Tonight was a good night.  We went to Oxford and had dinner at Kona.  It was pretty delicious, except for the overkill of olive oil on my salmon.  I eat a lot of fish these days. You see, I’ve started naming our neighbors cows…. and every time I eat beef… I get really nervous… the next time I drive home.

And of course there is the OTHER.  I tried to order the 1/2 Grilled Chicken…. but the words would not come out of my mouth.  So.  The salmon.

At any rate, we were walking around downtown Oxford and running into everyone Mary knows.  Not hard to do.  It was a lovely night to be out walking and chatting.

We strolled by one small shop.  In the window hung a little handwritten sign. Psychic Readings 5:15 p.m. – 8:15 p.m.  I checked my watch.  Eight’O’Clock straight up.  So.  Why not?

I went inside and met Ron, the Psychic.  A Celtic Psychic.

I sat down at his table, well equipped with Tarot Cards, and a little timer.  Psychics charge by intervals, I suppose.

This was only the 2nd time I’ve ever done this.  The first was in Sedona, Arizona, and it was a bit of a farce.  But I was up for some fun tonight.  I told him I had no expectations.

Well.  Ron went on to tell me some things about myself, my personality, which were very true.  Things that he couldn’t really have known.

My struggle with something throughout my entire youth… all the way until after I turned 40.  My stubbornness.  Hard worker.  Artist.  And a few other things about my spiritual nature.

Then he said something he could not possibly have known.  It gave me the weeblies.  And the wobblies.

He also said I have a built-in lie detector.  I didn’t need a Psychic to tell me this.  I can tell right away when someone is lying to me.  He noted that I don’t often “call” them on it.  But I know when it happens.

I have a certain someone…. who has been lying to me lately.  I just wish they’d be square about things.  It would be better that way.  But I guess until they are ready… I’ll just keep nodding.

But I digress.  When my time was up with Ron, I paid for his services, and away I went.

I always take these sorts of things with a grain of salt.  Heck, if you know me… I salt EVERYTHING.  Yet, he hit a few chords that really made me wonder.

And I know… above all things… WONDER is good.  Never be so sure of yourself…. and lose that most precious room to wonder.  To explore.   To grow.  And to believe in the things… that MIGHT just be possible.

Your big opportunity may be right where you are now. –  Napoleon Hill

Wisdom begins in wonder. – Socrates

Mystery creates wonder and wonder is the basis of man’s desire to understand.  –  Neil Armstrong

Forrest Gump’s Mama only had it partially right, in her now-famous quote.  And that good old Forrest could recount it at any given moment. “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get.”

And that is true.  You never, ever really know what will transpire, from day to day.  If we are lucky enough, most days glide from one to the next, without a major upset. Of course, it is a grand thing, if we find ourselves in good fortune on most occasions.

But that box of chocolates is just like life, in other ways too.  On the inside of each one of those pieces, is some great and wonderful surprise.  It could be peanut butter creme, or raspberry, or even a nutty almond.  But surely enough, there is a treasure inside.  All you have to do is take a little time to discover it.

And so it is with a lot of things in life.  Since we are talking about candy, the Tootsie Pop is a prime example.  Oh…. when you bite into one of those things to get to the delicious center!  But by looking from the outside, you would never know what lies within.

Oysters.  Yep.  Now that is one found in nature.  You crank one open and there inside is a beautiful milky pearl.  And to think it starts from one little grain of sand.  That is really something.  But you have to open that Oyster to check.

Another gift of nature….. the incredible, edible egg.  Who knew?  I mean really.  Seeing an egg from the outside gives no indication that something some amazing would be lurking inside.

This entire concept transcends our lives.  It weaves in and out.  What about the little dog or cat…. the one from the shelter or the rescue group?   On the outside, the dog may seem like a jumpy, barkey, bundle of nerves.  Which may be true.  Yet, inside that pup is one of the sweetest, sensitive, caring little dogs ever.  Or perhaps smart as a whip, or funny, or maybe ever all of the above.

Another example which becomes more and more apparent to me… is people.  There are certain individuals in our lives….. and we think they may be this way, or that.  And then suddenly, out of the clear blue sky, they do something great, or valiant, of spectacular.   It might take us by surprise, but I for one, am always delighted when it happens.

Surprises my be one of life’s greatest gifts, I think. But to get the gift, you have to unwrap.

