The Power of One

Thought for the day:  Autumn is a second spring, when every leaf is a flower. [Albert Camus]

It was darned near ninety degrees here yesterday. Not exactly autumn-like weather, but wonderfully cool weather is supposed to be arriving within the next couple of days. We're definitely ready for it. We're ready to smell the musky scents of autumn, and to feel a delicious crispness in the morning air... and would cherish the sight of brilliant leaves upon the trees.

Maybe next year?

With the long hot... and very dry... summer we've had... and which doesn't seem to want to go away... the prevalent colors around here so far this fall are green and brown.

BUT... on Wednesday, while making my usual Old Lady Discount Day trek to the grocery store, I spotted something on the side of the road that filled my heart with joy.

Surrounded by a bunch of grim-looking brown-leafed trees stood one defiant tree, gloriously attired in its very best fall finery. This single fiery-leafed tree refused to follow the crowd, and that one tree made me smile. Made me happy. I dare say, it affected everyone else who saw it the same way.

Autumn... the year's last loveliest smile. [William Cullen Bryant]

Seeing the beauty of that one tree was like getting an uplifting smile from Mother Nature.

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting, and autumn a mosaic of them all. [Stanley Horowitz]

I think there's a lesson in that one tree. I think each one of us can make a positive difference, too. No matter how discouraging things may seem to be, we each have the power to defy the grim faces around us, and to put on our very best finery... a smile.

Of all the things you wear, your expression is the most important. [Janet Lane]

                                             One tree can start a forest;
                                             One smile can begin a friendship;
                                             One hand can lift a soul;
                                             One word can frame the goal;
                                             One candle can wipe out darkness;
                                             One laugh can conquer gloom;
                                             One hope can raise your spirits;
                                             One touch can show you care;
                                             One life can make the difference;
                                             Be that one today.   [B.J Gallagher]

 

Be the reason someone smiles today. Making someone smile may not change the world, but it may change that person's world. It may be the only sunshine he sees all day.

                        Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Summer Re-Run

Thought for the day:  The healthiest response to life is joy. [Deepak Chopra]

According to the calendar, yesterday was the first day of autumn, but evidently, nobody bothered to let Mother Nature know, because around here, it still feels and looks like the middle of summer. Sooooo, why not go with a (ta-DA!) summer re-run? Not that I'm (ahem) lazy or anything, but it's been more than five years since this post ran first time around as Rhymes With Dreams, and most of you haven't seen it. So you could say I'm re-running it out of sheer laziness the goodness of my heart. Yeah, let's go with that. With a bit of editing, here ya go. I hope you enjoy it.

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Thought for the day: Why do people pay money to go to the top of tall buildings, and then pay again to look down at the ground through binoculars? 

One of the few good things I can say about growing up in a neighborhood of row homes is that there were always enough kids around to initiate just about any kind of game you can imagine: games like curb ball, dodge ball, red rover, Mother may I, spud, seven up, and of course, tag. A little convenience store down the alley from our house served as our meeting place, and the big metal pipe at its front corner served as home base for our tag games. Tag games always started by everyone yelling "Not it!" Whoever was slowest, WAS it, and would have to cover his eyes and start counting at that pipe while everyone else ran.

It's been 55+ years since I played that version of tag, but thanks to a very sweet fellow blogger, now I can play a different (more age-appropriate) version. She tagged me IT, so now I get to answer some questions, before tagging some other bloggers. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?

Here we go:

1.  If you could go back in time and relive one moment, what would it be?

It'd be that moment I spotted my husband at the airport when he finally came home from Vietnam. It was sheer magic.

2. If you could go back in time and change one thing, what would it be?

The airplane spent an interminable hour and a half sitting on the tarmac in Atlanta, and should have already landed in Baltimore by the time it finally got off the ground. My sister-in-law and her husband picked me up at the airport and we drove straight to the hospital, but my mother died twenty minutes before we got there. So, if I could change one thing, I'd make that plane leave on time.

3. What movie or TV character do you most resemble in personality?

I have no idea. Maybe a cross between June Cleaver and Lurch?

4. If you could push one person off a cliff, who would it be?

Geez, I'm boring. Can't think of anyone I hate, and even if I did, I'm not a push-somebody-off-the-cliff kind of person. I'm more of a guns or poison kind of gal.

