clouds got in my way

Clouds.  Illusions in the sky.  Magic moments of whimsy floating by, constantly changing. 

I spend a lot of time looking at clouds.  The things I see in clouds bring me peace, an utter silence in my soul that refreshes my spirit and fills me with calm.

This has been a week of turmoil.  Of worry, just trying to get through the days.  Of exhaustion.  Moment by moment I felt myself slipping away, unable to center myself.

Then I looked at the sky.  Driving home, I looked up.  The clouds were wind whipped and forming shapes that seemed at once like old familiar faces, with new expressions forming and changing from second to second.

And as I drove, I felt something happening.  Fatigue and stress were disappearing as I looked at the clouds.  I began to think of the song by Joni Mitchell, a song that has meant a lot to me over the years, something I often sing to myself when I am troubled.  And I kept glancing up as I sang softly to myself, watching the clouds change.

When I reached home I found myself leaping out of my car and racing to capture the clouds before night hid them from view.  It was a wonder filled moment.  Watching the clouds was like looking at the face of God.  Communion for my spirit, it buoyed me in ways nothing else could. 

I am wishing you a weekend of peace, of strengthening and cleansing for whatever troubles your spirit.  And a week to come of happiness and balance.

...I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It's clouds illusions I recall

I really don't know clouds at all...

~joni mitchell

...cath xo

Have to post the Joni Mitchell version I love...enjoy...xoxo

the way of the world

I was watching a video of my granddaughter Maddie that my daughter Jen posted on Facebook today.  Maddie is in kindergarten.  She is 5 years old.  And she is reading.  I sat there amazed at how well she was sounding out words, and understood what she was reading.

This tells me that the analytical thinking of 5 year olds these days has surpassed what we did in school at the same age.  Read words and understand what they meant at 5?  Me?  No way! 

These are the things I remember about being 5 years old:

Carrying milk money to school.
Drinking room temperature milk and eating graham crackers for a snack.
Falling asleep.  Soundly.  During "rest period".
The smell of new crayons.
The feel of paper in my fingers while it was still pristine and unused.
Being afraid of my teacher. 
The excitement of writing a few letters and numbers. 
Knowing someday that what I wrote would mean something to other people.
Looking out the classroom window and daydreaming.  A lot.

Those are some of the things I remember. 

Now kids are learning to read and write in kindergarten.  A time that used to be spent getting used to the idea of being trapped with a bunch of strangers, and having to wait to go to the bathroom, is now filled with graphs that tell you how much your child should be able to read, write and count by the end of each grading period.

Are our kids losing their innocence too fast?  Can't we wait to start them on this road of learning a bit later?  Like the age of 6? 

Can't we give them time to look out the window and daydream?  I think that daydreaming is at least as important as learning to read and count. 

Reading and counting give our children the foundation for building life as adults.

Daydreaming gives them the wings to carry them there.

Let them daydream.  Just a bit longer.

monday blessing

I get out a lot with my job, and while I was in my car today I came to a halt at a stop sign.  I looked left, and the road was clear.  Then I looked right.  I saw blossoms falling from a tree, and realized in an instant that early spring was over, as evidenced by the falling blossoms.  That made a bittersweet impression on my mind.  As I watched I saw a gentle breeze blowing the petals away.  And the sight made such an impression on me that I grabbed my little iPhone camera and took a couple photos.  My karma was good today, because absolutely no one drove up to prod me on my way.  I felt so blessed to capture this that I wanted to share it.

So with this blessing I received today comes the wish your week may hold the same joy.
~cath

the saga of scab

I've started this tale of Scab four times.  I never thought it would be so hard to write about a hog.  It's just such a...touching story.  So I'll start where I came in....

The other night, Steve was telling Wretch something and she started laughing loudly and hollering at me to come to the living room and hear what he was saying.  And since I can't tell anything nearly as funny as Steve can, I will try to relate what he said in his own words.  When you read it, please think of a deep southern accent with a lot of dry humor around the edges....

Steve:

Bud bought Scab when she was just a pig (that's a small hog by the way).  He found her one day in his barn.  She had stuck her head through a hole in the wall and instead of lifting up and out of the hole she went down and got stuck even tighter.  She started pulling back, and pulled til she couldn't pull no more.  By the time Bud found her she had given up and laid down to die.  He pulled her out of the hole and left her there, figuring she'd be to bury the next day.

