Girlie Shopping
Posted on 23. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
One of my favorite quirky little card shops is the world of Curly Girl Designs:
I discovered Curly Girl Designs at my old salon and fell in love. The cards grace my desk as inspirational words. They make their way from my desk into the mailboxes of my girlfriends. The calendar hangs on my walls as I count down the days to special days, like my birthday. I know that so much of the world has gone electronic, but sometimes, there is still nothing like paper and the excitement of having real mail, not just bills, in your mail box. Like physical books, I don’t think cards will completely disappear.
In fact, maybe that should be my goal for the rest of the year, to share a card with a friend at least once a month. I have a fresh stock, you see, because in my mailbox today was a little package of Curly Girl Designs Cards. The order I made in November 2008 was lacking in a certain percentage of mushy cards, cards that I thought were disgustingly sweet now seem just right for where I am in April 2009.
Happy Thursday!
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About True Friends
Posted on 22. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
Though Facebook hasn’t brought much to my life beyond Scrabble and a reminder of how petty junior high was, it has been the vehicle for connecting with a couple of folks from my past that has been very positive. Like Miss J, who met me for lunch today. This is the second time we’ve gotten together since reconnecting and the thing is, she is just one of those people that is genuine.
I’ve known Miss J since the 6th grade, which would have made us eleven. She spent the night at my house, was one of the few friends to attend my wedding shower; but I moved on to my married life and she went away to college. The rekindling of this friendship after twenty-two years is really sweet. As you cannot help but do, we discussed some of the folks we went to high school with, and those interactions we had in present day as well as those we had in the past. Some folks, you see, are unable to live in the present and still cling to the lives of their past. Some folks are interested in growing and bettering themselves; others are more self-centered and shallow.
She told me today that our freshman year, the purity and sweetness of my voice when I audtioned for the part of Daisy Mae our freshman year moved her; as an artist, she saw beauty there. It meant so much for her bring forth a brief moment of my past, and let me know that it was something that she still remembered so many years later. She also confided in me about an action of her past and I was now one of only six people that knew; she told me because she just knew that she could trust me to know and not judge. A true friend, you see, is someone that you can talk to daily, and still have soemthing to say; or someone that you can talk to after two months and have a milion things to catch up on; or someone you haven’t seen in twenty years, and it feels like you had just seen them the day before.
I am so thankful.
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Saucy
Posted on 21. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
Tonight I made a white sauce, otherwise known as Béchamel Sauce. It’s amazing what the mixture of a little bit of butter, flour and milk can produce; I am always impressed with not only the taste, but the pure loveliness of the sauce. It was so yummy, and I added it to chicken, pasta, and broccoli. Here is a quick “how to” I found on YouTube
Loveliness? In a sauce? Oh, yes. In growing up we had gravy at at least half of our meals and when I first began cooking, it was something I thought should be served as often as possible. There was a problem, however: I couldn’t made a smooth gravy. Don’t laugh, but I had to strain almost every gravy I made thanks to the lumps. So, every time I make a new sauce or a successful gravy, it makes me very joyous.
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Three and Forty
Posted on 20. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
The gentle humor of my father is a constant of my childhood. thinking on his upbringing makes me wonder about how we are shaped in the whole nature vs. nurture side of things. Of course, it makes me wonder about my own self, because I see how my mother’s behavior has affected me, however, I digress, as I was discussing my father.
When my father was born, he was premature. Advancements in dealing with preemies has certainly made strides and in the 1930’s, there wasn’t much that could be done. The doctor, after delivering my father, suggested he be placed on the door of the oven. A farmer down the road had suffered a heart attack and he needed to go. When he came back for the body the next day, he was surprised to see my father alive. In the early 1980’s, we discovered that the doctor had filed the birth certificate as “still born”; my mother complained that my father was named after the doctor due to that little discovery.
The family had a working farm. I don’t quite see how they survived the depression, but I do know that my grandfather assisted in the building of The Rock Gym, which was part of WPA. They continued to farm, and my father was part of that needed process. Besides growing vegetables for the family, they grew crops for sale. They rotated the growth of winter wheat, maize, hay, and, of course, cotton. My father started school late every year, but with a class size of twelve students, the school understood. He attended school at the same location where, years before, his father had contributed to the building of the school gym.
