Probably the one who always wanted you to prepare his plate has figured out how to get his food some other way by now and is not starving.
That's right. It was my brother Zack. He has Downs Syndrome and as a small child, needed a lot of care and assistance. I was that care giver and assister for him. He grew to only let me get his plate of food, as well as want only my help with many other things. And now he's grown, quite the uncle and is a big help around the house. "I'm seventeen!" he'll tell us over and over... "You know why? Because Dad said so!"
Next time we get gas I'll have to try and find the button! :) thanks for informing me ahead of time that it is impossible to find.
The following comment will help you "find" that button...
Often the emergency shut off button is on the building.
Somehow I knew this person would say that! My question is... why would they put the button clear across the lot, on the building, several yards away from where the gas spill would be happening? It must not be THAT big of an emergency when gas spills. Or, maybe the gas station knows that the farther away the button is from the spill, the more gas will spill and the more somebody will have to pay for gas....? Now that's an idea.
You haven't failed as badly as I did if they aren't [potty] trained by 4.
4 would be awesome. At this point, I'll be satisfied to have it done by 16.
Build Noah's Ark!! The children will love that.
Landon actually mentioned this yesterday and thought we should just build an ark. Although, I think he'd like to have it just for a playhouse; not because the basement has a tendency towards leaks.
Potty training...well, they say every child is different (whoever 'they' are).
THEY are definitely right. I wish THEY would have advice for all the DIFFERENT children though since THEY seem to be so smart about what THEY SAY.
Was the slime a result of the toothbrush taking a vacation?
That must be what happened at your house once. Another good guess would've been along the lines of toddlers transferring saturated toothbrushes back into the toothbrush basket which in turn causes a collection of slime to build up. You get the idea.
Recycle that tooth brush to cleaning dirty corners in the bathroom, ie tubs and where toilet sits on the floor.
Great idea and one I plan to do when my kids are older. At this point, they have proven on many occasion that they are not shy about the toothbrush they put in their mouth and would use Toilet Toothbrush without care. Even just to suck on. Yeah... we just won't go there yet.
If the tooth brushes are stored standing on their handles so that the bristle ends can air between uses they probably don't develop the slime deposit so fast.
You know, I have thought of that suggestion since you mentioned it. I will actually have to blog about one reason why that can't work as much as I wish it could. (in a nutshell, we have no extra counter space for a tooth brush cup [nor do we have adequate space between shelves] and one of us has a toothbrush that has a handle that doesn't fit in cups very well... specifically toothbrush cups.)
You didn't mention me either. I fit in none of said categories. I am the sister commenter.
Elaborate more than that and I will design an unsaid category for you.
I was determined to comment, but could think of nothing to say. So, consider yourself commented...;-)
This is the best comment I have ever received. I am inspired by your determination.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
When It's Time To End The Series
That's all folks! My series of "When" posts have officially ended. It was good to feel the pressure I had from knowing I publically stated that there were several finished drafts in my drafts folder. Something about admitting that was like confessing something but yet not giving it up. I hated that some of you were suspecting that I may just be a procrastinater. (I finally got around to saying that...)
So, there you have it. Our "series" is ended.
The next week will find me busily enjoying company and filling up on girl time. A member from here and the author of here have embarked on a plan to come visit this ex-Wisconsin girl. Hopefully we can have a productive visit together and don't overload the men around here with too many silly laughs and "I-got-the-giggles-for-no-reason-again" moments. Although, something in me says that we will indeed laugh far too much. And drink way too much coffee. And stay up way too late. And be way too ambitious. And have way too much fun...
So, there you have it. Our "series" is ended.
The next week will find me busily enjoying company and filling up on girl time. A member from here and the author of here have embarked on a plan to come visit this ex-Wisconsin girl. Hopefully we can have a productive visit together and don't overload the men around here with too many silly laughs and "I-got-the-giggles-for-no-reason-again" moments. Although, something in me says that we will indeed laugh far too much. And drink way too much coffee. And stay up way too late. And be way too ambitious. And have way too much fun...
Saturday, April 19, 2008
When Knocking On Wood Is Something You Regret Doing
Just the other day, I was patting myself on the back (and knocking on wood) over something I had achieved for so long. In all my 4 years of motherhood, I had never once had to call the life-line for consultation and information: Poison Control. I had never had to endure the traumatic experience of a child ingesting a near-fatal substance or realize my darling baby had just consumed a poisonous substance.
Until the other day...
I was cleaning the guinea pig's cage and diligently performing virtuous womanly acts upon Alice's (the guinea pig) house. It was near sparkling and we were almost done when I requested one of my children give the wailing baby a toy to be entertained by. And what should the child-who's-name-we-will-not-disclose-at-this-time give the baby? A pee concentrated block of wood that has been sitting in guinea pig manure for several months. It was the chewing block for the guinea pig's sharp teeth but I think she had used it for her lavatory instead.
So the baby had guinea pig pee breath and guinea pig pee drool on his shirt and the end of the pee concentrated block had been sanitized with a saturation of the baby's own personal baby drool. I guess that was probably the cleanest the guinea pig's chewing block had been in a while.
As all mothers of the Twenty-first century do when they are in a predicament, I turned to Google and googled, "Infant swallowed guinea pig urine" but only got information about guinea pigs being used for laboratory use and how they're kidneys operate and make urine out of the laboratory-specimenal-concoctions administered for testing. That wasn't much help to me because I knew my guinea pig's kidneys were having no problem excreting urine. Hasn't any one's child ever swallowed guinea pig pee before? Apparently not.
At the suggestion of a close family member, I made the call to Poison Control and explained the dire situation. They concluded that the baby probably did not get enough to become contaminated and that I should just watch for signs of food poisoning... ie., diarrhea. "Wonderful," I thought to myself since he already had diarrhea thanks to all the teeth he is getting right now.
Surprisingly, he had no complications and he didn't even have diarrhea anymore either -- whether related or unrelated to the guinea pig pee block, his messed up bowels were no longer messed up.
And so ends another story on the reasoning that people should just really stop knocking on wood. It's also another confirmation that pride goes before a fall, just like the Proverb says. How sad that I use my baby as a guinea pig to test these theories though.
Until the other day...
I was cleaning the guinea pig's cage and diligently performing virtuous womanly acts upon Alice's (the guinea pig) house. It was near sparkling and we were almost done when I requested one of my children give the wailing baby a toy to be entertained by. And what should the child-who's-name-we-will-not-disclose-at-this-time give the baby? A pee concentrated block of wood that has been sitting in guinea pig manure for several months. It was the chewing block for the guinea pig's sharp teeth but I think she had used it for her lavatory instead.
So the baby had guinea pig pee breath and guinea pig pee drool on his shirt and the end of the pee concentrated block had been sanitized with a saturation of the baby's own personal baby drool. I guess that was probably the cleanest the guinea pig's chewing block had been in a while.
