Actions speak louder than words. Out of all of them, this one’s probably my very favorite quotation.
It’s always been up in the air as to the exact birth of this famous quote. To name a few possible contributors – 16th-century French writer Michel de Montaigne is credited with saying, ‘What you do means more than what you say.’ Prior to that, St. Francis of Assisi followed a similar principle by saying ‘Saying is one thing and doing is another.’
Here’s a few monumental quotes that fall along the same lines, copied from a favorite quote site – The Quote Garden. It moved me to see the many variations… I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.
Trust only movement. Life happens at the level of events, not of words. Trust movement. ~Alfred Adler
Well done is better than well said. ~Benjamin Franklin
Small deeds done are better than great deeds planned. ~Peter Marshall
Action is eloquence. ~William Shakespeare
Remember, people will judge you by your actions, not your intentions. You may have a heart of gold – but so does a hard-boiled egg. ~Author Unknown
Talk doesn’t cook rice. ~Chinese Proverb
Action is the last resource of those who know not how to dream. ~Oscar Wilde
Contemplation often makes life miserable. We should act more, think less, and stop watching ourselves live. ~Nicolas de Chamfort
Deliberation is a function of the many; action is the function of one. ~Charles de Gaulle, War Memoirs, 1960
Action is the antidote to despair. ~Joan Baez
Ironically, making a statement with words is the least effective method. ~Grey Livingston
A nod, a bow,
and a tip of the lid
to the person
who coulda and shoulda
~Robert Brault, “A Poem Missing the Word Woulda”
He that waits upon fortune is never sure of a dinner. ~Benjamin Franklin
In skating over thin ice, our safety is in our speed. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Do not be wise in words – be wise in deeds. ~Jewish Proverb
The secret of getting ahead is getting started. ~Mark Twain
Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced. ~James Baldwin
When deeds speak, words mean nothing. ~African Proverb
As I grow older I pay less attention to what men say. I just watch what they do. ~Andrew Carnegie
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.)
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. 🙂
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.
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. 🙂
How I’ve missed my little blog – both reading others and writing them. Things have been extremely busy my way with moving, and I can’t wait to reaccustom myself to a more permanent schedule once again. I thought it would make everything easier having 2+ months to pack, get everything out and clean… but it seems as though I’ve been going back and forth now for way longer than I should! I’m finally convinced doing it all in one day is the way to go.
All weekend we worked over at my place and now, thankfully I can say I’m pretty much done. I still have to get the washer/dryer out to store for my daughter and find a home for my couch. K has worked his rear off the entire time, and cleaning should now be a cinch since the place is now empty! I did happen across a most precious commodity (ahem) for my cat Camille, that made her very very happy.
Meet my mousse! (Mousse because Mademoiselle Camille has always pronounced the word in French.) The Little Girl has been reunited with her long-lost BFF who has been MIA for at least a year and a half. Maybe longer. How old is this thing, you ask? Oh, I realize it looks like it was resurrected from the caveman era. But to Cam… it’s a thing of sheer beauty. A huge basket full of toys is no match for this one item sent straight from Heaven. She’s carrying her baby around again while talking, then dropping it for daddy to play fetch. She is one Happy Girl.
A view of the front of Keith’s. Note: it now comes complete with it’s own set of nightlites located in bottom left window…
I actually went to type a blog out last night, and in addition to all the nerve-wracking hustle and bustle of moving noticed my mouse (MY mouse, one S) was all but operable. I had to go out and purchase another one after work today. I guess I’ve been behind-the-times until now, because I’ve always had a corded mouse. At last I made the ‘jump’ and opted (pardon the pun) for a ‘new improved one’. That is, one that is non-corded.
Left: old one… Right: new-improved (non-corded) one. My hand hardly knows what to do with something so very small in comparison – but I’m finding it ever-functional.
So who gets the points on the cat’s eyes being covered up??
♫♪ Instant Karma’s gonna get you –
Gonna look you right in the face
Better get yourself together darlin’
and join the human race…
Greedy greedy greedy. My oh my – this world could use so much less of the word greed, couldn’t it? But such is the age we’re currently living in, and honestly I don’t see any improvement in store for the near future.
Once in a while, the good guy actually DOES win. Once in a very small while, we get to witness Karma come back around and bite hard a person in the ass who has so totally asked for it.