5. Name one habit you want to change about yourself.

I need to exercise. Unfortunately, owning exercise equipment and a pair of spiffy running shoes doesn't do the trick. You actually have to use the darned things. Doesn't hardly seem fair, does it?

6. Describe yourself in one word.

Vulnerable.

7. Describe the person who named you in this meme in one word.

Family-oriented.

8. Why do you blog?

It started out (reluctantly, I might add) as a means to establish a "platform" to benefit my writing future. Now, I do it because I truly enjoy it, and because I've come to care about the people I've "met".

Okay, I'm going to deviate from the original post here, and instead of naming anyone in particular, I'll let all of you guys and gals who are interested snag the blog tag from the top of this page and answer the questions on your blog, and either pass it on to three other bloggers, or throw it up for grabs, like I'm doing. Kinda like a chain letter, but better. No body parts will turn black and fall off if you don't do it. (I don't think so, anyway. Personally, I wasn't willing to take the chance.)

Did you notice that word meme in question number seven? Familiar with it? In answering these questions on her blog, the gal who tagged me said, "What the heck is a meme? I never heard that one before." Since the only meme I'd ever heard of before was the French word, which rhymes with hem and means same, I decided to do some investigating.

It turns out that meme, which rhymes with dream, can best be described  as a basic building block of minds and culture, similar to the way a gene is considered a biological building block. Just as genes transmit biological information, memes transmit ideas and belief information, like catch phrases, melodies, the latest fads, and fashion trends. By extension, an Internet meme would be a concept that spreads via the Internet, like viral videos, tweets, and ... games of blogger tag.

So now we know.

On an earlier post, I told the funny-but-true story of my grandfather using most of my grandmother's clothes as diapers during their long voyage to America. Turns out, my brother acquired a copy of their ship's manifest through Ancestry.com and informed me that their ship didn't sail into Ellis Island, after all. The S.S. Columbia left Glasgow on April 28, 1923, and actually arrived in Boston Harbor eight days later. Eight days. When Mom-Mom described the voyage, she made it sound like so much longer than that, but eight days of seasickness must have felt more like eighty.

Now that I know they entered via Boston, I've been thinking about another story my grandmother told me. She said they lived in New York City for a while before moving on to Baltimore, which is why I thought they'd come into the country through Ellis Island, but maybe I misunderstood. Maybe they actually lived in Boston. Still, wherever they lived, the story was hysterical.

My grandmother could wax poetic about Scottish heather.

She said the temperatures were hot, hotter than what they'd ever experienced in Scotland. And the bugs? They were absolutely horrific, and also something quite new to them, she said. According to her, they didn't  have such annoying bugs in Scotland. So, picture this: they're in a cramped hotel room in the sweltering heat one evening, and the flies and mosquitoes are flitting and buzzing around the room, and about a hair's breadth away from driving my grandfather completely insane. So, Pop starts chasing them around the room with a fly swatter in hand. Bouncing on the bed, swinging the flyswatter like a baseball bat, and cussing as only an irate Scotsman can cuss. And oh yeah, because of the heat, he also happened to be naked. When my grandmother looked out the window, a small crowd was gathered below, pointing up, and having a jolly good time. Seems they found my grandfather's shenanigans quite entertaining.

Now whether or not that story's entirely true, I can't say, but she certainly told it to me often enough. One part of the tale doesn't mesh, though. That part about Scotland not having any annoying bugs? I did a google search to see if that's true. Not even close. There's a wee bug called the Highland midge that is so annoying, it's been known to make grown men cry. Those miserable critters not only bite, but they swarm. Not talking little swarms, either. I'm talking swarms of hundreds, and even thousands, that attack all at once. They've been called the scourge of Scotland.

Still, why ruin a good story with facts, right? My grandmother chose to remember Scotland as a perfect place, with fields of heather and nary a bug in sight. Works for me. I love good dreams. (rhymes with memes)

 rainbow above the highlands

                                  Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Dem Dirty Birds

Thought for the day:  Growing up, my mother always claimed to feel bad when a bird would slam head-first into our living room window. If she really felt bad, though, she'd have moved the bird feeder outside.  [Rich Johnson]

It's September! Can you believe it? All the kids are back in school, and autumn will be getting its official by-the-calendar start later this month. Georgia's thermometers will probably still be flirting with the ninety-degree mark for a while longer, but at least we have hope that cooler temperatures are on the horizon. Change is coming. And sometimes, change is good.

