What I'm Afraid Of...

I've noticed the trend of having guest writers on blogs, on which I am totally unopinionated.  Last week, however, my paper gun-weilding 11 year old handed me a short (very short) essay he had written on "What I'm Afraid of..." for his fourth grade teacher last year.  Don't ask me what nook or cranny of his backpack it had been stuffed into, but I'm glad he dug it out.  I found it an interesting and amusing read.  I decided to share it in hopes you find it just as entertaining!  And now..."What I'm Afraid of..."

"What I'm Afraid of..."

by Hunter

     I'm afraid of girls.  Why, you ask?  Because they have long hair, fingernails, and terrible tempers!  You can't escape one because they will keep you in their arms.  I can't be near one because they will get me.  Plus, they like boys...wait a minute...I'm a BOY!!!  Ahhhhggg!!!  Am I going to die (now)? (If so,) At least I won't have to suffer at the hands of a girl!  If I were you, I would hide from all those girls!  You better run for your life if you see one.  Of course, I hate running from girls, but I am afraid they will get me.  Those girls have weapons like lip gloss, blow dryers, and other things like that.  But wait!  We have booger blasters, mud-flingers, and underwear cannons!  We have supplies of water balloons and Nerf blasters with strong fire power.  Will it ever be strong enough?  They don't stand a chance because they will run when they see that we play hard!  We will sin this war!

     Of course, when I grow up, I may have a different idea about girls, but I am always going to keep my booger blasters close!

Not too shabby for creativity and humor for a 4th grader...of course, I may be a little partial (maybe).  When asked what the motivation was for writing this, he explained that the girls at school chase some of the boys all over the playground - sometimes he can't even play with his buddies!  He said, not to get him wrong, he liked 'em, but they just wouldn't leave them alone sometimes!  Now, I'm sure that "guy time" is important to a 4th grade dude just trying to "hang out with his buds", but I'm thankful that he isn't rushing the girl thing just yet - the stories I hear!  (There are probably even some 20 & 30 year olds who feel the same way - they can't find a peaceful corner of the playground in which to just hang out with their buds!)  He's growing up, guys, way too quickly!  Oh well, I guess when I get to mourning his lost baby fat and his once hairless underarms and top lip, I'll get out my tear pistol and search for HIS booger blaster!  Hummmm....maybe the underwear cannon explains his room.

Love you, bud!  Keep up the great writing and keep building with that imagination,

Momma

It Don’t Matter. Really?

     For those of us who are very indecisive or who are usually just along for the ride in life…this restaurant may be perfect…maybe. During a recent trip, my children and I were depending on a trusty GPS to get us from one destination to another. Some people hate these modern conveniences. I…blindly depend on them like they were some life support system. Now don’t berate me just yet, I have actually depended on a map a time or two in my life and have even followed the once “new fangled” invention of MapQuest, etc. (without even re-entering the addresses backward and forward so as to get the directions to and from exact). That’s right! Momma reversed the directions using a little common sense (very little, but I got back OK).


     Alright…sorry for the above paragraph that had little to nothing to do with the point of this post. So, we were headed to our next town at an extremely late evening hour passing through towns and down roads I had never heard of and tried in vain to imagine the origin of their names when we came across the following “side of the road”, “mom and pop” diner (or at least I’m guessing it was - it was too late to go in and confirm by this time of evening): “It Don’t Matter Family Restaurant”. Ok. I'm not going to pen my thoughts about this one.  I want your thoughts splattered on my page!  Any comments?

     You might even want to share what might have brought about the end of the Breakfast Buffet?

Please! Share with me, friends.

Bonding Over Buzzards

     No, I don’t have a morbid fascination with buzzards.  And no, I haven't moved to a desert.  I would like to observe, however, that it was very weird when last year, within a couple weeks' time, I had a very strange second sighting of buzzards in my area…a little too close for comfort. I wrote one entry called “Omen, Anyone?” where I shared a picture of two buzzards who had landed on a cross on top of a steeple. Strange as that was, weeks later, we were headed home when the kiddos and I saw two buzzards perched in a birdbath in front of a small house. “What are those!?” we all resounded. As we got closer, I couldn’t resist but to slow the car down for a better look…and besides, no one was home at the time (I hoped). Realizing that they were the same type of ominous bird I had seen earlier, I laughed then mused, “Well, isn’t this coincidental?”


     Being one that believes I have to prove what I’m telling, I ran home to grab my camera in hopes that no one would return to this quaint little home, and that the buzzards wouldn’t make their grand exit until I could make it back. As luck would have it, they were still happily (can buzzards exude happiness?) on the birdbath involved in some imaginary conversation I had projected upon them. (I think one of them was telling the other, “Paparazzi! Can you believe this lady? She actually went all the way home to get her camera!” I was only brave enough to pull over on the opposite side of the road and snap a couple of quick pics.