An example, you ask? I’m sure I can find one lying low around here somewhere… yes, I’ve got it. How about a lying cheat of an ex who for years tried so very hard to ruin a man’s life and everything good within it, up to and including keeping his daughter from him?
For this post – I shall refer to the individual as lowlife.
No truth can come from lowlife’s putrid mouth, for truth must first exist in order to pass through parted lips. History tells of lowlife’s many infidelities, to which the knob is still set on ‘repeat’. Concerning her own
destructive self-destructive antics, lowlife reassigns any and all blame to her ex. I look at it this way… if you’re going to be conniving, at least be good at it. Her transparent lies were easily read by the most high of courts, who awarded lowlife with nothing.
Nada. Zilch. Zip. Zero. OH WAIT – it’s actually much less than nothing, seeing as how lowlife was grabbing for the entire universe. Can’t forget about those costly attorney fees that belong solely to her now, not to mention that expensive appeal. I have heard those things aren’t cheap nowadays! Is there such a thing as double-ought? If there wasn’t before, there is now. Well that’s just gotta plain suck…
The most insincere of congratulations go out to lowlife for all her non-valiant efforts on a job not well done. My advice to lowlife now would be to invest in a broom (no, not to ride) and dustpan with which to begin cleaning all the droppings she’s left behind, as well as many more she’s sure to excrete in the future. Because a respectable person always cleans up their mess.
Let us not forget the old but wise quote, ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure’. Or woman’s, as the case may be. Hey, speaking of universe… I’m outta here to go see the shining sun of mine. 🙂
Well we all shine on…
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Yeah we all shine on
On and on and on and on… ♪♫
This past weekend was one of the most awesomely relaxing weekends in a long time. Did I mention it was a three-dayer? It started Thursday night (I had taken Friday off for the Royal Wedding). Keith had to drag my a** out of bed at 4am to see it – honestly I would’ve missed it if he hadn’t. It was my first attempt at a ‘live-tweet’ for an event such as this… I realize this is very minute to most people, but I can reflect back on it myself and smile. That’s the big thing for me – the memories.
Watched a couple movies recommended by a friend this weekend, both older but awesome.Red Dawn with Patrick Swayze and Charlie Sheen, and Double Jeopardy with Ashley Judd and Tommy Lee Jones. I can’t say I was blown away by Red Dawn, primarily because it was compared to Shawshank Redemption, which I thought it not even close. Shawshank is EPIC and an all-time fave of mine. But Double Jeopardy – just wow. I could definitely watch that one again.
Saturday we bought some flowers and such for the yard, and spent a good bit of time arranging and planting them. We have a couple of ferns hanging from the porch now and a gorgeous Calibrachoa hanging basket (the flowers look like vibrant mini-petunias). My bright idea was to make a little flower bed surrounding the mailbox at the end of the yard, and we decided on begonias for this. It’s sparse right now, but it’ll grow… Keith’s sister even joked that it must look like a girl is living here now. 🙂
Today there was finally a televised NYY game on – they’re very rare. After a couple of hours of sun, we both opted for a late-afternoon nappiepoo game-front. I love afternoon naps. If the opportunity would present itself a little more often, trust me I would partake. There’s just nothing better – well, almost nothing better.
Finally, today K and I opened a forgotten carton of strawberries we’d gotten at the store Friday… and noticed a label that read “Limited Edition – Fresh California Strawberries”. Being that I’m very attentive to labels, it caught my attention. Limited Edition, seriously? Strawberries? Upon washing, slicing, sprinkling with sugar and sampling, we were looking at each other with owl eyes and saying WTF? Those were the best strawberries I’ve ever had the pleasure of having in my mouth. (Taking note that I never even ate a strawberry until 2.75 years ago when my friend Lori and her son Matt fed me one at a farmers market.) Still… earthshatteringly delectable; blogworthy for sure.
This back and forth stuff between my place and Keith’s is taking it’s toll on me. There’s so much to be done before I move! K suggested this weekend just going ahead and bringing my bed over (going in a middle room) this way I can’t go back there to sleep during the week. My reasoning for not doing this is I’ll never get packed if I’m not there at night to do it. Now – my mind is recalculating. I pass right by my place anyway to and from work, it might actually work better. I made the decision a week ago for Camille to reside with him instead of toting her back and forth – she’s had a year and a half of that and that’s enough. Hmmm. If I said the word, that gorgeous man would be right over with a truck to load up my bed sporting a big smile. So is it really that hard of a decision for me?