My father is stoop-shouldered, and recently mentioned to me that it was due to the number of hours on a tractor during his youth. His father was a harsh critic, and as the only boy in a family of four children, he took the load of the physical labor. Maybe it is where he got his work ethic, which has been strong as long as I can remember. He didn’t retire the end of 2007, and he still helps cover for vacations at his company.
It is difficult to see how he has aged; he is my father and should be the same as he was when I was a child. The heart attack was hard on him, and this injury to his back has slowed him. I’m thankful that his sense of humor has remained. When he makes me laugh, I’m not forty, but three again.
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Bonnie Peep: The Beginning
Posted on 19. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
If legend was to be believed, creatures lurked in the dark woods, but Ms. Bonnie Peep wasn’t scared. Fairy tales and nursery rhymes were quite skewed in their approach. It irked her to no end that she was seen as a helpless little shepherdess when in reality she ran a thriving business of providing beautiful shepherdesses throughout the land to tend sheep. All of her girls were sexy, and that’s what encouraged the farmers and ranchers to hire them, but they were smart. She really had Little Boy Blue to thank, ever since the incident where he fell asleep watching the farmer in the dale’s cows. Hiring out her girls had been a cinch since then.
One thing Bonnie, or Bo as her friends called her, had learned was that in order to succeed, she could hire good employees, but the real work like marketing and bill collection, was reliant upon one individual, herself.
But we digress, as we were talking about Bo and her traipse through the dark wood. It was drawing upon the end of the month, and she had just left a meeting of a group of ranchers who had wholeheartedly supported her businesses due to the company’s excellent track record. The agreement of an extension of contracts was better than the eating one of those pie’s that Red was famous for baking. It was dark, as only those nights with a new moon can be, but since she had not fear, she decided to cut through the woods to save herself an extra half hour of travel time. She was part way in, to the point where the creek widens, when she came upon him.
He was a mountain of a man.
*******************************************
This is just a little piece in process. I have managed to step away from any meanderings into fiction, so this is touching just a toe into the water.
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Wild, Wild West
Posted on 18. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
Growing up in the Dallas-Ft. Worth area, you learn that Ft. Worth is where the West begins. So, to celebrate those roots, tonight I’m going to watch Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, which is on TCM tonight at 7 PM Central. Legend has it that the real Butch and Sundance spent some time in Ft. Worth, Texas. And I have to admit, I do love seeing the young Paul Newman and Robert Redford….
Enjoy your Saturday!
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Make It PINK
Posted on 17. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
Today when I got my manicure and pedicure, instead of my typical red and/or french, I got pink. Not a dark-almost-red raspberry, but a delicate baby carnation pink.The last couple of months, I have been embracing my femininity; pink is just one of those things. So is exploring changes in my hairstyle, little sparkly clips, and putting on a dress to wear on evenings when I am simply home. It’s a break from the bulk of last year, when I wore black suits and pantyhose every day. A year ago, I would have said you wouldn’t catch me dead in delicate pink nail polish, nor would you find a little white daisy on my polished pink big toe; it just goes to show that you should never say never.
The first really dressy dress I remember owning was for my cousin Judy’s wedding. I know some folks don’t consider Texans as Southerners, but in our own way, we are. Weddings, of course, are important affairs for anyone, but in the South, they can be huge affairs. My Aunt and my cousin were sorority girls, so this wedding, the oldest daughter as well as the oldest granddaughter, was enormous. The wedding was in June of 1972. The color scheme was rainbow, and each of the bridesmaids wore a differently colored pastel chiffon dress with a matching hat. I was not the flower girl, but I did get to pass out the rice to the guests, which meant I needed something pastel and fancy; I wanted something pink.
I can clearly remember the dress, although it’s been more than thirty years: it was a delicate silky pink gingham with white lace trim. It was floor length and I wore white stockings and white patent leather Mary Janes. I can’t recall actually buying the dress, but I remember the events surrounding the purchase. We had to drive to Dallas as there were no big department stores in the nearest town, Arlington. These days, I go to Dallas regularly, but in 1972, getting from Mansfield, Texas to Dallas was like an adventure. Or maybe my mother just made a big deal out of needing to drive to Dallas to go shopping. She never has been much of a traveler. I don’t remember trying on dresses and making this final selection, I do remember eating lunch after; I guess I’ve always been a little food driven and it was the first time we ate at The Zodiac Room, the tea room at the Downtown Dallas Neiman Marcus.
