 10:00 a.m., but it was still muggy and hot. By the time I got done, I was just whipped.
Out of shape, out of energy, out of water!! It doesn't take much. One thing I've definitely noticed since getting older is that any extreme of weather isn't well tolerated. High heat does me in. Severe cold does me in.
Everything is greening up, except for some casualties of our unusually harsh winter. We lost about three nice boxwoods, several rose bushes, and I'm really worried about the wisteria. The English ivy looks terrible. A total layer of brown, but there seems to be live runners below. I hadn't really budgeted for more plants this year! I'll just easy on the annuals I buy and put more money towards the shrubs and perennials.
Lots of my friends have commented on what they've lost too. Azaleas that had been around for years are gone. If I had known the extent of the winter's wrath, maybe I could have wrapped the wisteria's trunk at least.
I have a neat website for you -- try www.marthastewart.com/watercolor-pattern. There is a grouping of wonderful watercolor-like designs that you can print on paper or vellum (my choice) and you can use this for cards or projects of many different kids. Very pretty! I printed out several on vellum and used them for cards without further embellishment. You have to type in the web address. If you just do a search, it doesn't come up.
What else did I want to say? First thing, if it applies Happy Mothers Day to you!
Next, say a prayer for the children in Nigeria who are treated like dirt by a radical Islamic group there. The girls who were taken at their school are not the first. Some days ago, a group of boys were burned to death. Who does something like that? What kind of monsters?
Say lots of prayers for the children in America who are treated like dirt, who are physically and emotionally abused.
Well, time to go. We're going over to a friend's house today to help her out a little bit.
Take care, Karen
Out of shape, out of energy, out of water!! It doesn't take much. One thing I've definitely noticed since getting older is that any extreme of weather isn't well tolerated. High heat does me in. Severe cold does me in.
Everything is greening up, except for some casualties of our unusually harsh winter. We lost about three nice boxwoods, several rose bushes, and I'm really worried about the wisteria. The English ivy looks terrible. A total layer of brown, but there seems to be live runners below. I hadn't really budgeted for more plants this year! I'll just easy on the annuals I buy and put more money towards the shrubs and perennials.
Lots of my friends have commented on what they've lost too. Azaleas that had been around for years are gone. If I had known the extent of the winter's wrath, maybe I could have wrapped the wisteria's trunk at least.
I have a neat website for you -- try www.marthastewart.com/watercolor-pattern. There is a grouping of wonderful watercolor-like designs that you can print on paper or vellum (my choice) and you can use this for cards or projects of many different kids. Very pretty! I printed out several on vellum and used them for cards without further embellishment. You have to type in the web address. If you just do a search, it doesn't come up.
What else did I want to say? First thing, if it applies Happy Mothers Day to you!
Next, say a prayer for the children in Nigeria who are treated like dirt by a radical Islamic group there. The girls who were taken at their school are not the first. Some days ago, a group of boys were burned to death. Who does something like that? What kind of monsters?
Say lots of prayers for the children in America who are treated like dirt, who are physically and emotionally abused.
Well, time to go. We're going over to a friend's house today to help her out a little bit.
Take care, Karen
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Delight of a Child
In the new addition to the Rhoda Wise is a very large statue of Jesus, his arms outstretched as though reaching out for all of us to come and be with him.
Ella must have felt that same way as she noticed the statue because she immediately stood in front of Him and she held out her hand outstretched to match his -- she wanted to give Jesus "five."
So I helped her reach her hand a little farther and their hands touched ever so gently. I'd like to think that this would be one of those times when Jesus became the "laughing Jesus" we've seen pictures of. We know that Our Savior has a sense of humor. And He preached often about how precious the children are, how God wants them to come and be with Him. So this was one of those moments.
The other thing that seemed to pull Ella closer was a near life-size porcelain statue of the Baby Jesus. She went over to the basket on the floor and she touched the baby's face, knees, arms. She moved the Rosary that was around the baby's neck. She held the cross.
Children are the very innocence and receptivity that Jesus appreciated so much. He always made time for them and he told his apostles the same. We are to keep our hearts pure in our love of God, accepting Him as does the child.
Interesting that the two pieces of sculpture/art that drew Ella closest were Jesus and Baby Jesus.
A lot of folks must visit the grotto there on the property because there were many, many lit candles. Those that last maybe eight hours, and those that last for days. The neighbors of the Rhoda Wise house must appreciate it being there because it is a refuge, a place of peace, a place of welcome in a not-so-lovely area.