Oh yeah, and bin laden is dead. Supposedly. I’ll save all that for another time, another place… another blog.
Well, the big day has finally arrived! The Royal Wedding will take place in less than 24 hours. I must ask beforehand that you forgive the sarcastic undertone of this post. You see, for the past couple of weeks I’ve heard more than my share of negative comments and opinions about the Royal Wedding – in turn, this has propelled me into smartass-Bon mode (not good). Allow me to elaborate.
The original title of this post was “Asses that attempt to ruin Royal Weddings“. I have since changed it, but still thought it noteworthy. I didn’t change it because I no longer believe negative people to be asses… I changed it because I didn’t want the word to be in the same sentence as Royal Wedding. So there. (Negative people – that means you’re still an ass.)
Additionally, I will make it my mission to overuse the words Royal Wedding in this post. If this offends you, know that I find that awesome. Now, on to more talk about the Royal Wedding. Because I can.
Most of the posts I see are so very redundant. If you’re so bored and ‘over’ the Royal Wedding, must you use your precious time to talk about it? By doing this, aren’t you allowing even more ‘air time’ to the Royal Wedding? Here’s some food for thought: posting comments of how sick you are of the Royal Wedding translates into how very intriguing and appealing it must be to you. If you’re truly sick of the Royal Wedding, why not simply change channels or read on to something else? Or perhaps there’s something deeper going on than meets the eye, other than the Royal Wedding. (Hey, how am I doing on that overuse thing?)
Here’s my comparison: when the college ball games were all going on a few weeks back, that entire series of games seemed to last for about a year. I know for a fact that I’m not the only person who doesn’t follow or care for it. But I absolutely would not post on Twitter, FB, ABC News, etc.: “No one gives a s**t about college basketball!!” It would be ridiculous. Why? Because yes, people do exist that give a s**t about college basketball.
Well, so what? It’s my status or comment, and I’ll post what I want! Isn’t that the purpose of it all? Freedom of speech, baby – take it or leave it. I choose to take it. So back off.
Okay, yeah it IS your comment. As far as freedom of speech, I beg to differ – we do not have anything of the sort here in America. There’s only a handful of things we may blurt out without risk of offense to others. If we do say something inappropriate we get blasted for it, or even worse, sued. Freedom of speech, pfftthh – sore subject with me. I’ll save that for another post to be listed in the category The Angry American. Coming soon to a blog near you.
Okay Bon. So what’s your point? If it’s my post and I can write about what I want, and I want to write about how much I hate all the hype of the Royal Wedding, what the heck IS your point?
Here’s my bottom line. Very rarely do we the people get the opportunity to enjoy anything good on the news. Everything is terrorism, war and soldiers dying, missing people, rape, murder and catastrophic weather events. The Royal Wedding is a bright spot in the midst of a storm – dare I even say it brings a ray of light and hope to many. I realize that women tend to be more susceptible to swoon over a fairytale romance, but I also know of quite a few men who appreciate it too. Not swoon over it, mind you – but appreciate it. Who couldn’t use an extra serving of love?
I guess everyone’s got something to say about something – this just happens to be mine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to enjoy a fantastic Royal Wedding with the haters left scurrying behind me. Cheers!!
Though not from lack of trying, I’m unable to throw this virus or whatever it is. This is one time I didn’t go running to the doctor after a day or two of an obviously kickass whatever-it-is set in. It’s now officially a day over two weeks and I’m still left with a chest full of something – the difference is that everything has tightened up now. No good. I decided yesterday to made a doc appointment for this afternoon, so I’ll see what’s going on then. At this point anything will be an improvement!
I am Bon… I am Frontierwoman, hear me roar. I’ve had no power since about 1am this morning. The piedmont had winds up to 90mph wisk through the area last night, and currently over 250M people and 30 schools are without power. Stop lights are out everywhere, power lines are down and traffic is mayhem. Trying to get ready for work by candlelight this morning was hilarious — honestly I think I’d have done better in the dark.
Seriously, it’s the little things. Like power. And working in peace. Well, maybe those aren’t such little things…
Today is the 90th day of the year, that means there are 275 days left until the end of the year. Can you believe it? I’m a numbers gal, so naturally I found myself analyzing the setup of the date today. 3-31-11, let’s see… to me that translates into three 3’s. That would equal to 9, which divided by 3 is 3. For the 90th day of the year, divide that by 3 and it’s 30. Seems like 3’s are going to dominate today! *clearing throat* Yep, it’s just another day here in the Life of Bon.
