Autumn has "fallen"...or has it?

I would bet you are thinking this will be about the weather or the seasons...Well, I don't think so, but I haven't yet decided what I should blog about today. "The" season is officially upon us, but I don't dare say too much about H---------...ah, you know--those big storms they name....yeah, "that" season!" I wouldn't want to be blamed for jinxing this year with bad weather. So, let us talk about something else.....entirely!

2010 is moving rapidly along and will all too soon be gone. The older I get, the more quickly time passes. I go to bed at night and wake up a couple of years older, it seems. Actually, when I went to bed last night I was only about 30 or so.  I'd had my little "younguns" running about my feet all day. Upon awakening this morning, however,--alas, the babes were grown, and I appeared to be a tad more "mature" than when I went to bed.

I hear tell age is merely a state of mind. Well, that means I am about 6 years old...for that seems to be my state of mind much of the time. My body, however, denies that and feels as if I am, oh, 40 "or so."

How old would I like to feel?  I would say 24 years is a good all around age to be. It is an age when you should be old enough to make good sound decisions and young enough to enjoy, endure, and press forward.

But, whatever the truth may be, I refuse to think I am in the Autumn of my life. My leaves may have turned a few different colors in the past few years, and they my shed on occasion, but like good cheese and fine wine, I only improve with age.

Just because the "character" shows around my eyes and in the smile lines of my face, there is no reason to think I am old. I merely wear my wisdom etched in my facial expression. My experience has settled in my lower back and in other joints of my body, but old, oh no, that is not old. It is wisdom, it is experience, it is patience, it is love. Perhaps, I have reached the summer of my life, so maybe, just maybe, I am filled with light and sunshine like a warm summer day. So when you think about me being "full of it,"  please think of me as being full of these things instead of what you are really thinking!

Just remember this:
Gallantry like chivalry is not dead--but both are sorely ailing and deep abed.
So I offer to you my bravest (k)night as my days are filled with work afright.
To you all I bid fond adieu, with hosts of angels to watch over you.....
....ohs 2005

Until next time...when we will tune in again ---same time, same channel for "The Lone Stranger Rides Again!"

What's to be written...

It seems I have nothing at all to blog about this week. I have worked hard, played a little bit, and written very little. I did work some on my story Why I came to your house to play, but mostly it was just editing that I did not publish on my blog page. I have writer's block, I suppose, or, I have just been too busy to blog. Now, that is a real shame.

This Memorial Day weekend has  many of us reflecting upon the cost of freedom for our country! As I have watched the news and have been reminded of the death toll of Americans in Iraq and Afghanistan, I am saddened--even greatly grieved, however, I am also grateful...for many things. I have two sons who served in Iraq. Howell has served two tours of duty and Aaron served one. Lee, a nephew, has been over there four times. They all returned safe and well. Other nephews, James and Sam served as well. I have a lot of admiration for all of our military who have served.  My heart goes out to the families of those who returned in a flag-draped box (Sam was one of these soldiers)...those who paid the ultimate price for our freedom...speaking of man's inhumanity to man. War must be somewhere near the top of the list on that one. I can think of at least one other that may top war on the list of mankind's inhumanity...that would be the brutality visited upon our own countrymen and especially the children that suffer sexual assault and death at the hands of deviants that prey upon them--even their own parents. The news has become quite heartbreaking. I almost never watch it anymore. It is not good for my soul.

What is good for my soul is to see the beautiful little faces of children and hear their laughter...especially when they are with the responsible adults in their lives. It rekindles my hope for mankind...at least for a while. Children always rekindle my hope...you see the future in them...they instill trust that they are smarter than we have been and than our parents before us. It does cause me to wonder how such evil and selfishness abounds in our world when we have such little ones around. It also helps me to understand even in a most finite degree, the very genius of creation....what a wonderful evolution of innocence to maturity of body and mind....I believe everything must have started out in infancy and developed into what they were meant to be.  I can see how creation and evolution are not totally opposite, but are more complementary...both processes have brought about life as we know it.