Yesterday when the thunder came so hard that it literally shook the house and made the glass in my closet door rattle hard, it came to my mind immediately -- that we'd been to the Rhoda Wise Home. Something changes you when you are there. It's hard to explain.
The lady who gave us the tour and helped us said that many who visit the home smell roses. I did smell roses. Mary was there at the Rhoda Wise Home.
People often wonder why Catholics hold Mary so dear. It isn't hard to explain. When God had decided that Jesus would come down to earth and become one of His creations, He chose Mary. However, she like us had free will; she could have said no to the angel's request that she become the mother of God. And yet this young girl agreed! Jesus' love for Mary helped Him to love us. Mary's "yes" foreshadows Jesus' "yes" to the suffering he endured before and during the crucifixion, the bearing of our sin. Mary's own suffering at the rejection and hatred towards her beloved son hurt Jesus too. The little boy in "Heaven is For Real," described a scene in heaven, and said that Mary was near Jesus. He said something like, "She is always close to Jesus."
It has taken me a long time to understand that when we suffer here, and we always do, we join with Jesus in His suffering. In the grand scheme of things, it isn't much what we suffer, because at the end we race towards the prize -- eternal life.
Does everything make perfect sense to me? No, it does not. I have my moments of doubt. I have my moments of questioning.
But as some scientists who have studied the amazing human body have come to know that only a supreme being could have created something so amazing, I always pray that my faith will endure, will strengthen, will grow. And I pray that yours does too.
Karen
.
Ella must have felt that same way as she noticed the statue because she immediately stood in front of Him and she held out her hand outstretched to match his -- she wanted to give Jesus "five."
So I helped her reach her hand a little farther and their hands touched ever so gently. I'd like to think that this would be one of those times when Jesus became the "laughing Jesus" we've seen pictures of. We know that Our Savior has a sense of humor. And He preached often about how precious the children are, how God wants them to come and be with Him. So this was one of those moments.
The other thing that seemed to pull Ella closer was a near life-size porcelain statue of the Baby Jesus. She went over to the basket on the floor and she touched the baby's face, knees, arms. She moved the Rosary that was around the baby's neck. She held the cross.
Children are the very innocence and receptivity that Jesus appreciated so much. He always made time for them and he told his apostles the same. We are to keep our hearts pure in our love of God, accepting Him as does the child.
Interesting that the two pieces of sculpture/art that drew Ella closest were Jesus and Baby Jesus.
A lot of folks must visit the grotto there on the property because there were many, many lit candles. Those that last maybe eight hours, and those that last for days. The neighbors of the Rhoda Wise house must appreciate it being there because it is a refuge, a place of peace, a place of welcome in a not-so-lovely area.
Yesterday when the thunder came so hard that it literally shook the house and made the glass in my closet door rattle hard, it came to my mind immediately -- that we'd been to the Rhoda Wise Home. Something changes you when you are there. It's hard to explain.
The lady who gave us the tour and helped us said that many who visit the home smell roses. I did smell roses. Mary was there at the Rhoda Wise Home.
People often wonder why Catholics hold Mary so dear. It isn't hard to explain. When God had decided that Jesus would come down to earth and become one of His creations, He chose Mary. However, she like us had free will; she could have said no to the angel's request that she become the mother of God. And yet this young girl agreed! Jesus' love for Mary helped Him to love us. Mary's "yes" foreshadows Jesus' "yes" to the suffering he endured before and during the crucifixion, the bearing of our sin. Mary's own suffering at the rejection and hatred towards her beloved son hurt Jesus too. The little boy in "Heaven is For Real," described a scene in heaven, and said that Mary was near Jesus. He said something like, "She is always close to Jesus."
It has taken me a long time to understand that when we suffer here, and we always do, we join with Jesus in His suffering. In the grand scheme of things, it isn't much what we suffer, because at the end we race towards the prize -- eternal life.
Does everything make perfect sense to me? No, it does not. I have my moments of doubt. I have my moments of questioning.
But as some scientists who have studied the amazing human body have come to know that only a supreme being could have created something so amazing, I always pray that my faith will endure, will strengthen, will grow. And I pray that yours does too.
Karen
.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Rhoda Wise Home
Yesterday we went to the Rhoda Wise home on 25th Street NE in Canton.
Rhoda and her husband had owned another home, and what was on the 25th Street property was more or less a shack that they loaned out to folks who were down and out. Little did they realize that they would be the down and out living there after they lost their home in the Depression.
Today the home has been fixed up nicely, surrounded by a lovely wooden fence, a prayer grotto has been added, and an addition put on the home for the busloads of folks who visit.
