What is Your Take on This?

Today was Little Boy Darling’s first day of school. Here he is, having been born—almost—on this blog for I wrote about his birth, his first plane ride to Hawaii, learning to walk there and those shoes that walked him instead of the other way around.  There on the Island he gave the baby goats, Do and Ra, their bottles, and watched them suck out the milk faster than any of us could get out a good sneeze. Now he is six years old and going to school.

I thought his main repertoire was  #Minecraft, #Nintendo, #Mario, #Sonic, computer games, yet when the school interviewer asked what he wanted to study, he said “Physics.”

“What do you want to study in physics?” she asked.

“Gravity,” he said. “That’s one of life’s great mysteries.”

I think he was playing for the audience, but it got him his first scholarship.

What I wanted to ask you was about the following:

There is a little girl at Little Boy Darling’s school, older that LBD and was there with her younger brother.  She had a red scarf completely covering her hair, and bore a bright red dress, as well as  heavy black tights that ended with socks and shoes. Her face was clear, as were her hands, but that was about all. Her little brother looked no different from the other boys in dress and behavior.

She was charming, friendly and talkative. It impacted me, though, painful to see a young filly tied up unnecessarily when her natural inclination is to kick up her heels.

I can do nothing I suppose except to know that she is attending a very free school where she can express herself, is democratic and encourages freedom of choice.

Of course we can all wonder how we have restricted ourselves or where we feel tied-up. Ours is self-imposed. Is hers?

Right now the clouds of morning have melted away and the sun is coming out blistering, and there within my experience is a little girl in a heavy scarf and long black stockings.

Did You Hear That?

Did you hear that?

So many friends have passed from this life to the next I’m surprised we don’t hear the partying in heaven. Say, maybe that’s what is keeping us awake nights.

Wayne Dyer, another fellow traveler on our highway of life, recently joined the fray. He died a few days ago, August 29, 2015

I have often quoted something similar to the above Dyer quote, and encouraged others to do the same—even if you heart’s desire is a pipe dream. The term pipe dream came from Opium smoking, but think about it, Lewis Carroll make good use of a drug induced dream in Alice in Wonderland, and people gobbled it up.

I’m not encouraging opium smoking; I’m not sure Carroll did either, people often attribute fanciful thinking with drugs. Carroll was a mathematician, a deacon, and a story teller—interesting combination. He also stuttered, but only in the presence of adults. He preferred the company of children, and it was a ten-year-old child, Alice, who begged him to write the story he had told them.

I’m not encouraging opium smoking; I’m encouraging doing what you want to do, dreaming what you want to dream, and going for it.

Remember Kermit the Frog’s song, 

“Sing, sing a song. Sing out loud, sing out strong, make it simple to last your whole life long. Don’t worry if it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear, just sing, sing a song.” 

                                                                --Joe Raposo, staff writer for #Sesame St.

Remember, it's your song, sing it whether anyone listens or not.

I had some verification of my work today when I got an email asking for my address so they could send me a fifty dollar check.  It appears they accepted my input on the Big Island of Hawaii for Via Magazine., an AARP publication.

I had forgotten I had sent that article. Isn’t that the way it is we put out an order, forget about it, then when it arrives it appears as if by magic?

From Africa to Purse Pups

I awakened on Tuesday morning missing Peaches and Bear.

The night before, daughter and I visited Golden Labrador puppies, turned out to be a puppy mill—that gave us cause for pause, although the puppies were adorable, I don’t know what to do with that information—numerous dogs in kennels, probably never get to run like a normal dog, never have an owner to bond with, but they do have other dogs. The owner is probably operating within the laws, size of runs, cleanliness, etc.  I also played with an exuberant shelter pup coursing through town on the way back to California. I declined both.

The next morning, Tuesday, my day off, it became clear that I wanted a small dog. I checked out poodle mixes on the Internet, and found two I was interested in in the Portland vicinity. I made an appointment—the woman was willing to drive from Vancouver to the airport area to meet me. I said I would call when I got to Willsonville, about 40 minutes away as she requested.

Wilsonville. There is a pet store in Wilsonville daughter and I visited on an earlier occasion—might as well check it out while I am here.

And there she was.

The pup I couldn’t refuge.

My pup.

