Author Archives: Kami

I Vote for the Grawlix

Posted on September 7, 2013 by Kami

I’m convinced that the only reason children are given middle names is so that parents have a way of letting the child know when they are really, really, really in trouble. Who hasn’t overheard some dialog like the following:

“JJ, we keep out hands to ourselves now, don’t we.”

“Jimmy, don’t touch that.”

“Jimmy B…Are you listening to me?”

“James, I said don’t touch that, get over here now. Don’t you run away!”

“James Henry Beelzebub! You are in BIG trouble now!”

Did you notice the escalation? From everyday to formal, from easygoing to insistent?

I made the error of not giving three of my children a middle name. That middle name would have come in handy, on many an occasion. Instead, I had to employ some serious creativity to get my point across. Or make up a middle name so they’d know they were in trouble.

Some kids have more than one middle name. Does that give the parents more emphasis? Or does it give the child more chances before things ramp up to utter chaos? Just curious.

If a parent often or always used all three or more names to address their child, then that middle name wouldn’t hold any more power than a single name. The rare frequency of use is what imbues that middle name with meaning and emphasis.

In the same way, swear words lose their punch, power, meaning and impact when used too often.

Like the tale of the boy who cried wolf, swearing, if it becomes common or too frequent, or out of context, loses its efficacy.

“Oh, that’s just the way he is. He doesn’t mean anything by it,” is something often said about those who swear without thought. The only meaning conveyed is anger or thoughtlessness or lack of vocabulary.

Swear

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

While living in another state, we used a fantastic mechanic friend who worked on cars from his home garage. We got to know his family, his kids, his wife. Nice people. Surprisingly, he swore like a sailor, meaning, nearly every third word was a vulgarity. The first few times I spent any time around him I thought he was in a bad mood. Turned out that was just how he talked, happy, sad, angry, indifferent. That’s how he was raised. The swear words served as fillers for him, like most people use the words “uh”or “hmm” or “like” or “y’know.” It wasn’t easy to tune out or filter the sense from what he said. It was distracting and often uncomfortable. Surprisingly, he was the most tender-hearted, kind, generous person I’d met in ages. His words didn’t match who he was. Consequently, many people kept themselves from getting to know him, the real man behind the angry sounding words. What a loss.

 “Your own words are the bricks and mortar of the dreams you want to realize. Your words are the greatest power you have. The words you choose and their use establish the life you experience.” – Sonia Choquette.

I admit I’m kind of a word snob. I select words with probably too much care and precision. I get told I use “big words” too much. I blame that on all the reading I’ve done over a lifetime. There are so many words to use in every possible situation! And I keep learning new ones!

photo-14There are some words that aren’t even swear words that make me cringe; misspelled words, grammar errors, typos. That’s just me being silly and picky. A word that means something else other than what the speaker thinks what it means can make me wince. A swear word when nearly any other word would be adequate just feels lazy and pointless. Certain swear words are like a punch in the gut, a word out-of-place in a sentence, meaningless, almost silly.

Here’s a brief example of the many word choices out there that could replace just the word vulgarity: rudeness, tastelessness, uncouthness, offensiveness, crude, impropriety, indecency, cuss, execration, expletive, profanity, obscenity, cuss word, four-letter word, rude word, dirty word, vulgarism, sacrilege, curse, oath, and lets not forget ^*$#(@&**!!

That’s twenty-one word choices! Why would a person, particularly a writer, always use the same three or four words when there are twenty-one or more options? It doesn’t take a boatload of effort to look up words in a thesaurus or dictionary anymore.

Don’t get me wrong here.

I’m no purist. My mouth surely has needed a soap washing on many an occasion. Just ask MSH or my kids. When I get really, really angry half my brain cells shut down and what I say comes across as all but meaningless. I’m not proud of it. I am after all a wordsmith. I have the skills to get my ideas across without the &*#$*%#$ thrown in as empty fillers.

That’s a grawlix.