And so it goes.  We just may need to take a little time, to find out what it inside.  What truly lies beneath.  And once we do, we find that  surprise is a most wonderful gift.

The greatest gift that you can give to others is the gift of unconditional love and acceptance.  —  Brian Tracy

Yes, my friends.  Jeff Golden had it right with his assessment of the final European Vacation Night. (Please see his original comments below.)

I had been here at home. Alone. With the chickens. For two weeks. The experience was harrowing, at best. During the course of those 14 days, and 14 nights, I had sustained several injuries as a direct result of my interaction with those chickens.  Something was fowl.  The task of caring for them was growing more an more difficult each day. I was beginning to suspect that they were, in fact, organized.

And plotting against me.

As yet another storm threatened from the west, I ventured out at the clip of dusk. I was just beginning to fill water containers and small food bins, inside the coop, when I heard the door to the coop slam shut. A strong gust of wind, I thought.

I completed the task at hand, and decided to go out into the chicken yard to begin retrieving the birds for the night. I turned the latch on the coop’s door. When I attempted to push open the door, it would not budge. I pushed a little harder, and still, nothing. Finally, in the dark, dank, smelliness of the coop, I began to feel agitation creep in. I put a shoulder to the door.

It would not give. It was like a heavy object had been placed outside the door, and it would not move an inch. Suddenly I heard what sounded like the creak of the yard’s gate swing open. Oh good. I thought. Someone has stopped by tonight, and they’ve spotted my predicament.

But alas… I heard cackling, and the flapping of wings. It seemed rhythmic. Like they were speaking to one another. The chatter seemed to get more and more quiet, as if they were moving toward the main house, and away from the coop.

I had my phone with me, yet, with the approaching storm, I could not get a cellular signal. But my wi-fi was connecting. Barely. And that is where I wrote that last chicken-escapade-column. Trapped, inside the squalor of the chicken coop.

I did not know chickens could swim, but I swear they were having a pool party.  I heard the clinking of ice on the walls of Margarita glasses.  It sounded like the Hot Tub was firing up.

The next morning, one of our friends, Mike,  stopped by to do some work. He opened the door, just a crack. “Polly, what the heck happened here?  Who was at the pool?  They left a mess!  HOW did you get in the coop? There is a huge boulder rolled in front of the door.”  And on and on he went.  “I’m going to need to get some help to move it.  I’ll be right back.”   No…. I screamed inside my head.  Don’t leave me here…. alone…..    But no words would come out of my mouth.  I was in shock.

I can’t imagine how those chickens did it. Although later that day, I found what looked like the makings of some levers and pulleys behind a row of bushes, nearby.

There is so much more to this story, and I will continue when I regain my emotional strength. At any rate, until then, we have Fryers for sale. By the pound.

I wonder if Duck Eggs are any good?

Don’t become a mere recorder of facts, but try to penetrate the mystery of their origin.  —  Ivan Pavlov
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Science cannot solve the ultimate mystery of nature. And that is because, in the last analysis, we ourselves are a part of the mystery that we are trying to solve.  —  Max Planck

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You know that T-Shirt that you see at a lot of Souvenir Shops when you go on vacation?  It is the one that says in big bold letters:

“My Wife (or Husband, or Friend, etc.) went to New York City (or name of any city anywhere), and all I got was This Stupid T-Shirt.”

You know the shirt.

Well, my wonderful  and loving partner of 25 years went to Europe for 2 weeks and just returned.   Guess what I got?  A shirt.

(Albeit, a hooded gray hooded sweatshirt, of the variety I love, and pretty much live in…., and in big bold letters, it says ROMA on the front, and has the Italian Flag and all.  And since I was raised Catholic, and Rome is a pretty-dang big deal of a city for Catholics, especially since Pope Francis seems to have his Pope-Poop all-together…..IT is a ROCKING, rocking sweatshirt, but I am completely off track.)

So.  There you have it.  A Shirt from Europe.  That was my keepsake.  OR… was it?

NO.  What I truthfully got was SO much more.  This morning when I woke up, the song in my heart was back.  My friend, my confidant, my soulmate.  My kindred spirit had returned.

We caught up and drank way too much coffee.  We played with the dogs, and fed the chickens.  We fed the fish.  We laughed, and talked, and shared stories.  We sat in the newly renovated Meditation Garden and I got bit by bitey insects, while she went unscathed.  We watched the birds, and the deer at their feeders.