As all mothers of the Twenty-first century do when they are in a predicament, I turned to Google and googled, "Infant swallowed guinea pig urine" but only got information about guinea pigs being used for laboratory use and how they're kidneys operate and make urine out of the laboratory-specimenal-concoctions administered for testing. That wasn't much help to me because I knew my guinea pig's kidneys were having no problem excreting urine. Hasn't any one's child ever swallowed guinea pig pee before? Apparently not.
At the suggestion of a close family member, I made the call to Poison Control and explained the dire situation. They concluded that the baby probably did not get enough to become contaminated and that I should just watch for signs of food poisoning... ie., diarrhea. "Wonderful," I thought to myself since he already had diarrhea thanks to all the teeth he is getting right now.
Surprisingly, he had no complications and he didn't even have diarrhea anymore either -- whether related or unrelated to the guinea pig pee block, his messed up bowels were no longer messed up.
And so ends another story on the reasoning that people should just really stop knocking on wood. It's also another confirmation that pride goes before a fall, just like the Proverb says. How sad that I use my baby as a guinea pig to test these theories though.
Friday, April 18, 2008
When You Feel Like Blogging But Have Nothing To Say
Cry, Baby, Cry -- What a parent does in the throes of a cry baby moment. Or, at least what this parent did a few nights ago.
I'm Famous... Well, Not Really -- My family seems to be getting along just fine without me though. And that actually makes me feel good considering I used to live with those people and one of them would hardly let anyone else makes his plate of food except me. Yeah, I used to be really important back then. (like I'm not now. HA!)
I'm Famous... Well, Not Really -- My family seems to be getting along just fine without me though. And that actually makes me feel good considering I used to live with those people and one of them would hardly let anyone else makes his plate of food except me. Yeah, I used to be really important back then. (like I'm not now. HA!)
Thursday, April 17, 2008
When Being Informed Is Not Related To Being Prepared
In Case Of Emergency, Push The Invisible Button --
I was filling the van with gas the other day and happened to notice the warning that said "In Case of Emergency, Push Gas Shut-off Button" or something to that effect. Basically, if there was a fire or gas spill or if somebody started spraying you down with gas, hit the gas-shut-off button and you would be one step closer to resolving the problem.
So, before an accident occurred--not that I was expecting an accident but we all know what accidents are: something that happens unexpectedly (pregnancies happen unexpectedly too but they aren't what we'd call an "accident" necessarily. If that were the case, some of us would have "accidents" for children or perhaps would be "accidents" ourselves which I'm sure would not give these people a very good outlook on life so I won't throw the accident-definition-blanket over everything in life.)-- I decided to be a responsible citizen and get in touch with that gas shut off button. Like I said, I was only trying to be responsible.
As the tank filled with gas, I looked for that life saving button. I peered all over the structure the gas was coming out. I examined the support pillars. I checked everything in sight. I assumed that since an emergency situation would most likely happen in the vicinity of where I was using the gas, the gas-shut-off button should be in close proximity. But, it wasn't.
I never found the emergency button. Good thing there was no emergency that day or I'd still be looking for that button. Or, worse yet, I could be dead by now. Now isn't that a morbid thought?
I was filling the van with gas the other day and happened to notice the warning that said "In Case of Emergency, Push Gas Shut-off Button" or something to that effect. Basically, if there was a fire or gas spill or if somebody started spraying you down with gas, hit the gas-shut-off button and you would be one step closer to resolving the problem.
So, before an accident occurred--not that I was expecting an accident but we all know what accidents are: something that happens unexpectedly (pregnancies happen unexpectedly too but they aren't what we'd call an "accident" necessarily. If that were the case, some of us would have "accidents" for children or perhaps would be "accidents" ourselves which I'm sure would not give these people a very good outlook on life so I won't throw the accident-definition-blanket over everything in life.)-- I decided to be a responsible citizen and get in touch with that gas shut off button. Like I said, I was only trying to be responsible.
As the tank filled with gas, I looked for that life saving button. I peered all over the structure the gas was coming out. I examined the support pillars. I checked everything in sight. I assumed that since an emergency situation would most likely happen in the vicinity of where I was using the gas, the gas-shut-off button should be in close proximity. But, it wasn't.
I never found the emergency button. Good thing there was no emergency that day or I'd still be looking for that button. Or, worse yet, I could be dead by now. Now isn't that a morbid thought?
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
When Lemonade And Potty Training Are Hard To Do
When Life Gives You Lemons -- Just hope the lemons are good enough to make lemonade out of. This Old House has been, well, an experience. We are on standstill AGAIN. Although this time, the rooms and the entire perimeter have been framed, electricalled and the new stair way built and we were ready to drywall. And then the rain came. And then the floor leaked. And then we knew our problem was not fixed. Back to square one, here we come! We are making plans to just build an ark instead so that whether rain or shine, we will be dry. And so will our house.
Potty Training 101 does not work 100% all the time. If it works on Child #1, it is not guaranteed to be successful with subsequent children in your family. It may have just been a coincidence that it worked even just once. Or, it may only work for a select handful of boys. Or, it may only work for one boy. Or, worst case scenario, it may not work at all. Just thought I would throw that disclaimer out there.
Potty Training 101 does not work 100% all the time. If it works on Child #1, it is not guaranteed to be successful with subsequent children in your family. It may have just been a coincidence that it worked even just once. Or, it may only work for a select handful of boys. Or, it may only work for one boy. Or, worst case scenario, it may not work at all. Just thought I would throw that disclaimer out there.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
When Brushing Your Teeth Backfires
We all know we should change our tooth brushes every 3 months, right? Or, immediately following a cold or illness, right? Or, if the bristles become slightly over used, right? Or, if a stranger breaks into your bathroom and helps himself to your toothbrush, right? You knew all that, didn't you? (In case you didn't, now you know.)
Anyway, I learned recently that even if you follow the above Toothbrush Rule, there still can be one more guideline that up until now has been unknown to mankind and has never been mentioned in toothbrush etiquette books. Reason Number Five To Replace Toothbrush Is:
Brown, stinky slime that adheres to the back of the toothbrush.
And when you find it, don't use the toothbrush like I did. Your mouth will taste the way a musty basement smells and it will take several days to feel clean again.
The best way I can find to stay up-to-date on the condition of your toothbrush is to avoid using toothpaste for random brushings on random days. Kinda like your smoke alarm battery... you don't wait until there's a fire to test out your smoke alarm battery, you just change that battery when you re-set your clocks. (the only thing DST is good for in my opinion.)
So, skip the paste for once tonight and just make sure your toothbrush is in good working order. If everything tastes good to you, resume normal brushing habits in the next day or two and hope that the slime doesn't appear between brushings.
On second thought, maybe you should just visually examine your toothbrush before you brush your teeth the next time. And if you see the brown gooey stuff, just throw the tooth brush out and don't try to taste it. I can assure you it is not a good thing to try.
