Just for Laughs

I've been pretty serious in my recent blogs and Facebook postings. I am, in general, a serious person. Just born that way. However, I also love things like fantasy, imagination, and humor.

So. . . when my granddaughter, Megan graduated, we had a post graduation gathering at dinner time. My daughter had somewhere found paper cups printed with various nose/upper lip pictures. So, if you lined your cup up properly as you drank, you got a whole new profile. They were good for some laughs--great ice breakers.

I kept my cup. Today I noticed it and, in a moment of silliness took this photo.

Okay, that's enough nonsense for today!

My Not-So-Secret Character Flaw

I intended to write this blog yesterday, but. . . .

Yes, that is it. The character flaw.

I am a Procrastinator.

It is not that I never get anything done; it is that I often don't get certain things done in a timely manner. And it is so easy to put things off. At this stage of life I really have very few things I must answer to or meet a timeline on. As a senior citizen, retired, and widowed, who do I have to answer to but myself? And myself is pretty easygoing about some things!

From birth forward, much of life has an imposed structure: parental rules and oversight, school (16 years of it in my case), jobs, marriage, child rearing, involvement in activities and responsibilities such as church or civic activities, and so on and so on. One by one, most of these structured items drop off as time goes by. We grow up and finish schooling. We leave home and become adults no longer under our parents' rule. Our children grow up and leave home. Marriage ends. Age sucks out our energy.

As the external structures drop away, what is left? Self-directed and imposed structure. Which can be very, very simple.

And, so, back to my original statement: I am a procrastinator. I've always been that way by nature, but life had always had those exterior motivators, requirements, and responsibilities that kept me moving. Now, I am my own motivator, and that often means that I am just motivated to do whatever I feel like doing! Here is what that often is:

This is what I spend many wonderful hours doing.

This is what is in my hand. Most of my reading these day is on my Kindle. I love "real"
books, but with my vision problems the Kindle is easier for me. And I can have a whole library on one little device, which is a good thing--my bookshelves are full!

Reading has always been my favorite pastime, indeed, I would say that it is a positive necessity for me. But, sometimes I do need to put down the book and take care of other things! Not that reading is my only pastime, it is just the lifelong passion.

I am happy to report that yesterday I finally finished some things that have been languishing on my desk for months. I had a number of photographic items, both of family history and more recent events, that I had promised to different family members. The projects were mostly done. Why hadn't I finished them? (Shrug.) Can't say; just hadn't sat myself down to get it done. So I finally took myself in hand Thursday, finished printing out the items that needed to be printed, sorted and copied to a flash drive the things I had promised in that format, made up the packets, and got them to the Post Office and mailed on Friday.

And I felt like I had shed a burden. That is the consequence of procrastination--that constant little niggling pressure in the back of the mind because of unfinished business.

The problem is, I have at least four or five other projects I have started and are, as yet, unfinished.

I'm sure I'll get to them one of these days!

Thoughts on The Pope's Visit

Well, it is all the Pope, all the time on TV. Although I am not Catholic, I have been watching a lot of it with interest. In this time when an anti-Christian sentiment is growing in our world, our country, and our universities, I am interested when anyone who has faith in Christ is given respect and an opportunity to speak for Christians and Christian values.

I heard one commentator discuss the Pope's address to the U.N. and label it as cautious and non-confrontational. He must have heard a different speech than I did.

The Pope did speak in a quiet and gentle voice. No shouting, no name calling, no arm waving. Remember that old saying that refers to how people react differently to events depending on "whose ox is gored"? Well, in his soft-spoken, half-hour speech to the U.N., the Pope gored just about everyone's ox. I thought he took no prisoners, in, of course, the most loving and considerate way.

At the conclusion of his speech the Pope asked people to pray for him, no matter what their religious beliefs, and, if they had no faith, to wish him well. This is not an arrogant, "I'm right up there with God," man. He clearly stays very well informed about what's going on in the world, and he has very definite opinions about it. And expresses those opinions with love and gentleness.