Rhoda Wise is under consideration for sainthood and there is a letter at the home saying as much. She was so special that 14,000 people attended her funeral in 1948. Her story includes a painful and large abdominal growth that was ultimately removed, but the area became infected years later. She was in the hospital (Mercy) for months at a time and they finally sent her home to die.
The nuns had taught Rhoda how to say the Rosary, and she asked St. Theresa, the Little Flower, for intervention. One night St. Theresa came to Rhoda's room and told her that Jesus would be coming in a month. Rhoda thought that this might be it, that she would die, but Jesus came to her room and she was healed. Completely. She also had a leg injury that wouldn't heal property and ultimately that was healed too. Her husband stopped drinking, something she called the greatest miracle of all.
Her husband built an altar in their home, in Rhoda's room. Then Rhoda received the Stigmata, the visible signs of Jesus' suffering, on her hands and forehead. This went on for many years.
Thankfully, much of what happened at the Rhoda Wise home was recorded. One of the most amazing things is that the porcelain statue of Baby Jesus came alive. When they were giving a tour one day and told that particular detail, a woman in the room, said, "I know. I was here." And she said that indeed, the baby opened and closed His eyes.
Faith. It is that precious little nugget of childhood innocence and hope that yields so much. That draws us to God and believes and trusts in Him.
The people were so kind to us at the Rhoda Wise home. They have a website and on it you can read a more thorough rendition of Rhoda's story.
We went to the Rhoda Wise home to take my granddaughter, Ella. She was well behaved and I think actually seemed to enjoy herself. Pray with me that Ella will receive healing. And if you know of someone who needs healing, take them to the Rhoda Wise home.
Thank you so much,
Karen
Rhoda and her husband had owned another home, and what was on the 25th Street property was more or less a shack that they loaned out to folks who were down and out. Little did they realize that they would be the down and out living there after they lost their home in the Depression.
Today the home has been fixed up nicely, surrounded by a lovely wooden fence, a prayer grotto has been added, and an addition put on the home for the busloads of folks who visit.
Rhoda Wise is under consideration for sainthood and there is a letter at the home saying as much. She was so special that 14,000 people attended her funeral in 1948. Her story includes a painful and large abdominal growth that was ultimately removed, but the area became infected years later. She was in the hospital (Mercy) for months at a time and they finally sent her home to die.
The nuns had taught Rhoda how to say the Rosary, and she asked St. Theresa, the Little Flower, for intervention. One night St. Theresa came to Rhoda's room and told her that Jesus would be coming in a month. Rhoda thought that this might be it, that she would die, but Jesus came to her room and she was healed. Completely. She also had a leg injury that wouldn't heal property and ultimately that was healed too. Her husband stopped drinking, something she called the greatest miracle of all.
Her husband built an altar in their home, in Rhoda's room. Then Rhoda received the Stigmata, the visible signs of Jesus' suffering, on her hands and forehead. This went on for many years.
Thankfully, much of what happened at the Rhoda Wise home was recorded. One of the most amazing things is that the porcelain statue of Baby Jesus came alive. When they were giving a tour one day and told that particular detail, a woman in the room, said, "I know. I was here." And she said that indeed, the baby opened and closed His eyes.
Faith. It is that precious little nugget of childhood innocence and hope that yields so much. That draws us to God and believes and trusts in Him.
The people were so kind to us at the Rhoda Wise home. They have a website and on it you can read a more thorough rendition of Rhoda's story.
We went to the Rhoda Wise home to take my granddaughter, Ella. She was well behaved and I think actually seemed to enjoy herself. Pray with me that Ella will receive healing. And if you know of someone who needs healing, take them to the Rhoda Wise home.
Thank you so much,
Karen
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
The Press -- Freedom or Abuse?
Mark Callahan, a Republican Senate candidate from Oregon, was kicked out of a newspaper's editorial meeting at which five different candidates were represented, four present in the office and one on conference call.
The Willamette Week, a small publication, brought the five candidates together in order to ask them a series of questions about their take on issues that will likely be brought before voters in the fall.
One questioner from the paper, Nigel Jaquiss, a 2005 Pulitzer prize winning writer, apparently wrote down the words blah-blah-blah in his notebook referring to the answers provided by the conference call candidate and Callahan called him out on it. Jaquiss said later that it was because the individual on the conference call deviated from the content of his question.
In any case, Callahan had been asked if he thought that climate change was real or a myth. He stated clearly, "A myth." He was re-asked the question and he again answered. Jaquiss asked him, "Where are you on the Easter bunny?"