Anyway, I learned recently that even if you follow the above Toothbrush Rule, there still can be one more guideline that up until now has been unknown to mankind and has never been mentioned in toothbrush etiquette books. Reason Number Five To Replace Toothbrush Is:
Brown, stinky slime that adheres to the back of the toothbrush.
And when you find it, don't use the toothbrush like I did. Your mouth will taste the way a musty basement smells and it will take several days to feel clean again.
The best way I can find to stay up-to-date on the condition of your toothbrush is to avoid using toothpaste for random brushings on random days. Kinda like your smoke alarm battery... you don't wait until there's a fire to test out your smoke alarm battery, you just change that battery when you re-set your clocks. (the only thing DST is good for in my opinion.)
So, skip the paste for once tonight and just make sure your toothbrush is in good working order. If everything tastes good to you, resume normal brushing habits in the next day or two and hope that the slime doesn't appear between brushings.
On second thought, maybe you should just visually examine your toothbrush before you brush your teeth the next time. And if you see the brown gooey stuff, just throw the tooth brush out and don't try to taste it. I can assure you it is not a good thing to try.
Monday, April 14, 2008
For Your (but not you literally) Information
There is a ***Disclaimer*** at the end of my "about me" just to your left in the profile. Read and be informed.
This announcement is made for no one in particular and particularly for no one single person. Do not take this personally. I am only informing the general public of a necessary piece of information intended for the betterment of the general population's well-being.
(This post was first published April 14, 2008 in an attempt to resolve potential issues with non-existent readers that will hopefully evolve to potential readers with non-existent issues. This post is randomly republished at random times on random dates.)
This announcement is made for no one in particular and particularly for no one single person. Do not take this personally. I am only informing the general public of a necessary piece of information intended for the betterment of the general population's well-being.
(This post was first published April 14, 2008 in an attempt to resolve potential issues with non-existent readers that will hopefully evolve to potential readers with non-existent issues. This post is randomly republished at random times on random dates.)
(un) Related Randomness
I have a week's worth of blogs in my drafts bin just waiting to be published. Not that I will publish them all in a sequence of days that will fill up a week but it is definitely a thought. And a good one at that. (I am saying this to self motivate myself; not leave you on the edge of your seat in anticipational excitement.)
So, stay tuned for a series of posts that are filled with horrific and heroic tales of buttons for gas spills and how (not) to use your baby as a guinea pig for ingested guinea pig urine.
So, stay tuned for a series of posts that are filled with horrific and heroic tales of buttons for gas spills and how (not) to use your baby as a guinea pig for ingested guinea pig urine.
Readers Unite
The other day I had over 1,000 page views on my blog. Either somebody really likes me or somebody really hates me and is trying to find everything they can about me on my blog. Or, there were several new visitors to my blog that day. No matter what the case was, I got some interesting comments.
Some of you gave constructive criticism. Others had nothing nice to say. And some just plain did not understand my blog. Then there were some that were compliments. But of course, the rest of you just silently read and went on to whatever you were going to do next.
By breaking up my readers into 5 categories, I have a customized message for each one of you. Please read and be informed....
The Constructive Critics: I love you guys! You are what my blog needs and what I appreciate. Criticism usually hurts but when done constructively, it is vital to the survival of communication and especially blogging. I don't want to sound like a broken record (you can tell me to change the topic if I keep talking about DST or some other much-noted-upon topic) or if I let my mispelings go un-noticed (be my spell-check when blogger's spell-checker refuses to work -- which is more often than not) or when I fail to appreciate proper grammar (there ain't no way I'm gonna let my proper grammer just because we was careless). But, I don't understand the anonymity you often hide behind. If it makes you feel better, fine, select "anonymous" when you comment but really, I don't mind seeing your face once in awhile. I promise I won't bite!
Unfriendly Commenter's: Let me just tell you a little tip on etiquette my mother once taught me... "If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all." That has been a piece of advice that I have used over and over. And am using right now actually.
Unintentionally Uninformed Commenter's: (Shared both in blogger's comments and sometimes in person) You are the people that visit once and take everything I write seriously and then comment that I made no sense at all and that you think I need to re-think my thoughts on certain matters. You are the people that lack a sense of humor. So, because of you dear folks, I have been inspired. I am invoking change on my blog: the birth of a new disclaimer. Hopefully that will set you at ease and help you know that really, I am not seeking marriage counseling because of my husband's radio.
Friendly Commenter's: You guys are great and keep me informed as to who exactly my audience is. Thanks for all the contributions to the Q and A posts.
Silent Readers: You guys are great too. You keep my stat counter ticking and shocking me unexpectedly when it shoots up toward 1,000 in one day. Thanks for your contributions to my stat counter.
If you are a rare person and find yourself in none of the above categories, send me an email or comment here so I can better understand your breed of blog readers and can hopefully compose a customized message for you as well.
Some of you gave constructive criticism. Others had nothing nice to say. And some just plain did not understand my blog. Then there were some that were compliments. But of course, the rest of you just silently read and went on to whatever you were going to do next.
By breaking up my readers into 5 categories, I have a customized message for each one of you. Please read and be informed....
The Constructive Critics: I love you guys! You are what my blog needs and what I appreciate. Criticism usually hurts but when done constructively, it is vital to the survival of communication and especially blogging. I don't want to sound like a broken record (you can tell me to change the topic if I keep talking about DST or some other much-noted-upon topic) or if I let my mispelings go un-noticed (be my spell-check when blogger's spell-checker refuses to work -- which is more often than not) or when I fail to appreciate proper grammar (there ain't no way I'm gonna let my proper grammer just because we was careless). But, I don't understand the anonymity you often hide behind. If it makes you feel better, fine, select "anonymous" when you comment but really, I don't mind seeing your face once in awhile. I promise I won't bite!
Unfriendly Commenter's: Let me just tell you a little tip on etiquette my mother once taught me... "If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all." That has been a piece of advice that I have used over and over. And am using right now actually.
Unintentionally Uninformed Commenter's: (Shared both in blogger's comments and sometimes in person) You are the people that visit once and take everything I write seriously and then comment that I made no sense at all and that you think I need to re-think my thoughts on certain matters. You are the people that lack a sense of humor. So, because of you dear folks, I have been inspired. I am invoking change on my blog: the birth of a new disclaimer. Hopefully that will set you at ease and help you know that really, I am not seeking marriage counseling because of my husband's radio.
Friendly Commenter's: You guys are great and keep me informed as to who exactly my audience is. Thanks for all the contributions to the Q and A posts.
Silent Readers: You guys are great too. You keep my stat counter ticking and shocking me unexpectedly when it shoots up toward 1,000 in one day. Thanks for your contributions to my stat counter.