Funny how our minds and memories work and the choice of pink nail polish made me recall my first fancy dress. Maybe it was a simple trigger of a color that reminded me, or maybe, I’m beginning to get down to the core of the person I truly am: part tomboy, part girly-girl. I’m learning how to play again and I am embracing my femininity. When it gets down to it, I guess I just I enjoy being a girl….and I hope you enjoy this lovely little song from “Flower Drum Song”:
Happy Friday! I hope this finds you embracing who you want to be today.
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and Music
Posted on 16. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
For some reason, music is on my mind tonight.
Maybe, it was the discovery of sheet music in the garage this past week. Today, as I took out the garbage, and went to shut the garage door, I decided to take the discovery into the house; garage air isn’t exactly a preservative for paper. Out of the Sweet Dreams songbook, flew two xeroxed pieces of music, both in Italian, from the last time I took voice lessons. Caro Mio Ben was one of the pieces; for the life of me, I still recall the words to The Skylark, which I didn’t find. I had forgotten that I had been capable of singing notes so high and melodies so complex. At almost 41, I am both more confident, yet less confident, than I was at 19. In some ways, the time of voice lessons, which I haven’t taken since 1989, seems like yesterday; but in other ways, it seems like another lifetime – and another person – ago.
Maybe it is the showing of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers on TCM tonight. My high school did musicals every year, and that was the musical of my Sophomore year. I was Millie and it was probably the most fun of all the theatre I did in high school and college. The music was fun, but the cast was large and we were close. In fact, of the folks from High School I have reconnected with, at least five of them were either “brides” or “brothers”. The most challenging play, however, wasn’t a musical, but Greek. Trojan Women was a great ensemble piece and I was fortunate to have a nice role (that came with a fabulous costume). But I digress. I’ve mostly been thinking about music.
Maybe, instead, it is the addition of more music into my household. The boyfriend to the oldest plays Bass and is teaching the oldest to play. At times, the kids have friends over, and there are evenings when there are a couple of bass guitars, an acoustic guitar and/or more. While the blaring of some of the heavier rock music can be grating, the sounds of live music are actually quite soothing. On a recent Sunday, a friend tuned the guitar while we were chatting and I was mesmerized. I believe the addition of instruments in the household is a wonderful bonus. Except, maybe, the recorder; it’s a little screechy.
We are mostly a digital family now. Computer downloads and the IPods are the main source of music, but we do have older media. There are CD’s in stacks, LP’s (though no turntable) and an 8-track player with a few 8-track tapes. Three, to be exact, if we are counting. One of those is a Willie Nelson 8-Track from 1978. Which brings us full circle to the music of my past that I mentioned the other day. When I was searching for a little something to share, I chose Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground. It’s one of the songs that resides on my IPod, and a song that I do love. This version is just lovely; an acoustic rendition done live during an early 80’s interview with Barbara Walters.
I’m a tad disjointed today. It is a Thursday, but for some reason, it seems like a Wednesday. I visited with my hair dresser today and we put the first step in motion to change my hairstyle. Which is huge, because, according to the youngest child in my house, I have had the same hairstyle, for all of my life. Not really, honest. I mean, I wasn’t born with bangs. I guess, however, after at least ten years, a change would do me good. And once again, I digress. But as I mentioned, I am a tad disjointed today. I’m sure you will forgive me.
Happy Thursday; it’s almost Friday!
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On The Side
Posted on 15. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
When I went to dinner tonight, I ordered my salad like I tend to always do: with the dressing on the side. I like the taste of the salad and the dressing truly is just a little flavor enhancer. Besides, the drenching of a salad with dressing can add hundreds of additional calories. I’ve dropped twenty pounds since January, and closely watching what I add to foods has been a great help with that.
As I was enjoying the salad with tiny dips of the fork tines into the dressing before spearing a bit of the crisp iceberg or fresh tomatoes, I began to chuckle to myself about the preference of having sauces and dressings and the like served on the side. It made me think about the movie When Harry Met Sally and Sally’s complex way of ordering:
When Harry Met Sally is one of those movies that I can watch anytime it comes on. There is the whole discussion of “can men and women be friends” / “low maintenance vs high maintenance women” as well as the underlying lesson of the movie that the best lasting relationships between men and women are those who have a basis of friendship and simply enjoy each other’s company as friends. In the final scene of the movie, Harry tells Sally what he loves about her, which is all about reveling in her imperfections because, in his eyes, that is what makes her perfect.