A Mal Chi—A Maltese/ Chihauhau mix. A Purse pup.  An adorable, smart, gentle dog. She is so small she makes the cats look big. (So far,  no cat attacks, no dog attack.)

I was embarrassed to tell the lady I wasn’t coming to see her pup, but divine providence had led me to the pup that felt right.

The day before, Monday, I finished a novel—finished? If a book is ever finished. It is completed enough to enter a contest. And that’s where  “Africa” comes in.

It is on  https://www.wattpad.com/160719265-song-of-africa-part-1/page/3

P.S. Did I tell you that Peaches ‘ Veterinarian donated money to the Oregon State College of Veterinary Medicine in Peaches’ name. I am honored to have Peaches honored. (And Peaches helped me find the pup.)

Free Help for Your Vision

Do you really listen to an ad that runs on like a shaggy dog story?

Today I hit on something that caught my attention How a Spilled Soda Helped me Save my Eyesight.

NEVER need Glasses Ever Again.

Okay, let’s see what this fellow has to say. How to see without glasses, how to avoid degenerative diseases such as macular degeneration and cataracts.

About 45 minutes later I got the bottom line. He was reading copy on U-tube so I couldn’t scroll down.

I will keep it brief, for long copy or long U-tubes drive me nuts.

Guess I’m the only impatient person in the world.

The story was told by a kindly elderly man with a great voice who said he went to the store for his wife, forgot  his glasses, accidentally ran into a soda display, and watched in horror and embarrassment as bottles tumbled to the floor. One broke open and squirted soda causing a sticky gooey mess.

But that’s not the end of the story.

I listened while he talked about his night vision or lack thereof. How he feared losing his sight.

I have read from the blogging gurus that long copy makes people believe there is real value there.

Is that true?

Okay, my dear fellow vision guide commiserated with people who have poor night vision, smeary lights, etc.

But that’s not the end of the story. “I’ll share with you in a second,” was an often repeated mantra.

“JUST TELL ME,” I screamed, as the fire alarm went off because I was frying/burning sausages as I listened.

I knew there was a product at the end of his tale, but I wanted the three ingredients he had promised.

I was  hooked. Copy writers would say this is good, except with me there was one small problem, I didn’t buy anything from him.

Oh, I’m getting ahead of myself.

I knew from my association with eye diagnostic designers, my husband being one, that there are nutrients that help preserve the vision. (I will share with you in a second—don’t shoot me.)  I wanted to know what this man was suggesting.

In the grocery story, Joe the man who approached him, asked why his accident happened.

“I forgot my glasses,’ he said.

 The man laughed and asked if he would like not to need them again.

Well right.

First Joe had to tell how he came to his conclusions and how it began with his mother being afraid she was losing her vision. She had a hole in her macula that required an operation and for her to lie face down for three days until the hole healed.

Bottom line, I got his ingredients!

They are:

1.     Bilberry

2.     Lutein

3.     Grape seed extract

Grape seed extract is known to prevent or reverse cataracts.

Lutein is a substance found in the macula (that small area responsible for central vision) and needed for good vision. It is found in egg yolks, and green leafy vegetables.

Bilberry is a powerful antioxidant.

All can be found at the health food store.

Think of all the time the cholesterol police told us eggs weren’t good for us—they were high in cholesterol, they said. (We need cholesterol floating in our blood, but not adhering to the walls of our arteries, but then that’s another story.)

My association with eye-care specialists taught me that two supplements do help prevent degenerative eye diseases such as macular degeneration and cataracts.

They are:  #Lutein and #zeaxanthin

These are carotenoids synthesized by plants. They filter harmful high energy blue wavelengths of light, and act as antioxidants in the eye, thus protecting it.

The dosage is not known, but suggested.

10 mg/day lutein

2 mg/day zeaxanthin

Okay, that said, I’m stopping at the health food store tonight.

One more comment before I close—since I am fired up, and my vision is clear enough to see that this man on our political scene named Donald Trump is an egomaniac knowing no bounds. I don’t care if he owns half of New York, he is an embarrassment to Democrats and Republicans, Independents, women, Mexican-Americans, Veterans, all immigrants. Heavens to Betsy—even #Heidi Klum. She fired back at him, though, smiling all the while. Not a 10 huh, Trump?

