There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who make New Year's resolutions and those who don't. I am one of those who does. Sure, a lot of them get broken, some even before the end of our annual New Year's party. I don't, however, get carried away with them, like the famous New England Preacher, Jonathan Edwards. http://www.reformed.org/documents/Edwards/j_edwards_resolutions.html
I think he got a bit carried away, like he did with most things. Like spiders. http://www.jonathanedwards.com/text/Spider.htm
But there has to be something about the new year, the fresh slate, that gives up hope that this year will be the one. The one that is better-stronger-faster and helps us jump higher and run swifter. Like looking ahead to spring even though there are two months left of winter gray.
I have learned a few things about resolutions. They're just goals with a holiday decoration. Here are my tips for keeping New Year's Resolutions.
1. Never make them on New Year's Eve. In front of a lot of people. After the champagne.
2. Have an end point. 12 weeks is a much better time period than a full year. You can do anything for 12 weeks. Really, ask anyone who's ever done a 12 step program.
3. Tell a few people about them, to keep yourself honest. If they fall over laughing, then you might want to rethink your plans.
4. Some things are best not resolved. Especially if they involve other people. Only make resolutions where you can control the outcome. (Note to self, forcing children to make beds daily is not a new year's resolution. It is a pipe dream.)
Notice, there is nothing there that says you should blog your resolutions out into the universe. Or shouldn't. The only one that I will put out here is that I have set myself some artificial deadlines. I will blog here on Sunday's and Tuesdays. If Blogspot will cooperate. That's not always a given lately. And then I'll update the reading blog as needed. I have a lot of reading to do to get seventy five this year, so off I go. See you next year.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Warning...political rant....
The date on this post should be yesterday. I wrote it and blogger swallowed it whole. Oh well.
Ben Franklin once said, They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.
You can go ahead and skip this if you're not in the mood for politics. I'm not really, but I need to get this out of my system, so I don't bore my family and friends with it all holiday. Excuse me, Christmas. There was a letter to the editor in our local paper today, someone blamed the whole flak about the War On Christmas on some folks trying to get the attention off of other topics, like indicted Congressional Leaders, Thirty Thousand jobs gone at GM and the fact that Iraq and Afganistan were staring to have better infrastructure than New Orleans and the Gulf Coast. Amen. But I digress...
Point the first....America is not safe. No place is safe, not since we broke the lease in Eden, if you read Genesis. Hundreds of years ago, immigrants came to the shores of North America, not because it was safe, but because it was free.There was death on the ships, there were less than welcoming Natives, there were unfriendly tourists from other countries. As well as imported criminals. Nope, not safe at all. If safety was the goal, people stayed put.
But now, we're obsessed with safety. A safety that never existed. If there is an accident, a militant mob forms with the expressed intent of "THIS WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN." As if tragedy isn't a detriment enough, new laws, regulations and products come into being to insure safety.
Yesterday, one of the local letter to the editor contributors responded to the fury about the illegal spying. She said she had nothing to hide, they could spy on her all they wanted.
Um, darling, that's not the point.
The point is that democracies do not spy on their citizens. The point is that there is a consitutional set of checks and balances to make sure one branch of the government does not get more uppity than the others.
Our country's core value has changed. Core values, all the rage in board rooms and church leadership meeting. Companies and congregations ask "what is our core value, what is most important to us?" Now there is a spoken value, what people say out loud, and then there is the hidden core value, what really is important. So take a hypothetical church. The spoken core value is that following Jesus is primary. The hidden core value adds, as long as it isn't too weird. Don't rock the boat. Accept Jesus and be like us.
Once upon a time, when Ben Franklin was only dreaming of his electricity and printing press joining together and forming Blogdom, freedom was the core value. One man would not be in charge.
It's changed. Now safety is supreme. From "Let Freedom Ring" to "Let's build a wall to keep out the riff raff." You know. a wall worked so well for Berlin, we OUGHT to build one across the southern border. In fact, there are some pieces at the George HW Bush Library that could be used.
What makes me sad is that our military men and women are fighting for our "freedom." And it's being lost not on the deserts of Iraq, but in the halls of Congress and the airwaves of Foxnews.
Ben Franklin once said, They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.
You can go ahead and skip this if you're not in the mood for politics. I'm not really, but I need to get this out of my system, so I don't bore my family and friends with it all holiday. Excuse me, Christmas. There was a letter to the editor in our local paper today, someone blamed the whole flak about the War On Christmas on some folks trying to get the attention off of other topics, like indicted Congressional Leaders, Thirty Thousand jobs gone at GM and the fact that Iraq and Afganistan were staring to have better infrastructure than New Orleans and the Gulf Coast. Amen. But I digress...
