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Love is Blind?

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Monday, 10 December 2007

Recently, someone on the writer’s forum I frequent posed the question, “What does love mean to you?”  The responses highlighted many characteristics of love:  it’s unconditional, it’s an action word,  it’s loyalty and honor, love is a choice, etc.

One poster quoted my favorite definition from 1 Corinthians 13:  Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. – NIV

I thought about my boys and how easily and freely they love; especially the part about rejoicing with the truth.  Yep, they’re brimming with honesty.

A while back as we sat down to eat dinner, Chuck looked at me then, turning to the boys said, “You know, I love your mother.  Look at her.  Isn’t she just beautiful, guys?”

Alex and Chris looked at me, then at each other, then Alex spoke up, “Well, I’m not trying to be mean, Dad.  I’m sure she was beautiful when you met, and she’s still not bad, but she does have that bump here,” he illustrated by pointing to a spot on his own chin; “and there are those two kinda reddish spots up there on her cheek,” he added, examining my face for other imperfections, “I see a hair….”

 “Oh, and those brown things on her neck!” said Chris.

Okay, so I guess the Bible never promises that love is blind, but I sure wouldn’t mind if it were mute.

 

Welcome, again

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Tuesday, 04 December 2007

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Every so often I log into Gooblink and think, "Jeez, Chuck went through all this trouble to build me a website, I really ought to write something."  Then, I sign out, get a cup of coffee, rearrange the papers on my desk or trim my cuticles in hopes of finding inspiration. 

Clearly, my muse is not hiding in stacks of bills or dead skin shavings.

Last January I promised myself that, this year, I would start blogging again.  It was about 3rd on my list of New Year's Resignations (yep, after gain weight and let another year pass without getting to know our next door neighbors).  Well, I've got about 3 weeks left to keep my promise...time to get the lead out. 

I'm not sure where to start.  Do you want to hear about our 3000 mile round-trip to America's ice box (the Upper Peninsula of if-you-have-to-ask-you've-never-been-there), dressed in flip-flops and hoodies?  Or, how about the squirrel desiccating in my chimney?  Maybe, if you like animals, you'd like to hear about my son's Christmas wish-list, which is comprised of nothing but pets and includes such family favorites as a squirrel monkey and a polecat (I hope Santa has had his rabies shot).

There's so much useless information to share; anecdotes that only a grandmother would love and musings to reveal how deeply shallow I really am.  

What are we waiting for? 


 

Dog Quixotic

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Saturday, 20 January 2007

One of my favorite pastimes is to daydream parodies.  There’s no better fuel for a daydream than books.  I’m currently working through Don Quixote and wondering what took me so long to read Cervantes.  My goodness, it’s hilarious.  I’ve been in tears, truly rolling on the floor, laughing so much that Chuck and the kids wonder if I’m having fun, or in need of medical attention.

 

The character, Don Quixote, is a parodied knight-errant based on the stories of chivalry which were popular in Cervantes day.  I’m thinking it would be a hoot to write a parody of this parody, based on the popular show “Dog Whisperer,” where an aging gentleman who spends his days watching episode after episode of “Dog Whisperer” convinces himself that he, too, possesses the gift of restoring displaced canine energy.  He renames himself to – something catchy…maybe Dag  Kahuna – and embarks on an adventure across America seeking neurotic dogs and their hapless owners in order to inculcate submission into the dogs and impel their owners to become the pack-leaders they were born to be.  Unfortunately, lacking training and any God-given propensity for influencing animals, our character sojourns from town to town wreaking havoc, risking his life and the limbs of anybody unfortunate enough to be in proximity of the teeth of every breed from Abbruzenhund to Zuchon.

 

I don’t know, sounds funny to me.

 
 

One Wish

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Thursday, 11 January 2007

Yesterday, I visited the eye doctor for a follow-up exam on a new contact lens prescription.  I thought I could see okay, but identifying numbers and letters in a dark room with one eye covered proved otherwise. 

 

I’ve always had poor eyesight and have either worn glasses or contact lenses.  Not only am I far-sighted, but I’ve got astigmatism and my right eye is correctable only to 20/50. 

 

It’s always been my fantasy that, if I had a wish, I’d squander it on new eyes. 

 

Actually, I’d wish for a bottomless bank account, from which my perfectly-proportioned self would help everyone in need from my 2,000 heavily wooded acres and 54,000 square-foot estate completely furnished in Art Deco antiques and rare artwork by famous dead artists, with a library on each floor containing floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with books of all kinds, next to a garage housing my exotic sports-car collection – any of which I would operate with the aid of my perfect vision.

 

And, if I had 2 wishes, I’d include anti-gravity breasts.

 

Comedian in The House

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Tuesday, 03 October 2006

My husband is one of the few people who can make me belly laugh - daily.

For example, yesterday I was sitting on the floor and Pumpkin, our full-bred-short-haired-brown-dog (Chuck's answer to "What kind of dog is that?") came up to me and licked me a couple of times on the cheek.  I've never been a fan of dog kisses.  It was only after watching "Mythbusters" and confirming that dogs' mouths are cleaner than human mouths, that I've allowed Pumpkin to kiss my cheeks and insisted that Chuck stop.

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