That string of punctuation marks that signify cussing is called a grawlix, by the way.

I like that. You’re free to fill in the blanks or let it slide. I picture Yosemite Sam grumbling under his breath as “that durn rabbit” gets away again. I get his anger without taking a hit to my gut and my sensibilities.

As for bleeping out cuss words, I’m not much of a fan of that. There isn’t much left to the imagination when lip-reading is obvious. And blanking out the middle letters of expletives doesn’t lessen the angry meaningless of the word.

English: A black ink splatter with slightly bl...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I guess I just wish we all tried a little harder to say what we really meant. Swear words just feel like so much anger spewed on the page, like ink splatted out of a quill pen. What a mess where there’s so much potential. I’d like to think we’re all better writers and better communicators.

I know, it’s supposedly cool and sophisticated to freely pepper our sentences with those words we wouldn’t normally use in front of our grandmother, our minister, a potential employer or small children. Why is it we don’t say them in such company, I wonder.

Does that say something about our sense of propriety? Does it say something about us? Does it say anything?

Do our word choices say anything at all?

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Categories: Communication, Humor, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

“It Takes a Life to Learn How to Live”

Posted on September 6, 2013 by Kami

Right off the bat let me give credit for my title today to  Jonathan Safran Foer, author of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. There’s some profound wisdom in that book. Those nine words alone speak volumes of truth.

My friend Kathy asked me a question a couple of months ago that stopped me cold. I couldn’t come up with a good response. A quick answer wasn’t going to do it this time. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

And then today on a prompt from WordPress Daily Post the same basic question in a slightly different form, raised its head and accessed that box I’d stuffed into a distant corner of my head. Here’s the question:

“What’s your biggest regret? How would your life have been different if you’d made another decision?”

Here’s my answer:

I regret wasting so much time thinking I wasn’t good enough. 

The kid in the far reaches of the playground, hovering alone, her back turned to all the fun?  Me. I figured I wasn’t good enough to have friends. I didn’t measure up, I wasn’t included. I became afraid, picked on, ridiculed and invisible.

Detour ahead?Invisible feels worse than picked on. Invisible hurts in a hundred different long-lasting ways.

There were other invisible and picked on and outcast kids. I figured that out in my teen years and that was who I gravitated toward. Sometimes that was a good thing, especially when those kids were the nerds, the smart ones, the bookish know-it-alls. I mirrored the behaviors of the kids I hung out with and those had a  profound influence for good.

Sometimes the invisibles were the parking lot crowd, the skip-class-to-do-anything-else group. But at least I was good enough for them. They accepted me in their own angry, we don’t care about you way. I didn’t like myself even more when I spent time with them, but it was better than being alone, usually.

By time I reached college I had a pseudo-self esteem based mostly on my book smarts. But then I found out everyone else was as smart or smarter than I was and I was an invisible, not good enough person again. Just an ant in a crowded hive of excelling ants.

I wasted tons of years thinking I wasn’t a good enough student, girl, wife, mother, housekeeper, employee, friend, daughter, sister, woman, volunteer or person.

What this wasted thinking did was waste a huge portion of my life. I felt sorry for myself instead of looking outside of myself. I caved inward and saw only what I didn’t have instead of all the phenomenal blessings I did have.

I tucked inside myself like a pair of socks rolled up tight sitting in the back corner of a dark drawer. I didn’t give, I didn’t get. I just existed. What a waste.

Skip a decade or so and leave out the sordid details. Finally, somehow, somewhere what I had, who I was began to morph into an okayness. More than that, I began feel worthwhile. I began to feel like I was enough. Me, where I was and what I was doing was good, worthwhile, worthy, wonderful, and of value.

The Lonely Road

(Photo credit: Storm Crypt)

What a long, uphill road I trudged to get there.

I turn around and look back at the path I took to get to today and part of me wants to crumble in to a heap on the ground and weep. I want to cry for the wasted time, the wasted opportunities, the wasted impact I could have had. I want to feel sorry for myself again. But I won’t.

