My Favorite Cow is a Bull
For the past few months, I’ve admired a certain cow during my drive in to work. There she stood each day, huddled with her comrades in a misty morning field. I’d often see her in groups ‘kissing’ with some of the others. Now I didn’t know if they were actually kissing or not – but the Bon in me just wanted to believe this was a cow’s way of being cute and sweet.
I’ve always been a sucker for odd markings (take my cat for example) and this cow’s markings definitely fell into the unusual category. Dark legs complimented her cream-colored base, and thick black rings accentuated her huge eyes. She really stood out from all the others, and I found myself searching her out each time I came up on that field.
On the way home from work last Friday, ‘my’ cow was standing all by herself roadside at the fence. I did a three-point road turn and positioned myself right smack in front of her…
…errrrr… HIM.
In retrospect I guess I should’ve known it was a he, but this city girl hasn’t been around many bulls and cows in her life. I’ll also stand by my defense of having not seen him up close until Friday. Thirdly, I didn’t think bulls were allowed to mingle freely with the cows… I mean, do these girls get any rest? I don’t mean to be crude, but this has to coincide with at least some of the more intense mooing I hear coming from that field around dusk each night.
As soon as I reached him and stopped, I immediately noted the large horns upon his head. This majestic creature stood there and subliminally yelled out to me “I am MAN, hear me roar” then snorted a mild “hummfff”. As I sat in my car with him and I separated by a mere fifteen feet and five pieces of wire – it suddenly struck me that I might need to grow a brain and moooove along…
Well… after I squeeze in a small photo opp, of course. Isn’t he beautiful handsome??
MY Bucket List
If any of you out there would like to do this – I’d love to read yours!!
‘Every man dies. Not every man really lives.’ ~William Ross
- Cage-diving with great white sharks. Though I prefer great whites off the coast of South Africa – any shark over 12 ft. in any ocean will do. Second choice of sharks would be bulls or tigers.
- Swim in a clear blue sea. This could be anywhere from the Caribbean to the Keys. As long as it’s clear and blue.
Experience what it’s like to be proposed to.- Write a book. One that gets published – even better.
- Zip-line somewhere in or near a tropical setting.
- Witness a media shower.
- Wear a wedding dress.
- Swim with dolphins. Not just coexist in the water together – I want to touch them, let them pull me around, and give them kisses. 🙂
- Own my own boat. Not a yacht or anything – just one that could tote 8-10 people around comfortably.
- Learn to Salsa Dance… well.
- Learn to surf. Five full seconds atop a wave would make me uber-happy.
- Have Gary LeVox and the band of Rascal Flatts sing live to me.
- Get my passport. When I finally win that trip around the world I’d like to be able to actually go, after all.
- Go sailing. Real sailing. On a real moving sailboat.
- Get a tattoo of a butterfly. And I can stop at one. At least I think I can.
- Possess a concealed carry permit. Along with my piece.
- Revisit my birthplace, Muenchweiler, Germany.
(Footnote: I have no qualms about combo-packaging numbers 11, 8, 5, 2 and 1.)
Kumbaya, Sweet Slumber
The ghosts of the past who appear in my recent dreams are starting to wear me down. Saturday and Sunday nights were both restless; when sleep did come it was packed full of crappy dreams. Weird, emotional, gross, sad, useless – all of it. In dire need of sleep, I retired early again last night. Once more, the ghosts of times past infiltrated my dreams. None of these entities have a current role in our lives, so I just couldn’t imagine a reason for them being in the dreams.
It’s not like me to have repetitive dreams of a undesirable nature, but I believe I’ve at least figured out the cause of them. As of recent, I’ve been putting more thought into the future than ever before. Sometimes when you contemplate the future you inadvertently propel yourself into the past – whether or not you want to. Your subconscious thoughts can and will manifest into your dreams. The fine line between fantasy and reality has never been a difficult thing for me to discern. That said, I now find a slice of my reality being spent fighting demons ensued by the dreams that decide to hang around and poke me with a stick the next day.