Well, the next day, she was up.  And all she ended up with was a raw spot on her neck that scabbed over.  So Bud started calling her Scab. 

Now Bud couldn't keep Scab penned up.  She was so good at breaking out that they just let her have the run of the yard most of the time.  You can only pen a determined hog up so many times, then you just have to give up and give in.  So among the chickens running around was this huge hog.  But she was friendly.  Til she got older.

One time I went by Bud and Vicky's (that's Mrs. Bud) and I saw Vicky's car there, but Bud's truck was gone.  And the back door was standing open.  I went to the back door, and here came Scab running out the back door, almost knocked me down on her way out.  I went in, thinking someone might be hurt or something, and saw garbage scattered all over the kitchen.  Scab had gone in and torn out the garbage and strewn it all over the kitchen floor.  There was no one in the house so I went outside to the only spot I could get cell phone reception and called Vicky.  I told her Scab was in the house and the back door was standing wide open.  I heard Vicky tell Bud "YOU left the back door standing open and the hog got in!"  Then I heard Bud saying in the background "I thought YOU closed the door!".  I just shut the back door and left Scab outside.

At this point I resume telling you all that by this time I was laughing until my sides hurt, and Wretch was laughing with me like she hadn't just heard all this a few minutes before.  I told Steve they should have just kept Scab for a pet because she was so entertaining.  Steve said "oh hell no, she weighed about 450 lbs by the time we butchered her.  That is too much hog to have running around the yard."

I said it was sadistic to butcher a pet.  Steve said "well most hogs never see their first birthday, and she lived a bit longer than that.  We couldn't kill her first because she was in heat, so she got to live a bit longer."

By now I am thinking that maybe being a girl hog has a little more advantage.  But the whole hog saga has me thinking I don't want any pork of any kind, ever again.  I don't like thinking that I almost knew this hog personally.

That was cemented forever when Steve got out a pack of sausage the next morning and said:

"You ready for some Scab?" 

That was it for me.  I swore off sausage in that instant forever.  I wasn't kidding.

I don't care if he does serve Scab on my Grammy's plate.

this moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

“This Moment” is a ritual I found on Pamanner's Blog, via Life inspired by the Wee Man adopted from SouleMama. Check out their blogs…these are beautiful, and if you are moved too, please leave a link to your Moment in the comment box below.

huh?

When I get ready for work in the mornings I often listen to the news on the television as I get ready...if it is something visual then I usually run to the TV to see what is being discussed or reported.  Steve sits in his recliner just around the corner about six feet from me.  If he thinks it is really good, he will holler at me "you need to come see this!" and I run like a turkey to see.  Sometimes.

This morning as I was listening, I heard a commercial come on about hearing aids.  A newfangled kind that is small, waterproof, and not embarrassing to wear.

I say in a very loud tone of voice to Steve:
"IF YOUR HEARING GETS ANY WORSE, WE ARE GOING TO GET ONE OF THOSE FOR YOU!"

Steve replies:
"HUH?"

I say:
"I REST MY CASE!"

Steve hollers back:
"I COULDN'T HEAR YOU."

At this point I go stand in front of him and make disgusted noises in the back of my throat. 

Steve looks at me, clueless.

Addendum to this post:

Yesterday, on the way home from the airport, Jim and Steve told me about Jack's latest ploy to stop at McDonald's so he could eat (and play).  He said he works there.  (Jack is six.)  So what?  Nothing new to that.  Well, evidently he's been promoted.  He no longer cleans the floors he said.  He cooks there now.

He still didn't win that argument. 

Mostly because he was outnumbered by two hungry men who didn't want a Happy Meal for dinner.  They'd fight over the toys.

and so life gets in the way...

My post a day following a prompt from NaBloPoMo was going along fairly well until yesterday.  Life got in the way and life always comes first, before writing, or painting, or photography.

So I spent yesterday dealing with life, and the day was gone before I realized it.  I always keep things in perspective though, and family always comes first.  So I shrug my shoulders as I write this, and promise to try again next month.  Until then, I post when I can, as often as I can fit it into my life.