Nope.

That’s an even bigger waste of time. I’m who I am because of the path I’ve taken to get here, which is good enough for me. That’s all that really matters anyway. What do I think? What others think of me isn’t as important as what I think of me.

My conclusion?

I AM good enough.

No regrets.

Not anymore.

Categories: People, Relationships, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

In Your Face

Posted on September 5, 2013 by Kami

I took a racquet in the face once playing racquetball.

I’m really unclear about who was in the court with me at the time. And I’m even more unclear about who held the racquet that split the skin open above my lip.

It doesn’t matter actually.

Seems like I was going for a great shot and bam. Game over. It was like a wall popped up in front of me mid-swing. It felt way worse than a ball to the face, which I’d experienced often enough since we weren’t stellar players. I don’ remember pain as much as shock and confusion. Seems I wanted to keep playing until the other players pointed out I was bleeding and probably needed stitches.

I was mostly disappointed that we didn’t get to finish our game. And I didn’t get any stitches. The doc superglued the thing closed. It looked gross. For a week I looked like I had a perpetual little kid style runny nose.

I’d have preferred the stitches.

I don’t really notice the scar much. It’s fairly light and thin. Almost invisible, actually.

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We had a group of women that got together about three days a week. We’d play singles if only two showed up, or singles if there were two courts open and four of us. Cut-throat was my favorite for all the changing up that happens. Four of us piled in that tiny enclosed space got fairly rowdy. But we managed to get a good workout and have a bunch of fun no matter how many of us there were.

Yeah, we weren’t amazing players, but we weren’t all that shabby either. At least one of us would be “in the zone” on any given day. Occasionally we’d all hit our stride and balls would zing about for long volleys, amazing shots and incredible saves. Those rare days, when everything was working, made it tough to want to leave after only an hour of play. But if we stayed much longer, we’d be paying for it the rest of the day.

We had to know when to say enough. Sometimes the clock told us. Sometimes our sore muscles let us know we’d reached our limit. And sometimes, we just didn’t care and kept playing far too long and paid for it later. But we sure had us some great times bashing that ball around.

Racquetball lets loose a ton of pent-up aggravation, emotion, and insanity. We left the gym better women, better prepared for whatever the heck the day threw our way.

Sweat never felt or smelled so sweet as on racquetball playing days.

We welcomed any and all who wanted to join in our group. We met some great people that way. I’m afraid I scared off one friend, quite unintentionally. I must have hit her in the head about four times with some really poorly aimed shots. By the fourth hit she was done and never came back again. Not sure she’s ever forgiven me. I swear it was completely and totally just me playing badly. I couldn’t hit the same spot twice even if I was aiming for it. I’m hoping one day she’ll get a chance to ding me with a ball or maybe a few water balloons so she can feel like the score is even and we can move on. Or not.

So why do I bring all this up?

I LOVE playing racquetball!

And yet, my racquet’s acquired a few years of dust. That’s a huge loss.

Why’d I stop?

Schedules change, injuries and age take their toll, life demands new things of us, we have to give something up to make the puzzle pieces all fit.

Sometimes the best things, the most helpful, the happiest, end up being sacrificed for other good and helpful things. Good reasons don’t make it any easier though.

I look in the mirror sometimes and see that thin light scar above my lip. It feels like a participation medal, or better yet, a blue ribbon or a golden winner’s cup.

Maybe it needs to be a reminder of something I need again. No, not a racquet to the face. I need that hour of sweating. I need to hit something with everything I’ve got. I need the energy I get back from pushing myself hard.

Can I work that back into my life?

I have plenty of excuses, most of them having to do with body parts and pain. Maybe it’s time to ignore the shoulder devil and do it anyway.

After all, what could it hurt?

Well, I suppose it could hurt my face again.

But it would be worth it.