I don’t know about the rest of you but here in the southeast, everything has ‘arrived’ a month early – with the big prize being Spring. It started with constant warmer temperatures in early February, then the winds that usually accompany March arrived. In March, the rain that usually accompanies April arrived. People have long since started with their Spring planting, and the new leaves have adorned the trees for weeks now.
Sometimes dreams are a blessing, other times they can be a real hindrance. Goodness gracious, they sure were a hindrance last night. It took a while this morning to ‘shake loose’ the lasting impression the combination of them made.
First it was my boyfriend, who was acting weird to say the least. The dream started with him covering for his brother, who was cheating on his wife. I came in his house, and there was this baby in a crib! I asked who the baby was, and was told it belonged to the skank his brother was cheating with. I was so perturbed at this – at both a) the fact that his brother was cheating (totally not something he would ever do) AND b) it was a Saturday night and we now had a baby to watch. As time ellapsed, my boyfriend’s face would morph into that of my ex-husbands, and form that sneer at me. I packed my stuff and went back home without him even trying to stop me.
I then ended up at some restaurant with some woman that I don’t know. I spotted an acquaintance, who just happens to be my ex-husband’s ex (I think) girlfriend. It was her birthday, and she was surrounded by many people who were there to celebrate with her. I went up to say hello, she saw me and smiled – and it appeared to me that she’d been crying. Her gaze then went beyond me, and in walked my ex who had come there to see her. They both stood up and hugged and cried. I remember feeling so very awkward standing there at that moment, and just wanted to melt into the floor.
There’s been a couple of recent happenings that likely, no DID, manifest within my dreams last night. After writing each dream down, I can just about pull and match each issue/incident to the dream/misrepresentation. It feels as though I’ve had no sleep at all… guess I’ll roll the dice once again tonight in hopes of scoring some dreamless sleep.
We’ve all been caught in an embarrassing position. A scene that, much to our chagrin, turns us red quicker than a freshly boiled lobster. Being caught in a sticky situation makes you wish you could just melt away from it… oh, if it were only that easy.
At this point, I find it very comical that the subject of my last post was about a wedding.
A week ago, my boyfriend’s dear aunt passed away. I never had the pleasure of meeting her, a real shame since I’ve heard many people speak so very highly of her. Realizing a funeral isn’t the optimal situation to meet your boyfriend’s family members, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to meeting a few that were coming in from out of state.
In the last few moments before we left, we were saying our final goodbyes. From the beginning, there’s been nothing but positive input and vibes from his family – always making me feel so welcomed. Then, here it comes. (Folks, it took me such by surprise that I can’t remember the exact words used… so I’ll do my best to paraphrase.) Something was asked about how long K and I had been together, to which I replied going on two years now. The conversation ensued from there…
Family member: Oh, you ought to just go ahead and get married.
Me: *red*red* **oh, hail, miss brightass-red** I look over at said family member, shaking my head ever so slightly left-to-right in attempt to avert the subject (wondering which direction my dear K’s sight was aimed as well). I also mouth a NO. Unfortunately, I now realize that this mega-defensive act was likely perceived as a sign that old Bon never again wishes to wed… which of course isn’t the case.
Family member: Oh c’mon… you know you want to!
Me: *screaming to myself on the inside, ‘WHAT DO I DO??’* So I stammer: ohhh… well – we ARE moving in together this summer… **another desperate attempt to thwart said subject matter** (Immediately I realize I could not have picked a more inappropriate time to mention our moving in together… a family funeral, of all things.)
Ugghh… another epic Bon FAIL.
The truth is, I have very strong feelings on the subject. A couple of my close friends feel the same as I do, for very valid reasons. In another lifetime many years ago, I was the first to ‘suggest’ marriage with my now ex-husband – I was two months with child at the time. As the years went along, many of our arguments would result in him ‘reminding’ me of this. Trust me when I say these instances never added any valuable building blocks to the relationship – instead it only allowed hurt and embarrassment to grow and fester within me. The backlash of a southern ‘shotgun wedding’ via the good old Justice of the Peace in York County, SC seemed to always be on the forefront of his mind.
Never again. This is something that can make you feel unworthy for a lifetime.