I don't know about you but the whole tenor of the meeting was off. I can't imagine a setting where a reporter would behave in the way that Jaquiss did. Maybe he grew himself a much larger head since winning a major writing prize and sees himself as a bigger player in the room. Who knows, but it was offensive, off-base and unprofessional.
I've reported at literally hundreds of meetings over the years, whether as a news reporter or as an administrative assistant at The University of Akron. Sometimes the content of the meetings, particularly those involving students upset with a professor about something, hit nerves for me. Unlike Mr. Jaquiss, I always kept my notebook out of view of the individuals in the room, whomever they were. And ditto for when I worked for the newspaper. If anyone had been looking, I kept to the script in 99.9% of cases.
Right before Callahan was sent out of the meeting, a voice is clearly heard saying, "You already have two strikes." In other words, Callahan's behavior was being scrutinized with what certainly seems like the intent of finding something they didn't like. Who are they to judge? They are reporters. They are supposed to be right down the center of the issue. They are supposed to be YOUR eyes and ears.
Without sounding over-the-top, there are some things in life that I hold quasi-sacred. One of them is the world of journalism. I took my job very seriously and tried to conduct myself properly and professionally. One of the biggest problems we have in this country right now is that the "freedom of the press" that is one of our hallmark freedoms isn't very free anymore.
The individuals at this so-called editorial meeting of the newspaper had an agenda, quite clearly. Their job, in simple terms, is to use their eyes and ears and then write and report the news. It's not that complicated. The questioners, especially the one, were caustic, opinionated, disrespectful, callous, egotistical, and arrogant. It was a travesty.
If you get a chance, check out the exchange on the Internet. Start watching at around 1:06 minutes.
The paper is backtracking and trying to come out sounding reasonable. There isn't anything reasonable about throwing someone out of a meeting, especially someone running for higher office, with no better reason than they disagreed with him.
Disgust just doesn't cover how I feel about this situation.
What can we do about it? If you glimpse any hint of editorializing in the articles you read in the newspaper, let them know. If you have reason to talk to a reporter, listen carefully to the questions he/she asks to be sure they are fair and centered. If you see something skewed on the nightly news, go to their website and tell them about it.
The press is powerful, and in fact, the pendulum has swung too far in their direction as far as balance is concerned. WE are the ones who buy their product. WE need to exercise our own freedom and let them know when they err. WE need to remind them about the parameters of their job.
Thanks for letting me vent!!
Karen
The Willamette Week, a small publication, brought the five candidates together in order to ask them a series of questions about their take on issues that will likely be brought before voters in the fall.
One questioner from the paper, Nigel Jaquiss, a 2005 Pulitzer prize winning writer, apparently wrote down the words blah-blah-blah in his notebook referring to the answers provided by the conference call candidate and Callahan called him out on it. Jaquiss said later that it was because the individual on the conference call deviated from the content of his question.
In any case, Callahan had been asked if he thought that climate change was real or a myth. He stated clearly, "A myth." He was re-asked the question and he again answered. Jaquiss asked him, "Where are you on the Easter bunny?"
I don't know about you but the whole tenor of the meeting was off. I can't imagine a setting where a reporter would behave in the way that Jaquiss did. Maybe he grew himself a much larger head since winning a major writing prize and sees himself as a bigger player in the room. Who knows, but it was offensive, off-base and unprofessional.
I've reported at literally hundreds of meetings over the years, whether as a news reporter or as an administrative assistant at The University of Akron. Sometimes the content of the meetings, particularly those involving students upset with a professor about something, hit nerves for me. Unlike Mr. Jaquiss, I always kept my notebook out of view of the individuals in the room, whomever they were. And ditto for when I worked for the newspaper. If anyone had been looking, I kept to the script in 99.9% of cases.
Right before Callahan was sent out of the meeting, a voice is clearly heard saying, "You already have two strikes." In other words, Callahan's behavior was being scrutinized with what certainly seems like the intent of finding something they didn't like. Who are they to judge? They are reporters. They are supposed to be right down the center of the issue. They are supposed to be YOUR eyes and ears.
Without sounding over-the-top, there are some things in life that I hold quasi-sacred. One of them is the world of journalism. I took my job very seriously and tried to conduct myself properly and professionally. One of the biggest problems we have in this country right now is that the "freedom of the press" that is one of our hallmark freedoms isn't very free anymore.
The individuals at this so-called editorial meeting of the newspaper had an agenda, quite clearly. Their job, in simple terms, is to use their eyes and ears and then write and report the news. It's not that complicated. The questioners, especially the one, were caustic, opinionated, disrespectful, callous, egotistical, and arrogant. It was a travesty.