I think the earth started out very basic and God molded every atom, cell, ingredient, and proponent until it evolved into a place for his children to inhabit. He created plant life and animal life beginning with the most simple one-celled creatures and added on...giving life to all creatures great and small. Man was his final and most complex creature...His mind not his body makes him the most complex.  Now, this is only the "gospel" according to Olivia...but do you not think this makes sense...even a building is started from the ground up...ever see any one build a house from the roof down? Well, of course you haven't...there by is creation and evolution compatible...not contrary or opposite...no matter what Darwin says!  Science should not be at odds with creation...if they only understood God's ways. Many are the marvels of the universe--God gave us many things to make us reach beyond ourselves to expand our minds--he didn't give man all things...he gave us the ability to learn all things...perhaps not all things in this life time...but we have an eternity to fill in the gaps.

But, I was writing about things for which I am grateful...the lives of my children is at the top of my list, the fact that I live in this country, have the freedom to worship, work, and play...my knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ...and the love He has for each of us...just a few things that are at the very top...so many, many things on the list beyond...and I am grateful to know I am a child of God and he takes such care of me.

There are angels among us...their jobs are to see to our spiritual and temporal well-being...do you think all angels are unembodied or disembodied spirits?  Heck, how many mortal angels have you encountered from whom you received some kind of assistance...never doubt or question the powers of heaven--some of them are not as "mystical" as many suspect...we just have to have the faith to understand and utilize such as is available for us. Remember the Bible verse written in the book of Hebrews 13:2?  "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares."

For all these blessing I give thanks--and I know I will manage to write another day!

The weekend approacheth....

Friday is nearly over and Saturday will very quickly be upon us. One more week of not accomplishing enough to satisfy the demand.  Saturday and Sunday will bring little, if any, relief along that line but perhaps a chance to rest will present itself.  Too soon Monday will threaten and then be upon us one more time. It sort of reminds me of a short rhyme I wrote many years ago...I can't recall now why I wrote such a thing but it went something like this:

To wake to the dawning;
Oh, but a mournful sight--
If I could be keep my thoughts
And visions captured within
The night...
But alas, the dawn doth bring
The cruel and loathsome rhyme
Of facing one more day to act
In the reality of time.
Circa 1970

I think I was decrying the fact that I had to get up and go to work the next morning. I have a brother who says "work is for people who do not know how to fish." He may very well have something there.

In a few short minutes it will officially be Saturday...but I won't go fishing. I will work in the garden and hope my squash plants start looking better. The yellow crook neck and the zucchini are blooming quite profusely, however, their leaves are starting to look...as my mother would say...a little peaked (pee'-kid meaning to have a sickly appearance.) I am not sure they will ever make squash. My tomatoes are doing very well. The beans and peppers are looking good, too.

I dig the soil, plant the seeds, water, feed, weed...sometimes, it actually pays off...but most of the time, I could have bought a couple of bushels of vegetables with the money I spent...not to even mention the time, the broken fingernails, and the sore body I could have prevented by shopping at the farmer's market instead of Lowe's. But, the meek shall inherit the earth...and after I have made my body dirty and tired working in the garden...I would be glad for them to have it!

In all actuality, I love to work in the soil and see things grow. I have a small copse of trees planted in large pots waiting for a yard in which to plant them permanently. I have peaches, plums, fig, loquat or Japanese Plum trees, and grapevines patiently growing in pots....all with an air of expectation and hope of a good home soon. No, my trees do not talk to me and unlike Clint Eastwood's character in Paint your Wagon, I do not talk to the trees--(who would have ever thought about Clint Eastwood or Lee Marvin in a musical?)...I can't help but to know as I walk among them with feed and water that each of them have the hope of one day being productive and fulfilling their life's purpose. But then, don't we all?

What is our life's purpose? Well, that is a good point of discussion. We know we have come to this earth to gain a mortal body...a perpetuation of our eternal progression. We live, we procreate, we walk by faith, we endure to the end...Yep, sounds simple enough doesn't it.  Well, I think I am kind of like my squash plants; I think I may be a little peaked.  I have at times in my life bloomed profusely, I have born fruit, perhaps it is just my duty now to produce a lovely shaded spot in the world for others to enjoy...and that has nothing to do with my weight so don't even go there. Just pack a lunch and enjoy the coolness of my umbrella.

