3 Ring Binder

He stands poised, ears erect, at the edge of wide cart path, staring into the woods. A chipmunk, a squirrel, a robin, even, catching his momentary interest. But it is only momentary. Less than a minute, really. Waiting for a signal. Waiting for a louder call into the woods -- the tipping point to the chase. It doesn't come. Instead he hears, let's go dog!  and his wild revelry is broken. Thirty feet later, he does it again.

Every year one of the churches in our town holds a country fair in September. Every year we innocently go to this fair and poke around. Every year we come home with bags of books: books we've heard of, books we've had, books with recipes, books with pictures, books with hardcovers, books with paper covers, book without covers, books, books, books. Well, you get the idea. This year, in the spirit of decluttering, minimizing, and cleaning, I've decided we need to pull an accordian job at the fair. This accordian player finishes a gig, throws his accordian into his car and starts home. On the way he stops at a convenience store to get a drink but forgets to lock his door.  He comes out of the store, opens the car door and shouts, "Oh no! It's happened again!". In the backseat now sits two accordians. I wonder if they'll notice the book table getting more full each time we pass. I just hope this isn't there.

If there is a woods option, take it. There is usually hiking or walking path within 30 minutes of wherever you are. Use technology to find it.  I am the only one enamored of shadow pictures. Walking alone is restful, unless you are particularly restless. What's more exhilarating than pockets of warm and cool air as you walk? Pockets of good and bad smells. (Well exhilarating might not be the best word for the bad ones.) Proper footwear should never be discounted. It is much harder to walk on a very humid day is than it is to walk the rest of the year -- even through snow and rain. Walking with friends is great! Walking with my dog is great! Walking with my dog and my friends and their dogs does not work for me.  I have gone from timing how fast I can walk to exploring how much can soak in. I'm not sure that's a good thing. I suppose it depends on my objective, which was to walk every day for a year. No more no less. Walking everyday makes me happy.

With all of my interest in interior design, my quest to be at rest, comfortable in an aesthetically pleasing space, my fascination with dual purpose pieces and multi-functional furniture, you'd think that my house would be a perfectly designed and lovely haven.  Not. Even. Close. I've given it some thought and it's the convertibility thing, I think. Everything is in a state of flux. Those who know me know my stock phrase, "it's in transition." So it really shouldn't surprise me that each of my children have lived in my house as if they were transients. But it does. We've been lucky enough to have rooms for each of the children from a very young age (it was tough sharing with the screaming Mimi for two year, for which I apologize to the Boss). Each room was carefully designed and decorated to delight, comfort, and provide a quiet space to work, think, or read. We painted murals on the walls, including integrated chalk boards, sewed canopies, curtain...

While walking, laughing, crying, dancing, and marching in the cemetery this morning, I had an epiphany. I need a selfie drone to follow me and record my attitudinal changes while walking in the cemetery. It occurred to me as I switched from a audible laugh thinking about a book club conversation I had recently with friends (which oddly, had nothing to do with the book) to a teary-eyed suppressed sob as I passed by the taken-too-soon "Always Daddy" headstone.  I breathed deeply and leveled out into a stroll under the towering pines, hopped back onto the cemetery proper, and marched up the hill like a soldier. I was alone. I wasn't wearing headphones. I enjoyed my own thoughts, And am my own best counsel. But I felt a little crazy. It was then I decided: I'm going to blog again.  Now, I know you're all saying, " Lynne! That's fabulous! We've missed you so !!!" Or maybe not, but frankly, I don't give a damn, my dear.  I blog f...

Why Cultural Appropriation is Wrong I might further dissect and integrate this bit of writing later, but I needed quickly to say that the author makes fantastic leaps between individuals celebrating interesting aspects of different cultures (through casual appropriation) and perpetuating oppression. There is a deep, dark flaw in thinking that not only allows, but further advances these leaps in an attempt to shame individuals who have the audacity to embrace looks, behaviors, habits, or practices that a person has chosen for himself regardless of where he first encountered them. Why Cultural Appropriation is Right My take.

They say to each of us, black and white alike, that we must substitute courage for caution.   They say to us that we must be concerned not merely about who murdered them, but about the system, the way of life, the philosophy which produced the murderers. Their death says to us that we must work passionately and unrelentingly for the realization of the American dream. ~ Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., September 18, 1963.     Eulogy for the Young Victims of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church Bombing I am impressed with the clarity of Dr. King’s words, sad that our President had to evoke them this week, and ultimately confused as to why we refuse to recognize their application to the innocent victims of 9/11, Ft. Hood 2009, or the Boston Marathon 2013.