The beat in my heart came back.  The spring in my step.  And the sparkle in my eye.  THAT is what I got when my partner came back from vacation.

This, I can only tell you, is a state of mind which I cannot really re-echo in writing.  But it is the best state I’ve ever visited.  And it is right here, where I call home.

It is home.
“A soulmate is the one person whose love is powerful enough to motivate you to meet your soul, to do the emotional work of self-discovery, of awakening.”  —  Kenny Loggins

“Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.”   — 
Antoine de Saint-Exupery

My entire life has been reduced to this.  I have become Mrs. Tweedy.  Either that, or Mr. Tweedy.  I am not sure.  And that is how pathetic I am.  If you do not know Mrs. Tweedy, you have not seen Chicken Run.  I feel that somehow your life is incomplete, if this is true.

You see, Chicken Run is one of my favorite movies. Ever.  But I am a big FAN of the Wallace, and the Gromit.  So it would follow that I like Chicken Run.  Anyway, digress.

Back to the Tweedy’s.  I think, apparently, I am spending WAY too much time with chickens.  Lately… I feel like Mrs. Tweedy, in that I am ready to make my world-famous Chicken Pies.  Mass-produced, in fact.

And I feel like Mr. Tweedy because most days, I suspect those chickens may be organized, and they are plotting against me.

Now if you had suggested to me 6 to 8 weeks ago, that  I would ever harm a feather on one of those baby chicks’ heads, I would have scoffed, spit, and forcefully objected to such an accusation.  But today, I am checking Angie’s List for chicken butchers.

Oh, you can only push a girl so far.  And Dorothy, and Edgar Allen Poultry, are really pushing those limits.

Truthfully, you know, I am mostly joking.  There are joys in each day with that batch of poultry.  Like today, Tommy found his voice.  Yes.  Tommy is our “pretty” rooster.  He looks just like the dude on the Kellog’s Corn Flakes box.  And today, he cock-a-doodle-doo-ed for the first time.  He surprised himself, and had to give a few more rounds.  The other roosters pick on him.  He is pretty, AND smart.  AND he can sing.  He must be gay.

Then there is one of the Blue’s.  She is so dang sweet and really likes to be near me.  All the time.  I’ve been calling her Ms. Addie.  Adele.

Madeline, or Louise, (they both look a lot alike, and were the pasty-butts when they were young)…. well ONE of them flies over into the New Hampshire’s Sanctuary, and gives them holy-heck.  I think it is because she is the smallest of the Orpingtons.  She gets holy-heck from her tribe.

These are just a handful of the chicken stories.  As for the ones who have really ticked me off… well…. I guess I need to find forgiveness.
Yes, “Forgiveness” is the message here tonight.  I should find complete absolution for them.

Is it okay to forgive a chicken?

I guess so.

If they, in turn, forgive me.  When I ship them off to Pie Factory.
Cock-A-Doodle-Do.

Some days, really big things happen.  Take a little time to consider this.  Way, way, way back in 1595, on July 19,   a guy named Kepler had a revelation of sorts.  Yeppers.    Astronomer Johannes Kepler had, what Historians call, an Epiphany.  And this big notion developed into his theory of the geometrical basis of the universe.

These works also provided one of the foundations for Isaac Newton’s theory of universal gravitation.

But the long and short of it, he figured out that the earth circles the sun, along with all the other planets.  He made major strides in other areas, but I won’t bore the crap out of you with all of that.  Thank your lucky twinkling stars for that.  But his theory met much opposition.  He had a rough way to go of it at times, but he knew he worked out the proof of it all.  Geometrically.  He persisted.

Okay… but some days… historically… really ROCK.  July 19th goes on.  It was a big old day for women.  Not so terribly long ago, in 1848….a handful of gals, led mostly by Elizabeth Cady Stanton, organized the very first U.S. Women’s Rights Convention.  It was held in Seneca, NY.

Most of them were Abolitionists, and Social Activists too.  They were all about human rights.  What a bunch of brave, brave, brave, and very smart women.   It wasn’t an easy path to take either.  But they went out, time after time, and fought for the right thing to do.  Amazing.   And … looky what happened.  I can vote.

I think there are lessons to be learned in both instances.