I have learned several things while discovering this world of the blogger.  The main thing I have discovered is that I have learned better self discipline.  That is a good thing.  My family calls me an airhead, and not without reason, because I tend to always have my thoughts out in the clouds.  Blogging has also taught me to focus my thoughts into words.  This blog is just my thoughts, but I never want it to become "the boring ramblings of..." and so I spend a lot of time composing what I will write in my mind before I sit down to put it into text. 

The type of blog post I write depends a lot on my mood, as I am sure you have deduced.  But variety can be good, and even though I envy bloggers who have a single theme and are experts at what they write, that could never be me, because I have interests in too many areas.  So I hope you bleaders will stick with me, as I share my thoughts...

Today my sister and I went for a drive through some of the most beautiful countryside ever created by God.  And I took these photographs and would like to share them:

day 12...share

I often spend time hopping around from blog to blog, reading and picking up ideas, seeing how other people think and approach life.  It has been a lot of fun to learn this world of blogging, Twitter and Facebook.  When I first posted on Facebook in the not so distant past, I thought it would be a great way to keep in touch with my family.  Brand new to social media, I had no idea what the platform was capable of doing.

As I clicked and read my way around Facebook, and then the blogosphere, I saw something.  People weren't just sharing their own stories, building networks and businesses.  People were sharing the stories of others.  Asking the readers to help with causes.  I began to see the diversity of it all.

One of the first posts I read that impacted my thinking was this one.  I had stumbled across the blog owner on Twitter in my quest to learn what the heck a tweet was.  Then I found this blog, written by a mother who was sharing the daily challenges and tragedy in her life.  And thrown into that mix was this blog whose owner used a Twitter # (hashtag) she had created (#wineparty) to often help support the needs of others.

I was in shock for a bit.  It became apparent that there is a lot more to this blog and Twitter stuff than fluff, or fun and games.  When the need arises and is identified, the blogosphere or twitterworld responds.  Pretty impressive stuff.

And so today I share with you.  That badge above my head to the right is a link to a place.  When you click on it and then text the Red Cross (90999) on your cell phone, they add $10 to your cell phone bill and send that money to the victims of the earthquake/tsunami in Japan.  Pretty painless way to give to a worthy cause isn't it?  Pretty awesome way to share a little bit with those who have lost everything.

So if you can, please share.  And please share this blog post with others so that they might share too.

Pretty powerful word isn't it?

PS...and when you have time, check out those blog links...and share.

Day eleven...dichotomy

Dichotomy. Today's word. A dichotomy is something with seemingly contradictory qualities. I was discussing an incident with my sister today and that was the word that landed in my mind. So I'll tell you the story I was relating.

Years ago I was in the shower one night after Steve went to bed. I think the kids were grown and gone. I turned around quickly and while I was turned toward the back wall of the shower I lost my balance and fell out of the shower and into the bathroom floor.  Not a graceful fall either.  I screamed like a banshee and as I fell backward (and my whole life flashed in front of my eyes) I grabbed the shower curtain on both sides of me and as I fell back, I took the shower curtain out with me.  I ended up laying like a beached whale on my back, on a wet, slick shower curtain, with my head shoved up against the sink cabinet on one side and my legs still hanging over into the edge of the shower.

I laid there like a turtle on its back, waiting for Steve to respond to my scream and come flip me over.  I realized nothing was broken.  The shower curtain was destroyed, but my bones were intact.  Then after laying there in gratitude for what felt like an hour, I realized no one was coming to rescue me.  And I was wet, cold and stuffed in that small space so tightly I could barely move.  I tried to roll over.  I kept sliding on the plastic and ending up back on my back.  I finally flipped my legs out of the tub and at the same time flipped over on my front side, and slithered off of the shower curtain. 

I stood up, grabbed a towel and marched to the bedroom.  Okay, the bedroom was on the other side of the house, but I screamed pretty loud.  I walked in and looked at Steve.

He was out cold.  Snoring.  It was disgusting. 

This was the same man who would wake up hollering "what the *(&% is wrong?" when I tried to surreptitiously pull an extra two inches of blanket to my side of the bed.  The same man who could hear the dogs cough inside their dog houses in the middle of the night, causing him to jump up and run from window to window looking for burglars.  (Did I mention we live in the country where the burglary rate is probably less than .001%?)