My umbrella, I think, would be my personality, my ability, my talent, my willingness to share part of me with others..to be of service in anyway needed. Or heck, it could just be a good joke and a blog or two....nothing too profound. Then after we have done all we can do...we go into another realm of eternity to live, to work, to never be tired, to never know the sorrow of pain or loss. Yeah, heaven..That is our purpose in life....Sounds like a great weekend retreat that never ends!  I am up for it. I would venture a guess that even though we will have work to do, it will never be Monday in heaven...whaddya think?

I have long contended that heaven will smell like freshly baking bread and taste of fine chocolate when we desire it. But now that I have written this....I think I could forgo these pleasantries for no Mondays!
But for now, in our sphere of mortality as we know it, I will look forward to the weekend without giving thought to Monday for a couple of days. So, if you've a mind...just pick a shady spot and enjoy life. Things could be a lot worse.....you may not ever have gotten to know me! Remember Today's life thought:

Today may there be peace within your mind and heart. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself in knowing you are a work in progress. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.

Had I lived in Days of Yore....or, a Cheeto, a Cheeto, my Kingdom for a Cheeto

If I had been a fair maiden when the civilized earth was but an adolescent I would have played upon my Rote (a medieval stringed instrument played by plucking) and sang songs of forbidden and unrequited love. I would have pouted about by lipid pools and languished for the want of a knight to rescue me from a life of "fair maidenness.”

I would have dreamed of being a pub wench and serving grog to sailors. I would try to imagine myself as a swashbuckling female pirate dressed in red brocade with thigh-high boots of glistening black leather with silver buckles. I would envision me riding a white stallion o’er hill and dale with my raven black hair blowing in the wind to meet a tall handsome lover in the nethermost part of the most-dense woods beyond the city wall. I would see myself sitting tall on the monarch’s throne with a crown of rubies on my palest of pale blonde curls while sentinels with golden swords stood guard near by and servants waiting to cater to my every whim.

But alas, and alas, I am not a fair maiden and these are not the days of yore. I have not a
Rote (unless you wish to rename my Compaq) upon which to pluck and no lipid pool by which to pout or to languish….but I still wish for someone to rescue me—so, I suppose we can keep the lanquishing part…

In my days of now, I am still dieting and walking. My caffeine habit has been overcome. I no longer have to say the Soda Pop Creed (See earlier post A Jam Sandwich and a Pine Float)…..but in the back of my mind somewhere in a barren, desolate vale of nutrition my heart cries out….a Cheeto, a Cheeto, my kingdom for a Cheeto. Gosh, I love those crunchy, orange bites of absolute junk food! When I was a mail carrier….many were the pieces of mail that were delivered with orange “Cheeto Tracks” on them. But alas, and alas (people said that a lot back in the days of yore) I have had to swear off Cheetos, Gummy Bears, Rolos, and assorted other good-to-you/bad-for-your-belly-fat foods.

By August I shall be but a mere shadow of the girl I now am. My thin body will flow like water as I walk and an almost inaudible sound of rustling heather will follow my foot steps. The tiniest fragrance of Honey Suckle will caress the air as I pass. All heads will turn to see the magnificence of me…..I shall periodically stop and sigh with the most feminine of sighs to allow the onlooker to partake of the beauty and burn the breath-taking image into the inner recesses of their minds. (Remember in what I majored in the “School of Hard Knocks” --See my profile article…In the beginning God created…And do not say I did not warn you.) All will be well in the world and all God’s Children will have bread. Except for me—I will be clinging to one orange morsel…never to be consumed in this lifetime…a morsel to remind me of how far I have come since my days of leaving Cheeto tracks on people’s mail as I delivered letters being in the company of one cool Cheetah.

So alas, and adieu my dear friends….until another day, another time when once again you will ride with me as the wind blows our sideburns against our ears as we follow the golden trail of cheesy goodness into another realm of absolute madness and merriment.