If you are a rare person and find yourself in none of the above categories, send me an email or comment here so I can better understand your breed of blog readers and can hopefully compose a customized message for you as well.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Absent From The Body...
but, present with the Lord.
A good friend and faithful reader is grieving the loss of her husband tonight. After a long and courageous battle with diabetes and other health complications, her husband moved on to his reward in heaven this morning.
There are other close family members (some are here and here) who also traffic my blog and comment and I just want to say to you loved ones as well that we are thinking of you and praying for you and are thankful for the hope that heaven has for us as believers in Jesus.
Goodbyes are hard and we send our condolences. May God be with the John Van Essen family.
A good friend and faithful reader is grieving the loss of her husband tonight. After a long and courageous battle with diabetes and other health complications, her husband moved on to his reward in heaven this morning.
There are other close family members (some are here and here) who also traffic my blog and comment and I just want to say to you loved ones as well that we are thinking of you and praying for you and are thankful for the hope that heaven has for us as believers in Jesus.
Goodbyes are hard and we send our condolences. May God be with the John Van Essen family.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Recycled and Rehashed Rudiments Recomposed
You should get a cat like mine! ;-) Male, neutered, no roaming, no heat...perfect! :-)
That's a good idea. I'll take him.
I've always felt rather guilty for not liking dogs and cats--I mean it's about as mean and uncaring as you can get not to like a fluffy cat or something :)
I'd actually take a bug (up to a certain size) over a dog. Bizarre, I know.
Bizarre as that is, I can almost agree with you (but I still detest bugs). Don't feel guilty. I too hate cats.
Okay if it is okay for you to not like bugs then I can still hate frogs!!! I am so sure you know what my great sister did to me at Christmas. It is funny now but not at the moment. If you don't know just ask her I'm sure she would love to tell you.
I support your right to hate frogs. But, I also support my right to not hate frogs and your sister's right to do what she did on that fateful Christmas day. I loved that story. :)
This turned out to be a "bugable" blog. You may need to invest in some bug houses. We ARE getting into the buggier time of the year.
I agree with the first and last point you made in your comment but I strongly disagree with investing in bug houses. For one, that would not be an investment. For two, I would not invite a bug to live anywhere (he can find his own house). And for three, I do not want to own a house a bug is welcomed to live in. But, I do understand what you mean.
Notice your comment from Celular. It seems to come from Brazil.
I have an idea it's actually an automated advertising system that's apt to appear on your blog if your blog's Word Verification is not enabled. In one night alone about a year ago, I received over 230 such comments.
The opposite of "far-sighted" is "near-sighted", not "short-sighted". Although I was very flattered that you considered me intelligent enough to diagnose your eye condition from afar, without actually seeing you, I thought I'd better correct your misconception.
Thank you for enlightening me. I "see" your point now. Are you also saying that if you saw me, you'd be able to tell me whether or not I need glasses? If that's the case, I'm sure you're cheaper than an Opthamologist. I'll be right over.
As far as a time for "Everything under the sun," I think it still proves my point that DST wasn't invented by the time of the "publishing" of Ecclesiastes, as it wasn't listed, but I suppose there is a "time" to change the time. (or at least now there is)
The Preacher in Ecclesiastes was not referring to things that may happen under the sun somewhere in the near future unless you line that up with the verse that talks about "Evil men and seducers shall wax worse and worse..." That's how we got DST. Somewhere in the future, they'll be making us change our clocks several times in one day... if we don't stop the waxing evil of the seducers.
What time did the alarm go off?
It was right around the time I wrote that blog -- around 7:30 - 8 in the morning. Since the happening of DST, most of my children are still enjoying sleep at that hour. (or is it me enjoying them sleeping???)
Pagers sound good. The expense of that would probably have to be taken out of some of your local taxes. Since it is done by volunteers, there would be a longer list of people who would volunteer than would be needed at any given fire. It would be costly.
Those are all very valid reasons and I'm sure probably applicable in our small town. Interestingly enough, the sirens went off the other day and no body responded: I inadvertently and unintentionally had a colleague staked out near the fire station just before the siren went off. They reported that no one single person responded to the call. Just think of all the small children that were awakened needlessly by the pointless alarm. It's a shame -- in more ways than one. (I hope the person that dialed 911 didn't really need help...)
One thing I learned: You can tell if there is a storm coming by watching the behavior of the kids. They get very restless and don't pay attention as well.
And then when they finally settle down and go to sleep, the siren goes off. I know that story well.
That's a good idea. I'll take him.
I've always felt rather guilty for not liking dogs and cats--I mean it's about as mean and uncaring as you can get not to like a fluffy cat or something :)
I'd actually take a bug (up to a certain size) over a dog. Bizarre, I know.
Bizarre as that is, I can almost agree with you (but I still detest bugs). Don't feel guilty. I too hate cats.
Okay if it is okay for you to not like bugs then I can still hate frogs!!! I am so sure you know what my great sister did to me at Christmas. It is funny now but not at the moment. If you don't know just ask her I'm sure she would love to tell you.
I support your right to hate frogs. But, I also support my right to not hate frogs and your sister's right to do what she did on that fateful Christmas day. I loved that story. :)
This turned out to be a "bugable" blog. You may need to invest in some bug houses. We ARE getting into the buggier time of the year.
I agree with the first and last point you made in your comment but I strongly disagree with investing in bug houses. For one, that would not be an investment. For two, I would not invite a bug to live anywhere (he can find his own house). And for three, I do not want to own a house a bug is welcomed to live in. But, I do understand what you mean.
Notice your comment from Celular. It seems to come from Brazil.
I have an idea it's actually an automated advertising system that's apt to appear on your blog if your blog's Word Verification is not enabled. In one night alone about a year ago, I received over 230 such comments.
The opposite of "far-sighted" is "near-sighted", not "short-sighted". Although I was very flattered that you considered me intelligent enough to diagnose your eye condition from afar, without actually seeing you, I thought I'd better correct your misconception.
Thank you for enlightening me. I "see" your point now. Are you also saying that if you saw me, you'd be able to tell me whether or not I need glasses? If that's the case, I'm sure you're cheaper than an Opthamologist. I'll be right over.
As far as a time for "Everything under the sun," I think it still proves my point that DST wasn't invented by the time of the "publishing" of Ecclesiastes, as it wasn't listed, but I suppose there is a "time" to change the time. (or at least now there is)
The Preacher in Ecclesiastes was not referring to things that may happen under the sun somewhere in the near future unless you line that up with the verse that talks about "Evil men and seducers shall wax worse and worse..." That's how we got DST. Somewhere in the future, they'll be making us change our clocks several times in one day... if we don't stop the waxing evil of the seducers.
What time did the alarm go off?
It was right around the time I wrote that blog -- around 7:30 - 8 in the morning. Since the happening of DST, most of my children are still enjoying sleep at that hour. (or is it me enjoying them sleeping???)