Sometimes in life, we know the right thing to do.  We have that “proof” of what is the right way to go.  Other times, we get the old “gut feeling” and we know we have to move toward it.

Either way… it isn’t always easy to do.  But if we know it is righteous … then any other way just would not be appropriate, or providential.  And so we go.  Or at least… I think… we ought to go.

Take that path less traveled as Robbie Frost once said…. about that divergent road in the woods.

And we scamper away down that path.  Poison Ivy and all.  Mosquitoes.  It makes no difference to us.  We have our cans of OFF and our Calamine Lotion… because we dare.  We dare to take the road less traveled.   And we persist until we make it right.

A little more persistence, a little more effort, and what seemed hopeless failure may turn to glorious success.  —  Elbert Hubbard

Permanence, perseverance and persistence in spite of all obstacles, discouragements, and impossibilities: It is this, that in all things distinguishes the strong soul from the weak.   — Thomas Carlyle

Oh, and by the way… today is Lizzie’ Borden’s birthday.  But she killed her parents with an ax, and that doesn’t really bode well for this message.  Albeit, she gave one of them 50 whacks and the other 51.  So… in that way… I guess she was persistent. 

Tonight, I have a million and one thought running through my head.  So many in fact, I’m having trouble narrowing down what to write about.  I swear, sometimes I think I am ADHD.  There are times when I get totally distracted.  Things that have gone whoosing through my little brain tonight…

• How many people live off the grid?  Where are they?
• South Carolina is the most violent state in the U.S.
• The time I spend in Seven Mile Creek today, and hauling rocks out of that creek.
• Hot weather makes me feel good. Right down to my toes.
• Thunderstorms and lightning strikes can be intimidating.
• My first memory is from when I was three.  And then I don’t really remember much for the next couple of years of my life.  Youth Amnesia.  It exists.
• The truth about the center of the Tootsie Pop.
• It doesn’t seem fair that Pluto got kicked out of our galaxy.

Okay, I do have to talk about that one for a minute.  Pluto.  What the heck?  Pluto was my favorite planet, and NOW, the scientists said it is not really a  planet.  It is now considered a “Dwarf Planet”…  So out of the Galaxy it goes.    Bull-puckets, I say.

I mean, we don’t kick Dwarf People out of society, because they are too small.   In fact, I think it is “politically” correct to call them “Little People.”

So why can’t we just call Pluto a Little Planet, and love it like we always did?  It still goes round and round the big sun, just like the rest of us.

And the Attention Disorder continues to shine through.    So.  Tonight, maybe just a couple of photos, and a few comments on them.  Before I get swept away and right a piece as long as War and Peace.

This shot is of Ollie.  She follows me everywhere, but she is deathly afraid of storms.  Tonight as the lightning was crashing around, I had to go out to the coop, to put the chickens up for the night.  She stayed right with me, an eye to the sky.  And when we got back to the garage, you could see the fear on her face.

And this is Mothman.  He reminded me of The Mothman Prophecies.  West Virginia, 1967.  I have been to The Mothman Museum in Point Pleasant.  Not by plan, but by detour.  Whether it is true or not… either way….  Moths can be creepy.

SO.  There it is for the night.  My disconnected rush of random thoughts… on a Saturday Night.  Did I mention the Big S’more Rescue in California.  Okay, enough.

How do we define our successes?  Well, I guess it depends on who is holding the measuring stick.

Many different labels abound.

Society puts so many of these on us.  Someone who makes a lot of money, drives nice cars, dresses well, and has a big home… might be referred to like this.  “Oh, yes, I know John Bigbritches.  He is highly successful.”  But, old John Bigbritches may not be very nice, or fair, or compassionate.  So.  What should we make of that?

Yes, most the time success is gauged on how much we have… not necessarily how much we do.

I think the measuring stick would better be served… if it directly related to what is important to us.  To each individual.

If all you care about is money, and wealth, and the Golden Ticket, that is your definition and life purpose.

But I know people who are CRAZY SUCCESSFUL and they drive worn-down cars, and work two jobs, and consider fine dining a night out to Le McDonald’s.  For a Le BigMac.

These people, by my stick, are successful in their spirit.  They walk with integrity.  They speak the truth.  They offer a helping hand.  They care about people.  Their hearts hold a golden ticket.

They struggle to make ends meet, but they are the first to offer you a drink from the well.  Metaphorically speaking, of course.