No, if it ever happens again, it won’t be coming from my mouth. I made a pact with myself a long time ago that I’d never utter words that even hint of it – no siree Bob. Besides, why would I need to when others do it for me?
I was browsing through bookmarks yesterday and was surprised to find my ‘Letter to my Sixteen-Year-Old Self’ was still on the front page of the Simon and Schuster site. I realize this is because nothing else has been posted since they posted mine, but gotta admit – I still like seeing it…
Me: so uh, I’ve been wondering… could I act all crazy like some Hollywood dude is doing right now and get my writing noticed?
Voice of reality: *clearing throat* uhhh, no Bon – see, you have to be famous beforehand for that to work.
sheer sheen entertainment purposes, I thought I’d share a copy of Charlie’s most recent tweet. I’ll have to say I’ve been enjoying the literary stance he’s taking…
Happy Friday, everyone!! 🙂
It seems like the days are few and far between now when we hear these words used.
Have you ever been present when someone actually takes offense to being called sir or ma’am? Sometimes a person reacts so strongly that they make you feel like you did something wrong. In my experience, most have been female. A while back I heard a woman react horribly to a young lad for simply being courteous. “I’ll have you know I am not old enough to be a ma’am, young man!” she retorted. The boy looked crushed and didn’t know what to say to her. I’ll never forget how hard it was to resist kicking her teeth in at that very moment. With one swipe of her sharp tongue, she successfully crapped on ten years of respectful upbringing. At the very least, she planted doubt in the method.
I call a female ma’am. I’ll call a gentleman sir. It’s not just a southern thing. Sometimes they’re older than me – sometimes they’re younger. I don’t and won’t ever consider it a slam. You see, to me it’s not about age at all – just plain old respect.
How about the kids today? Okay, not all, just most. At least the ones in my city, USA. GIMMIE!!!! NOW!!!! Hey kid… a please will likely get you that lollipop you’re screaming so loudly for in Cracker Barrel. And not if but when your parent gives in and buys you that thing you’re screaming for – how about a thank you? And whatever happened to excuse me? Excuse me’s come more in the form of an eye-roll nowadays. Yeah, you get my drift – all these words are grossly underused. Sadly enough, manners are simply becoming a thing of the past.
Come to think of it, I think we just might benefit from a Sir/Ma’am/Please/Thank You/Excuse Me University. Starting at Pre-K.
Yes sir. Errr, ma’am…
I have no idea where time is going. It’s flying by so quickly and I feel I’m getting nothing done – not the things that are really tops on my to-do list, anyway.
I want to get started on some brochure work I promised a friend for her side business. I miss writing!! I want to spend more time with my family. I want to catch up on the few blogs I follow. I seriously need to get a grip on my time management skills. And I need to start packing to move. Hey Bon… would you like some cheese with that whine?
I haven’t mushed and gushed about romance for awhile and boy do I feel the need… so if this topic isn’t for you then this is quite possibly your stopping point. When exactly did I start believing that my Prince actually did exist? I can’t say exactly. All I can say now is that he does. In him, I have found everything and more that I thought never existed in a soulmate. I have happened upon a treasure – one that I want to expose to the entire world. Sometimes I find myself feeling paranoid that something is going to ruin what could only be described as my fairy tale love affair. I worry about car accidents, deadly diseases and crime. I know I shouldn’t, the Lord takes care of everything in His way – but I worry just the same. I mentioned this to my daughter, and you know what her response was? ‘Mom, that’s an actual condition associated with an anxiety disorder. It’s not that uncommon and if it’s really bothering you, there’s help for it‘.
That’s my little psychology major.
So, play it once, Sam, for old times sake…
The new season of Survivor is premiering on CBS tonight – I can’t wait!! The show simply never gets old to me. This season is set in Nicaragua and promises to be the most grueling season of earth, wind and fire that we’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing in any of the past eleven years.
Haters, be gone. Tonight I will have my undisturbed 60 minutes of unparalleled HD reality bliss… bring it!!
After about a years worth of failed attempts to reach me through texts, I received an innocent enough email from an old acquaintance. It’d been over two years since I’d even seen the guy, and it’s not like a real friendship or anything ever existed. I did what I thought was the right thing – I politely replied back, informed him I no longer had that phone number, and saw no point for further contact between us. I wished him the best, and gave my regards.
The next morning, he had sent an email apologizing twice for ‘bothering me’ – that he’d gotten married, and ‘was going to tell me so if the conversation arose’.