Point the first....America is not safe. No place is safe, not since we broke the lease in Eden, if you read Genesis. Hundreds of years ago, immigrants came to the shores of North America, not because it was safe, but because it was free.There was death on the ships, there were less than welcoming Natives, there were unfriendly tourists from other countries. As well as imported criminals. Nope, not safe at all. If safety was the goal, people stayed put.
But now, we're obsessed with safety. A safety that never existed. If there is an accident, a militant mob forms with the expressed intent of "THIS WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN." As if tragedy isn't a detriment enough, new laws, regulations and products come into being to insure safety.
Yesterday, one of the local letter to the editor contributors responded to the fury about the illegal spying. She said she had nothing to hide, they could spy on her all they wanted.
Um, darling, that's not the point.
The point is that democracies do not spy on their citizens. The point is that there is a consitutional set of checks and balances to make sure one branch of the government does not get more uppity than the others.
Our country's core value has changed. Core values, all the rage in board rooms and church leadership meeting. Companies and congregations ask "what is our core value, what is most important to us?" Now there is a spoken value, what people say out loud, and then there is the hidden core value, what really is important. So take a hypothetical church. The spoken core value is that following Jesus is primary. The hidden core value adds, as long as it isn't too weird. Don't rock the boat. Accept Jesus and be like us.
Once upon a time, when Ben Franklin was only dreaming of his electricity and printing press joining together and forming Blogdom, freedom was the core value. One man would not be in charge.
It's changed. Now safety is supreme. From "Let Freedom Ring" to "Let's build a wall to keep out the riff raff." You know. a wall worked so well for Berlin, we OUGHT to build one across the southern border. In fact, there are some pieces at the George HW Bush Library that could be used.
What makes me sad is that our military men and women are fighting for our "freedom." And it's being lost not on the deserts of Iraq, but in the halls of Congress and the airwaves of Foxnews.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Spam verification
Well, I added a couple new things to the ol' blog. I like the nifty quote at the top and yes, it does change every day! Too fun! Then, because of all the spam bots putting weird comments on my blog, I had to turn on the word verification.
Another site I like to visit, Query Letters I love, uses word verification and the folks leaving comments all make up a fun definition for their word verification word. So, if you want to leave a comment, go ahead and test your creativity. I dare you.
Another site I like to visit, Query Letters I love, uses word verification and the folks leaving comments all make up a fun definition for their word verification word. So, if you want to leave a comment, go ahead and test your creativity. I dare you.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Life Motto
I actually wrote this a few weeks ago, but the ol' blogger system was too bogged down to post it.
My main character, Jane, found her new life motto while shopping in the Lack's furniture store. Huge red banners hung from the rafters. "No interest until 2007," they proclaimed to anyone who would look up at then. She looked at them carefully then approached one of the sales staff.
"Would you sell me a banner?"
"They're adverstising signs, what do you need them for?"
"I only need one. For my mother. I want to hang it in my kitchen and whenever my mother comes over and starts to talk about fixing me up, I'll be able to point to it to explain my current personal policy about dating. No Interest 'til 2007."
My main character, Jane, found her new life motto while shopping in the Lack's furniture store. Huge red banners hung from the rafters. "No interest until 2007," they proclaimed to anyone who would look up at then. She looked at them carefully then approached one of the sales staff.
"Would you sell me a banner?"
"They're adverstising signs, what do you need them for?"
"I only need one. For my mother. I want to hang it in my kitchen and whenever my mother comes over and starts to talk about fixing me up, I'll be able to point to it to explain my current personal policy about dating. No Interest 'til 2007."
It's no longer November....
And that means NaNoWriMo is over and life will assume some normal routine that doesn't depend on writing four thousand words a day to "Catch up." Finished the thing, with about sixty five thousand words when all was said and done. Does it need work? You betcha. Lots. But not until January.
But for your reading pleasure, here's a short exerpt:
“Can you tell me how much longer the turkey has until it’s done?” Maura sighed, a long, loud, self-pitying sigh. “Your father used to cook the turkey. I never did learn how.”
“Well, I usually just read the directions and I do allright,” Jane said as she walked over to the oven and took the orange and brown turkey-shaped oven mitts off the counter. She slipped them on her hand and saw Caleb coming into the kitchen. “Gobble gobble,” she said, using the mitts as puppets. Caleb laughed.
“You go on back to the kids room, Caleb. There’s hot stuff in here and I wouldn’t want to you get hurt.” Maura warned.
“I want the toy-key puppet,” Caleb said. He held out his arms to Jane.