If you get a chance, check out the exchange on the Internet. Start watching at around 1:06 minutes.
The paper is backtracking and trying to come out sounding reasonable. There isn't anything reasonable about throwing someone out of a meeting, especially someone running for higher office, with no better reason than they disagreed with him.
Disgust just doesn't cover how I feel about this situation.
What can we do about it? If you glimpse any hint of editorializing in the articles you read in the newspaper, let them know. If you have reason to talk to a reporter, listen carefully to the questions he/she asks to be sure they are fair and centered. If you see something skewed on the nightly news, go to their website and tell them about it.
The press is powerful, and in fact, the pendulum has swung too far in their direction as far as balance is concerned. WE are the ones who buy their product. WE need to exercise our own freedom and let them know when they err. WE need to remind them about the parameters of their job.
Thanks for letting me vent!!
Karen
Saturday, May 3, 2014
A Touch of the West Virginian
My sister has a friend she's known for a good 25 years, I'm thinking. She owns a small cottage in Marblehead, Ohio and my sister owns one at the top of the little road.
This lady likes to clean, and now since her husband has been gone for probably 10 years or so, that's about all she does when she visits her cabin. It is important to her that things be "just so."
Her kin come from West Virginia and she has twinges of the drawl left, those subtle reminders of her heritage. One of those twinges has made its way into our vocabulary too.
When you spill paint on a new blouse and it won't come out, you might say it is "ruined." She might say the same thing, but it comes out different. For Joanne, it is "roined." Rhymes with pork "loin."
The thing is, my sister used to work really hard at her cottage too, not just cutting the grass on the riding mower but doing the trim work, cleaning out flower beds, trimming bushes, as well as inside cleaning too. Once April would arrive, it was a given that my sister and her husband would be at Marblehead every single weekend either working outside or working inside, depending on the weather. She used to buy herself a beach pass to a section along the lake known as Bay Point. It was idyllic with stretches of soft sandy beaches and trees away from the shoreline at the very back, so that she could escape the sun if it was really hot.
The trip to the beach was her reward for hard work, and also a chance to catch up on the goings-on with all the folks who had mobile homes parked at the back end of Bay Point. Little lanes ran up and down and side to side, and everyone knew everyone. Every 4th of July, there would be a party on the beach. And they were exceptionally nice people; I met many of them.
Before the out-of-towners purchased Bay Point and sold off the lots for $300,000 each, there was a stretch of two-bedroom cabins along the isthmus that makes up Bay Point. They were available for rent and many people came each year on a specific weekend without fail, so you had to rent early! We got a chance to stay there maybe three or four different summers for a week. Each visit meant a trip to Bergman's where they sell the most wonderful produce including what they grow themselves. It meant a trip to "downtown" Marblehead and especially a visit to Martha and Molly's, our favorite spot. The gentleman who owns the place is a good buyer and you never know what you are going to find there. I'm wearing one of the zip up sweatshirts purchased there as I write this entry to the blog. If he has more of them, I'll get some this coming summer for sure.
We would go to the beach, get some fabulous fish at Jolly Roger in Port Clinton, and maybe venture to some other shops around Port Clinton and nearby. Several times we went to the Johnson's Island cemetery where the southerners who never made it back home from the prison on the island are buried.
Things these days are changing, a little more so each year. My brother-in-law died seven years ago. My sister really can't work like she used to, so going to Marblehead has almost no meaning for her other than to feel lonely. When Bay Point was taken over, a lot of the mobile homes were sold and moved, and many of her friends don't stay there anymore and many of them have already died, sad to say. When we visit, we still have a good time but life is different now. It's quieter, slower.
The downtown of Marblehead hasn't changed all that much; it's still quaint and small and very special. We're the ones who have changed, especially my sister.
But oh, the memories of times past. I was looking at some pictures a few days ago, and moments came washing over me. Just a moment caught in time. A feeling to last a lifetime.
This lady likes to clean, and now since her husband has been gone for probably 10 years or so, that's about all she does when she visits her cabin. It is important to her that things be "just so."
Her kin come from West Virginia and she has twinges of the drawl left, those subtle reminders of her heritage. One of those twinges has made its way into our vocabulary too.
When you spill paint on a new blouse and it won't come out, you might say it is "ruined." She might say the same thing, but it comes out different. For Joanne, it is "roined." Rhymes with pork "loin."
