Little things in daily life
It’s amazing how such a tiny thing can cause so much pain and become such a threat to one’s health. It seems unfair and out of proportion.
If a life time is a novel, then a year is a chapter, a day is a page, and a minute is a haiku.
I’d love to tell you about a baby’s eyes today… but I can’t. It would become a clue which could reveal a secret gift. I am perfectly comfortable being deceptive when it is temporary and for love.
If the timing is right and I hear the garbage or recycling truck coming down my street, I wait so I can say “Thanks” and wave them on. It’s too easy to take for granted and forget how many people make my day easier.
The the most common failure in communication is committed by the person who not only believes s/he has sufficient insight into the subject raised, but the audience can read his/her brilliant mind when that insight is expressed in unintelligible and assumptive terms.
Every time I get into my car, I remind myself I will be operating not merely a tool but a weapon. I also remind myself that many of the people who will surround me on the road do not bother to think at all.
I smoked cigarettes from age 12 to 30. I quit smoking 32 years ago. To this very day, I continue to have dreams (a few times a year) in which I am smoking. If THAT isn’t ADDICTION, I don’t know what is.
We visited our youngest Grand daughter for The Big One birthday celebration!! Woo hoo! She liked the wrapping paper as much as the contents. That’s a happy girl. She’s walking like a fast zombie, not quite running yet; making lots of sounds – a few of which hint at words we may soon recognize. She knows a few hand signs (all four grand kids were taught basic signs as babies before they spoke – which works very well!). The sight of a cake with fire on the top (!!!!) was completely out of her sphere but thankfully mama blew it out. Apparently all the other adults were grateful to mama – they all laughed and applauded after being saved from the fire – especially this joyous one year old, mentioned in song by name!
I just wrote one of my Nephews and asked which he would choose if given the opportunity: 1) Travel through space and eventually live with alien life forms on another planet for the remainder of his life (with no chance of returning to Earth), or 2) Just stay here. That’s right… I’m THAT Uncle.
I am again watching Ken Burns’ extensive and exquisite documentary “The Civil War”. If you are Human, you should see it. If you are American, you MUST see it.
Sometimes there are so many Splinters created from the Daily Grind, we don’t have time to notice let alone record them. This was my week. On the other hand, I’ve had customers and friends ask that we share some time, which I’ve enjoyed
“Children, Women, and Fish!” This was the answer a woman gave after asking me “WHO likes sparkly things?”.
Journals are the only way to keep nostalgia under control.
As a hobby, I read performance statistics of automobiles. Yes, I’m dull. None the less, you might find it comforting to know that most of the extremely UNreliable cars are costly luxury and high performance cars.
I can’t tell you how often I see a beautiful object that has survived 50 – 100 – 200 years suddenly damaged from its being handled by one of the Apathetics of our current society. Who, you ask? … Distracted shoppers in antique stores, back room minimum wage unloaders / pricers at thrift stores, the display “barkers” at auctions, “yard salers” rushing and pushing each other as they fight over knick knacks, and the “tactile learners” whose brains tell them to touch everything – not out of interest or care but the unconscious need to merely FEEL things.
Tornadoes scare me more than hurricanes. Hurricanes always give warning and move slow. There is a lot of value in that. A tornado is like a psycho killer on crack. A hurricane is like a huge, roving band of destructive bullies on valium.
Much of what I do is “in my head”. Antiques, Design, and Art are, for the most part, intellectual activities. They require both study and interpretation in a pendulum of moments. When I am not dealing with these issues, I am immersed in my other three “head” subjects: studying the film making of others, studying World War II history, and creating my own art. Frankly, it all adds up to a one-sided life. It is therefore with a sometimes-forgotten relish I rediscover the joys of simple work with materials and my two hands without any higher artistic goals. I am currently working on my Home. After seventeen years of it doing just fine with our original restoration, pieces of our 1957 era split-level house again need replacing, scraping, sanding, spackling, caulking, priming, painting, and other small changes only we can see but certainly appreciate, and which will carry our Home into the future. These days I am often high on an extension ladder juggling tools and sweating like a faucet. I’m enjoying the hell out of it.
I am a dedicated student of World War II history. On a daily basis it reminds me to feel grateful and lucky for the life I’m leading.
Standing at the edge of a stream, you cannot choose a favorite moment of its movement.
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