Wednesday, July 23, 2014

The Recycling Bin

Things pin-balling around in my brain with no place to go other than here:

This summer there are a lot of fireflies.
More than usual it seems.
I'm not hating it.
It makes watering plants at night
seem like I am watering stars.

Be warned.
Anything that says "slimming" on the clothing tag,
does not mean slim through elimination.
That extra cushioning gots to go somewhere, girlfriend.
So make sure you find where it makes its new home
before you hypothetically purchase something without trying it on
and hypothetically take it to a family trip to the dells,
where you hypothetically discover that your nieces or nephews will not
need any flotation devices in the pool.
You do the math.

Was talking to a mom at a graduation party.
She was saying how in America, even our toys have toys.
I thought that sounded like a good article.
So I told her that.
Then I told her she should write it.
Which is why I don't have too much more to add onto the subject.

Planting things really makes you appreciate nature.
Yep. It's great.
But it also simultaneously makes you loathe the outdoors at the same time.
For example, I now consider any of these things below my arch nemesis(s):

Any variety of plant eating bug.
Spiders. (Ok, let's be real, I've always hated these).
Lack of rain.
Too much rain.
Peeing dogs.
Creeping Charlie.
Ivy. (That stuff just doesn't quit).
Sandy soil.
And chipmunks.
Just to name a few.
Ahhh gardening. That emotional time of year when you find yourself exclaiming,
"Oh it's so pretty!" and "Die, jerks, Die!" in the same breath.

Tips and tricks Pinterest will probably never teach you.

Ironing Boards:
Ain't nobody got time for that.
Sometimes a girls just gotta iron her shirt...
while the shirt is on.

Another use for palate wood:

How to save time polishing silver:
Don't buy real silver.

At some point in life, I started to become more comfortable
with those silent moments in conversation.
I used to think that as long as two people were always talking,
then it meant that you were always connecting.
And if you weren't, the silence was saying, "hey...something is awkward and off here..."
So I'd try to fill those gaps at all times, never wanting to be awkward or off with someone.
But how silly it is to think that any broken banter automatically equates broken relationships.
Silences can also say,
"Hey, when I'm with you, I am able to rest. Thanks for that."

Salamander Prayers.

Tonights classical radio station transitioned into a cello ensemble through a brief debut of the sciences. They stated that there are some newts and salamanders that hear with their lungs. They then compared this to skill of listening to music. Some compositions, they said, don't need to be heard through the auditory science of hammer, anvil, and stirrup. Rather, that some music can be taken in by breath, the richness of a melody brought into ones very being...

I know. I get it. It's the type of statement that if said out loud at a dinner table could come across as either extremely uppity... or just plain dumb.
However, regardless of my caution towards overly pretentious statements...
I find that I cannot escape the desire to have this "lung listening" be true of me.

So I am praying for something similar tonight...

Oh Lord, let this strange phenomenon be lived in me each hour. May I breathe you in as often as I do the air, and with each inhale, hear your unending symphony of promises-the bedrocks on which I have come to "live and move and have my being.

Sunday, July 13, 2014


Lights are not what make a dinner table shine.
Nor is food the thing that fills.
Flowers are not the incense
and the dishes don't offer up the nourishment.
It is not the candles that make each face glow,
and music is not what tunes every present heart.
True communion with ones neighbor only stems
from this reverent understanding:

I am here because of you,
and we are here because of Him

It is with this thought alone that we can truly say to one another,
"Come and dine."

When this rarity of occasions happen,
it is a feast reflectant of the heavens.

Anything less than selflessness when it comes to
table fellowship is but a mere cattle line-
troughs laden with fine china
and lace.