You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.
And, that is just what I did this first week into the New Year 2014. I was stuck for months on Level 70 in Candy Crush Saga and felt entrapped in a quagmire of mediocrity. Other persons on my Facebook friend’s list were passing by onto higher levels as if in a jet stream. There remained I, doomed in isolation, stuck in a mucky existence with no particular place to go. A brilliant idea flashed before me. If my strategic abilities were lacking, why not buy myself out of there? My first intention was merely paying 99 cents for extra moves, but even that proved fruitless. I needed more. My attempts to get off the candy board resulted in a total of $3.97, not including added tax. I got more bang for my buck in buying the “smashing” lollipops. In a few moves, I clubbed my way out of the chocolate and unapologetic for it. I have a new lease on life. Happy New Year to all!
“Aunt Clara had for years labored under the delusion that I was not only perpetually 4 years old, but also a girl.” ~ Ralphie, A Christmas Story
My annual Christmas letter didn’t get sent along with my cards, which comes as no disappointment to others due to the simple fact that I’ve never written one. Now with the digital age, it’s too easy to share a firsthand account in a split second, provided you have high speed Internet service. The news item might be hot off the press, but it’s not a years summary of info printed on decorative holiday paper neatly folded inside a colorful greeting card. I’ve known some people to just send the letter, but that’s not the point. The point is I can’t compete with the “hard copies”, because my own personal activity is on a need-to-know basis. I share my whereabouts on Foursquare, my recent photos of us and our puppy dogs on Instagram, and our social escapades on Facebook. What else could I share in an annual holiday letter? If anyone has any suggestions, text me.
Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart. ~Erma Bombeck
We are heading towards our traditional holiday, Thanksgiving, when we give thanks and share our bounty, namely food and drink. I recently caught a TV soundbite that Americans will consume roughly 4500 calories in this one meal. It’s distressing enough to know that it takes 3500 calories to gain a pound of body weight, but there’s also an extra 1000 calories to amass on my frame. This year I’m planning the meal, but I realized the first items on the menu considered are the desserts. I already know the entree and side dishes. They’re what the pilgrims ate. Let’s talk about the pies and cakes. Pumpkin pie alone doesn’t cut it for me. My mouth waters for a cardamon cream cake. Enough said! This year I refuse to fall victim to debauchery. I have decided to replace the whole turkey with a lean turkey breast. However, there’s also a humbling aspect to this self imposed predicament. I’m humbled that I have the good fortune to consider copiousness to be a “problem”.
“”Just living isn’t enough,” said the butterfly, “one must also have freedom, sunshine, and a little flower.””
– Hans Christian Anderson
My last journaling was three months ago, so let’s see if I’m able to remember the highlights of the recent span of months in this special year dedicated to the Mathematics of Planet Earth. As much as I would like to be a member of the scientific world community dealing with the problems and challenges facing Mother Earth, I’m not even close to having an academic or even an interesting perspective on this sensitive subject, although I do have an antique appearance. As you can see from the above colorful photo, I have been collecting memorabilia…badges and some pins, not shown, for my biker gear. These small items of heavy cloth and thread tell you who I am, to some degree. For instance, What would Gemma do? If you’re an aficionado of the cable series, Sons of Anarchy, you will know that Gemma is the matriarch of that bunch of bad boys. Gemma knows everything. If I need to sport this particular badge, it must reflect that I question constantly what is it that she knows. This might make me appear indecisive, but I don’t really know about that. Loud Pipes Saves Lives speaks for itself. Loud pipes also enable me to say anything I want while riding on the passenger’s seat. I’m okay as long as the passerbys can’t lip read. What about DILLIGAF? Let’s face it. Does it look like I give a foo-foo? My collection of thread count may not state any exact or logical discoveries, but at least it shows I’m taking the time to appreciate the beauty of this earth from the back of a Harley. Rock on.