I am sure that his speech is probably available online somewhere, if you did not hear it. I would say a hearty "Amen" to most of what he said. The pity is that most of the hearts that need to hear it most desperately are already so hardened they will pass it by with a sneer.

Another Weird Quote From My Brain

This morning, as I was on the edge of waking up, I heard two dream people (at least I hope they were dream people!) having the following conversation: "Remember what our metaphysical parents said, "Fire Aces Art every time." (And, yes, those caps were clearly in that sentence.) Now I do not know what a metaphysical parent is, but I can think of a lot of directions that remark about Fire and Art could go.

 

Fire could be considered as a source of light and heat, the first source of control over those factors that humans had. Without fire, heat and light had to come from the sun, moon, and stars. Although humans have always had that inborn creative urge to make things of beauty, or just to make art as a way to record the facts of their lives and history, light and heat are essential for basic survival. To be able to control or create a source of heat and light whenever and wherever it is wanted or needed, does ace art.

 

The other, vastly different, interpretation of that statement could be that of fire as the great destroyer. Fire burns where there is fuel. It does not matter whether that fuel is a carefully constructed campfire, a forest, dry prairie grass, a house, or a piece of priceless art. It is all just fuel for the flames, and Fire Aces Art.

 

From there one could philosophize about the impermanent nature of the works of man. Many sermons have been preached about this. Jesus said in

Matthew 6:19-20New American Standard Bible (NASB):

¹⁹ “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. ²⁰ But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal...."

In the treacherous world of today's Middle East, Muslim groups bent on world domination have blown up (another form of fire) ancient archaeological  artistic treasures, because they picture the "gods" once worshipped in the far distant past. These are no longer objects of worship, but elements of history. This wanton destruction makes me sad and angry. But, once again, Fire Aces Art.

The practical uses of fire actually help promote art. I think about those caves where people long ago left drawings of animals and prints of their own hands. These caves are so deep underground that they have no natural light at all. In my imagination, I see some people as torch bearers who make it possible for the artists to decorate these lightless rooms. These artistic remains are absolutely priceless links to our ancient ancestors. Without fire, they could not have been created in the pitch black of the caves. Without the deep caves, these art works would not have survived the millennia.

In today's world, good lighting of many types is priceless to artists. And painting light and shadow is one of the great artistic talents.

Fire may ace art. Fire, in all its many forms, can aid art. I would hate to live in a world or society that lacked either of these.

Fire a necessity for quality of life. Art a necessity for quality of life. I want both.

I snapped photos of some of the art on my cave walls:

This is a painting by my sister Grace Baker.

 

These pictures are from my granddaughter, Megan, starting about age six. She still draws constantly, and I need to talk her into giving me a new, frame-worthy work.

These paintings were all done by my mother-in-law, Emma Russell Wales. Sorry that it is not a very good photo.

 

This watercolor is by my brother-in-law, Lyle Stewart. I did not notice until I had the photo on the computer that I created an inset reflection of myself taking the picture. I am to lazy to redo the photo!
 

 

 

 

 

Eighteen

Yesterday Chad, Anne Marie, and I met Chad's parents at a steakhouse, where we were soon joined by Megan. She had two hours before her next class, so this was our window to celebrate her birthday.

Eighteen!

And a college student!

She opened birthday gifts, we ate, we visited, we heard some of her first week's living at college experiences, and, all too soon, she had to rush away to make it to her one o'clock class.

Later, after she was out of class, we all visited her dorm to see where she is living. It is a nice new facility and she seems happy there.

We miss her here, but I am so happy for her in her new adventure! (And that she is taking her classes seriously.)

The Birthday Girl

One of her gifts was an empty box from her Birdie grandparents--a symbol
of something yet to come. She had fun coming up with creative ideas for the box,
including wearing the lid for a hat.

 

And, this demonstrates how she gets out of bed. Her desk and
refrigerator are under the bed. There is a small space between her
bed and her roommate's. They certainly manage to cram a lot
into a small dorm room.