The man's hearing is a dichotomy, seemingly contradicting itself.

Or maybe it is just selective hearing, and the dogs rank higher on his list of things to protect than my wet butt does.

But I'm sticking with dichotomy.  It sounds more important than deaf.

this moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.



“This Moment” is a ritual I found on Pamanner's Blog, via Life inspired by the Wee Man adopted from SouleMama. Check out their blogs…these are beautiful, and if you are moved too, please leave a link to your Moment in the comment box below.

day ten...cranky

Weird word to pick, isn't it? But that's my life at this moment. I had a big day today, with my sisters and mom, and because I was tired and cranky when we got home tonight, I flew off the handle at my sister and said some things I shouldn't have. Not big things or terrible things, but stuff I should have kept to myself.

That's the bad thing.

The good thing? Tomorrow is another day, I'll be rested and in a better mood.

The best thing? My sister doesn't hold a grudge.

day nine...velour

This is a strange word to pick for the March prompt, but velour impacted my whole day today, and I felt compelled to share it.  Forgive me if this is too much for you velour lovers out there, but I have had a total change of heart for this word, and the fabric it represents.

This morning at 4:30AM, when I was getting ready to fly home to California, I vacillated between jeans and something warmer.  It was raining, had been all night, that kind of early spring rain that just seeps coldness into your bones.  And so jeans that I had laid out the night before (well actually at 1AM since I was up late packing, a norm for me) didn't look too appealing when I was getting ready.  So I ran to the bedroom and dug out a velour jacket and pants from my time in Alaska, perfect traveling attire for the Arctic.

Well, in my rush I forgot to put on underwear.  (And I am not talking about a bra...a middle aged woman would have to have a sadistic bent to subject the world to that sight.)  So half asleep I got my clothes on, thinking I had picked the perfect traveling ensemble.  Warm, but not too hot, and makeup put on what appeared to be perfect, and my hair kept flat and simple so I didn't have to worry about bedhead when I arrived, because I knew I would sleep my way across the US, as I always do.  Put me in an airplane seat, start taxiing for takeoff and I am unconscious within two minutes.

Today was no exception, I slept from Birmingham to Phoenix.  When I stood up to change planes, I had the first inkling that maybe I hadn't chosen wisely in apparel.  As I stood up, I suddenly realized the seam on the seat of my pants was buried.  In the butt that seam covered.  Somehow it had wedged itself as deep as a pair of thong underwear.  And I started sweating, wondering how I was going to unobtrusively dig that seam out without being obvious about it.  I sure didn't want to be the woman with the butt seam problem everyone talked about when they debarked.

So I tried to be sneaky.  I grabbed the side of the leg and gave a little tug on the butt of the pants.

Now the thing you need to know about velour, is that is stretches.  By the time I had the leg pulled out so far it looked like an elephant ear attached to my leg (yes the pantsuit was dark gray), I realized that errant seam wasn't going to be going anywhere.

I tried the other leg.  Nothing.  Just another elephant ear.  By now I realized I was going to be moving into the aisle soon, because the plane was quickly emptying.  So I did what I had to do.  I grabbed the butt of my pants and yanked.  But when I yanked, it pulled the butt seam sideways and it ended up over close to my right hip.  I knew there was no way I could walk out into the aisle looking like I was walking forward from the waist up, and sideways from the waist down, so I grabbed the waist of the pants and gave a big yank in the opposite direction, and finally got the seams where they all belonged.  I figured by that time at least some of the people behind me knew what had happened, but I kept my eyes straight forward and never looked back.

Now maybe it would be bad enough this happened once to me, but I had another couple hours to fly from Phoenix to Sacramento, and this horrid little scene repeated itself all over again, with a different group of observers.

I've never been so glad to finally get to my sister's car.  Where I could yank my pants around in any direction in the midst of loving family.

Of course, said loving family laughed outright at me.  And outrageously loudly.

Which is why I had two glasses of wine at dinner.