Categories: Exercise, Fun, Sports | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Doggone it! “IT’S A DOG’S LIFE–ESPECIALLY AT THE BARRETTS”

Posted on September 4, 2013 by Kami

I don’t have much experience with dogs. Except for a fairly traumatic experience with a beagle when I was nine or ten. But that story isn’t entertaining, enlightening or really all that interesting. It just made me not want to ever own a dog in my life.

I’ve worked with dogs. No, I’m not referencing any of my bosses, who have all been wonderful. No, really. But a couple times I worked at someone’s home and their dog or dogs became an integral part of my work day, and sometimes my non-work day.

What I’m taking far too long to say here is I have no dog stories. But I recently read one that summed up dog ownership with such grace and aplomb that I decided I needed to let you, my faithful readers in on the same story.

So here, straight from the pen of one of my dear writer’s group friends, Elizabeth Barrett, I turn you over to her able and witty words:

Elizabeth Willis Barrett's avatartheotherelizabethbarrett

Buddy and Livvi

Elizabeth Willis Barrett

I do not like dogs.  The only thing they have going for them is that they are 50 times better than cats.  For some reason the word “cat” puts a shiver down my bones.  I don’t know why I wasn’t blessed with an animal loving gene.  I think when the lines were queuing in Heaven for various attributes, I stood far too long in the Music lines, constantly looking over at the Photography and Writing and Speaking lines to make sure I could eventually get into them.  There was no time to wait in the Animal Loving line before I was whisked to earth and set down in Rexburg, Idaho, during a blinding snow storm.

But Brad loves dogs and has to have one.  We’ve been through many as a family: Chisum, Beau, Alamo, Chorizo, Mariah, Ike, Jeremiah, Sammi and Bailey to name a few.  We’ve had…

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Categories: Humor | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

The Particular Sweetness of This Corn on the Cob

Posted on September 3, 2013 by Kami

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m thankful for the kindness in people.

I’ve been aware of this story for a few years. My parents, who live in farming country, have a neighbor they’ve told me about. Often when I visit I’ve seen the evidence and heard the tale. This year I got the chance to meet the man. Smiling and glowing with good will, he seemed like someone you’d be honored to have as a neighbor. A solid, kindhearted soul.

Yes, Virginia there are still good, generous folks in the world.20130903-012409.jpg

Exhibit A: a corn field with a sign which identifies said corn.

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Exhibit B: a different sign next to the corn field, hand written.

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Exhibit C: close up view of the handwritten sign reads

“Sweet Corn – you pick – $3.00 dozen  – put $ in box – Thank you”

Look closer at the bottom of the sign, attached to the fence. That’s a green metal box with a slit cut it in, attached to the fence rail, for people to put their money in when they pay for the corn they pick.

You’re thinking this guy gets ripped off a bunch. Maybe. Maybe not. He lives close by the field and has a clear view of it all. Sometimes people pay. Sometimes they don’t. For the ones who don’t he says he figures they must really need it. He doesn’t begrudge them the corn or the money.

He’s watched people he knows, it’s a small town, fill a van front to back with the corn they picked and drive off without putting dime nor dollar in the cash box. He shrugs it off. He might know their story, well off or not, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll greet them the same next time he sees them, with a smile and a handshake.

Is this guy rich? Only in goodwill and generosity and kindness. The way most people in the world judge things he’s losing big time. In the ways that really count, he’s rich beyond counting.

Every year it’s the same way. His corn is for sale on the honor system.

Looks to me like he’s the one who is honorable.

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Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, People | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Like Nobody’s Watching

Posted on September 2, 2013 by Kami

 

Feeling a bit sluggish I click on over to Pandora for some tunes to rev the old engine.

 

Serendipity does one of those “ah ha” kind of things. Kenny Loggins starts playing “Footloose.” Exactly. Yes, exactly what my body, brain and feet needed to kick start my day.