A blog by any other name…

To blog is to know the very essence of the inane, but nonetheless entertaining, art of the written word. You can blog out loud.  Yes, BLOG OUT LOUD! You can blog in Color…why certainly—COLOR—oh, wait, that is loud color…it reminds me of a dress I saw on a manikin in a store window at the mall last evening…but, I must not digress---yet.  Can you blog in an intellectual style with class and dignity… why, of course, you can my fine fellow…but then why would you want to do something such as that?

“Blog” is taken from the term “web log” meaning to write-talk (a neosphere expression to explain a manner of communication via the internet—e-mail messages qualify as write-talk) in whatever fashion strikes your fancy on the internet so as to fill cyberspace with woeful tales, comic relief, and to advertise whatever it is you would like to sell. Most of all, I suspect, blogs sell the author—to themselves. I bet that doesn’t make sense to you. If, in fact, it does not make sense to you, it means one of two things…either you are extremely well adjusted, as is your family…no dysfunction in your house…or you have never blogged. (Blog is technically defined thusly: ·  read, write, or edit a shared on-line journal ·  web log: a shared on-line journal where people can post diary entries about their personal experiences and hobbies.)

It seems obvious, given the situation, “web log” is such a horribly long term and so difficult to say that someone actually shortened it to “Blog.” (Can you say facetious boys and girls?)  Our lives are so full we must use terms like G-B indicating a garbage bowl, or E-V-O-O…meaning of course, extra virgin olive oil.  Does it really save you so much time to say E-V-O-O rather than extra virgin olive oil that it is worth the effort to program it into our brains?  The same principle applies to words such as air conditioner…it has become the AC.  The television has become the TV. Your identification is known as your ID.

Why do we humans do that? 

Do what?

Make short words out of long words even when is just as easy to say the original word. Oh. Perhaps just to save time in our overly-busy word world.

Think about nicknames—why is Hank a nickname for Henry?  How is Jack any shorter than John?  How did it come about that Bill is a nickname for William…Why not Will or Willie, or how did we get Peggy or Peg as a nickname for someone named Margaret?  Why do we have nicknames anyway? Now do you see how silly we humans really are?  But it goes on….

Then there are acronyms such as NATO—“North Atlantic Treaty Organization”, SCUBA—“Self Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus, WHO—“World Health Organization, LASER—“Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation,” let's not forget NASA--"National Aeronautics and Space Administration," and  SNAFU …did you know that SNAFU is an acronym?  This term was actually given birth by the military…it is an acronym for the phrase “Situation Normal All [Fouled] Up.”  Meaning of course, a normal situation has taken a bad turn by whatever means, and is now no longer normal, as anticipated, or desired. Well, I can see why we would need an acronym for that seemingly oxymoronic observation.  But then, at the time it was created, I sure it made sense to someone. Actually SNAFU makes more sense just in and of itself—once you are oriented* in the manner intended for its original use. (Now, does that sound as if it should be included somewhere in the Federal tax code? You know, the one issued by the IRS!)

Like many other acronyms, SNAFU has been adopted into civilian language and used as a stand alone word to mean a complication or problem.  Another word, all though not an acronym, which was taken from the military, is accouterment or accoutrement, meaning an accessory or piece of equipment associated with a specific object, task, or role. 2. a piece of military equipment carried by soldiers in addition to their standard uniform and weapons.  But, you knew that already, didn’t you?

Acronyms are commonly written using be all upper case letters, but as we take them into our communication as common words we change them. SCUBA has become scuba used mainly to mean just diving and performing underwater, LASER we call laser—a light that has nearly magical properties…there are many people who do not realize both of these words are acronyms.

No wonder we blog—our lives have become so complicated and time often runs amok—now there is a word to add to your repertoire—“amok” has a cool sound, doesn’t it? Even the dictionary definition is cool: amok (adverb) meaning out of control in a very frenzied way or confusedly in or into a confused or disorganized state OR (adjective) frenzied or out of control as run amok—to become out of control, especially in a frenzied way—we need a time to take control back and mellow for a while.

I must admit blogging, or web logging, is a wonderful way to be creative, communicate, and relieve stress…betcha never thought about it being therapeutic! For whatever reason each individual writes or reads….a blog by any name at all would be just as sweet!

So—blog on souls of merriment--blog on!