     The fowl must’ve decided that they could get a mile out of this ole gal after they had given me a yard. The next day, they weren't there.  Suddenly, two days later, they appeared again, this time, closer to the house. This pattern continued and, in the coming weeks, we began to notice that there hadn’t been a car at this house in quite a while. Oh yeah…you imaginative types already had your creative juices flowing before I got to this point, didn’t you? You can imagine the stories that began to grow in that little car on our way "to and from" every day. Of course, we always used reason…well, most of the time.

     Finally, the brave little scavengers had made it onto the porch! That’s right. They were comfortably and confidently hanging out at their new vacation/love shack/"dead person must be inside" house. We kept the trusty camera in the car and flashed a couple of see-it-to-believe-it photos when they were spotted. Finally, one day, they were no more…they had moved on…flown the coop (sorry – corny, I know, but as my friend says…God just made me this way).

     Now, as interesting as this story is…it doesn’t end there.  Recently one of our co-workers bit the dust to retirement, so of course the position had to be filled. Upon chatting one day and getting to know the new person, I was sharing with her where I lived. When I stated the street name, she exclaimed, “Oh, yes! I know that road! Listen, I have the funniest story about driving down that road.” I couldn’t help but stand there, mouth agape, as she recited to me how she and her family had been riding down that particular stretch of road and saw…these two buzzards sitting in a bird bath!

     OMW!! (Oh my word!!) I laughed and laughed! She looked at me as if I’d lost it…I mean, finally lost it. I told her to hold on and grabbed my camera. I began to scroll through the photos and she began to laugh and share with me that it had unnerved them so that they had called the sheriff! (I hate to admit it, but I think we had all thought of that as we passed by – never any cars at that little house, scavengers inhabiting the yard and porch for weeks, then suddenly…gone. (Oh, please! Like you were thinking it!)

     There haven't been any more scavenger birds and there's almost always someone home now at the little house on the side of the road.  Wonder if the sheriff ever found anything…hummm?  I also wonder what the buzzards are talking about as we speak, “Hey Alfred (is that a buzzard name?), you remember that time we had those people going…man, we even sat on the porch just to freak ‘em out a little.” “Yeah, Sherman, that was a good one!” And who would’ve thought two co-workers could’ve bonded over buzzards.

So, Where've You Been (a sad monologue of self-loathing)

Yes, I've been absent from the blogging scene for a while.  Thank you to those of you who continued to let your presence be known (to let me know I have a blogger-friend or two) by leaving an occasional comment or just right out asking, "WHERE ARE YOU?"

Well, let's just say that a much-needed blogging siesta was taken.  Life sometimes throws you off a little, you know - like, when you are walking along nicely on the sidewalk and all of a sudden you accidentally step off the curb and you do the "jelly ankle" thing and pray that no one saw you and you try to recover with looking really cool (if you're a girl, maybe brushing your hair away from your now reddened face and looking like "how in the world!"; if you're a guy, you...well what do ya'll do? Maybe a swagger thing or something.).  Oh well, the great thing about getting thrown a curveball is learning how to catch it and play the game with grace, skill, and sportsmanship (jelly ankle, swagger, and all)! 

I am not ashamed to say that faith has brought me through so many things in life and it is that same faith that is bringing me through now.  Just when we get ready to sink into our big pity chair (not to be confused with "potty chair") surrounded by oversized pillows that we burry our head in and scream, God lifts our face and says, "Wait.  It's ok to do that for a time, but don't sit there and give up!  I didn't create that in you and we are just gonna sit here for a while, scream or cry or just be silent, take a deep breath (eat some chocolate - I really am convinced that He must like it since He led someone to create the heavenly stuff, right?), and prepare to get back up and live.  We have stuff to do, places to go, and people to see."

I want to share something that has spoken to me lately, during one of my more whimpy days.  Seems like words like these come your way when you need them the most.  In fact, the night that I read these, it was truely as if I could breath again. 

God, Master of Union and Disunion, teach me how I may

now walk alone and strong.  Heal my wounds; let the scar tissue

of Thy bounty cover these bruises and hurts

that I may again be a single person adjusted to new days.

Grant me a heart of wisdom, cleanse me of hostility, revenge and rancor,

make me know the laughter which is not giddy, the affection which is not frightened.

Keep far from me thoughts of evil and despair.

May I realize that the past chapter of my life is closed and will not open again.

The anticipated theme of my life has changed, the expected story end will not come.

Shall I moan at the turn of the plot?

Rather, remembering without anger's thrust recalling without repetitive pain of regret,

teach me again to write and read

that I may convert this unexpected epilogue into a new preface and a new poem.

Muddled gloom over, tension days passed,

let bitterness of thought fade harshness of memory attenuate

make me move on in love and kindness.

(Source Unknown)

I simply share those words today because I don't believe that I'm the only one who needs a little encouragement from time to time.  Thank you to those of you who have been such a positive little ray of happiness to me.

Grateful for my Lord, my family, and my friends (which many of you are considered),

Andrea