Pagers sound good. The expense of that would probably have to be taken out of some of your local taxes. Since it is done by volunteers, there would be a longer list of people who would volunteer than would be needed at any given fire. It would be costly.
Those are all very valid reasons and I'm sure probably applicable in our small town. Interestingly enough, the sirens went off the other day and no body responded: I inadvertently and unintentionally had a colleague staked out near the fire station just before the siren went off. They reported that no one single person responded to the call. Just think of all the small children that were awakened needlessly by the pointless alarm. It's a shame -- in more ways than one. (I hope the person that dialed 911 didn't really need help...)
One thing I learned: You can tell if there is a storm coming by watching the behavior of the kids. They get very restless and don't pay attention as well.
And then when they finally settle down and go to sleep, the siren goes off. I know that story well.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Fear of Frogs Song
Just for Kim; my frog-hating friend who I am actually related to through my network of extended relatives. This song is for you.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Google Goes Amish
I came to my home page today (and for those of you that don't know, that would be google.com) and what should I find but the background of the screen was black (and for those of you that don't know, Google's normal color is white) but the words were all normal. Thinking it was my perpetually problematic computer, I chalked it up to Toshiba's ever failing computer system.
Until I read this...
"We've turned the lights out. Now it's your turn -- Earth Hour."
What is this? Some mad environmentalist that wants to do something about "saving the earth" so he invokes his new scheme on the rest of the world? I'm kinda thinking this guy is friends with the DST dude.
Okay, I can handle my google.com page being black, although a black computer screen is simply one of the most annoying experiences one can have when surfing the web. I. do. not. like. black. sites. They are cheesy and classless and hard to read and hurt your eyes. But, I can handle them. If your blog is black, please know I am not directing this statement at you -- it's a free country and I support your right to have a blog that is black.
So, like I said, I can handle google.com being black. (This is starting to sound like a racial post now but I'm not a racists, really, I'm not. I'm actually related to some black people.)
As I was saying, I read the Google Earth Hour site so that I would more fully understand the reason behind my annoying black screen. I read it more for kicks than anything else though. This had to be some bored, hilarious college kid that hacked into google's system and goofed up the template colors. Unfortunately, it was no joke. The Google Professionals (which would actually be graduated college kids) intentionally made their screen black (this was no hacker's work) but the reason they did it seemed even more senseless than a college kid's joke (pardon the slam on you college kids; I'm not slamming you, really, I'm not. I'm actually related to one of you)...
"On Saturday, March 29, 2008, Earth Hour invites people around the world to turn off their lights for one hour – from 8:00pm to 9:00pm in their local time zone. On this day, cities around the world, including Copenhagen, Chicago, Melbourne, Dubai, and Tel Aviv, will hold events to acknowledge their commitment to energy conservation."
What a great idea. Just think of the mass confusion this will cause around the world. At the same time. This is borderline Apocalypse if you ask me. Perhaps we are manually setting ourselves in the end time this very night.
--Scores of people will light open flames in their homes in order to see in the dark without using electricity. (I'm sure we'll hear a siren tonight.)
--Scads of families will leave their table top games and sit in the dark around the TV instead filling their minds with meaningless, mindless, memories.
--Moms will order carryout if they haven't made supper yet.
--Dads will resort to computers instead of reading books to their children.
--Millions will drive in the dark without headlights. (Resulting in more sirens.)
--Emergency rooms will be flooded with people suffering from STD (stubbed toe disease), Osteomyelitis, Subungual Hematoma, disorientation and overall confusion. Plus, the perilous certainty all the headlight-less vehicles will cause.
This does not sound like a good way to save the earth if you ask me.
So folks, shut your lights off just after the sun has set, grope helplessly in the dark through your blackened homes, and embrace this universal celebration called "Earth Hour."
Basically, go Amish on us. But, don't hurt yourself.
Until I read this...
"We've turned the lights out. Now it's your turn -- Earth Hour."
What is this? Some mad environmentalist that wants to do something about "saving the earth" so he invokes his new scheme on the rest of the world? I'm kinda thinking this guy is friends with the DST dude.
Okay, I can handle my google.com page being black, although a black computer screen is simply one of the most annoying experiences one can have when surfing the web. I. do. not. like. black. sites. They are cheesy and classless and hard to read and hurt your eyes. But, I can handle them. If your blog is black, please know I am not directing this statement at you -- it's a free country and I support your right to have a blog that is black.
So, like I said, I can handle google.com being black. (This is starting to sound like a racial post now but I'm not a racists, really, I'm not. I'm actually related to some black people.)
As I was saying, I read the Google Earth Hour site so that I would more fully understand the reason behind my annoying black screen. I read it more for kicks than anything else though. This had to be some bored, hilarious college kid that hacked into google's system and goofed up the template colors. Unfortunately, it was no joke. The Google Professionals (which would actually be graduated college kids) intentionally made their screen black (this was no hacker's work) but the reason they did it seemed even more senseless than a college kid's joke (pardon the slam on you college kids; I'm not slamming you, really, I'm not. I'm actually related to one of you)...
"On Saturday, March 29, 2008, Earth Hour invites people around the world to turn off their lights for one hour – from 8:00pm to 9:00pm in their local time zone. On this day, cities around the world, including Copenhagen, Chicago, Melbourne, Dubai, and Tel Aviv, will hold events to acknowledge their commitment to energy conservation."
What a great idea. Just think of the mass confusion this will cause around the world. At the same time. This is borderline Apocalypse if you ask me. Perhaps we are manually setting ourselves in the end time this very night.
--Scores of people will light open flames in their homes in order to see in the dark without using electricity. (I'm sure we'll hear a siren tonight.)
--Scads of families will leave their table top games and sit in the dark around the TV instead filling their minds with meaningless, mindless, memories.
--Moms will order carryout if they haven't made supper yet.
--Dads will resort to computers instead of reading books to their children.
--Millions will drive in the dark without headlights. (Resulting in more sirens.)
--Emergency rooms will be flooded with people suffering from STD (stubbed toe disease), Osteomyelitis, Subungual Hematoma, disorientation and overall confusion. Plus, the perilous certainty all the headlight-less vehicles will cause.
This does not sound like a good way to save the earth if you ask me.
So folks, shut your lights off just after the sun has set, grope helplessly in the dark through your blackened homes, and embrace this universal celebration called "Earth Hour."
Basically, go Amish on us. But, don't hurt yourself.
The 9,731st Thing I've Learned The Hard Way
Never get a cat. Period. Just don't. No matter how cute they look, seem, feel, act or how many mice you have or think you have, just don't get a cat. Get a stuffed animal to cuddle for you and buy a trap for the mice.
My experience has been this:
Picture a cute, cuddly, friendly, well mannered cat. A nice picture, right? Indeed she was.
Now, picture this cute cat a few months later. Got it?
Picture her walking through your basement.