You Have a Secret Goldmine...Want to Know What It Is?

Johnny tells his sister Edwinna he is getting a horse for Christmas.

She tells him he is not.

He remains steadfast saying that he is. 

He ties a rope to a tree for his horse. He gets a bucket of water for it, and a brush for its grooming.

Edwinna has always wanted a horse, but her parents have told her time after time that they cannot afford a horse.

Still Johnny remains steadfast. He is getting a horse for Christmas..

Edwina continues to ask her parents if Johnny is getting a horse for Christmas, and they continue to tell her that they cannot afford a horse.

One day the neighbor comes to their farm and asks Edwinna’s father to gather up the children, he has something to show them.

They go to the farmer’s house where his mare is giving birth. Edwinna is astounded to witness such a miraculous event.

After the foal is born and standing on wobbly legs, the farmer slaps Edwinna’s father on the back and tells him he is giving the foal to Johnny.

Edwinna’s heart drops to her knees, when the farmer puts his arm around her shoulder and says, “And Edwinna, I am giving the mare to you.”

Know that your good is lined up outside your door.

I decided join the great unwashed and write a short eBook. This is an except from it.

I could call it #How to Get What you've Always Dreamed Of

or

#How to Get Everything You Want Out of Life, 

Instead it is 

#You Have a Secret Goldmine..

Want to Know What it Is?. 

Chapter 1

I've heard it said that we all touch madness, but producers don't make movies about us. Basically we go to work, feed ourselves and then dream of someday running off to the Andes and marrying a sheep herder who cultures cheese on the mountain and makes love to us in the tall grass.

Someday is now.

More? Click on gold coin

One Blogger Said Not to Do This

"Don't get excited and show a picture of your first egg," A blogger crying in the wilderness advised.  I didn't, I photographed my first three eggs. Three eggs from my three little hens--all laid on the same day, Sunday July 26, 2015.

You may have heard/read my trauma/drama of getting three chicks last year and having one turn out to be a rooster.  A neighbor heard him and came to my door with blood in her eye. The rooster went to a good home. My wonderful rescue person called him  "A Wonder Rooster," for he got along with her already established barnyard ruler. 

And so I learned to sex baby chicks. Clearly the store had missed the mark on one of my first three. This year I got what I wanted--three hens. (My other two died of potato skin poisoning, but I decided to try again and never never never feed my new chickens potato peelings. In fact I don't think I have eaten any Russet potato skin since then, Red skins are okay.)

Oh, in case you are interested, sexing chickens is done with the wing feathers. 


  

And then back home. 

After I came down from the mountain I was inspired to blog and I began Grandmother Grey Wolf#. That sounded good to me, spiritual and all that. I realized, however, that I didn’t have anything to say. On top of that, spirituality is highly subjective. Everyone has their own ideas.  The concept is somewhat futile to discuss. Unless, of course, we agree. That’s fine. If we disagree, though, anger can be the result. And since we are thoughtful people, we do not want to beat each other over the head with an ideology.

People are good by nature. Put enough pressure on a person, though, and you get something else. I see people being on edge, quick to snap, quick to see the fault instead of the positive aspects.

It appears to me that the solution of being at peace with ourselves is to become sovereign individuals. That doesn’t mean to separate ourselves from others, it means as Abraham Maslow defined long ago—being #self-actualized. That way we are not fooled, dupted, controlled, and BS slides off us without leaving a trace.

Some call it being enlightened, but I don’t know what that means and it is too lofty a goal for me anyway.

We have learned enough to know that if we don’t make up your own minds someone will make it up for us.  Schools love to do that. Corporations, with few exceptions, take over from there. Think of applications for a job where they “screen you” to within an inch of your life, take fingerprints, personality tests, drug tests. Do they say,  “Hey, how are you doin’?  What do you like to do? How would you fit in with our company?”

We are scared spitless that we will muck up somehow, and being human, we often do. Don’t sweat it, try again. (Sorry if you killed that guy with brain surgery, or caused a rocket to blow up in space.”)

I am thinking more in terms of systems that become canonized and cause altruistic young people to become fed up with the ingrained system until eventually they give up in disgust. They lose. Corporations lose.