 

Dancing Feet

Dancing Feet (Photo credit: JPott)

 

Power resides in certain arrangements of notes, rhythm, timing, lyrics, beat, and style. Power to lift. Power to lull. Power to move and change and motivate.

 

Why should I be surprised when a song changes my mood? It happens over and over and over.

 

Yesterday on the road I cranked on the radio, it’s crackly speakers rattling with the shimmy, buzz, hum and squeak of my old truck. Three Dog Night started in with ‘Joy to the World.” Y’know, “Jeremiah was a bullfrog…da da daaa!” Happy crowded into the cab of the truck and road along, tapping its feet to the beat. Man, we were rocking it. “Joy to the world, All the boys and girls now, Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea and Joy to you and me.”

 

Moments like that can carry you through some crazy times.

 

I can’t get through a month without a bit of Santana’s “Smooth.” I also love moving it to “In the Mood” by Glenn Miller. And who can leave out Counting Crows “Accidentlly in Love.” And the Beatles “Twist and Shout.” And of course, “Boogie Shoes” by KC and the Sunshine Band. And the quintessential  disco album from the movie “Saturday Night Fever” especially “Stayin’ Alive.”

 

Gotta admit here that I’m a kitchen dancer. Yes, me. I can bust a move, boogie, disco and cut a rug like a pro, at least when no one’s around.

 

 “Dance like nobody’s watching.”

 

It does something for your mind and your heart and I’m not talking cardio, either.

 

spatula

spatula aka a microphone if you need one on the fly (Photo credit: jmcunnin2000)

 

Maybe you’re not a secret dancer, maybe you’re a spatula-microphone or toothbrush-microphone kinda person. If so then James Taylor is your man, with “How Sweet it is to be Loved By You.” You too can be a star when you ramp up your day with a few sweet songs. Try listening to the kicky tune by Dave Barnes “Little Lies.” Or “Clouds” by Zach Sobiech, there’s an upbeat song. Kat Edmonson has a sweet one called “Lucky” that’ll get your toes tapping.

 

Looking for something different? Try Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “Love Changes Everything,” or “Simple Gifts” by Aaron Copeland. And who doesn’t love Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wondeful World.”

 

Music makes a huge difference in my life from Sunday to Saturday. I need more of it, more often! So I’m building a new playlist titled:  Feel Like Dancing.

 

I’m open to any suggestions ya’ll wanna throw my way. Current stuff, oldies…I’m open minded and ready to dance.

 

Categories: Happiness, Music | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Sunday Quotables, Too, or Two, or Again

Posted on September 1, 2013 by Kami

I really don’t like the title of this post. There’s got to be a better way of saying it, but I am fresh out of brilliance and, as a friend of mine calls it, “finesse.”

If you have any suggestions for a Sunday Post title I’d be thrilled and would gratefully name one of my garden flowers after you, or something wondrous like that.

So this first quote is, admittedly, taken out of context and edited. I’ll share the edited one with you first. Then, under that I’ll give you the full quote as I found it. I like both versions, a lot. The longer one leans toward the rebellious side, which I have a tendency to tip toward myself. So, on my mini-chalkboard at home I quoted the non-rebellious version. I’m pretty sure Mark Twain would hang me up by my toenails and throw sharp words at me, at the very least.

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“Life is short, Break the Rules.
Forgive quickly, Kiss SLOWLY.
Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably
And never regret ANYTHING
That makes you smile.”
— Mark Twain

I agree, Life is short, even at its longest. I don’t generally condone breaking the rules, but have been known to do so, a little too often. And, regret?  Regret falls under an entire category of multiple blog posts which I may, someday if I feel brave, write and elucidate on.

“The Lord of the Rings” books shine with brilliance and wisdom. I try to restrain myself from quoting Tolkien too often, but you gotta admit, he nails it time and again. Here’s a tiny bite of the feast that his words created.

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Then, there’s this saying I have on my wall in the kitchen. It’s a reminder to myself that I’m not really really old. Even though parts of me seem insistent on convincing me otherwise.