Just slowly walking, normally, nothing real exciting about her gait, walking from one end to the other.
Are you picturing it?
Now, mix in some sound to your picture. Mix in the sound of a howling/pathetic/painful/cry/wail/loud blend. Got it?
Listen to the sound for week after week after week after week. Yeah, that's right. For that long. Listen to it until you have visions of manually strangling the sweet creature simply because you have become delirious.
You probably will comment now and say, "Oh, your cat is in heat." If she's in heat, honey, she is perpetually fertile.
That's our cat for you. Such a sweet thing.
My experience has been this:
Picture a cute, cuddly, friendly, well mannered cat. A nice picture, right? Indeed she was.
Now, picture this cute cat a few months later. Got it?
Picture her walking through your basement.
Just slowly walking, normally, nothing real exciting about her gait, walking from one end to the other.
Are you picturing it?
Now, mix in some sound to your picture. Mix in the sound of a howling/pathetic/painful/cry/wail/loud blend. Got it?
Listen to the sound for week after week after week after week. Yeah, that's right. For that long. Listen to it until you have visions of manually strangling the sweet creature simply because you have become delirious.
You probably will comment now and say, "Oh, your cat is in heat." If she's in heat, honey, she is perpetually fertile.
That's our cat for you. Such a sweet thing.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Random Realities
It is interesting as a blogger to find out how some of my readers stumble on my site. I checked the referring sites that directed readers to my blog. Google (as well as other search engines) had a selection of referrals I thought was almost too much to believe. This is how people found my blog (though accidentally) through various search engines: (in bold)
What to expect after 5 years of marriage
3 kids, your 4th house, a dog, cat, guinea pig and finally a full set of China. Oh, and you haven't seen nothin' yet when it comes to love until you've been married 5 years.
The origin of daylight savings time
I'm sorry I mislead you. I really didn't know what I was talking about when I wrote that post.
Reasons to love mother-in-law
I can give several reasons why I love mine.
The origin of dst
Sounds to me like a lot of other people besides myself were thinking about this too.
Why does banana black when leave in the open?
When you figure that one out, come back and tell us how they turn into giant oozing slugs in the fridge, will ya?
Things but can do for our anniversary
Does you search engine except typos?
Chipped tooth in a child
I know. Isn't that awful? It'll wreck all her pictures until that tooth falls out. Just deal with it. Glue doesn't fix this either.
How do I leave a man after 11 yrs, marriage and 5 children?
Yeah, how could you?
Flubber assessments
Check amounts at hips and assess how much more is there now then there was 10 years ago. Write full assessment in journal and then have a coffee break. And whatever you do, don't declare out loud that your hips feel just like flubber.
What to do for my husband for our anniversary
This old song says it best... "Show him that you care... just for him,
Do the things that he likes to do,
Wear your hair... just for him...
Then hold him, and kiss him, and squeeze him, and love him, just do it and after you do, you will be his."
What to expect after 5 years of marriage
3 kids, your 4th house, a dog, cat, guinea pig and finally a full set of China. Oh, and you haven't seen nothin' yet when it comes to love until you've been married 5 years.
The origin of daylight savings time
I'm sorry I mislead you. I really didn't know what I was talking about when I wrote that post.
Reasons to love mother-in-law
I can give several reasons why I love mine.
The origin of dst
Sounds to me like a lot of other people besides myself were thinking about this too.
Why does banana black when leave in the open?
When you figure that one out, come back and tell us how they turn into giant oozing slugs in the fridge, will ya?
Things but can do for our anniversary
Does you search engine except typos?
Chipped tooth in a child
I know. Isn't that awful? It'll wreck all her pictures until that tooth falls out. Just deal with it. Glue doesn't fix this either.
How do I leave a man after 11 yrs, marriage and 5 children?
Yeah, how could you?
Flubber assessments
Check amounts at hips and assess how much more is there now then there was 10 years ago. Write full assessment in journal and then have a coffee break. And whatever you do, don't declare out loud that your hips feel just like flubber.
What to do for my husband for our anniversary
This old song says it best... "Show him that you care... just for him,
Do the things that he likes to do,
Wear your hair... just for him...
Then hold him, and kiss him, and squeeze him, and love him, just do it and after you do, you will be his."
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Bugs And Why Not To Avoid Them
There is a pressing subject I am forced into discussing here. I have had 3 Things happen that confirm I must discuss this, or else. I am not really enthusiastic about waiting for another situation to arise to further confirm the necessity of this discussion, so I will just do it now before Thing Number Four takes place.
Okay, I hate bugs. There, now you know.
What does that have to do with this post? Everything.
Let me explain....
Thing Number One:
I was cleaning up Toby's newspaper one day (a daily chore I enjoy doing whether I want to or not) and was casually leafing through the pages. I stumbled upon (what I was sure was probably) an interesting article but then quickly slammed the next page on top of it, as if closing the door of possibilities for the contents on that page to spill out on my dining room table. You see, the page had a HUGE microscopically magnified bug head and it covered almost half the page. (I hate bugs.) It had hairy particles, defecating substance like shards and was looking right off the page with it's huge, beady bug eyes. (I really hate bugs.)
Now, I'm sure the article was all about bugs and how to avoid them and how they live with us and how we can't get ride of them and how millions of tiny bugs probably inhabit the very keyboard I am typing on and how counter tops in my kitchen are really not very clean because of these hidden bugs that stay behind even when a wash rag wipes across the counter and how being sick is confirmation that a bug is in your house and that kids are very susceptible to bugs because of their germy attraction in life, etc. I didn't want to be reminded of the inevitable. So, I threw the paper out, thankful that the giant bug was going with it.
Thing Number Two:
I thought that was the end of it. Until a kind reader sent me a clipping from the paper and sweetly mailed it to me. I was looking at that bug again. The dear reader just thought a few details about bugs would be a fun thing to blog about. (I must admit it is.)
Okay, I like my blog, I HATE bugs. So, why would I destroy something I like with something I hate? Folks, I have learned that sometimes life is like that. It's reality.
Thing Number Three:
You guessed it: my kid.
So, there you have it. When life throws you bugs, write a blog. When bugs get you down, fight back with a blog. And if you really want to learn some interesting facts about bugs (and even if you really don't want to know), read the inevitable truth. Or else.
“Bugs are an inevitable fact of life. Try to find a deeper understanding. We need them more than they need us, in a weird way..."
(Thanks to PVE for the blog inspiration! And Bug Off? Please don't!)
Okay, I hate bugs. There, now you know.
What does that have to do with this post? Everything.
Let me explain....
Thing Number One:
I was cleaning up Toby's newspaper one day (a daily chore I enjoy doing whether I want to or not) and was casually leafing through the pages. I stumbled upon (what I was sure was probably) an interesting article but then quickly slammed the next page on top of it, as if closing the door of possibilities for the contents on that page to spill out on my dining room table. You see, the page had a HUGE microscopically magnified bug head and it covered almost half the page. (I hate bugs.) It had hairy particles, defecating substance like shards and was looking right off the page with it's huge, beady bug eyes. (I really hate bugs.)