The thing is, my sister used to work really hard at her cottage too, not just cutting the grass on the riding mower but doing the trim work, cleaning out flower beds, trimming bushes, as well as inside cleaning too. Once April would arrive, it was a given that my sister and her husband would be at Marblehead every single weekend either working outside or working inside, depending on the weather. She used to buy herself a beach pass to a section along the lake known as Bay Point. It was idyllic with stretches of soft sandy beaches and trees away from the shoreline at the very back, so that she could escape the sun if it was really hot.
The trip to the beach was her reward for hard work, and also a chance to catch up on the goings-on with all the folks who had mobile homes parked at the back end of Bay Point. Little lanes ran up and down and side to side, and everyone knew everyone. Every 4th of July, there would be a party on the beach. And they were exceptionally nice people; I met many of them.
Before the out-of-towners purchased Bay Point and sold off the lots for $300,000 each, there was a stretch of two-bedroom cabins along the isthmus that makes up Bay Point. They were available for rent and many people came each year on a specific weekend without fail, so you had to rent early! We got a chance to stay there maybe three or four different summers for a week. Each visit meant a trip to Bergman's where they sell the most wonderful produce including what they grow themselves. It meant a trip to "downtown" Marblehead and especially a visit to Martha and Molly's, our favorite spot. The gentleman who owns the place is a good buyer and you never know what you are going to find there. I'm wearing one of the zip up sweatshirts purchased there as I write this entry to the blog. If he has more of them, I'll get some this coming summer for sure.
We would go to the beach, get some fabulous fish at Jolly Roger in Port Clinton, and maybe venture to some other shops around Port Clinton and nearby. Several times we went to the Johnson's Island cemetery where the southerners who never made it back home from the prison on the island are buried.
Things these days are changing, a little more so each year. My brother-in-law died seven years ago. My sister really can't work like she used to, so going to Marblehead has almost no meaning for her other than to feel lonely. When Bay Point was taken over, a lot of the mobile homes were sold and moved, and many of her friends don't stay there anymore and many of them have already died, sad to say. When we visit, we still have a good time but life is different now. It's quieter, slower.
The downtown of Marblehead hasn't changed all that much; it's still quaint and small and very special. We're the ones who have changed, especially my sister.
But oh, the memories of times past. I was looking at some pictures a few days ago, and moments came washing over me. Just a moment caught in time. A feeling to last a lifetime.
Friday, May 2, 2014
Pockets of Creativity
Let me tell you about some interesting places I've visited:
Deep Creek Lake, MD -- Deep Creek Lake is a manmade lake many years old now, formed in order to dam some water coming down the river. There are 65 miles of shoreline. Within the town of Deep Creek there are a lot of artisans, and just outside of town too. We've seen hand woven rugs made out of white cotton socks, concrete circles embedded with stained glass to form hummingbirds and other designs, crafts made out of quilting fabric, and many other neat things. In one area, there are some cute little buildings that provide a retail venue for local crafters and it was really fun going there.
Scenic View -- We can't remember if we saw this little strip of houses in Maryland or in Pennsylvania, but the section is hard to miss on historic Rt. 40. There is a row of houses built fairly close together and they are used as small shops where you can buy antiques, crafts, etc. It's really quaint and beautiful. The last time we went through that area (and it's been quite a few years), we stopped and enjoyed a little visiting going from one house to the other. At this point, I can't find it anywhere on the Internet, and I know for a fact that there was a small corporate-style sign designating the area as Scenic View. I can't find it on Google Earth either, so it's a bit of a mystery right now, but it was so neat. I hope "progress" hasn't put it out of business.
New Smyrna Beach, Florida -- This location is right along the ocean close to Daytona. It is known for fishing and art. There are bunches of shops located in the quaint downtown area, as well as an interesting Catholic church where we attended Mass. We actually walked there, if I remember right. It is called "Our Lady Star of the Sea Catholic Church." We loved it; it was welcoming and pretty and we were probably among the youngest attenders at Mass there. Of course, that was a LONG time ago. Back in the 1970s there were maybe three or four large condo complexes. Now it looks like the place has grown and maybe it's not as quaint.
And now enter ------ Canal Fulton, Ohio. Can you imagine, but after all these years what we had hoped would happen is starting to catch on. There is a glass blowing factory and store just across the old bridge and they have amazing things there. There is a shop where they sell all kinds of artwork located on Locust Street in one of the pole buildings. They also do framing. We have a group of dedicated thespians who are putting on plays in all kinds of places, including on the deck of the St. Helena III canal boat. Isn't that something? The storefronts in downtown Canal Fulton are old and charming. You can buy homemade candy and then cross the street for authentic Thai food, and then pick up a beautiful embroidered sweatshirt, and finally, get a stuffed animal unlike most you see elsewhere. And don't forget Oser's Dairy Store where they have an original soft serve ice cream machine ready to go.