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I’ll refrain from vowing to get to bed earlier, eat better, brush more often and exercise twice as much as usual. I think I just want to try to stay young at heart. Which would involve the first quote: forgiving, kissing, loving, laughing. I can do those.

That’s all I’ve got for today.

Wishing you a week filled with grateful moments, joy, and laughter.

Categories: Fun, Happiness | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Not Your Usual Morning Walk

Posted on August 31, 2013 by Kami

Most early mornings bring me sleepy-headed and blurry wandering through my house. I open blinds, pull back curtains and let the day in so it can rouse me. The last step in this daily ritual finds me at the front door. I ease back the lock and open the door to whatever the morning might be holding for me.

Since I’m still in pajamas  with my hair a mangled mess I stand to the side of the doorway and peer out, as if letting someone into the house. I take a deep breath, and with it take a measure of the day. Clouds on the horizon feel hopeful although experience tells me little will come of them. There might be a breeze ruffling the trees tiny leaves or a bird flinging rocks in search of bugs. The park across the street might be hosting a dog, a frisbee and its owner. The colors in the sky could be almost any sixty-four count crayon box choice or a mix of them.

This habit I’ve somehow fallen into, of opening the front door every morning, has become a great way to open up the day.

photo-11 copy 10Some mornings, not very often, I feel pulled outside in spite of my state of undress and pillow ruffled hair. I might step out at the sound of a surprising bird call or a bit of rain, although the rain seldom happens in the morning here. I might venture out to look at a new bloom or an insect working its way across the porch rug. Whatever the cause for my foray past the lintel I have entered the outside world and broken the morning spell.

I live on a busy neighborhood through-street and keep myself within a few quick steps of the doorway, making it easy to disappear from view should a car drive past. The last thing I want is to come face to face, or face to car, still bleary-eyed and unprepared for the day. For those few moments I like to imagine I’m alone in my morningness, waking early, deliberately and mindfully.

On such mornings, when I do step back inside through the front door, I step through a door of anticipation. After such a beginning, a pair of birds chattering, a cat slinking about, a soft scent in the air, a dog running past down the street, the sheen of dew on the grass, the day holds only promise and possibility.

Instead of the usual feel of dullness my to-do list brings, I find on its page opportunity and meaning. The hurriedness of the day fades into a looking forward, to an excitement at the challenge of meeting deadlines. The usual aches and worries of the day sift through a screen door of anticipation and become evidence of a life rich with purpose and promise.

Categories: Nature, Outdoors | Tags: , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Strange Happenings at the Airport and Other Places

Posted on August 30, 2013 by Kami
English:

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I thought I saw myself at the airport the other day.

Really.

I looked across a row of cars and there I stood next to some guy I’d never seen before. The other me was obviously dropping someone off at the airport, just like I was.

I did that double-take thing we all do when something surprises us. Then I looked away, shook my head and focused on MSH who was getting his bag and backpack situated.

But in the back of my head all these neurons are firing off “what the heck!” signals and telling my neck to turn so I could look over at the other me again. But I was resisting the neuron-ics in my brain and instead reached over to give my sweetie a hug that would need to last for a couple of weeks.

As I did he took a step back and sideways to settle the backpack better on his back and caught me off guard. I ended facing him but with my body aimed over at the nice SUV with the better-looking, thinner me and her completely unlike my husband companion.

She was looking back at me.

She was probably thinking, “Ugh, I hope I don’t look like that in ten years.” Or more likely, “Why does that woman keep staring at me and my hot husband?”

Or I imagined it.

Again, I pushed the nagging weirdness vibes out of my head and focused on my own soon departing companion.

We needed a good, solid kiss to get us through the upcoming absence. But he’s doesn’t go in for PDA. (Public Displays of Affection.) So I ended up with a short little meh kiss.

Lame.

I said to him, again ignoring the look-alike who might or might not have been looking my way, “Airports are designed for public displays of affection. Give me a decent kiss that’s gonna last a day or two.”