.
You see, he just likes her. When you get down to it, when it comes to choosing a life mate, isn’t the ability to like someone as much as you love them pretty darned special?
It’s been, overall, a wonderful day. I hope that your day has given you some bright spots as well as
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Gone With the Wind
Posted on 14. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
One of my favorite books – and movies – has to be Gone With the Wind. I believe it was the first “adult” book I read, completing it for a book report when I was in the 7th Grade. I’ve owned multiple copies of the book, and I desperately wanted the copy my college library had as it was a first edition. I checked it out at least half a dozen times.
I did read the Mitchell Family authorized sequel entitled “Scarlett”, which wasn’t perfect, of course, but was still enjoyable for the love of the characters. Though selfish, you cannot help but empathize with Scarlett, who struggles between her true nature and the way in which she is expected to behave. As many tend to do, she was often saying that she would think about her troubles tomorrow. When it came down to it, though, she sacrificed and did what she felt needed to be done to save her beloved Tara and provide for her family.
The book is, of course, much better than the movie, but who can resist the beautiful Vivian Leigh (who was married to Laurence Olivier) and the elegant Clark Cable? There had been a nation-wide search for Scarlett, and folks from the South were heard to say that if a Southern Girl couldn’t be chosen to play the part of Scarlett, at least they picked a British girl instead of a Yankee. Gable really didn’t want to do the movie, however, he did in exchange for the studio financing his divorce so that he could marry the lovely Carole Lombard.
As I’ve aged, I’ve come to realize that this is the day that Rhett Butler decided he wanted to own Ms. O’Hara.
The movie is on Turner Classic Movies tonight at 7 PM CST. And YES, I will be watching it.
Now, for grins, I must share the 2nd Part of the Carol Burnett Parody of Gone With The Wind. The scene with the curtains alone is worth it.
Enjoy and Happy Tuesday!
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Nothing
Posted on 13. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
Today, I wanted to run away. I began to dream of far off places, as well as some nearby places. Easy escapes are trips to the bookstore, where a cup of coffee and a browse around are a way to escape from the days responsibilities for just a few moments. Books, you see, have always been a big part of my life, and a way to lose the outside world. In recent months, I’ve done a bit of research as well, just to confirm my heart and my head are on the same page. They are, which is always a good thing. But in a way, I digress.
I talked to a friend today, and beyond the fact that I wanted my friend to run away WITH me, the discussion turned to “where would we go”? One such location that came into discuss is the BEACH. I’m not an athletic kind of girl, so it isn’t that I want to go swim or scuba dive or other such things; I just want to be. The photo above is from St. Croix; I spent an afternoon in that hammock with a book. Yes, I wore lots of sunscreen and a big straw hat. I was able to take in the sounds and smells of the ocean while doing what many would see as “nothing”. I mentioned the other day that I am reading the Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff and towards the end of the book, the author discusses “Nowhere and Nothing”. According to Taoists, the key that unlocks the doors of wisdom, happiness and truth: nothing. To the Taoist, Nothing is Something. I’m really getting the Taoist perspective on life. Nothing is something. Especially if I can roll in good friends and/or good books.
To follow through with the changes in my life, I cannot ignore the addition to meditation in my life. When I realized that running away to the beach today wasn’t something I could feasibly do, the thirty minutes spent meditating this afternoon brought me exactly back around to where I needed to be mentally. Hoff reminds us that emptying your mind is the way to listen and that emptying your mind charges up the batteries of spiritual energy and ties to this “nothing”. While emptiness may seem lonely or scary, if you allow it, it actually become the blank canvas or a fresh sheet of paper: full or promises.
If I am honest, I will tell you that I still want to run away; not for the need to escape, however, but just for the opportunity it presents; the beach, where we can listen to the ocean, share books, and just be. Because doing nothing is really something, and like that empty mind, the way to recharge yourself in body and in spirit.
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Sunny Santa Fe Would Be Nice
Posted on 12. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
I’ve been blessed with a solid length of time at home this year, but I have to admit that the gypsy side of my soul is beginning to tell the nesting side of my soul to give it some reprieve. In recent weeks, I have begun dreaming of both near – and far off – places to wander. I love the ability to explore a city that is not my home, and find spaces within it that remind my heart (and soul) that it can find comforts in the unfamiliar.