If the conversation arose? WTF does that mean?
Thing is, I found out after the few times I’d seen him years ago that he already had a girlfriend on the side. Recalling that memory got me thinking – if he’s married now… why on earth is he still contacting numbers that reside within his back pocket? I’m just asking…
I would so hate to find out my husband was contacting other women. I know sometimes there are extenuating circumstances, like maybe where a friendship is involved, etc. – but trust me when I say this is not one of those times.
Dude… do the right thing and throw away all those old numbers. You don’t need ’em anymore…
It’s not gonna be difficult for me to find a subject for me to hop on today…
It’s Groundhog Day, and for the first time in a long awaited while Punxsutawney Phil is not afraid… that’s right folks, NO SHADOW!! Know what that means?
Spring is near!! Spring is near!! Oh gosh… Spring is near!!
The story of Groundhog Day begins with Candlemas, an early Christian holiday where candles were blessed and distributed. Celebrators of the holiday eventually declared clear skies on Candlemas meant a longer winter. The Roman legions, during the conquest of the northern country, brought this tradition to the Germans, who concluded that if the sun made an appearance on Candlemas Day, a hedgehog would cast a shadow, thus predicting six more weeks of bad weather or “Second Winter.” German immigrants brought the tradition to Pennsylvania, but how did Punxsutawney Phil emerge?
In 1887, a spirited group of groundhog hunters from Punxsutawney dubbed themselves “The Punxsutawney Groundhog Club.” One member was an editor of Punxsutawney’s newspaper. Using his ink, he proclaimed Punxsutawney Phil, the local groundhog, to be the one and only weather prognosticating groundhog. He issued this proclamation on Candlemas, and yes, Groundhog Day. Phil’s fame spread, and newspapers from around the globe began to report his Gobbler’s Knob prediction. Info from http://www.visitpa.com/groundhog-day
In related news, February 2nd is exactly the halfway point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. It is the winter midpoint or ‘cross-quarter’ day. The coldest, bleakest part of our winter season is now officially half over!
Spring is near!! Spring is near!! Oh gosh… Spring is near!
It really is the little things in life that I appreciate the most and seem to please me to no end. Bear with me on this for just a minute.
When I find something I really like, I stick with it. No use fixing something that’s not broken, I always say – take for instance my anti-bac. For years now, I’ve been an avid user of the ‘waterless’ smell-good foaming pump anti-bac by Bath and Body Works. (Note empty bottle to right.) This little 3″ smell-good pump generally lasts me around six months, for which I generally have backups on-hand when the time comes to replace.
Except this time.
So off I go to hit the local Bath and Body Works store on the way home from work… with the addition of my custom BBW Bon-Blinders so I may leave the store with only the anti-bac and nothing else additional.
Now where oh where is my foaming anti-bac? I noticed the newfangled little pocket gel-pacs that require lots of shaking, squeezing and patience to get anything out of… but not my easy little one-squirt smell-good pump. To my dismay, the saleslady informed me they were discontinued, then even proceeded to knock the ‘old’ product by saying ‘they leaked’. I told her in all my years of using, one had never leaked on me. So go knock on my product with someone else, lady.
I went home, checked their website and ended up ordering a slew of them online. Gotta love that online ordering! Mind you, I will have more than several ‘backups’ on hand once they arrive… all lined up in a smell-good rainbow-colored array.
It’s the law of Bon, I swear… if I like something, it will be discontinued. My favorite brand of Clinique foundation fell victim just last month. Prior to that, my favorite Lean Cuisine meal.
Hey Bon, would you like some cheese with that whine??
Up until now it’s been my ‘silent’ New Year’s resolution. Back when I moved in mid ’08, I was probably the most de-cluttered I’d ever been in my life. Since then – well, let’s just say I’m no hoarder or anything like you see on television, but things have slowly been building back up. I can’t stand it, and it certainly doesn’t take long for it to happen.
I’ve always heard that if you don’t use something a year after boxing it up, you can toss it (aside from certain memorabilia of course… which, if taken to extremes could still lead to hoarding).
My plan of action is to tackle one area at a time, one thing at a time. Now all I need is some Tacklin’ Fuel to do it with (said using my best New Orleans accent of The Waterboy, Mr. Bobby Boucher). Yes, yes. Tacklin’ Fuel. Now, to find that fuel…