And he did.

So much so that I forgot about the other me. Mmm.

And then he was gone and so was the phantom, younger me.

Weird.

Doppelganger. That’s the word for what happened.

dop·pel·gäng·er
ˈdäpəlˌgaNGər/
noun
1. an apparition or double of a living person.
Origin: German Doppelgänger, from doppel- double + -gänger goer
I didn’t feel particularly haunted. Just weirded out. A little. Or more than a little, maybe.
I saw myself another time walking down the sidewalk, in Charlotte, North Carolina. Couldn’t get that one out of my head for weeks. Definitely haunting then.
Do you really think there are other me-people out there, living other me-like but different lives? It’s an unsettling thought.
Or maybe it’s just the gene pool. With a few trillion of us on the planet there’s bound to be some duplication occasionally. We can’t all be unique like snowflakes, can we? At least, looks wise.
I have no idea.
Twins

Twins? (Photo credit: aquababe)

I do know that how I think I look and the me I see in a mirror, particularly when I’m not expecting a mirror image, doesn’t add up. I’m surprised to see that’s what I look like. So maybe what I’m seeing when I see another ME is the idealized me, not a copy or double of me.

Did that make any sense?
I’ve been told I have a very, very familiar face. I’m often mistaken for someone’s aunt, grandma, mother, sister, cousin, neighbor, friend or teacher. I’ve lost track of how many times people have asked me if my name is X or Y or Z and I have to convince them that I’ve never been to Norway or Galveston or Upstate New York.
Maybe I’m the doppelgänger! Eesh! There’s a scary thought.
Now I feel haunted.
I wonder what would happen if I tried talking to me if this ever happened again. What would I saw to myself? Would I think I was crazy? Would I/she rush to get a security guard or a police officer? Would they cart me away?
Has this ever happened to you? I’d love to hear about it.
Or am I just strange?
Here’s a Related article that has good possibilities:
Categories: Mental Health, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , | 7 Comments

Wisdom from Tiny Bird Triplets

Posted on August 29, 2013 by Kami

Like sunlight opening up an entirely different view, a new twist on an old thing can cast light where there was shadow.

I found that happening when I stumbled on this cover of a Bob Marley song on Pandora.

Bob Marley? Yup. Bob Marley.

If you have to ask “who’s that” then click here.

This particular recording of the song he wrote, Three Little Birds, gets new life through the voice of Elizabeth Mitchell and her sweet little daughter. The female vocals, the lighter quality of the accompaniment, in fact, the entire feel of this cover tastes, smells, looks and sounds different from Marley’s version.

I’ve listened to both. Both versions play well, but, sorry to tell you, I prefer the newer version. It feels light-hearted and freeing without a sense of a background agenda. It just seems happier.

But don’t take my word for it. Listen to both and tell me what you think and why.

Either way, you’ve heard a great tune you can add to your playlist, or that lightened up your day. Enjoy. I know I did.

Woke up this mornin’,
Smiled with the risin’ sun,
Three little birds
Sat on my doorstep
Singin’ a sweet song
A melody pure and true,
Singing: “This is my message to you-ou-ou.”

Singin’: “Don’t worry ’bout a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”
Singin’: “Don’t worry (don’t worry) ’bout a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right!”

Woke up this mornin’,
Smiled with the risin’ sun,
Three little birds
Sat by my doorstep
Singing a sweet song
A melody pure and true,
Singing: “This is my message to you-ou-ou.”

Singin’: “Don’t worry ’bout a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”
Singin’: “Don’t worry (don’t worry) ’bout a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right!”

Woke up this mornin’,
Smiled with the risin’ sun,
Three little birds
Sat by my doorstep
Singing a sweet song
A melody pure and true,
Singing: “This is my message to you-ou-ou.”

 

Categories: Happiness, Music | Tags: , , , , , , | 8 Comments

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