Perhaps each person remembers visiting a location for different reasons. Someone might remember the dinner they ate there. Someone else might remember a sports event. But for me, it is always the same things that pique my interest every single time -- art, buildings, crafts, and interesting people.
I always come away exhilarated and excited -- full of enthusiasm and humor -- and excited to share what I've seen with others. Sometimes I return ready to try a new craft or an adaptation of one.
Take it easy and make your own memories.
Karen
Deep Creek Lake, MD -- Deep Creek Lake is a manmade lake many years old now, formed in order to dam some water coming down the river. There are 65 miles of shoreline. Within the town of Deep Creek there are a lot of artisans, and just outside of town too. We've seen hand woven rugs made out of white cotton socks, concrete circles embedded with stained glass to form hummingbirds and other designs, crafts made out of quilting fabric, and many other neat things. In one area, there are some cute little buildings that provide a retail venue for local crafters and it was really fun going there.
Scenic View -- We can't remember if we saw this little strip of houses in Maryland or in Pennsylvania, but the section is hard to miss on historic Rt. 40. There is a row of houses built fairly close together and they are used as small shops where you can buy antiques, crafts, etc. It's really quaint and beautiful. The last time we went through that area (and it's been quite a few years), we stopped and enjoyed a little visiting going from one house to the other. At this point, I can't find it anywhere on the Internet, and I know for a fact that there was a small corporate-style sign designating the area as Scenic View. I can't find it on Google Earth either, so it's a bit of a mystery right now, but it was so neat. I hope "progress" hasn't put it out of business.
New Smyrna Beach, Florida -- This location is right along the ocean close to Daytona. It is known for fishing and art. There are bunches of shops located in the quaint downtown area, as well as an interesting Catholic church where we attended Mass. We actually walked there, if I remember right. It is called "Our Lady Star of the Sea Catholic Church." We loved it; it was welcoming and pretty and we were probably among the youngest attenders at Mass there. Of course, that was a LONG time ago. Back in the 1970s there were maybe three or four large condo complexes. Now it looks like the place has grown and maybe it's not as quaint.
And now enter ------ Canal Fulton, Ohio. Can you imagine, but after all these years what we had hoped would happen is starting to catch on. There is a glass blowing factory and store just across the old bridge and they have amazing things there. There is a shop where they sell all kinds of artwork located on Locust Street in one of the pole buildings. They also do framing. We have a group of dedicated thespians who are putting on plays in all kinds of places, including on the deck of the St. Helena III canal boat. Isn't that something? The storefronts in downtown Canal Fulton are old and charming. You can buy homemade candy and then cross the street for authentic Thai food, and then pick up a beautiful embroidered sweatshirt, and finally, get a stuffed animal unlike most you see elsewhere. And don't forget Oser's Dairy Store where they have an original soft serve ice cream machine ready to go.
Perhaps each person remembers visiting a location for different reasons. Someone might remember the dinner they ate there. Someone else might remember a sports event. But for me, it is always the same things that pique my interest every single time -- art, buildings, crafts, and interesting people.
I always come away exhilarated and excited -- full of enthusiasm and humor -- and excited to share what I've seen with others. Sometimes I return ready to try a new craft or an adaptation of one.
Take it easy and make your own memories.
Karen
Thursday, May 1, 2014
No Common Sense
We hear it all the time -- society needs common sense.
No one should have to tell the driver to respond when a child is having a seizure on a bus. But apparently that is what has happened in Florida when a 16-year-old was having a diabetes-induced seizure as he was going home. His sister, 14, told the driver what was happening and tried to help her brother but he did nothing.
When the bus arrived at their stop, the driver told them to get out, leaving the boy on the side of the road still having a seizure and his sister alone to deal with the emergency. Paramedics were called, responded and the boy spent a couple of days in intensive care. Wow.
So now the school district is "reviewing their policies" about the whole incident, and amazingly, the tape that should have recorded everything is blank. Hmmmmm.
The use of the phrase, "reviewing their policies," is a polite euphemism for "the driver messed up big time and we're trying to figure out a way to come out looking good." Or in other words, try to spin the story. So they'll check their policy statements and see that indeed there is no mention of how to handle a child having a seizure, and so they'll add it in the policy statement. NOW the driver will know what to do if it happens again. Really?