“The turkeys have to work right now. They can come to the playroom and visit when they get home from work.” Jane smiled as she said it.
“You can’t give those to him to play with. They’re oven mitts. We’ll need them after dinner for the pies.” Maura shook her head, clearly exasperated. “When you’re a mother you’ll understand these things.”
“Funny, nothing I learned in college biology classes told me that pregnancy causes the control freak hormone to gush out of control,” Jane muttered under her breath. “They’re just oven mitts, Mom, he can’t hurt them. Even if he did, we got them at Wal-mart. You could get an exact duplicate tomorrow for half price.”
“I shouldn’t have to pay any price, since I already have them here.”
Clint said nothing during this entire exchange. He was programming phone numbers into his new cell phone and whistling whenever the voices around him grew louder.
Jane pulled the turkey out of the oven and uncovered it. She stabbed it in the thight with the meat thermometer and waited for the red needle to creep up to the internal temperature. Still lacking a hundred degrees. She recovered the pan and shoved the whole rack back into the oven, then adjusted the temperature slightly higher.
“Your father always cooked the turkey at 300. Turn it back down,” Maura ordered.
Jane looked at Lisa for help. “Dad also started cooking at five am. We started at ten. Unless I turn this thing up a bit, we’ll have a few more days until dinner.”
“It’ll be fine, Mom,” Lisa said. “The kids and Clint are getting hungry.”
“Would you rather we hurry it up, Clint?” Maura asked.
Clint’s eyes went to his wife’s face, then back to Maura. “Yes, ma’am. I’m starving. Lisa wouldn’t let any of us eat anything all day, said we’d spoil our appetitites.”
Lisa smiled her approval.
Maura hurried over the the golden yellow side by side refrigerator. “Here,” she said as she opened the right hand door and pulled out an enormous tray. “I made this to snack on while we waited.”
Snack on? Jane thought, Three families could feast on this alone. There were heaping mounds of brocoli, cauliflower, black olives, green olives, midget dill gherkins and sweet midget gherkins. A bowl of ranch dressing sat in the center. Each section was separated from the others by stalks of celery and sticks of carrot. Jane picked up a carrot and dipped it into the dressing.
“Jane, that’s not fat-free dressing.” Maura said. Her left eyebrow arched slightly.
“I know, I don’t eat fat-free,” Jane said. She put the carrot in her mouth and let the creamy sour cream based dip melt on her tongue.
“I’m just saying maybe you should think about it. You had a little pouch on your tummy the last time you wore those black slacks. You’re not some twenty year old kid anymore. You need to start watching.” Maura took an olive an popped it into her mouth.
There was something wrong about being lectured about diet by someone with diabetes who has the shape of an Idaho baking potato. Raw, not after it’s been turned into French Fries, or as Maura now called them, Freedom Fries. Her postition as the Social Secretary for the Republican Women’s group made it important that she stood strong on important issues. Like what to call fast food. Normally, Jane would let it roll off her back more, then later, she’d have a beer with her dad and they would compare all the snappy comebacks they would have said if they weren’t so diplomatic. Without Dad around to release the pressure valve later, Jane was starting to wonder what would happen if some of her thoughts actually leaked out of her head. For sure, she would be demoted from the grownup table in the dining room to the children’s table in the kitchen. The problem was, Jane was starting to think it would be a good thing.
“So, Jane,” Clint said, “How are things in dodge ball land?”
“Silly, Clint, she can’t teach dodge ball anymore. Too violent.” Lisa said, rubbing Clint’s balding head.
“I could, if I found away to connect it to the standardized tests. I think dodge ball and No Child Left Behind are made for each other, myself.” Jane said.
“Hey, we finally agree on something political! Who’d guessed?” Clint smiled.
“You’re right. Both are barbaric, based on old ways of thinking.”
“Whoa, that’s not what I meant...” Clint stammered.
“I think we should leave politics and religion out of Thankgiving,” Maura said.
“Neither one belongs on a family holiday.”
Lisa and Jane looked at each other. Every now and then, Lisa showed signs of seeing the insanity that emitted from Maura’s mouth. Lisa grinned. “Ok, no God and country will be mentioned any more today. What about grace?”
“Who’s Grace?” Maura asked. “I can put out another place.”
But for your reading pleasure, here's a short exerpt:
“Can you tell me how much longer the turkey has until it’s done?” Maura sighed, a long, loud, self-pitying sigh. “Your father used to cook the turkey. I never did learn how.”