And why that vicious, butt eating velour pantsuit is now in the garbage can.

day eight...sisters

Tomorrow I head home, to the place I grew up.  My mom and sister still live in the area, and my other sister is coming from Washington state to spend some sister time with us too.

Our time apart is always hard.  We miss each other.  We were close growing up and thought we'd always live near each other, instead of being scattered to the four winds.

Years ago I moved to Alabama as a young wife, barely 18.  When I would go home for a visit, the anticipation of seeing my family would nearly make me ill.  I would get so wound up with excitement that I would have trouble sleeping, and the days until the reunion would drag like years.  Then whoosh, it would be upon me, and over before I could blink twice.

I spent time after those visits in deep melancholy.  Because I never knew when or if I would see my sisters again.  So each parting was almost like a death for me.  But gradually, as I settled into living here in the south, and raising my family, this became my home, and my heart became tied to the life I made for myself here, with my husband and children.

I got older, and the visits with my sisters became more frequent as we became more financially settled, and the kids grew up and moved out on their own.  I knew I could see my sisters almost as often as I wanted, and when my father voiced regret before he died about not seeing us more often over the years, after we had grown, my sisters and I vowed to see each other as often as possible.  As often as our hearts felt the need.  And one trip a year would be just for us, to spend together away from everyone and just focus on our sister bond.

Today is International Women's Day.  Tomorrow I see my sisters.  The women I admire and look up to most in the world.  My right and left arm.  The sisters who love me unconditionally, and without whom I would not be the woman I am today.  For most assuredly they influenced me more than any other people on this earth.  And they still do. 

Now, as I have grown older, I anticipate our get togethers like a fine bottle of wine, to be savored slowly, sip by sip, and each moment enjoyed to the fullest.

And for these marvelous, funny, intelligent, witty, beautiful women that I love:

day seven...sleep

in morpheus' arms
the weary bones lie sleeping
to rise renewed again

day six...words

The power of words.  We use them to communicate meanings, emotion, thoughts, ideas.  To express ourselves.  To prove our ability to be witty, funny, touching, empathetic, superior.  To show someone we think like they do.  Or differently than they do.  To prove any point we want to make, we use words.

This month the prompt has been for me to use one word each day to blog with.  I considered that an easy challenge, because I could pick any word.  And I have lots of words floating around in my brain at any given point of the day.  So I took off, and posted each day this month, and preened with each positive comment I got.  I was a master of words, someone who could express myself any way I chose to, and arrogantly I began to think that I was superior in my verbage.

Until today.  I reconnected with an old online friend.  Someone in Sweden I had long ago learned to admire as he showed me how to connect with people on this thing called the internet, how to share files and master the chat/file sharing program we were using. We chatted in large groups, all of us from many countries trying to connect through text.

I hadn't talked to him in several years.  He was still on my list, but like many people we had gone in different directions.  Then I found him on Facebook, and a few weeks ago wished him a happy birthday.

Today he said hi.  A simple word.  And then told me that he had a stroke several weeks back.  And as we chatted, he told me in broken text that it had affected his memory, and his left side.

I was dismayed.  A major stroke, something that will take a long time to recover from, with hours of therapy involved.  As I sat there in shock, I noticed many of his words made no sense, and he took minutes to type a simple three or four words.  Saddened, I tried to figure out what he was saying.  His English is excellent, but I could see he was struggling to find the words, put them together in a sentence and type that in.

I was hit by so many emotions and thoughts at the same time, as I sat there trying to communicate with him. 

And I realized. 

The words I so easily toss around on this blog, he worked hard to find and type to me.

The words I take for granted every day, he is relearning.

The words I think prove my superiority, he lost in seconds. 

We sat and slowly chatted.  I began to understand him better.  He reverted to Swedish at one point and I laughed and told him that I still didn't speak Swedish.  And when all else failed, he spoke to me in the universal language.  Smileys.  We used a lot of those.

And I realized how precious life is.  How grateful I am he survived.  What a blessing it was to find him again, and speak to him.  How humbled I was by each word he typed.

Welcome back Bjorn.  Thank you for the words.

day five...play

To play like a child
keeps laughter in your heart

To play like a child
means the world to your child

To play like a child
makes memories

to return to when you grow old

Carry the spirit of play

in your heart,

and it will uplift your soul

For a lifetime

.....PLAY

day four...laugh

Laugh.  Find something to laugh at.  Laugh long.  Laugh frequently. 