- ©Disney
A long time ago I was asked, ‘Which would you prefer? The devil you know, or the devil you don’t know?’. My answer was ‘The devil I know’. Somehow I have to figure out how to not pick both.
Sunflower Fields Forever
This field is located about a mile down from the house. Being that I took the picture about 3 weeks ago, unfortunately the poor flowers have now either passed their prime or are severely drought-stricken. The picture was inspiration for my ever-amateurish little poem, which I write very few of.
Sunflower Fields Forever
Tucked away from all the hype
and bustle of the town
there lies a field where there are only
sunflowers allowed.
Long necks stretch up ever-taught
Their heads gaze oh so high
In their attempt to say ‘hello there’
way up to the sky.
Simple, timeless is their beauty
of vibrancy and hue
Unknowingly an artists’ vision
Of canvas dreams come true.
They have one wish – to kiss the sun
This kiss shall set them free
It is, dear flower, after all
Where you’re supposed to be.
It’s not the first time we have met
In dreams I’ve seen you here
Soon in this field you’ll rest your heads
‘Til next you reappear.
~Life of Bon, 2011
Spickets
Houston, we have a problem.
©arkadiapest.com
Lions and Tigers and Jumping Spiders, OH MY
We have spickets in the house. What’s a spicket, you ask? A spicket is a horribly gianormous mutation that obviously occurred during the time a spider was holding a cricket captive and decided the cricket looked, uh, nice that day. It resembles a wolf spider, has two extra long antennae, a lengthy tail, and possesses the ability to jump higher than a cricket. Like straight up. At face-level. Seriously. I have also learned they do so purposely as an intimidation tactic.
This bug is actually trying to scare me. It THINKS. It’s the kind of stuff my nightmares are made of.
Early this morning, Keith finally got to hear what his girlfriend sounds like when she screams. Loudly. It wasn’t pretty.
From what I’ve read, nobody likes them (everybody hates them, I think I’ll eat a worm… fat ones, skinny ones, even little bitty ones – see how they wiggle and squirm…)
They’re fast. Like Edward Cullen fast. I assume this is because (yes, I know what assuming does) they realize just how bad they look. I’d be willing to bet these babies would turn to stone just by seeing their reflection in a mirror.
JUST. NASTY.
I made a new Kill this morning, the second one within 24 hours. This morning’s Kill was about the size of a silver dollar. A bug should not be the size of a silver dollar. It’s just not natural. If you are able to catch up to one, it’s a gross Kill since they’re quite meaty – their upper thighs resemble those of a bodybuilder.
Afterwards I went into the bedroom where Keith was sitting straight up in bed. At this point I wouldn’t have been more surprised if his head had spun around in Linda Blair fashion. “We’ve got jumping spiders” I said. “We can’t do this. We just can’t.” (Note the “We”, as in Us, as in No Us if They stay.) Of course I didn’t come right out and say that it was either me or the spickets – I think I made a point without saying anything like that. “I’ll stop on the way home and get some stuff” he said. I locked eyes with him and held the glare for what seemed like 60 seconds but was probably only about 10. I really do think he understood me, he’s just good like that.
He also kept any witty comments he might’ve had about my sheet-white face locked up tight in his little bag of tricks. To be pulled out at a more opportune time, I’m sure. Like maybe at the next family reunion.
Enter Google. Old faithful, trusty, reliable Google. I heart Google.
Results = Camel Cricket or Cave Cricket, they’re one in the same. Oh good! So now I can replace the slang name ‘jumping spiders’ I’ve given them all my life with better terminology. Cave cricket – let’s see, what else lives in a cave? Bats. Spiders. Snakes. Bears. Monsters. The Unknown. Any insect that lives in a cave, well who the heck knows what they do in the dark? I also read they are people-intimidators. YA THINK?
http://www.asktheexterminator.com/Crickets/Cave_Crickets.shtml
A Little Town Called Urbanna
Ever have a place you’ve visited just stick with you – certain sights and events bringing the place fresh back into focus? As I crossed the sunrise-laden bridge this morning, I was reminded again of a visit a couple of years ago to a little portside town in Virginia – to a little town called Urbanna.