For me, it's gonna be time to start cheering on our Dirty Birds (AKA the Atlanta Falcons) and to stop grumbling about dem other dirty birds.

In general, I love birds. I really do. Love their songs, love their brilliant colors, love to watch them. But for some reason, they've reeeeally had it in for me this year.

Or to be more specific, they've had it in for my car.

There is an unseen force which lets birds know when you've just washed your car.  [Denis Norden]

Now, I've had my little red car since 1999, and while birds have been known to dive-bomb it quite a bit in the past, it's been downright ridiculous this summer. Totally out of control.

Have I done something to offend the little feathered darlings? Perhaps my singing as I went outside to fetch the morning newspaper literally annoyed the crap out of them?

I dunno, but the truth of the matter is, birds from miles around selected my poor little red car as their potty of choice this summer. Mind you, there are two other vehicles sitting in our front yard which they largely ignored. Think the color red attracted them? Maybe, but Smarticus' big ol' pick-up... a much larger target... is also red. What can I say? For whatever reason, the birds obviously voted to use MY car as their outhouse. Copiously, and often.

Not haphazardly, either. Not like that car in the picture. No, one after another, they perched on my side mirrors and let 'er rip all down the sides of my car. Over and over and over again. And not that I'm begrudging Smarticus his relatively clean truck or anything, but I don't get it. I mean, the side mirrors on his pick-up are almost twice the size as the ones on my car, so the darling birds could've sat on them in luxurious comfort, enjoyed a little chat about the weather, and pooped two at a time.

I had to hold it for two days!!!

It didn't do much good to clean it off, either, because twenty minutes after I got rid of the mess, it was right back again. What can I say? Dem dirty birds decided my car was their loo of choice, and I was stuck with it.

Carols of gladness ring from every tree.  [Frances Anne Kemble]

Yeah, carols. I swear, when we had the audacity to go away in my car... their toilet... for a few days this summer, an army of squawking birds was waiting when we got back. A whole slew of angry birds was lined up across the yard, squirming and fidgeting from foot to foot, with little bird newspapers tucked under their wings. Glaring at me, and telling me what for. Believe me, they didn't waste any time at all in using their facilities, either. Some of them didn't even wait to get a comfy mirror seat; they just flew overhead and let loose.

Tell ya what, it was a regular blitzkrieg. They weren't nearly as polite and well-disciplined as our neighborhood dogs, either.

Oh well. As the summer waned, the birds became less possessive of my poor little car. Maybe that's because most of the baby birds (the most grievous offenders) have grown up and moved on to some other bathroom facility. My car is grateful, and so am I.

But there are still plenty of birds around.... in my yard, and in yours, too. So beware. Not all birds are as eagle-eyed as others, so they just might mistake your head for a little red car.

How about you? Do birds have an affinity for your car, too? I would have taken a picture of my poop-covered car for ya, but (Woo HOO!) we've been having a lot of rain lately. I guess you could say our feathered friends have flush toilets now, and my car is cleaner than it's been all summer.

So now as the season prepares to change, I'm gonna stop worrying about all dem dirty birds who've been having their way with my car, and start thinking about what kinda season our (RAH! RAH!) Dirty Birds are gonna have. And one thing's for sure. No matter how well or poorly the Falcons do, they NEVER poop on my car.

And you didn't believe me last week when I said this week's post was gonna be about bird poop, did ya? Well, actually, if you think about it, it has a much deeper meaning. It's really a simple depiction of the socioeconomic changes in... Nah! Who am I kidding? It's about poop.



                                        Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Sunny Daze and Falling Leaves

 Thought for the day:  I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree... (yada, yada, yada)
[Joyce Kilmer]

Yeah, I love trees, too. Some of them are sooooo beautiful and majestic, and without a doubt, the shade they provide in the hot summertime is definitely welcomed and appreciated. But, this time of year? Not so much.

The first time I drag the rake out is downright enjoyable. Almost. Starts out that way, anyhow. Then the bugs start biting, and the miserable &*^%$ gnats start buzzing around my head, and make me feel like Schultz's dirty kid Pigpen. Then comes a pain here and an ache there, followed by a dry mouth, sneezing, and a runny nose. (And that's only five minutes into the job.) Next morning? Darned if the inconsiderate rat bastard leaves aren't ankle-deep all over again.