Let's create a different system--you hear of it once in awhile--like #Haagen Dazs. Choose the finest ingredients, and make good ice cream. Simple. Imagine.


This is so yummy I can't have it in my house too often.      You might like this for the  eye candy.

The Secret I Promised

 If you want to slap Grandmother Grey Wolf on the back 

       to help spit up a fur ball click on:   

                 

                                       http://www.grandmothergreywolf.blogspot.com                                                     

Have you noticed that about everything you do is a Work in Process—life included?

And so has this blog been that, a work in process. Probably people wonder what in the hell I’m talking about in wishing on white horses. No matter. I’m still wishing, still believing in believing.

And I promised you "The secret to being rich beyond your wildest dreams.” That was before Peaches died and I got off the track. The eleven bags of subcutaneous fluid we did not use on Peaches will go to Sanctuary One, an animal rescue facility here in Oregon. It is the one that took our wonderful goats Orville and Wilbur. (I hear that Wilbur, the dark one, is in love.)

Psssst, About “The Secret.”

I trust you to use your common sense—remember that notebook where you wrote down your desires? Oh, you didn’t do it? Okay, but if you decide to do it, remember it’s for your eyes only. And if you ask for someone to be in your life, ask that it be for the highest good of both parties. You cannot ask for someone else, that is against spiritual law. You may ask, however, how that person fits into your life.

It is best to concentrate on your own life and let others take care of their own lives.

Yes, our subconscious mind connects us to the creative power of the Universe. It also connects us to every other being on the planet. It behooves us, therefore, to imagine our dreams as balloons filled with helium. When we share that dream, a little of the helium pssst leaks out.

Describe the kind of life you want.

Okay we have written out our desires. Remember not to say we want them, but write them in present tense. We have them.

After that we do not ignore our list, but we detach from it to let the Universe work out the details.

Remember that the good you are seeking is also seeking you.

The secret to success is to define the parameters of your desire, and then let the Forces of Creation do the work.

Grandmother Wolf here for Peaches

Sleeping while I'm driving

Now Bear is sleeping on me. 

Just saying "Hi. and you know what? I'm going to have something to say on www.dogblogbypeaches.blogspot.com, but first I have to get my bearings here on the other side. Right now I'm out in the forest playing with Bear."

Our little Peaches, our Pink Party Poodle for Peace aka Peachy Baby died in my arms last night.

She did good for a dog that had Addison's disease her entire life, and lived with us sticking her with a needle for the past year. Addisons is a condition, not really a disease. It's a fault in the adrenal glands.

This is the first time in 46 years that we have been dogless.

If you would like to read a new blog post, it would honor me if you would go to "How Wolves Change Rivers," Awesome.

http://www.grandmothergreywolf.blogspot.com

Love from Joyce

I Shall Go To The Mountain

“I don’t think we could manifest a train here,” I said to my daughter as we sat by a window at Chevy’s Mexican Restaurant in Del Mar California. “There is no train track here.”

Not a minute later a huge flat-bed truck stopped on the road and waited for the traffic light to change. A tan canvas tarp covered the back of the truck and clearly, printed in huge letters, and waiting for us to read it, was the word, “TRANE.”

We almost blew iced tea out our noses.

This morning I had a similar experience. I showed up for a seminar—on the brochure it said July 2-5. This was July 2. “The seminar begins tomorrow,” they said.

Was I disappointed? No. A few months ago I had dreamed of having a get-a-way , a writing retreat. And there it was presented to me—a day alone, away from home. I had a private retreat in my Motel room.

Before driving back to my room I walked down the street of the quaint town of Mt. Shasta City, CA. where the mountain that is Mt Shasta hangs behind the city like a movie set backdrop, its size filling three-quarters of the visible sky. And this being July, its once white cloak of snow is now a shredded Tee-shirt. In town early morning vendors were setting up a street fair, and so after surveying their wares, I wandered into a shop where a book grabbed me.  I’m Rich Beyond  My Wildest Dreams “I am. I am. I am,” by Thomas L. Pauley and Penelope J. Pauley.

Now who could resist that title?

I bought the book, went back to my room and there sitting alone with the outside air 100 degrees, and my room cool as that mountain stream that runs off Mr. Shasta,  Pauley told me that once he was convinced that he could do anything he set his mind to do. “But why,” he asked, “have I gone bankrupt two times?”