Now, I'm sure the article was all about bugs and how to avoid them and how they live with us and how we can't get ride of them and how millions of tiny bugs probably inhabit the very keyboard I am typing on and how counter tops in my kitchen are really not very clean because of these hidden bugs that stay behind even when a wash rag wipes across the counter and how being sick is confirmation that a bug is in your house and that kids are very susceptible to bugs because of their germy attraction in life, etc. I didn't want to be reminded of the inevitable. So, I threw the paper out, thankful that the giant bug was going with it.
Thing Number Two:
I thought that was the end of it. Until a kind reader sent me a clipping from the paper and sweetly mailed it to me. I was looking at that bug again. The dear reader just thought a few details about bugs would be a fun thing to blog about. (I must admit it is.)
Okay, I like my blog, I HATE bugs. So, why would I destroy something I like with something I hate? Folks, I have learned that sometimes life is like that. It's reality.
Thing Number Three:
You guessed it: my kid.
So, there you have it. When life throws you bugs, write a blog. When bugs get you down, fight back with a blog. And if you really want to learn some interesting facts about bugs (and even if you really don't want to know), read the inevitable truth. Or else.
“Bugs are an inevitable fact of life. Try to find a deeper understanding. We need them more than they need us, in a weird way..."
(Thanks to PVE for the blog inspiration! And Bug Off? Please don't!)
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The Defecation Dilemma
I learned something new today. I learned what it means to go From Bad To Worse. I've learned it before on different levels but never on this one. It is a lot more complicated than you think but seriously, when it happens to you, you'll know.
It had been a long day. I was sicker than a dog with the flu and with a cold and with a head ache but all my kids were fine, dandy, chipper and energetic. Okay, I need to emphasis right now that I love it when my kids are healthy--I really do-- but I do NOT appreciate the days when their energy levels are more superb than mine. And today was such a day.
Everything was actually going pretty well, I must admit. Landon had gone with Toby to work (a somewhat rarity since he's not legally big enough to be on a roof)... lunch was finished... Alex was nursing (a somewhat rarity since he is weaning himself)... I had just built a sweet little Lincoln Log homestead for Janae to play with (a somewhat rarity since I don't usually play with toys very often anymore)... Janae was happy, content and entertaining herself (a somewhat rarity since she is, well, 2)... I was peacefully browsing Facebook having just stumbled upon a photo album of a friend from my childhood... when IT happened: my nose started dripping. (remember the part about a cold?)
No Kleenex was in reach. I wasn't about to use my sleeve, or the baby's sleeve. And just across the room a sterilized, clean, white box of Kleenex sat waiting for me to reach out and grab it. But, like I said, it was across the room.
I have a very able bodied 2-year-old (remember the part about energy levels?) so I requested her to fetch me a Kleenex. I put it in 2-year-old language and she fully comprehended her mission. BUT, she dawdled. And my nose drip started getting tickly. And that box of Kleenex was so tantalizing. And she continued to meander slowly towards the object of my desire.
While emphasising "Hurry." "Run." "Go faster." "You need to do it FAST." "When I say hurry, run." "I neeeeed that Kleenex now." "You do not go slow." etc., she continued her meandering journey across the room with my much coveted upon Kleenex.
Just as she was about to hand it to me (remember the part about my nose dripping?) she calmly began to wipe a mysterious substance on my Kleenex and then IT happened. (remember the part about going from bad to worse?)
The Worse happened. Things were no longer bad anymore. They were dramatically, drastically, disgustingly, defacatingly worse.
You guessed it: it was poop. All over my precious Kleenex.
No wonder I'm sicker than a dog.
(For the record, this child of mine has very little attraction towards defecating dilemmas, thankfully. But, her brother has a whole different record, unfortunately.)
It had been a long day. I was sicker than a dog with the flu and with a cold and with a head ache but all my kids were fine, dandy, chipper and energetic. Okay, I need to emphasis right now that I love it when my kids are healthy--I really do-- but I do NOT appreciate the days when their energy levels are more superb than mine. And today was such a day.
Everything was actually going pretty well, I must admit. Landon had gone with Toby to work (a somewhat rarity since he's not legally big enough to be on a roof)... lunch was finished... Alex was nursing (a somewhat rarity since he is weaning himself)... I had just built a sweet little Lincoln Log homestead for Janae to play with (a somewhat rarity since I don't usually play with toys very often anymore)... Janae was happy, content and entertaining herself (a somewhat rarity since she is, well, 2)... I was peacefully browsing Facebook having just stumbled upon a photo album of a friend from my childhood... when IT happened: my nose started dripping. (remember the part about a cold?)
No Kleenex was in reach. I wasn't about to use my sleeve, or the baby's sleeve. And just across the room a sterilized, clean, white box of Kleenex sat waiting for me to reach out and grab it. But, like I said, it was across the room.
I have a very able bodied 2-year-old (remember the part about energy levels?) so I requested her to fetch me a Kleenex. I put it in 2-year-old language and she fully comprehended her mission. BUT, she dawdled. And my nose drip started getting tickly. And that box of Kleenex was so tantalizing. And she continued to meander slowly towards the object of my desire.
While emphasising "Hurry." "Run." "Go faster." "You need to do it FAST." "When I say hurry, run." "I neeeeed that Kleenex now." "You do not go slow." etc., she continued her meandering journey across the room with my much coveted upon Kleenex.
Just as she was about to hand it to me (remember the part about my nose dripping?) she calmly began to wipe a mysterious substance on my Kleenex and then IT happened. (remember the part about going from bad to worse?)
The Worse happened. Things were no longer bad anymore. They were dramatically, drastically, disgustingly, defacatingly worse.
You guessed it: it was poop. All over my precious Kleenex.
No wonder I'm sicker than a dog.
(For the record, this child of mine has very little attraction towards defecating dilemmas, thankfully. But, her brother has a whole different record, unfortunately.)
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
I. Don't. Get. It.
It's early in the morning. The whole house is sleeping (except for me and the dad who already left for work.) The dog isn't barking. The cat is quiet. All is peaceful.
And then it starts: the town siren. Alerting all available EMT's, Paramedics and everyone else who is within ear shot that there is an emergency. It sounds like a Pearl Harbor reenactment. Or like a tornado touched down in the town square. Or like bombs are coming. It's an eery and uncomfortable sound. And loud.
I understand pain and I have compassion for people who are in need of help. But seriously. ME listening to the siren is doing that poor soul no good -- I can't jump in my car and screech away in an effort to get to their side immediately.
And neither can my kids. Even with noise makers (a device that makes white noise which is a necessary sound barrier when you live in a small house with more people than bedrooms) inches from their heads, some of the kids still stir restlessly/wake up. That siren is loud.