Know what? If I work hard enough at it, maybe I can forget about the exercise, and learn to ignore the leaves, no matter how deep they get. Like the cat in this picture. And like  the cat I'm married to. (Smarticus thinks raking leaves is a monumental waste of time.)

On the other hand, I miss these trees. Palms. The kind we saw when we visited our family in Florida. This picture doesn't begin to do them justice, though. They looked so cool silhouetted against the dark sky and full moon. (And bonus! Nobody has to rake up after them, either.)

And I miss these trees, dripping with Spanish moss. (And okay, dripping with quarter-sized banana spiders, too, but hush... I'm on a roll.) Dramatic looking trees, aren't they? Just loverly...

(Just in case you've never seen a banana spider...)









To tell the truth, I wouldn't mind having to rake up all the leaves in our yard if our trees had the decency to put on a nice technicolor show for us first. Nope, not this year. This year, it's brown... then down. (and down and down and down...) Heck, some of the leaves are committing suicide while they're still green. Then they just lay on the ground, shriveling up into crunchy skeletal remains. No breath-taking color. No slow strip tease of leaves. Just big ol' dumps of brown (and green) leaves. (sigh)

Okay, I'll admit it. It isn't the leaf-raking that's turning me into a kvetching ol' fartessa. And it isn't really the Florida trees... or heat... or bugs... I miss.

It's the kids I miss. (Although the kid with the beard came home with me.)

Princess Olivia is a little Southern belle.

                                                                             

Three-month-old Atlas is a real heart-stealer.

                                       

He sure stole mine.

And big sister Jordan's.

                                 

And grandpa's.

Even big brother Josh thinks it's pretty neat to have another dude around.

I'll tell you about some of the things Smartacus and I did while we were in Florida... next time. But before I go, let me ask you. Do you rake leaves, or do you let nature... or possibly a lawn mower... take care of them for you? (Sometimes, I wonder if I'm the last person in North America who still uses an old-fashioned rake instead of one of those noisy annoying leaf blowers.)

Oh yeah, Don't forget. You know what tomorrow is in the U.S., don't ya?

Don't forget to vote! If you don't vote, you can't kvetch about who wins the election.

Oh, wait! One more thing. Have any of you been experiencing difficulty changing your header picture? I go through all the usual steps, but the old picture is... still there. ( I really *need* to change the header to the yam with the Falcons banner before the team loses all chances of winning a couple more games this season. They (ahem) obviously *need* my support...)

Atlas dressed as a football. But don't worry. There were no spiral passes or spiking involved.

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Falling Leaves and Soaring Billboards

Thought for the day:  Humpty Dumpty had a lousy summer, but I betcha he has a great fall. 

I'm not sure exactly when it happened. While we were in Florida, it was quite warm. It felt a little like summer, because humongous tiger mosquitoes feasted on us day and night. (Some of them were so big, they could've hauled us away to enjoy a bit of carry-out dining if they'd preferred.) In Alabama, it was warm, too. And windy. Now that we're home, I can't help but notice that fall ... has fallen.

Sure, a lot of trees are still wearing green, but there are new splashes of color everywhere. Colors that weren't there before we left town. Gasp-worthy colors. And there's a definite chill in the air, too, and a certain musky scent. Tendrils of smoke curl from a few chimneys in the neighborhood, and crunchy leaves languish ankle-deep in our front yard. Yup, no doubt about it. While we were gone, Nature started donning her finest duds, and now she's doing a slow strip tease. Just for us. Amazing, isn't it?

Year after year, it's a display that never fails to thrill. Except for that whole ankle-deep dead leaves in the front yard crap. Oh well. As soon as I finish this post, I reckon it's time to haul out the ol' rake before they reach the ol' patellas. 

In the meantime ... when you're on a road trip, do you pay much attention to the billboards at the side of the highways? Some of them are pretty cut-and-dry boring, but others are kinda eye-catching. I especially liked the white lettering on black background ones that were supposed to be messages from God. Said stuff like, DON'T MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE. Very clever.

But, ladies and gentlemen, I'm gonna share some billboards with you now that are like none you have ever seen before. They come to us courtesy of the clever folks at dribbleglass.com, who graciously granted me permission to use them. Let's just say that if these billboards were at the side of the road ... we'd definitely notice.

Okay, that's about it for now, blogsters. Let's save some of those billboards for another time. (Always leave 'em wanting more!) Leave. Crap. Better go find that rake ...

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.