go your own way
I very much like to see people that are willing to do their own funky thing, like this young ballerina who decided that purple and gray striped warm up leggings were the perfect accessory to her pink costume.
All of you free thinkers, and original characters out there, keep going your own way.
memorial day, 2014
Every year, I get up early and take along quiet walk in the national cemetery here in Springfield, Ohio. It's a time for me to spend some time thinking about the sacrifice of others and to put my own service into some perspective.
This year, I decided to head over to the larger national cemetery in Dayton. Seeing the rows upon rows of head stones brings the impact to an even greater scale. I thought about the many thousands of headstones, all in their neat rows, every one of them lovingly given it's own American flag.
I think about my grandfather, my father, my uncle, and all of my ancestors that served and I am proud.
In today's society, I don't often find cause to be proud of being an American. To much political finger-pointing, social division, and a general attitude of selfishness. However, when I find myself surrounded by the quiet ghosts of these brave men and women, I am proud that some American's sons and daughters knew what real sacrifice meant and were proud to do their part for our nation.
I feel humbled.
Tim
ewe love me, don’t you?
This is Spring and in Ohio that means more rain and thunderstorms than sunshine. However, the ewe was really enjoying a break in the storms. That face shows real contentment and mirrored my own apprecition of the sunshine.
friday fiction – singing softly
Mama sings while she quilts. Not very loud, but I can hear it and so can the cat. Her voice is soft and sweet. I could listen to her sing and quilt all day.
Mostly, Mama sings hymns and the songs she sang when she was little. I know that Mama sings for herself, to pass the time or for comfort. I can tell what Mama is thinking by the song she is singing.
When she switches to singing nursery rhymes, I know she is singing for me. Mama knows that I like the nonsense songs. I’m too old for nursery rhymes, but when Mama sings them, they are a special thought. Mama’s songs are like a hug when I need one.
Mama is telling me that she loves me, even if I did drop the eggs on the way in from the hen house this morning and Papa had to eat leftover corn bread with his coffee instead of eggs. Mama is like that. She knows how I am feeling and she knows when I need a song.
wednesday’s word #3
for a mom who’s name escapes me
canning asperagus
The first step in canning asparagus is the welcoming smile.
Followed by the reading of the recepie.
Then more smiling.
More recipie reading.
Then some waiting for everything to finish boiling and cooking.
Finally, you stuff the pickled asparagus into the jars. Then back into the boiling water for a bit.
I hope you found this step by step process to be helpful because I am a helpful kind of guy.
fiction friday – scowl
Cuetzpalli was not what you would call a happy person on a good day. Today, he was downright pissed at the world in general and at Tlazhotzin in particular. The girl had defied his wishes yet again. After he had specifically ordered her to stay away from that boy, he catches the two of them together.
“But, oh Daddy, I love him! He’s dreamy.”
Being a king didn’t help at home. He would punish the child severely, but his wife, Coaxoch would hear nothing of it. He’d like to personally tear the boy’s heart from his chest and place it on the alter on the next solstice, but that would not go over well at home.
What is a king to do? What is a father to do?
Daughters!
wednesday’s word #2
tim mcmurdo 