I think about this place every time I see a sunrise. I think about it every time I pass over the river on the way to work. I think about it most every time I lay my eyes on a boat. Sometimes I consider this a burden and wish it to be lifted from me; to regain the ability of forming my own thoughts and memories from such sights. It doesn’t seem meant to be, though – and this morning was no exception.
Urbanna is located on Virginia’s middle peninsula on the Rappahannock River, which eventually spills into the beautiful and majestic Chesapeake Bay. This historic town was originally established as a port for the shipment of tobacco to England. The old tobacco warehouse built in 1766 is listed on the National Register of Historic Places and serves today as the Visitors Center. This warehouse is located on Virginia Street, which ironically enough is one of my favorite streets there.
The town itself is as friendly as the day is long, and the locals seem to go out of their way to please you. They are proud of their towns history and the fact that aside from the annual Oyster Festival which attracts 70,000 each November, Urbanna is still able to maintain that hometown feel. As you walk through town, it’s almost as though nothing at all has changed since the fifties. The in-town drugstore still has a fully-operational diner inside, complete with swivel-seat barstools. Even the streets seem to want to tell you their story as you stroll down them.
X marks my approximate anchor location on Urbanna Creek. ©Google Images
I learned being rocked to sleep by the waves is one of my most favorite things, as well as waking up the next morning to the sunrise over the water. I ended up adapting to that little sailboat so quickly it about made my own head spin. Within a day I’d perfected my way around atop and below the boat – finding out exactly what I could hang onto and what I couldn’t, and what I could swing from and what I couldn’t. 🙂
I was sad to learn of the vineyard I visited closing down in 2010, White Fences Winery and Vineyards. What a nice drive over the bridge where you can see the Rappahannock River merging with the Chesapeake Bay. Unlike some local wineries, White Fences had acres and acres of vineyards to walk. The massive greenery would hold your imagination captive for as long as you would allow it.
The town slogan, as it appears on main page of their very well-put-together website:
“Turn off the main road. Or cruise up the Rappahannock River from the Chesapeake Bay. To the slightly off the beaten track tidewater town of Urbanna,Virginia. Home of Virginia’s official oyster festival, more boats than folks and laid back innkeepers, shopkeepers, chefs and townspeople who’ll help you shuck your stress and slip into an island state of mind.”
Yep… in this case, I’d say the city slogan fits quite well.
In the distance where the sun is hitting, Rappahannock River dances with Chesapeake Bay
The Word
Since my separation and divorce, the word has never passed my lips with regard to myself. I just don’t believe a woman should the first one to speak it, and I have my own personal reasons for feeling that way.
Marriage.
A long long time ago, I did utter it and lived to regret it. I became a prisoner of the word; listening intently to expressions of regret for the next twenty-plus years. ‘The whole thing was your idea”, I was told. Other times, “Your mother might as well have held the shotgun”. Great – my own little shotgun marriage, standing in front of a judge in a courthouse on that hot August day. How lovely. How endearing. How very valued those words made me feel.
In some ways, I think being made aware of this bitter regret only served to make me stronger. I’ve come to the realization the path to real love and commitment will never be found on a one-way street. That the word compromise actually exists for non-selfish reasons. That the amazing feeling of total and complete trust creates an airtight bond that is impenetrable.
I won’t even go so far as to throw out a hint. As far as writing about it, I’m not really concerned with who reads this. I know K doesn’t read my blog – he reminded me of that little factoid just last week. Besides, as dear old Dr. Suess once said…
Those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.
My Cure for Acrophobia… NOT
As much as I’ve been up and around the area, I’ve never been to the very top of Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina. Positioned 5,946 feet up in the clouds, it’s height is impressive even when compared to that of Mt. Mitchell which stands at 6,684 feet – the highest peak in the eastern United States. Grandfather Mountain is definitely the highest point I’ve ever been in my life, and likely ever will be again. It’s surely high enough for me.