Something was missing, he said. He believed he had the missing piece, and he was offering it to me. “First, he said, “get yourself a 79 cent notebook." I had a 19 cent one, so I was already 60 cents ahead.  "Now make sure you have privacy and time—at least an hour to complete the next chapter."

I had the privacy and the time.

Write at the top of your page

“All this by Divine Right, Divine Inspiration, Divine Intervention, Divine Timing and with Good for all concerned.”

Now write a list of what you want.

But don’t “Want” it. Own it. Write it as though you have it already. We don’t want our little universe genie to think we only want something. (He’s so literal he will focus on the want not the have.) We want him to know we are serious about having it.

Write on only one side of the page. (Leave room for growth.)

Skip a line between the items on your list. (Tell the Universe we believe in abundance.) Besides I have a sneaking suspicion Pauley wants us to add more later.

Now make your list.

Example:

1.     I have a beautiful new car or a like-new car.

2.     more

3.     more

At the end of my list my brain was sparking, and so let’s you and I take a break. I will get back to you…it won’t be long, I promise. There is plenty where this came from, and I haven’t even begun the seminar yet.

I know I am not telling you anything you don’t already know, but having it spelled out is such a kick, I had to do it.

To our mutual success.

Ta Da,

Joyce

Next installment: “The Secret Ingredient”

P.S. Ok, I'm cockoo. I know it, but I have begun another blog. It was formerly "Where Tigers Belch," now it is Grandmother Grey Wolf. It will focus on the spiritual side of life,  Come join the pack--we will dance with the wolves.

 

http:/www.grandmothergreywolf.blogspot.com

A Poke

Stuff your eyes with wonder, he said, live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.” 
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

A restaurant here in Eugene has a sports bar attached, and it is reasonable to have a television there—except now they have televisions in the main high-end portion of the restaurant. My girl friends and I asked why they installed televisions. The server said the customers prefer them.

Whoa.

If you go to a Sports bar with the intention of watching a game, okay. Watch the game, cheer, eat, drink, whoop it up. All those things. Otherwise why have a television in a restaurant?

Isn’t going out to eat a festive occasion? Isn’t it a time for conversation, a little wine, a few jokes, something to laugh about, if only the thrill of being together? And just think, someone else prepared the food, and will wash the dishes.

Watch people in restaurants. They are often talking on the phone. To whom? There is a person sitting across from them. Older couples sit silent, munching. They look up occasionally, and to their surprise, there is someone sitting across from them.  Business people are working on papers, snarfing food in a rush to get back to a job they hate.

I love young couples sitting across the table from each other holding hands—older people too. They still believe life is something to get excited about.

In Europe dinner is an occasion. In Italy up-scale restaurants have two sittings per night. There you can stay as long as you want. People eat, drink, have fun, and don’t get fat.

Imagine.

Maybe I missed my calling. I ought to be a restaurant owner, set up an eatery in an alleyway between two buildings, with outside tables, a ceiling of multi-colored umbrellas , strings of white lights, and no televisions.

Little boy Darling has a restaurant idea—a ghost restaurant, with lots of dry ice bubbling, and images projected on the fog. And what would he serve? I wonder.

Joyce

“Life is one grand adventure, or it ought to be if we don’t fall asleep on each other.”—I think Ray Bradbury said this, I can’t find the source.

P.S. If you would like email notifications of blog postings, just give me your handle in the little box below--scroll past the ad surprise of the day. No spam.

Have You Ever Felt This Way?

Jack Canfield’s words are ringing in my head, “Oh What the Heck, Do it Anyway”

“I’m scared.”

“What the heck, do it anyway.”

But I’m not good, enough, talented enough, accurate enough, organized enough, you know the drill….”

“Oh what the heck, do it anyway.”

Have you ever felt this way?

I have a manuscript I've had in the works for over 20 years. Not continually of course. Once I won $50.00 for an excerpt of it, but that was for second place. I figured I could do better. Besides I didn’t have an ending, or enough words, or it wasn’t written well enough—all those things. Well it’s complete at 50,000 words. One publisher will take 50,000 words. Some want the “sweet zone” of 90,000.