:Footnote:

*…which brings to mind…you are never “orientated” even though you may attend an “orientation” class or meeting….you are only “oriented,”  While I am at it, please note…. you did not go acrossed the road—you either went “across” the road or, you simply "crossed" the road…why?  To get to the other side!

A jam sandwich and a pine float…..

I am dieting….yes, believe it or not, I am cutting back on what I eat and making a lot of changes in the types of things I consume. I must lose a few pounds. I am also walking a couple of miles each day in hopes of accelerating my weight loss.

Since I got married a little over three years ago, I have gained a few pounds that make my clothes not fit as well and my mirror reflection frowns when I look at it. My otherwise semi-perfect body is doing well...it just weighs too much. I realize that my age has a little to do with that. I got a message on my Face Book wall from a niece that made quite a point. The question posed went something like this: “Why is it I can remember lyrics to a song I knew from ten years ago, but I can’t remember why I came into the kitchen?” She also stated…“sometimes getting old sucks.” Well, let me qualify that just a tad.

Getting old is quite detrimental to most of us…but then what is the alternative? Live hard, die young, make a good-looking corpse. Okay, getting old is the better side almost all of the time. But, she is right…getting old can really be an encumbrance—and in my case it is my weight. The late night snacks might be another contributing factor…and, hmm…other things.

Of course, changing my lifestyle has definitely played a part in the weight gain as well. I went from working six to seven days per week—delivering, sorting, and picking up the US Mail and working for the hospital in Chipley as a kitchen supervisor--to working six days per week sitting at my computer processing orders from an online store. (But, I do have to admit…with this job, I can quit when I need to and take an afternoon nap or just watch the news if I am of a mind.) At any rate, and whatever the reason…I am dieting.

To begin my day, I had a glass of V-8 Hot and Spicy to wash down my thyroid pill and a hand full of vitamins and supplements. A couple of hours later, for breakfast, I had a small bowl of dry cereal wilted with a little 1% milk…with some water added to make enough liquid for the cereal and to dilute the calories.
For lunch, however, I had a half cup of mixed greens with a few slices of cucumber, some raw zucchini, two tablespoons of canned tuna and a teaspoon of salad dressing. It almost tasted like food. Oh, yes about 10:30 A.M. I had half an apple. It could have been a little sweeter for my taste, but when you diet, even a slightly tart apple is good to the palate.

While I am dieting, I am also kicking the caffeine habit…again! Those diet Mountain Dews and Cokes really play a number on you if you let them. I have been at this since Monday morning so my 72-hour period for overcoming a physical addiction has ended. It is the 72-day period for overcoming the psychological addiction that is kicking my butt!

I saw a sign on the back window of a car one day, when I was going into Wal-Mart to buy soft drinks, which read, “The doctor says I have too many red blood cells in my carbonated water.” Sometimes it does seem as if my veins run rich in carbonation.

Okay, where does Coca-Cola Anonymous (CCA) meet? Can you imagine a bunch of Cokeaholics meeting in a twelve-step program?

Creed: “Give me the courage to walk each day with a bubble only in my step and not in my beverage. Help me to overcome the tendency to succumb to the sound of a pop-top can being opened. Allow me the common sense to know that carbolic acid is not a vitamin and that natural and artificial flavoring is not on the food pyramid. I seek to walk a clear-water path, and with God’s help I know I can overcome.”
Instructions: Say this creed each morning and each evening…and anytime you feel the urge to partake of the dastardly soda pop! To make it even more effective…say it as you are standing on the scale looking at your true weight…not just the one you have made up in your mind. Yeah, like that would work!

Hello, my name is Olivia, and I am a caffeine junkie….but even more so, I am a carbonated drink junkie. (Insert here: “Hi Olivia”—from all the fools here with me—also carbo/caffeine addicts!) Okay, so I am officially “on the wagon.”