As we drove on past our favorite little town of Blowing Rock, NC we decided to visit the top of this infamous mountain. I learned a good bit about it, including the fact that Grandfather has more plant diversity contained in it’s area than in all of Europe. It’s landscaping and inhabitants are largely protected, which is always great to see. The admission fee included entrance to everything except the highland games. Nature museum, gift shop and restaurant, animal habitats, many impressive cliff points, walking trails, and never to be last – the mile-high swinging bridge.
Ohhhh, Mama.
I’ve worked feverishly for years to try and rid myself of this dreaded fear of heights, also known as Acrophobia. Countless trips to mountains, numerous rides on the Intimidator coaster (tallest and fastest in the Southeast), a couple of paragliding adventures over the Atlantic… but nothing could have prepared me for the entirely helpless panicked feeling of being out on that bridge.
I wanted to be able to snap a pic or two out on there, but I had to keep walking moving. My legs felt like jelly, I was shaking uncontrollably, and my chest felt as though I had entered into cardiac arrest. I couldn’t disappoint Keith, I knew how badly he wanted to walk it – but I simply cannot explain how terrified I was.
To say the drive up to the highest point/swinging bridge was treacherous was an understatement. Several complete u-turn points paved the way up the last several hundred feet, with nothing but sheer drop-off below. Each car literally had to stop and think first about what they were doing. Except for the pavement quality, it seriously reminded me of that tv show ‘Most Dangerous Roads’ usually found in third-world countries. And I thought the trip up was bad until I realized we had to come back down.
Another tidbit of info I learned: Remember when Forrest Gump ran across America? A portion of his trek was filmed while running up Grandfather Mountain (a curve now appropriately named “Forrest Gump Curve”. Ironically, I came home and the movie was on tv last night… one of these snapshots is of Forrest running around that particular curve on my tv. 🙂
I guess the height thing is one phobia I’m just going to have to live with. As far as ever conquering it, I can’t say I haven’t tried!
Those darn social networks…
My friend Kim over at What Now? It’s a Matter of Inflection… wrote a very nice post yesterday about how much positive energy she’s gotten out of facebook. Keeping up with friends and family updates on facebook does seem to be of the ‘norm’ nowadays. At the risk of looking like a copycat, I’ve got to run with a prime example that coincides closely with her own post.
I have a rut routine in the morning. First I go straight for my little 7-day container of medicine, pretty much consisting of bp meds and vitamins, scoring either a diet coke or diet Dr. Pepper to down them. Then I’ll grab my iPhone, where I’ll quickly graze facebook and twitter to get any up-to-date news and make sure nobody died (seriously, I’ve found this kind of stuff out on there before). I’ve found I don’t need any rss feed on other news channels, since anything newsworthy will appear on either of these two social networks.
C’mon Bon… what’s your point??
Soooo – I wake up this morning to a facebook post by my 23-year old daughter that reads, “I hate hospitals. Ewwww.” Posted at approximately 0327 hours.
Instant panic. Of course, none of the comments posted afterward allude to what actually happened, which is par for the course. My fingers couldn’t text her fast enough this morning.
Why are you texting her, Bon – why not just call her? This is important, after all!!
Today’s generation of children do not answer their cell phone. Additionally, do not bother leaving them a voicemail. If you do prefer to waste your precious time leaving a voicemail, know that it will sit all alone in it’s inbox for years until tumbleweeds begin to float past it. Our kids today only want a written (short) text which they may respond to AT. THEIR. LEISURE. If you know all this beforehand, it’ll save you a lot of time and trouble. Unfortunately since I’m a first-generation parent of the current generation of kids – I’ve had to learn it all the hard way.
