Just read that an Air France crew have refused to board a Mexico-bound flight. Can't say that I blame them, but let's get serious here. It's the flu, not Ebola, people!
We've (all of us, every single person) suffered from one flu or another at some point in our lives. I'm not trying to downplay the danger of viral illness, but people don't cancel flights and trips during regular flu season. And the plain old boring, non-swine, variety kills tens of thousands every year, in our nation alone. Tens of thousands!
And do you know what we do about it? For some, get vaccinated or take Tamiflu when symptoms arise. But most of use, the vast majority of citizens . . . we do nothing. Absolutely nothing, and yet the world somehow manages to continue turning.
The mind boggles.
In the interest of public health, I should probably add a disclaimer here: please consider your travel plans, your likelihood of catching and spreading this virus, and act accordingly. Be cautious and vigilant about the spread of contagious diseases; wash your hands regularly and thoroughly; cover your mouth when you sneeze or cough. Etcetera . . . you know what to do.
From Wikipedia:
Wanderlust is a loanword from German to English that designates a strong desire for or impulse to wander, or, in modern usage, to travel and to explore the world.
In German, the term has become somewhat obsolete. A more contemporary equivalent for the English wanderlust in the sense of "love of travel" would be Fernweh (literally "an ache for the distance").
"An ache for the distance." Almost, but not quite, how I'm feeling lately.
Some days, it's all you can do to put one foot in front of the other. Days like today, for example.
Every family makes their own special brand of crazy. As an insider, it looks pretty normal. To an outsider (even your loving spouse), it looks like complete insanity. Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs bonkers.
Leah is making soap. All natural, with goats milk and honey. You should buy some. Here: Promise Land Soaps
I've learned something new. About myself. Go figure.
For years, I've enjoyed yoga. And I love to dance - the organized, choreographed kind. And I enjoy brisk walks and the occasional jog/run. But, recently, I discovered weights. And bought a set of hand weights and resistance bands for home.
Oh my goodness is this fun! Makes me feel strong and powerful. And it's great for maintaining and restoring strong bones.* I love it. And, I have cute little biceps already.
See. Learning something new.
* According to my chiropractor, if you're a woman above age 30, you must begin some sort of weight training. It's better than calcium for preventing osteoporosis.
On a walk with Handsome a couple nights ago, I spotted a squirmy brown thing on the sidewalk:
Me: "Hey, look at that big earth worm!" So, I reach down. And pause. "Maybe it's a snake. What do you think?"
Then I poked it. And it squiggled and wiggled and squirmed away into the grass.
Handsome: "That was a snake. You know that right?"
Me: "Hey! I didn't freak out! I touched a snake, and I didn't freak out!!!" Hippity-hopping down the sidewalk.
Handsome: "Doesn't count. You thought it was a worm. And besides, it was a really tiny."
Me: "It totally counts." *pout*
Handsome: "You're cute when you're trying not to freak out."
Sore throat, tired, achy. Maybe a fever.
Wah!
"It was a beautiful wedding, but not because it was religious."
"I knew you'd say something like that."
"Well, it's true."
"Maybe it's beautiful precisely because it was religious. Maybe the vows, the faith, gave it power. And beauty."
"Maybe. But you know I don't believe in that stuff."
"Yeah. I know . . ." sigh
I'm sure everyone noticed all those thunderstorms that crossed Texas Thursday and Friday. Well, so did air traffic control. My 7pm flight was postponed three hours. Fortunately, my Houston to Austin flight was also delayed, so I was able to arrive home only two and a half hours after my scheduled arrival.
I got home at 2:30am. I had been up since 5:30am. And then, I stayed up for another couple hours to spend some time with Handsome. Twenty three hours awake. I think that's a record, folks.
I've pretty much been sleeping ever since.
Um. What's up with the utensils? Plastic knives and stainless everything else. I never knew case knives were deadly weapons. I mean, I think one could do more damage with the fork.
Seriously. Have you ever been forked at the dinner table. Ouch!
Wake up at 3:30 AM with nightmares about missing my flight. Get up and get ready . . . got to the airport early. Flight was on time.
Change planes in Charlotte, NC. Where the airport restrooms have attendants and offer hand lotion, mouthwash, mints, and hygiene products. And there are rocking chairs in the hallways. Southern hospitality at its best.