These days the drivers almost always have some kind of communication on board the bus. The paramedics could have been called and met the bus along the route at any point.
The story smacks of a very uncaring attitude and an unwillingness to see the students as real people with real problems. People don't want to have a seizure. They don't ask for a seizure, but they do happen, and they aren't a trifling little thing.
We'll see what happens with this story, but I bet my prediction is 100% true.
So that's the end of this particular commentary.
---------------------------------------------
Next, we have the hoarders. I saw one of the programs the other day and still feel like I should clean the house. It's disgusting and I know there is a psychological reason but it still makes no sense to me. Why would someone not be able to sort through a pile of trash and get rid of 99% of it? Why would someone want to live with so much junk that the house is a nothing more than series of narrow passageways through the piles?
The daughter of the one hoarder had been living with her aunt for a couple of years to escape the mess. She has a car. Her mother, the hoarder, lives in an expensive house with the piles of trash. The girl wants to return home but she wants her mother to clean up. And then she said something that bothered me -- that her mother was obligated to provide a place for her. I think the girl is out of high school. Now, if she's not, then she has a point. But if she's graduated and past 18, her mother is not obligated. The hoarding for this girl was more of an inconvenience for HER rather than a concern that she might have for her mother. And the way she talked to her mother did not include a measure of respect -- she lectured her mother and talked down to her.
The "all about me" thinking that poisons our world.
One thing I did learn about hoarders is that their problems don't start overnight, but the exacerbation of the problem is usually triggered by a big event that is traumatic. Like any other illness, the best time to treat it is when it first starts and we don't seem to do that too well.
Well, that's enough for today. I'm sorry that today's posting isn't all that rosy.
Take care and let's think happy thoughts of spring flowers and birds and butterflies, okay? And honestly, I'm in a GOOD frame of mind.
Karen
No one should have to tell the driver to respond when a child is having a seizure on a bus. But apparently that is what has happened in Florida when a 16-year-old was having a diabetes-induced seizure as he was going home. His sister, 14, told the driver what was happening and tried to help her brother but he did nothing.
When the bus arrived at their stop, the driver told them to get out, leaving the boy on the side of the road still having a seizure and his sister alone to deal with the emergency. Paramedics were called, responded and the boy spent a couple of days in intensive care. Wow.
So now the school district is "reviewing their policies" about the whole incident, and amazingly, the tape that should have recorded everything is blank. Hmmmmm.
The use of the phrase, "reviewing their policies," is a polite euphemism for "the driver messed up big time and we're trying to figure out a way to come out looking good." Or in other words, try to spin the story. So they'll check their policy statements and see that indeed there is no mention of how to handle a child having a seizure, and so they'll add it in the policy statement. NOW the driver will know what to do if it happens again. Really?
These days the drivers almost always have some kind of communication on board the bus. The paramedics could have been called and met the bus along the route at any point.
The story smacks of a very uncaring attitude and an unwillingness to see the students as real people with real problems. People don't want to have a seizure. They don't ask for a seizure, but they do happen, and they aren't a trifling little thing.
We'll see what happens with this story, but I bet my prediction is 100% true.
So that's the end of this particular commentary.
---------------------------------------------
Next, we have the hoarders. I saw one of the programs the other day and still feel like I should clean the house. It's disgusting and I know there is a psychological reason but it still makes no sense to me. Why would someone not be able to sort through a pile of trash and get rid of 99% of it? Why would someone want to live with so much junk that the house is a nothing more than series of narrow passageways through the piles?
The daughter of the one hoarder had been living with her aunt for a couple of years to escape the mess. She has a car. Her mother, the hoarder, lives in an expensive house with the piles of trash. The girl wants to return home but she wants her mother to clean up. And then she said something that bothered me -- that her mother was obligated to provide a place for her. I think the girl is out of high school. Now, if she's not, then she has a point. But if she's graduated and past 18, her mother is not obligated. The hoarding for this girl was more of an inconvenience for HER rather than a concern that she might have for her mother. And the way she talked to her mother did not include a measure of respect -- she lectured her mother and talked down to her.
The "all about me" thinking that poisons our world.
One thing I did learn about hoarders is that their problems don't start overnight, but the exacerbation of the problem is usually triggered by a big event that is traumatic. Like any other illness, the best time to treat it is when it first starts and we don't seem to do that too well.
Well, that's enough for today. I'm sorry that today's posting isn't all that rosy.
Take care and let's think happy thoughts of spring flowers and birds and butterflies, okay? And honestly, I'm in a GOOD frame of mind.
Karen
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