I didn’t receive any reply from my daughter until just now, 1104 hours in the morning. The golden text just arrived telling me she is fine, and it was her friend who had cut his hand wide open. While cutting an apple. At three in the morning. Of course, her phone died while waiting 4 hours in the ER, and since she didn’t go to bed until this morning she couldn’t hear Mum’s text! At least now I can finally sigh very loudly breathe easier knowing that she’s okay. You never stop worrying about your kids. I guess it’ll be the same at any age, 23 or 53.
In closing, I guess Kim and I won’t be closing down our facebook accounts anytime soon! I hope everyone out there enjoys a wonderful weekend. 🙂
Olive Juice
I was recently told that a friend of mine’s father now tells him he loves him before they hang up. It comes at a time later in life for him, but I realize how much it must mean to finally hear his father say I love you after all these years. It’s definitely better late than never.
I tell my close friends I love you before we part ways or hang up. I tell my mother and father I love you every night before we end the call. Of course, I tell Keith I love you more times per day than I care to count. I tell my beloved little Camille I love you before I leave her to go to work.
It’s three simple words that mean so very much. It feels good to say them, and it gives the recipient a feeling of such worth. If you feel it, it’s okay to say it. If it feels awkward that first time, no worries – that’ll fade quickly.
Can you say it too much or too often? Is it ever overused? I don’t believe so. Nah – not at all.
Stowaways and Freak Parades
Feels like it’s been ages since I’ve posted anything. I hope everyone had a safe and memorable Fourth of July holiday!
Since I moved, I’m rarely (if ever) on the computer – I’d probably do fine without one. Things are just so interesting outside, I want to stay out there. Even though it’s hot, the beautiful outdoors continue to beckon us. I’m so thankful for the peaceful surrounding area, which feels as soothing as warm chicken soup on a cold winter day. I’m finding myself wishing for this summer to last forever – for the flowers to continue growing, for the frogs, butterflies and fireflies to live twice as long as normal, for the hummingbirds to not have to fly south this year. Not asking for very much, am I?
I love Independence Day, but always seem to associate it with summer being ‘half over’. I wish I didn’t do that, but the older you get the harder becomes to change your way of thinking. I did witness the best fireworks show I have ever seen in my life, right here in the city of Gastonia. They put on a full twenty-minute long show in center-city, even the finale was twice as long as usual. This city seems to have stepped up their game! We both thought it worth the wait of a couple hours for that good spot. People-watching was hilarity at it’s best even if fireworks weren’t involved, but we tend to be a little ruthless in that area. Trust me when I say I have stories.
- (Babygirl center)
My daughter came over for a swim yesterday, and brought her newest toy with her – a camera that can snap pics as far as 20 feet underwater. She originally bought it for her cruise in September, and we were glad for the opportunity to play subjects. It works great, and we had a blast with it! Now if only I can figure out a way to stow away in one of her suitcases come September…
Nothing has ever matched all the freedom and happiness this summer has brought me so far. I’m so very grateful for all the opportunities in life that have been presented to me, as well for the ever-blessed time in my life that I met Keith. A real and genuine person is a rare find these days. If a person is lucky enough to find that precious gem – hopefully they’re smart enough to hold tight those qualities and traits, and cherish the person with their whole heart. Because they deserve nothing less than a whole heart.
Paths
This morning I was reminded of a beloved poem by my friend Shawn over at Happy Publishing. I always like where this particular piece takes me – back to the root of it all, which I so need reminded of from time to time.
Uninstructed
“I am going to send you down to earth,”
Said God to me one day,
“I’m giving you what men call ‘birth’–
Tonight you’ll start away;
I want you there to live with men;
Until I call you back again.”
I trembled as I heard him speak,
Yet I know that I must go;
I felt His hand upon my cheek,
And wished that I might know –
Just what on earth would be my task,
And timidly I dared to ask.
“Tell me before I start away,
What thou would have me do;
What message would you have me say?
When shall my work be through?
That I may serve on earth,
Tell me the purpose of my birth.”
God smiled at me and softly said:
“Oh, you shall find your task.
I want you on life’s path to tread,
So do not stay to ask.