Make it to Atlanta. Rental car. Hotel. Do some work. Get back in the car and head to a business dinner.
And then . . .
Then, I rear-ended a Land Rover.
*sigh*
Not to worry. No airbags deployed; no one was hurt; the damage was cosmetic. Everyone's OK.
And then . . .
Then, I got a ticket.
*double sigh*
And was an hour late to dinner. At least there was wine.
Today is Ethan's birthday. He was born 10 years ago (several weeks before his due date) and then, he spent the next few months in the NICU. He's an adventurer, that one.
So, he takes the phone from his mom (so I can wish him a happy birthday) and I nearly didn't recognize his voice. It's a little lower, a little more self-aware. There's a sense of knowledge and a little wisdom. We talk a while, and he's eager to get back to a movie the family is watching.
I mention all this a little later to my dad. "Yup. He's a boy, and he's a young man."
Me: "He's grown ten years, and I haven't aged at all. How did this happen?"
Dad: "No kidding. How d'you think I feel? My kids are older than me now."
You see, I am one of the many Americans who would no longer describe themselves as a professing Christian. I cannot in good faith associate any more with what the label Christian has come to represent in America.
. . .
In order to be a faithful Christian I can only vote for politicians who say they hold the party line on the right issues. It does not matter if I agree with their economic views, their foreign relations policies or their theory on education; if they pass the Christian litmus test they are my candidates. The fact that voting for these Christians again and again has produced little change, in fact we see abortion more acceptable and gay marriage legalized at a faster pace, can't be factored into the equation.
. . .
I just can't buy into the Christian thing anymore. So I quit. I am resigning from the Christian party, the Christian club, the Christian religion. I am going to devote the rest of my life to loving God with all my heart and loving my neighbor as myself.
-Geoff Surratt, I'm Through with Christianity
Read the whole thing. You know you want to.
Mockingbird and Dove perched at opposite ends of a wide flat rock blocking the center of short babbling brook. Mockingbird dipped for water; Dove waddled a little closer.
Lady Mockingbird and Lady Dove guarded nests hidden within the shadows of an ancient oak whose branches sprawled in all directions, shielding a green pond whose tranquil waters fed the tiny stream.
A family of turtles basked in an afternoon glow on some long-fallen log near the shore, while a frog in search of lunch swam toward a cluster of water bugs congregating next to the stand of umbrella grass hiding a miniature waterfall.
Mockingbird whistled his joy; Dove cooed in agreement.
Definition: any act that attempts to “alter [people’s] behavior in a positive way, without actually requiring anyone to do anything at all”
Learn more here: Nudge
Updated: Loved this. And also this. And that one.
Tonight, I'm thinking that this blog is a massive effort of self indulgence. Well, maybe not massive.
I'm wondering whether blogs and Twitter and Facebook and everything else truly connects us to people (as the marketing gurus tell us) or if they are all just ways to feel like we are having relationships with others when we're just looking for some strange, public confessional.
Do I really want to tell you about the girl I bullied in first grade, that time I slapped my sister, the overwhelming excitement of meeting my husband, random travel, dinner? Or do I just want someone, somewhere to acknowledge that I exist? That my experiences are not unique; my regret and remorse (for the bullying and abuse and so much more) are acknowledged and forgiven; my happiness shared.
Maybe, just maybe, this place is a poor excuse for what is really real. Maybe. Probably.
tap . . . tap . . . Is this thing on?
At the beach, I don't have allergies. Clearly, God wants me to live there.
So, I rocked out the quarter with 123% of my goal. And to celebrate I spent an extra day in the sun.
I got a tan, that only I can see. But it's there. Seriously. I'm not joking. I mean it. Stop laughing!
The poor kitty cat cried and cried, until I held her in my arms and rocked her to sleep. And this morning she ignored me. No, she wasn't lonely at all.
Lots of people from Minnesota drove all the way to South Padre for a chance to lounge on our beaches. And get sunburned. More fried skin than a bag of pork rinds.
The work really piles up, doesn't it? I mean, it's not like I expected for things to slow down any while I was out. Well, OK. I did expect things to slow down.
I'm pretty sure this insanity-inducing headache is a result of florescent lights and recirculated AC. Give me sunshine and sea breezes, any day!