“Oh what the heck, send it anyway.”

It’s a love story.

What are you trying to do but are afraid to put out there?

“Oh what the heck, do it anyway.”

I once read that we ought to have a dream bigger than we are. Walt Disney dreamed of Epcot Center, Disney World in Florida, but he never saw it.

Walt Disney went bankrupt more than once, and he heard “no” from virtually everybody that he spoke to when he first came up with the idea of Mickey Mouse. They thought his idea of a cartoon about a mouse was one of the dumbest things they had ever heard. In fact, when he went to banks to get funding for his first Walt Disney theme park, he was turned down and rejected by 302 bankers before someone finally believed in what he had to offer.

So where did he get the money?

Well, only ABC was willing to partner with him. Disney would produce a weekly family television program for ABC. In return, ABC would invest $500,000 in the creation of Disneyland and would own roughly 34% of the new enterprise. The weekly show would consist of an update on the construction of Disneyland and a short movie, all hosted by Walt Disney himself. Disney understood that the public would enjoy the show itself while also sitting through what would now be considered an hour-long commercial for Disneyland. The show went on to be known as “The Wonderful World of Color” and then “The Wonderful World of Disney.”

Also Disney convinced consumer product companies that if the public encountered their brands at Disneyland, they would associate those products with the fun they had during their visit. Some of the first companies to sponsor the park were Coca Cola, Swift, Frito-Lay, Pendleton, Gibson Greeting Cards, TWA, and Eastman Kodak. Originally, these companies owned shares in Disneyland, but once it started to turn a profit, Disney bought those shares back, until the only owners were the Disney Company and ABC.

If you go to Disneyland, however, you will still see those brands.

Gosh I think of # The Golden Horseshoe, and while eating a ham and cheese sandwich along with Fritos and a Coke we almost fell off our chairs while the duel of the deaf signer and the singer raged. The signer would up the speed and jokes while the poor signer for the deaf, almost fell over in exhaustion. 

Ta Da

“Do the Thing You Fear and The Death of Fear is Certain”

                                                         --Ralph Waldo Emerson

Bear

Bear and Little Boy Darling on the Green Trail of Bliss

I woke up this morning thinking of Bear, Daughter Dear’s perfect dog.

It occurred to me that while there was drama around Bear, he was unruffled.  A more steady peaceful and calm dog would be hard to find, maybe never. He was one of a kind, all 200 pounds of him.

Remember Bear? He was the one my husband stretched a kennel for so he could be transported to Hawaii with more comfort than the largest airline approved commercial kennel provided. From Oregon Continental Airlines took the modified kennel. In Hawaii Aloha airlines took it, but then upon leaving the Island, United Airlines would not take it. The kennel had been modified. It was not acceptable. They wouldn’t budge.

That was nine o’clock in the morning after we had white-knuckled it up and over the mountain because a tanker had turned over blocking the regular route from Hilo to Kona. We rushed into town, and there purchased the largest kennel we could find—lucky they had one. It was a tight fit, but Bear accepted it graciously. We missed the first plane. “Have him here at noon,” they said, “the plane will leave at two.”

The plane was delayed.  Bear was in lockup until 6 o’clock that evening in a kennel that fit him like a wet suit. He made it to L.A. by nine the next morning seemingly none the worse for wear. We were.

One day on the Island as we were walking in our back forty—really, it was the back five, a Doberman dog furiously barking rushed at us. Bear stood, a protective shield between the dog and one-year-old Baby Darling.  Dogs bowed to his calm demeanor. The neighbor rescued us from her dog and we never saw it again.

Newfoundlands are considered natural baby sitters. Nana in Peter Pan was a Newfoundland. But Newfoundlands are big, as was Bear, and people renting houses think a dog ought to be 30 pounds or less. (Little dogs can do far more damage—you figure.) We were rejected from a place we thought we had rented, and thus arrived in Eugene with no house. It turned out perfect, a property manager trusted us, accepted us, took our big dog, we love our house, and Bear has not harmed one square inch of it. He never chewed, scratched, and always asked to go outside. I said the main risk was tripping over him.

Six years ago Daughter Darling commuted from Eugene Oregon to Medford, a five hour drive. There she worked 40 hours in three days at a Domestic Violence shelter,  I didn’t worry because she had Bear with her.