Growing Up and Leaving Home

Today is the day.

Megan is leaving home.

Today she moves into the dorm at Sheridan College. Classes begin Monday.



Megan took off her sunglasses for a photo, but couldn't keep her eyes open.

How can this be? Can she really be so grown up?

Next Thursday will be her 18th birthday, so I guess it is true, even if my heart says "No."

So, I am babysitting Trixie the dog while the Birdies are off to move Megan into the college dorm. Tears are not far away.

Trixie

I am happy for Megan. She is setting off on a whole new adventure, and, after all, Sheridan is not so far away. I'll be seeing her again on her birthday; I plan to go with Chad and Anne Marie to take her to birthday lunch. Then she will have to go back to class, and I don't know if we will be staying in Sheridan until after classes to visit more.

I remember when my son left for college in Rapid City. At first, he stayed in Rapid over the weekends. It wasn't too long, however, before he was coming home every Friday night, even in the winter. I liked that! He wasn't so tied to home he couldn't go out into the wider world, but he still liked to spend time with his family. (Of course, he now lives as far from home as he could possibly be without falling into the Atlantic Ocean.)

I have always believed that the job of a parent is to work yourself out of a job. In other words, to raise your children to be capable, independently functioning adults. Doesn't mean there isn't a considerable amount of pain involved in the letting go. And that applies to grandchildren, too. I've lived close to Megan all her life, and she has spent Friday (and often Saturday) nights in our (then my) home since she was about four years old.

Life's big milestones are such a mixture of happy and sad that my emotions are in a tangle!

On Being Reclusive

It has been some time since I last blogged. I haven't even posted on Facebook very often. I have been being reclusive.

Now I'm not deliberately shutting myself away. I haven't decided, "From now on I will be a Recluse." Sometimes I just don't feel communicative. It is part of that whole Introvert thing.

Being retired and widowed really feed into this introverted withdrawal tendency. I don't dislike seeing people and doing things--but it is just so easy not to!

In pre-retirement, pre-widowhood days there was always some exterior necessity stimulating contact with the world outside: family (grew up with four sisters and one brother; in a family of eight people and one bathroom, no one can be too withdrawn), school--sixteen years of it, jobs, husband, children, more jobs, church involvement and activities--always something I needed to do, always someplace I needed to be.

And then it changed. The kids grew up, my husband died, I was retired from the workaday world, and even my church no longer seemed to have a place of service for me. This is not a self-pitying whine. It is just what happened. And I've always needed the restorative of some quiet, alone time and lots of books.

Today various things kept bringing Jerry to mind. I will always miss him. But it is also true that I have grown accustomed to living alone, to having no necessary structure imposed on my days. So, it becomes easy for me as an introvert to slip into a near-hermit type existence. And mostly enjoy it.

I think those religious hermits so regarded as especially holy in the Middle Ages, who dedicated their lives to God and were regarded as having made a great sacrifice of enormous devotion in their isolation, were probably mostly extreme introverts whose very nature craved that peace. The daily close companionship of a monastery or convent would have been nearly intolerable for them.

Well, I am neither a holy woman in a hermitage nor a total isolationist. I just sometimes find it very easy to slip into a world of books and doing my own thing and letting the rest of the world go by. I recognize that too much of this is probably not good for me. I am thinking on this.

In the meantime, here are a few photos taken recently.



Sister Kathleen and most of her family came to town on July 17th for her granddaughter's
swim meet, and we gathered at sister Grace's home for a short, but lovely, visit.
Pictured are Diahann, David, John, and Kathleen.

Grace with a work-in-progress painting of our Mother,
known to many as Grandma Rose.

Diahann and her children: (from left: Kate, Diahann, Eli, and Madie).

 

Tina and I were there, too, but I am behind the camera. Just imagine me. Make me young and beautiful, please!

7-22-15: The Birdies pulling out of the driveway, headed for their Yellowstone
vacation (they had a good time).