Remember, if your best you do,
That I shall ask no more of you.”
How often, as my work I do,
So commonplace and grim,
I sit and sigh and wish I knew
If I am pleasing Him.
I wonder if, with every test,
I’ve truly tried to do my best.
~Edgar A. Guest
Silver Bells and Cockle Shells
I finally got my weekend of doing nothing. We’ve been going for +6 weeks straight, having something to attend or do over the weekend. Actually it’s more like 8 weeks, since it started back in early May when we moved me bit by bit on the weekends. I like to refer back to it as moving ‘redneck style’ since everything went via pickup truck.
The flowers have been doing so well in the front bed. I’m sad to see the last of our Gladiolas go. They were so beautiful – specially so since there were twice as many this year. The gladiolus are well on their way to becoming my favorite flower.
Never to be outdone, up springs the Asian Lilies. These blooms have looked ready to burst for a whole month, it almost seems as though they waited around for our full attention before deciding to pop their heads out. 🙂 They are so very fragrant. Yesterday it was hilarious when K approached me for a kiss and had something orangy-red on the side of his nose – leftover evidence from lily-sniffing!
I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned my love of beach towels. I hate to admit I hoard them! I do simply adore them though, with all their varying hues and shades. It’s not often I’m able to walk by a collection and not buy one (you can’t get them in the winter, ya know!). I now have a brand new favorite. I just love the colors in this one. 🙂
Hope everyone’s weekend was wonderul!!
My Love Affair with Sweet Summer
Hot, sultry days – days that are so long, the sun seems to argue the point of going down. Sweet balmy nights when I find myself not wanting to go to bed, instead to remain in the warm fresh air and gaze up at the stars so very clear in the night sky. A dark starry sky free and clear of city lights – even sweeter.
How I adore a Summer wardrobe. I have so many pairs of flip-flops I could start my own store. They’re the most comfortable footwear in the world to me, and I’d love to wear them year-round. I’m equally as passionate about bathing suits, all color-coordinated and hanging up neatly! Can’t leave the shorts out – they go along with tank tops so well, don’t they? Ah, tank tops. Another radiant collection that spans one-third of my closet. Have you ever noticed that these summer pieces never go out of style? Ding-ding… I believe we have a winner!
I cherish the sweet coconut-like smells of summer. Seashells. The beach. Surfboards. Pools. Floats. Sunshine. Flowers. Drinks with little umbrellas in them. Sunglasses. Sailboats. Palm trees. Guess I need to venture a little further south to live, like Florida. I think I just gave myself another reason to look forward to retirement.
It’s not only my favorite time of year – it’s my favorite state of mind. Yes, I believe Sweet Summer is definitely a state of mind…
Chillin’ on a Dirt Road
Although I appreciate most genres of music, I’ll admit I’ve grown into a country music kinda girl. My thanks to Keith who keeps me current with other stuff like hip-hop, pop and rock – if it weren’t for him, I’d be stuck on just country for sure.
I love this song. Listening to it puts me in a car pickup on the way to the beach or mountains for a long four-day weekend. Sun’s high in the sky, and it’s mild enough out to have the windows down blowing my hair everywhere. Instead of a beer beside me, there’s an ice-cold diet Coke or diet Dr. Pepper – no DUI for me, thanks.
But when we arrive at the beach/mountains, I’m poppin’ that top. To whoever made this video, you deserve to be at a million hits by now. I tip my hat to you for a fantastic job…
Yeah, I’m chillin’ on a dirt road…
Laid back swervin’ like I’m George Jones.
The Truth
Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to have my Dad over. We cooked out Saturday night and watched a movie afterwards, and the next morning attended service at his church. With it being a 50-mile drive from my home to his church, Keith suggested that him spending the night might make things easier. I can’t express how grateful I was for the opportunity to do this.