I have to admit that Santa Fe is a place I’ve considered, simply because I love the way the city makes me feel. Older cities, especially, have a soul. There is simply something special about cities like DC, Philadelphia, and New Orleans; Santa Fe makes the list as well. Santa Fe is rich in tradition, tri-cultural (Indians, Hispanics and Anglos) as well as artsy. I can imagine visiting, working, or even living there. You can easily see why artists like Georgia O’Keefe and Ansel Adams spent solid amounts of time in the area. There is also a real passion for living, as well as for the enjoyment of FOOD!
I was fortunate to be in New Mexico for business in November. We had the opportunity to spend a morning exploring Santa Fe, including the Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi. When you think about places to spend some solid time, allowing your gypsy soul some respite in a place where the Cathedral’s Patron Saint is known for his love of animals and his prayer of peace, has got to be special.
It’s Easter for the Christian World, and Passover this week for those who are Jewish. Whatever your spiritual belief may be, I’d like to leave you with dreams of Sunny Santa Fe, and the thoughts of Saint Francis of Assisi.
Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen
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Rain on Hot Concrete
Posted on 11. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
It’s Spring in Texas, evident by not only the burgeoning flowers and trees, but also the presence of thunderstorms tonight. Spring storms can be both exciting to watch but frightening to experience when raindrops are accompanied by hail or worse, tornadoes. We desperately need the rain here in the North Texas area as we have been experience wildfires and were still under a burn-ban. The rain tonight isn’t expected to satisfy the need for rain in the area, but any little bit helps.
Spring rains, however, do not hold a place in my heart like summer rains. Oh, it isn’t that I hate spring rains; I recognize their need intellectually, of course. I’ve also learned appreciate to the fierceness of the storms and respect the power of Mother Nature. Spring rains, however, are like a woman in desperate need of her estrogen shot: unpredictable. They can be harsh and cold in one moment, soft and weepy in others, and in the next moment, unreasonably angry. Anyone in the “Tornado Alley” of the US understands, I’m sure.
Summer rains? Now those are a totally different animal. My reminiscences of summer rains are all about unbearably hot days and quick thunderstorms. I’m sure there is ferocity to summer rains, but those are not the standouts in my memory. The best summer rains were the ones that took place in July when I was at my grandmother’s house. She allowed me to go out and play in the rain, telling me that I didn’t have to worry about “catching my death” thanks to the warmth of the air. There was nothing better than the first moments of standing barefooted in the grueling heat one moment and in the next, but hit with big, fat drops of rain. The rain was cooling and soothing and fresh, a way to wash away the grime of the 100 degree day.
And there is nothing like the smell of the cooling summer rain as it first hits the hot concrete. Trust me, the smell of a spring rain, as evidenced by my brief stand on my front porch, just isn’t the same.
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When Country Wasn’t Cool
Posted on 10. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
I can’t not remember loving music. No matter what was playing, I would find a way to sing along. In grade school, we learned our patriotic songs and folks music. My sister, who is seven years my senior, preferred bubblegum pop and I recall Donny Osmond and the sounds of K-Tel Records coming form her room. But when it comes down to it, I have always loved country music. I grew up on country music. Oh, Not the crossover pop stuff that fills the airwaves these days, but the heartfelt crooning of Patsy Cline, the love torn George Jones and Tammy Wynette, and the rich stories woven into the songs of Johnny Cash.
I was introduced to country thanks to Bill Mack, the Midnight Cowboy, who was on WBAP Radio (40,000 Watts of Power!) and my grandmother. I can still recall the hot summer nights visiting my grandmother, with the windows open to catch any breeze. There were the sounds of crickets and the occasional howling tomcat coming from outside; and from a transistor radio resting between our pillows came the sounds of Bill Mack and country music.
Thinking back on on my early love of Country Music, I can’t help but think about Willie Nelson. Nelson was from Texas and did a stint as a DJ in Hillsboro, Texas, which is a short 45 minutes from my grandmothers. He was a song writer as well, writing such classics as Crazy, Pretty Paper, and Hello Walls for other singers. His first number one single as a singer was Blue Eyes Crying In the Rain, from his Red Headed Stranger Album. Can you believe that Columbia Records questioned the album’s use of only a guitar and piano?