Laughing has so many benefits.  It can lift a mood, brighten a cloudy day.  And it can help you to live longer.

Laughing is a positive thing.  Like the laughing I do at my husband tonight at he cracks jokes and makes me laugh.

Because he was irritating me to begin with, obsessing over some television program.  An episode we missed last week.

(It's TV for Pete's sake, not life or death.  SO we MISS a first run episode of one of our favorite programs.  It was more important that the twins get to finish watching a movie they were deep into.  And it was hitting the climax of the movie.  The whole explanation behind the plot.  They COULD NOT miss it.)

(Ok, so it was a cartoon and a DVD too.  Well once in a while it is good for us to sacrifice for the kids.)

So keep laughing Stevie Wonder.  That episode will come around this summer during reruns...

And he laughs.  And makes a joke.  And I laugh with him.

Did I ever tell you that was why I decided I loved him 41 years ago?  It was.

He made me laugh.  He laughed me right into love.

this moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

“This Moment” is a ritual I found on Pamanner's Blog, via Life inspired by the Wee Man adopted from SouleMama.  Check out their blogs…these are beautiful, and if you are moved too, please leave a link to your Moment in the comment box below.

day three....alike

Keb' Mo's Just Like You.  I've had this song in my head for days.  When I hear something that has meaning, it tends to do that.  I replay it in my head, turn it around.  Like a gem in my hand, I look at it and examine it from every angle.  Thinking about the words of a song is like meditating for me.

The word, the concept in this song is that we are all alike.  No matter who we are, what we look like, where we live, we are all alike....part of the sea of humanity flowing on the planet. 

Believing that, keeps me grounded.  I take care of the mentally ill.  Some may think they are different.  They live with a stigma attached, looked at as "those" people.  But therein lies the twist.  They are just like us.  Trying to live, have families, have homes.  I also teach nursing students, and so I throw away the paperwork most instructors would make them do, and I approach it a different way.  To teach these students that we are all alike, that the patients they will someday be caring for are just like us, I tell them this:

"There is no normal.  There are only shades of normal between us all.  We are all alike, some of us function at a higher level in society, but there is no difference.  Remember that, and remember to treat every human being with respect.  We all deserve that."

If that is the ONLY thing my students learn, then I have succeeded in teaching them one of life's most important lessons.

We are all alike.

day two

Light.

shining in my eyes

pulling me from slumber

awakening me suddenly

to a new day

dawning

all things are

and will be

possible

in the light

...persevere to persevere...

This month I set a goal.  I belong to NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month, a website that supports and encourages budding bloggers.  (There is a cute little hot pink and black badge down there close to the bottom of that right column if you want to find out more about the site.)  They provide daily "prompts" or suggestions for blogging, and also have a monthly contest that encourages you to post a blog entry every day for a month.

Now I have come close to this goal a couple times, but life got in the way and I was a few posts shy of a whole month.  So, like any determined blogger (can I actually call myself a "real" blogger now? do I qualify?) I am giving another slap at it.  Not to win anything, but just to see if I can be disciplined enough to complete a whole month's entries.  In the same month.

The prompt for this month is "In a Word".  It can be any word of my choice, but I have to use that word that day as the focus for my blog.

I believe there is a lot of power in words.  Words can sometimes seem meaningless, but most definitely even the most meaningless or mundane of words have an impact.  So my word for today, which has a strong meaning for me at this moment, is PERSEVERE.

Pretty big old word isn't it?  But for me it means determination.  That even though I have failed twice before to complete my NaBloPoMo goal, I am still determined to try it again.  Why do I want to make a third attempt?

Because it requires discipline.  Which is a trait I do not have in abundance.  By persevering, I hope to strengthen that trait.  And become a stronger person because of it.

So this month I will PERSEVERE.  And if I fail, I won't let that stop me from trying again.

But I won't fail.  Not this time.  Because my karma is good.  :)

I hope you'll follow this little journey and see where it takes me.

By the way, I am posting this 70 minutes before the deadline for the first day.  I am being somewhat disciplined.  I need to persevere a little earlier tomorrow.