I was able to meet Dad’s fellow church members, many of which are elders. Those of us who were early sat on the side pews and conversed amongst each other. I didn’t pay much mind to a kindly gentleman who got up and went back outside, until Dad turned around later and said, “That’s Mr. and Mrs. Q. They can’t take care of each other anymore, and live separately. Every Sunday morning he eagerly waits outside for her to arrive.”
I would estimate Mr. and Mrs. Q to be in their nineties. As I turned around and watched them come ever so slowly down the isle, arm in arm – my heart melted. What I saw wasn’t two elders. I saw a very beautiful couple, each wearing a wide smile. Love radiated outward from them, I mean they actually glowed. It seemed a real-life version of The Notebook, and I found myself wanting to know more about this couple I’d never met.
After church, we went to my great aunt and uncle’s house where they had prepared us a feast for lunch. They recently celebrated 62 years together – not only are they very dear, but very wise. I’d like to give you an example of just how wise.
While seated across the table from them, Uncle N said, “The secret of a long and happy marriage is always telling each other the Truth. No matter what, even if it’s something the other doesn’t want to hear. When you tell them the Truth, it gives them worth. It verifies they are valuable to you.” Aunt D listened intently while nodding her head in complete agreement. Anyone could see how deep in love they still are, even more so, after all these years.
None of us are perfect, for there is but One that is. The trivial things in life are really that – trivial. I see it as black and white, really; the things that actually matter in life are just plain common sense. I believe a couple should respect each other enough to abide by Truth together. I’ve never understood what could be so hard about that.
From the very beginning K and I each made Truth a requirement, not an option. Sure, sometimes it’s going to be something hard to say or hear. Some of these things can and will cause hurt. But if you repeatedly withhold that Truth, deprive a person of it – you’ll see what you have left in the end…
Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
Have you ever felt like running somewhere, anywhere – only to be reminded there’s really nowhere for you to run?
Full moon ahead.
Kinda like being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.
Even as a child, this phrase intrigued me. It seems most logical for me to believe it may have derived from Greek mythology – when Homer’s Odyssey refers to Odysseus being caught between Scylla (a six-headed monster) and Charybdis (a whirlpool).
Full moon alert.
However, I’ve run upon another possible origin that may hold water – pardon the pun – which is the nautical theory. In sailing terminology, the word “Devil” (devill) refers to the seam between the deck planking and the topmost plank of a vessel’s side. This seam had to be watertight, so it required continuous caulking. When a ship was at sea, it sometimes became necessary for a sailor to be suspended over the side or edge to perform this maneuver. Makes perfect sense to me how this might have translated into ‘between the devil and the deep sea’.
Move along, quickly now… full moon out.
All the talk of deep blue seas and moons brings to mind their lovely counterparts – the tides and currents. Thanks to the gravity force between Earth and the Moon, the Moon is ultimately responsible for many of the tides in our Earth’s oceans. During the full and new Moons, the Earth, Moon and Sun are lined up – which produces higher high tides (Spring Tides) and lower low tides. Sorry to bore, but I’ve always found the tides and their reasoning fascinating.
As a child, I remember walking along the beach in my nightgown under the light of a full moon, which I used to call ‘whole’ moon. I’ve written about this night before. I had this clear plastic blue ring which I used to filter the moon to a beautiful bright blue hue. Since then, I’ve never witnessed any setting that matched the beauty of the moonlit beach on that particular night. Even as a child I appreciated it – I stood there mesmerized taking it all in, wishing I never had to leave. Since our vacation house was directly behind me on the beach, my mother allowed me to linger there under her watchful eye. It’s still a strong, magical and precious memory – one I hope I never lose.
I’d still like to run somewhere. Preferably to a desolate beach at low tide, underneath a full moon…
Photobucket.com
Aim for the Moon. If you miss, you may hit a star…
~W. Clement Stone
Sense and Sensibility
Once again I’ve let time get the best of me, and I miss writing something. Anything. At almost noon on a Saturday morning with housework and errands poking me on the shoulder, I’m reminded one again of that time thing. About two weeks or so ago, I wrote a quick post on my thoughts of crime and mental instability in the world – but never got around to posting it. I guess a day in which time is pressing hard on me is as good a day as any.