“Well, I usually just read the directions and I do allright,” Jane said as she walked over to the oven and took the orange and brown turkey-shaped oven mitts off the counter. She slipped them on her hand and saw Caleb coming into the kitchen. “Gobble gobble,” she said, using the mitts as puppets. Caleb laughed.
“You go on back to the kids room, Caleb. There’s hot stuff in here and I wouldn’t want to you get hurt.” Maura warned.
“I want the toy-key puppet,” Caleb said. He held out his arms to Jane.
“The turkeys have to work right now. They can come to the playroom and visit when they get home from work.” Jane smiled as she said it.
“You can’t give those to him to play with. They’re oven mitts. We’ll need them after dinner for the pies.” Maura shook her head, clearly exasperated. “When you’re a mother you’ll understand these things.”
“Funny, nothing I learned in college biology classes told me that pregnancy causes the control freak hormone to gush out of control,” Jane muttered under her breath. “They’re just oven mitts, Mom, he can’t hurt them. Even if he did, we got them at Wal-mart. You could get an exact duplicate tomorrow for half price.”
“I shouldn’t have to pay any price, since I already have them here.”
Clint said nothing during this entire exchange. He was programming phone numbers into his new cell phone and whistling whenever the voices around him grew louder.
Jane pulled the turkey out of the oven and uncovered it. She stabbed it in the thight with the meat thermometer and waited for the red needle to creep up to the internal temperature. Still lacking a hundred degrees. She recovered the pan and shoved the whole rack back into the oven, then adjusted the temperature slightly higher.
“Your father always cooked the turkey at 300. Turn it back down,” Maura ordered.
Jane looked at Lisa for help. “Dad also started cooking at five am. We started at ten. Unless I turn this thing up a bit, we’ll have a few more days until dinner.”
“It’ll be fine, Mom,” Lisa said. “The kids and Clint are getting hungry.”
“Would you rather we hurry it up, Clint?” Maura asked.
Clint’s eyes went to his wife’s face, then back to Maura. “Yes, ma’am. I’m starving. Lisa wouldn’t let any of us eat anything all day, said we’d spoil our appetitites.”
Lisa smiled her approval.
Maura hurried over the the golden yellow side by side refrigerator. “Here,” she said as she opened the right hand door and pulled out an enormous tray. “I made this to snack on while we waited.”
Snack on? Jane thought, Three families could feast on this alone. There were heaping mounds of brocoli, cauliflower, black olives, green olives, midget dill gherkins and sweet midget gherkins. A bowl of ranch dressing sat in the center. Each section was separated from the others by stalks of celery and sticks of carrot. Jane picked up a carrot and dipped it into the dressing.
“Jane, that’s not fat-free dressing.” Maura said. Her left eyebrow arched slightly.
“I know, I don’t eat fat-free,” Jane said. She put the carrot in her mouth and let the creamy sour cream based dip melt on her tongue.
“I’m just saying maybe you should think about it. You had a little pouch on your tummy the last time you wore those black slacks. You’re not some twenty year old kid anymore. You need to start watching.” Maura took an olive an popped it into her mouth.
There was something wrong about being lectured about diet by someone with diabetes who has the shape of an Idaho baking potato. Raw, not after it’s been turned into French Fries, or as Maura now called them, Freedom Fries. Her postition as the Social Secretary for the Republican Women’s group made it important that she stood strong on important issues. Like what to call fast food. Normally, Jane would let it roll off her back more, then later, she’d have a beer with her dad and they would compare all the snappy comebacks they would have said if they weren’t so diplomatic. Without Dad around to release the pressure valve later, Jane was starting to wonder what would happen if some of her thoughts actually leaked out of her head. For sure, she would be demoted from the grownup table in the dining room to the children’s table in the kitchen. The problem was, Jane was starting to think it would be a good thing.
“So, Jane,” Clint said, “How are things in dodge ball land?”
“Silly, Clint, she can’t teach dodge ball anymore. Too violent.” Lisa said, rubbing Clint’s balding head.
“I could, if I found away to connect it to the standardized tests. I think dodge ball and No Child Left Behind are made for each other, myself.” Jane said.
“Hey, we finally agree on something political! Who’d guessed?” Clint smiled.
“You’re right. Both are barbaric, based on old ways of thinking.”
“Whoa, that’s not what I meant...” Clint stammered.
“I think we should leave politics and religion out of Thankgiving,” Maura said.
“Neither one belongs on a family holiday.”
Lisa and Jane looked at each other. Every now and then, Lisa showed signs of seeing the insanity that emitted from Maura’s mouth. Lisa grinned. “Ok, no God and country will be mentioned any more today. What about grace?”
“Who’s Grace?” Maura asked. “I can put out another place.”
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