Speaking of the food pyramid….who thinks that stuff up anyway? Few people in the world plan meals according to the information contained in that little triangle of nutrition. If we made the pyramid to fit the way most people eat it would be a little different. Imagine…bottom row: dry cereal, pop-tarts, bagels, sausage biscuits,Whoppers and Big Macs,fried chicken,seafood platters,ice cream,in the south: Sweet Tea, and Coca-Cola; next row: hamburgers, cheese burgers, macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets, French fries, Donuts, Gummy bears, Snicker Bars, Coca-Cola; third row: spaghetti and meat balls, bar-b-que, pizza, mashed potatoes, Mexican-like food from Taco Bell, dessert, Beer, Pepsi-Cola: forth row: green bean casserole, corn, corn dogs, hot dogs, Chinese food, Coca-cola, and in the south…Sweet Tea; Top row: GRAVY…so that it dribbles down on top of everything else! Ah, America the land of milk and honey…and fast food joints…a nation of gourmands.
Now that I have that said, I believe I will prepare dinner. I will “jam” two slices of whole-grain, sawdust-like bread together and put a toothpick in my water to spice it up a bit.
The menu: A “jam” sandwich and a pine float…… I feel myself getting thinner every second.

Word play...keeps me young at heart

As long as I can recall, I have written whatever was in my heart or on my heart. It helped to heal the pain, express feelings otherwise hard to convey, and eased any stress in my life. It is also quite enjoyable to create, to pen, even to give birth to poetry or prose. It is only natural that I would blog at this point in my life now even though I am only somewhat technologically adept.
I find inspiration in different places and situations which I find inviting, comforting, even alluring. One of my favorite places to compose ingenious work is at the seashore or beach, or whichever you prefer to call it...the distinction can be made by the locale. I find when you are in the southeast United States you go to the "beach"...be it on the Atlantic or the Gulf side. In the Northeast they refer to the the beach as the "shore." But whatever the vernacular or colloquial term--it is still quite an inspiring place to be, at least for me.
Part of the lure of the seashore, of course, is the immenseness and grandeur of it all. I am lulled and coaxed by the rote (the noise of the surf or waves breaking on or near the shore) of the water. The smell of the salt air is also an alluring condition of the beach. It is also wonderful for your sinuses and your lungs, but that must be written of in a different blog.
One afternoon, I found myself quite alone on Blue Mountain Beach on the Gulf of Mexico between Panama City and Fort Walton Beach--and various points also between--the sunset was in gentle progress, the sky was a glorious color, and the water an emerald green closer to the shoreline. The high tide now diminishing had washed away any evidence that another person had even walked on the sand that day. My pen painted the scene in one of my favorite poems. I call it

At Ebb Tide
The ocean's voice is a gentle rush
Of ebb tide's waning sound.
The seagulls dance in shallow pools
And feed from the salty ground.
Sandpipers pick amongst the gulls--
Their share of ocean's bounty claim;
And cast a shadow upon the sand
By the sky's dwindling flame.
The sun will be but an ember soon
As it reaches for that heaven-sent time
Where the sky meets the earth
And forms a water-etched line.
The shallows are an emerald green,
But I watch for they will stray
To where the water turns a dark, dark blue
And then a darker gray.
I come to the sea when I am alone;
I walk the shore untrod.
I come to the sea to partake of the beauty
When I need to meet with God.
...1994

For a while I worked as a newspaper reporter and columnist. I loved the writing part of the job...but I must admit, I was not a good reporter. I just did not have that feeding frenzy instinct that leads good reporters to glean all the facts--especially in cases where people were suffering, hurt, or...dead. I covered several cases of such human misfortune. I had a hard time sticking a tape recorder or even a pad and pen, that would reflect in the tears, into the faces of victims and their families and asking them how they felt as they watched their house burn to the ground, when they first found out someone had died, was missing, etc. etc. etc.—or other equally asinine questions.
I interviewed quite a few people for human interest stories and mostly what I learned was many people confuse who they are with the worldly possessions they have accumulated. What a shame.
While writing for one small weekly publication, my editor used the term "wordsmith" quite often. I am not sure what one must do to be officially, and perhaps technically, deemed a wordsmith....I do sometimes hammer out the words to make them express my intent...but never under a spreading chestnut tree...so, I am probably not to be considered a wordsmith.
I love words and the sound they make on paper. But it is merely the word play that keeps me young at heart.