I’ve only read a little bit on the case of Jared Lee Loughner, the man who went on the mass killing spree in Toucson, AZ back in January. As of current, he has been declared mentally incompetent to stand trial for his crimes.
When I first heard of this ruling, I admit my initial reaction was that the world needed rid of this worthless piece of garbage – I was very angry. I had to stop for a minute, take a step back and look hard at the situation. If this man really is mentally incompetent, how could I hold any animosity towards him for that? If it’s truly something mental that dictated his actions, something he himself could not control – how on earth could I blame him?
There are so many psychological issues we have to deal with in the world now. Have these ultra-complex issues actually existed the entire time, of which our medical technology is just now scratching the surface? There’s so much out there in the world now that we don’t understand, things we’ll probably never understand. The human brain is the most intensely complex organ in our body. From mild, moderate to severe – mental instabilities weigh more in our society now than ever before.
During a routine visit to my MD recently, even he admitted there just wasn’t enough medical staff dedicated to the many branches of mental illness that we now know to exist. He said because of this, he and his other colleagues are continually having to ‘up their game’ on their education. This is where we are in the world today – not enough professional help, nor understanding of illnesses or imbalances.
When someone who does a wrong or injustice to another, the human in us wants that person to be held accountable. Unless you are specifically trained in the field, it’s difficult or impossible to recognize a mental illness. Simply said, there are many people committing crimes who are not capable of willfully controlling their actions. All you have to do is watch the world news, heck I’ll take a step back and say local news, to see all the senseless crimes being committed.
I must continually remind myself to tote an extra bit of compassion around just for this cause, and I’ll be the first to admit it’s a tough thing to do.
Ode to a Grown Man
I’d like to eventually have/make more time to spend on reading other’s blogs. It’s something I really enjoy, particularly the ones of those who take their own precious time to comment on mine. With all the stuff I’ve had going on with moving, work and the likes of everything else, my hope is to get settled in soon and do just that – consistently. I’m amazed at the talent that each of you have – whether it be through writing, arts, or a combination of both. It inspires my own desire to do better. I thank each of you for that.
In updating my blog roll tonight, once again I had heavy thoughts of a certain individual in our blogging world. This is someone that I miss very much – known as Grown Man (as self-referred, GM). It’s for this reason I chose to profile Grown Man in this post today. If you’ve never visited his blog, why not hop on over and read a few excerpts. Click the ‘list’ link for more options. I can guarantee you’ll have to break yourself away from it.
Grown Man has not posted since November of 2010. Prior to that, his fairly frequent posts were eloquent, vivacious and packed full of wisdom. Although geared mainly towards the male genre, his content inspired males and females alike. His own hilarity paired with common sense insight on the male psyche made for some darn good reading and entertainment… not to mention education. He remained ever-kind in his replies, to which he always gave. I’ve always been a sucker for that kindness trait. The love he had for his wife was evident, not exactly spelled out – rather something that was apparent between the lines. I deeply respect his writing style.
I do worry about what may have happened to him, at the risk of sounding silly. Did he meet a dreadful fate… or did he abandon it for a chance of a lifetime, moving on to a bigger and better thing? I’ve googled to no avail to find out what might have happened, having noticed his twitter feed has also been abandoned. He had the potential to be HUGE, and was already getting there fast. Over 188K hits with less than 80 entries – this thing grew pretty quick, my friends. It’s obvious by reading the comments on his last post that his readers really miss him.
I’ll continue to have Grown Man appear on my blogroll because I prefer his legacy to live on, even if not ongoing. I agree with one of the last commenters who stated, appropriately: We miss you, Grown Man.
Grown Man’s Blog (or, just click the picture above)
Footnote: Even my Keith enjoyed reading GM’s posts, and he’s not usually into reading blogs unless he’s coerced into reading mine, cough-cough. 🙂
Life of Bon 
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