Bear even died perfectly. He had gotten down, and with his weight we couldn’t lift him. He could no longer maneuver the two steps into the house, and so he spent the last few days in the yard. Daughter languished over whether to have him put to sleep. The appointment was for Tuesday, the Vet said she would come to the house. Bear died on Friday, peacefully in the yard—protecting Daughter Darling to the end.

And this morning he gave me the message that while drama, chaos, whatever is happening all around, it is not your’s. You can remain calm, like Bear. I probably won’t, but you get the idea.

Do You Hate Piñatas too?

You are blindfolded.

You swipe and hit nothing.

You figure out where the Piñata is, and give a mighty swing. The trouble is the game is rigged. Just when you swing, some sadistic person pulls the rope holding the Piñata. It jerks up out of your reach, and you hit air—again.

Finally some smart or macho or small child they feel sorry for is allowed to hit the Piñata.

It breaks—they are so tough they take quite a beating--there is a mad scramble for the candy. The aggressive kids grab the most, the timid ones get a measly amount. Sharks and guppies--again.

Wow. Isn’t this fun?

Is this to teach kids about life?

And what might those lessons be?

When my kids were young, and being in San Diego where Piñatas were abundant, we would often get one for a birthday. Usually I chose a cute animal, and my first born child wouldn’t let us break it. Instead, we performed a cesarean section. We would open a small hole in the belly, the candy would pour forth, the kids got the candy, and Viola' the Piñata lived to see another day.

It lived out its life as a bedroom decoration.

Well, see, there is a solution.

We can make our own rules.

Isn’t it about time?!

P.S. Okay okay, I love Piñatas, I just don't like hitting/breaking them. Look at that cute donkey face.

This is for The People Who Haven’t Given Up

This is for the people who still believe that the Universe conspires to do them good.

You are the ones who know we have problems, but as John Kennedy said, "Man's problems were created by man, and can therefore be solved by man." Did I quote him correctly? You get the gist.

You are the people who are not numbed by naysayers, by the doomsday ones, the media, television, periodicals, books on horrors. We have heard so many horrors they doesn’t shock us anymore. We can have endless hours of brain-numbing television. Do you watch some of those commercials? Cars that turn color, fly, suggest that they will improve your sex life, and your family life, yet, cars these days are boring, with few exceptions they all look alike. Talk about sizzle and no steak.

Oh yes and movie previews are so gross I forget what movie I came to see. “Can you amp it up a bit I ask sarcastically after I have endured ear-splitting sound, computer generated monsters, mechanical gear, space ships so complex you know that the special effects people are trying to out-do each other, and shootings, poundings. Amp it up. Be bigger, bolder, more shocking.

We can spend hours on video games that keep us addicted to movement and challenges that are not solving the situations outside our doors. A great amount of brain power here, but people feel stymied—they try to find jobs, they try to be entrepreneurs, they try to sell, to market, to create the life they want, and after awhile give up in frustration.

Are we supporting our arts? Are we supporting the scientists that are giving us a better day? Have you heard that with 3-D printing they can take a 3-D printer to third-world countries, and fabricate an artificial limb especially suited for that individual? Whoa. Let’s not sit around with our fingers up our noses.

We hear of space aliens, solar flares, vampires, chem-trails, and any number of conspiracies—don’t get me wrong I believe some of the conspiracies, we just can’t let them demoralize us into zombies, needing constant influx of food, drink, sodas, medications, anything to sooth the savage beast that threatens to take us over. You have heard the old joke, “Died at 35, buried at 85.” Don’t do that.

And stop dinking with our food! Turn your genetic engineering brilliance someplace else—like curing cancer. You are making us fat.

Okay, okay, I know I am preaching to the choir—no, I’m venting, and yes, I am motivated by the movie Tomorrowland. See it and decide that you are the ones that have not given up.

“Homo sapiens,” said Dr Who in The Ark in Space, “what an inventive, invincible species. It’s only a few million years since they crawled up out of the mud and learned to walk. Puny, defenseless bipeds. They’ve survived flood, famine and plague. They’ve survived cosmic wars and holocausts. And now, here they are, out among the stars, waiting to begin a new life. Ready to out sit eternity. They’re indomitable.”