The dog starts in on it too the second the siren starts to go off. Howling like a wolf howls to the moon, she's out there making as much racket as the siren.
I don't get it why they can't upgrade to pagers or some other polite form of communication. I mean, it is the twenty-first-century. Surely there are alarm systems that would be less intrusive by now.
Because, it never fails that when my children are sleeping, that siren goes off.
(Maybe that's why it goes off...?)
Hmmm, that could be. Coincidence can't happen that often, can it?
And then it starts: the town siren. Alerting all available EMT's, Paramedics and everyone else who is within ear shot that there is an emergency. It sounds like a Pearl Harbor reenactment. Or like a tornado touched down in the town square. Or like bombs are coming. It's an eery and uncomfortable sound. And loud.
I understand pain and I have compassion for people who are in need of help. But seriously. ME listening to the siren is doing that poor soul no good -- I can't jump in my car and screech away in an effort to get to their side immediately.
And neither can my kids. Even with noise makers (a device that makes white noise which is a necessary sound barrier when you live in a small house with more people than bedrooms) inches from their heads, some of the kids still stir restlessly/wake up. That siren is loud.
The dog starts in on it too the second the siren starts to go off. Howling like a wolf howls to the moon, she's out there making as much racket as the siren.
I don't get it why they can't upgrade to pagers or some other polite form of communication. I mean, it is the twenty-first-century. Surely there are alarm systems that would be less intrusive by now.
Because, it never fails that when my children are sleeping, that siren goes off.
(Maybe that's why it goes off...?)
Hmmm, that could be. Coincidence can't happen that often, can it?
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Questions and Comments Recycled
Is the pain Jean's younger sister (PVE) or the unchanged clocks?
It is entirely the unchanged clocks! Shame on you for considering otherwise!
I'm talking (so is Oswald Chambers) about the human mistakes we make, or wrong decisions, or even the good ones. Just because it always has happened that way, doesn't mean it always will. We have to trust God, pick up our feet and go to!
I see the intent of your encouraging quote and the sweet spirit in which you share it. I also remember in one of your other comments that you mentioned you are unmarried. The best advice I can give you for when you marry is to remember that, "What the good man does is always right!"
Your sister has a Canon EOS 5D 12.8 MegaPixel, Digital SLR with an EF 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS USM Telephoto Zoom Lens.... She wishes.
Reality is her camera is only a PowerShot A720 IS 6x optical zoom, 8.0 MegaPixels, purchased off of Amazon.
Thank you for your honesty. We hope you will find your heart's desire someday so you can quit coveting.
Oh yes, and about the Bible versions... :D can you guess? I'm so strongly KJV only that it would knock your socks off if you only knew... :D ;)
That was my first and only guess. :)
ahh Court, you are so short sighted.
Actually, the Opthamologist says I'm far sighted but since it's been a few (read like, 10) years since I was last tested, I should maybe go in for another exam. Especially after your abrupt diagnosis.
So why not rebel, and never change your clocks?
Because I like talking about a problem that I didn't create and pretend that I know how to fix it when I really don't. Like a politician does.
Or move to Arizona; they use common sense, like yours, and don't adjust their clocks.
I now see why a lot of elderly people move down there -- it's not the climate or the weather: it's the absence of DST! They wait until they're advanced in life to the point that they feel they must get everything in their life straightened out before it's too late. Including their time.
Haven't you ever considered all the people who get work just because of DST changing? My brother's company worked for 3 months fixing all the issues DST created for its clients. That was work for 70+ people for 3 months!
Thanks for helping me make my point: look at the money it cost the company. Knowing your brother, he could've easily made money doing something far more profitable anyway.
As a side note, evidently this DST came along after Ecclesiastes was written. I don't see changing your clocks anywhere in his list of things for which there is a time.
And that was quite a long list.
Ecclesiastes does say there is A Time for EVERYTHING under the sun.
But creating things that shouldn't be happening under the sun is not good. (read the account of creation in Genesis. The only thing close to DST that God created was the fact the He gave man freewill.)
I would occasionally take an elderly sister to visit another one who was a shut-in. The shut-in refused to change her clocks "from God's time". I think she actually thought that CST was "God's time".
We need more people like her today.
Are all your clocks in agreement now?
One word: not yet.
It is entirely the unchanged clocks! Shame on you for considering otherwise!
I'm talking (so is Oswald Chambers) about the human mistakes we make, or wrong decisions, or even the good ones. Just because it always has happened that way, doesn't mean it always will. We have to trust God, pick up our feet and go to!
I see the intent of your encouraging quote and the sweet spirit in which you share it. I also remember in one of your other comments that you mentioned you are unmarried. The best advice I can give you for when you marry is to remember that, "What the good man does is always right!"
Your sister has a Canon EOS 5D 12.8 MegaPixel, Digital SLR with an EF 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS USM Telephoto Zoom Lens.... She wishes.
Reality is her camera is only a PowerShot A720 IS 6x optical zoom, 8.0 MegaPixels, purchased off of Amazon.
Thank you for your honesty. We hope you will find your heart's desire someday so you can quit coveting.
Oh yes, and about the Bible versions... :D can you guess? I'm so strongly KJV only that it would knock your socks off if you only knew... :D ;)
That was my first and only guess. :)
ahh Court, you are so short sighted.
Actually, the Opthamologist says I'm far sighted but since it's been a few (read like, 10) years since I was last tested, I should maybe go in for another exam. Especially after your abrupt diagnosis.
So why not rebel, and never change your clocks?
Because I like talking about a problem that I didn't create and pretend that I know how to fix it when I really don't. Like a politician does.
Or move to Arizona; they use common sense, like yours, and don't adjust their clocks.
I now see why a lot of elderly people move down there -- it's not the climate or the weather: it's the absence of DST! They wait until they're advanced in life to the point that they feel they must get everything in their life straightened out before it's too late. Including their time.
Haven't you ever considered all the people who get work just because of DST changing? My brother's company worked for 3 months fixing all the issues DST created for its clients. That was work for 70+ people for 3 months!
Thanks for helping me make my point: look at the money it cost the company. Knowing your brother, he could've easily made money doing something far more profitable anyway.
As a side note, evidently this DST came along after Ecclesiastes was written. I don't see changing your clocks anywhere in his list of things for which there is a time.
And that was quite a long list.
Ecclesiastes does say there is A Time for EVERYTHING under the sun.
But creating things that shouldn't be happening under the sun is not good. (read the account of creation in Genesis. The only thing close to DST that God created was the fact the He gave man freewill.)
I would occasionally take an elderly sister to visit another one who was a shut-in. The shut-in refused to change her clocks "from God's time". I think she actually thought that CST was "God's time".
We need more people like her today.
Are all your clocks in agreement now?
One word: not yet.
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