I could share a dozen songs from Willie Nelson that I can listen to today and still recall the wonder and appreciation of hearing it like it was the first time and long to sing along. I won’t share a dozen, however, but I will share this wonderful recording of “Always On My Mind“, which won a Grammy in 1982 as Song of the Year. The songwriter in him certainly certainly lends itself to just the right mix of instruments and pacing and I have to admit I like this version better than the Elvis version:
As I got a little older, I realized the Country Music wasn’t so popular with my friends. It’s funny, I grew up in a town where the Kowbell Rodeo had a rodeo every Saturday night between 1958 and 2004, yet the music that was popular was pop and rock. I could enjoy the pop, but I still went through spells of listening to country. By the time I was 13, I had begun singing in spaces outside of my shower (and my living room, where my sister played the piano and I sang). No matter how much I wanted to sing classical arias and popular songs, my voice was best suited to the music I had always loved, country and folk.
When thinking about the days of purchasing sheet music and scrambling for a piano or guitar player to serve as an accompanist, I can’t leave out the amazing Patsy Cline. The movie “Sweet Dreams” came out when I was in high school, and music from that soundtrack made it’s way into both performances as well as part of my audition for a scholarship for college. This is probably one of Cline’s most famous songs,and it was written by Willie Nelson.:
It’s funny, when I was surfing for videos to post, I ran across this song from the 80’s by the Judds. Funny, because I ran across the sheet music to this song in the garage a week or so ago. It’s also funny because the song is quite appropriate for me these days.
It’s been at least two years since since I’ve sung in public, unless, of course you count singing at the grocery store. I do that mainly in an attempt to embarrass children, though I think they find humor in it. I haven’t purchased sheet music in twenty-years. To be honest, I was never a reader of music. I learned everything by ear. These days, I just need to hear a song a couple of times to sing along. The IPod is a wonderful thing as is the ability to search for videos via Google. I’ve been on a habit of listening to CMT in the mornings when I am doing my morning emails, so an introduction to some of the newer faces in Country Music is part of that process.
In addition to the new faces, however, I am treated to hearing from an artist I would consider a real classic. Like Loretta Lynn. In 1994, a Coal Miner’s Daughter does an album with rocker Jack White of White Stripes, which was released when Lynn was 69. Portland, Oregon is one of the best songs in that collection. As I was pulling videos for this post, my youngest commented “her voice doesn’t sound old at all!” No, ma’am, she doesn’t:
And now that I’ve shared some of the older voices that I’ve grown to love throughout my lifetime, how about closing this post with this sweet song from one of the newer artists, The Zac Brown Band:
I hope you are having a lovely Good Friday. I know that I am……
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a Very Happy Thursday
Posted on 09. Apr, 2009 by Deb.
Today my father had cataract surgery and I needed a book to pass the time, so I borrowed The Tao of Pooh from my oldest daughter. I didn’t have much reading time, as my mother was happy to chat about family drama and share her opinion on a variety of topics, but I did get through the first couple of chapters. Benjamin Hoff does a nice job of describing Taoism and relating it to the classic AA Milne Characters of Winnie the Pooh and the other inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Wood. Pooh, the author explains, is the Western World’s Taoist, explaining that Pooh may be simple minded, but that does not equate to stupidity. Instead, he sees Pooh as “mirror-minded” and is thus the hero of the stories, rather than the other characters who appear more clever, like the Book Smart Owl or the Ever Clever Rabbit.
I am striving these days to learn something out of each book I spend time reading and a discussion between Pooh and Piglet rang very true to me in how I see the Real World:
“Rabbit’s Clever,” said Pooh thoughtful.
“Yes,” said Piglet, “Rabbit’s Clever.”
“And he has Brain.”
“Yes,” said Piglet, “Rabbit has a Brain.”
There was a long silence.
“I suppose,” said Pooh, “that that’s why he never understands anything.”
It’s a good lesson, one that I need to remind myself of, as well as the actual owner of the book. Cleverness is a good thing, but if we allow our brains to overrule our hearts, we can never understand the lessons that sometimes mean the most. And I thought that a fitting thing to share today, since the discussion between Pooh and Piglet began on a Very Happy Thursday.
My father did well in the surgery and we had a late lunch of eggs and toast.
Tomorrow is Good Friday and Sunday is Easter. I hope you have a good holiday weekend planned. And a Very Happy Thursday.