I can only hope, when they lay their heads down at night, that they close their eyes with the satisfaction that they have made another day, good.  Good for someone.  And I hope somehow, this makes them happy.

I hope they know… that their goodness of heart will bring them more success than they every imagined.  If they truly believe it.

It is said… in more ways than one… that we will always have what we want….. IF we want what we have.  What we need is what we have.  And what we have is what we need.

Perhaps, coming to this understanding… IS the success.

“Strive not to be a success, but rather to be of value.” -Albert Einstein

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“When I stand in the rain at night, with my face pointed toward the sky, and my arms outstretched, I know I have made it.” – Polly Kronenberger

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There is only one success — to be able to spend your life in your own way. ~Christopher Morley

I can distinctly remember standing there, with one hand twirling the back of my hair, and the other hand on my hip.  I stood there and shook my head, as I looked on.  I can remember thinking… “Heck.  I KNOW I can drive that thing better than that.”

I was probably about six.

You see… it had happened again.  For at least the 20th time, my sister had driven my brother’s go-cart into a large black iron pole, in our back yard, in the city of Dayton.  I am pretty sure you could here that “clunk” all the way to Oakwood.

She frequently did these sorts of things.  We would go sledding at Triangle Park, and always go down “Suicide Hill”.  I was never allowed to drive my own sled.  I stood at the top of the hill, I think with my brother Ed… and another sister’s boyfriend who looked just like Art Garfunkel.  Anyway… away Julie went, down the hill.  And as she was really gaining steam, she started veering right toward a lone huge tree on the hill.  Like a magnet, she went right into that thing.  I am pretty sure it knocked her out cold.

I can remember thinking… “Well, hold the mustard Louie, I think Julie is dead.”

She seemed to have the Klutz Chromosome.  I have it too… but she might win the prize between us.  I walk into walls and such.  Drop bricks on my feet.  Those sorts of things.   But her follies are epic.

It is kind of funny though.  We are probably the two clumsiest people in the family, but we are the only two college athletes.  Go figure.  We also share the silly-bug when we are together.  Like goofy as can be…..  to the point… people have stopped and stared.

At any rate, today is her birthday, (by the time you read this).  I am the youngest of seven kids.  She is number six… just four years older than I.

She is one of the people I am most thankful for in my life.  I am thankful for a whole LOT of people in my life.  I am blessed this way.  But there are some wonder-souls in life, who touch your heart… who make your life better… who let you know, at just those right moments, that life is this moment and none other.  They are golden.

So Happy Birthday to her.  I am so glad for the day she was born.

And Happy Birthday to all you beautiful people in life, who have touched my spirit. Those of you who make this world a better place… because you are in it. Because you, are you.

We are what we believe we are.
— C. S. Lewis

All the people like us are we, and everyone else is They.
— Rudyard Kipling

We get older.  All of us.  By the minute.

In my mind, I think I am 23 years old.  My body tells me differently some days.

Okay. Most days.

I’ve always had keen senses.  I think it was a result of pretending  that I was a SuperHero for the better part of my youth.  The power of suggestion.

The upshot of that… was that I developed things like great eyesight, an acute sense of smell, and sharp hearing.  I also had lightning fast reflexes.

These days… well….  I guess I’ve gone from Pseudo-Superhero to Mediocre-GoodCitizen.

I wear glasses.  Can’t see much up close with out them.  Or mid-range.
And unfortunately, I think my hearing might be slipping.

For instance, I grocery-shop at Marsh.  They are pretty awesome there.  Rarely do you have to wait in long lines.  They always have baggers, and always ask if you need help out to your car.

Today, was no different.  A manager came over and opened up extra lanes.  Another upper-level person came over and started bagging.  “Do you need some help out?” they asked.  Well.  I THOUGHT they said “Can you help us out?” (I saw they had very few people on duty.)  To which I responded … “Sure, I can stay and help out.  Can you just put my cart a cooler until I am done?”

They found great humor in this.

And there goes the hearing.

I still have a very discerning sense of smell.  Sometimes this is an incredibly good thing and at other times… it is an absolute curse.

But no matter, sharp or dull… these “Senses” of mine.  I am SO thankful for them.  I could not imagine a world without them, nor would I like to try.

So here is to the dimming physicality of the SuperHero.  Perhaps, if we hone our other SuperPowers… we can keep our capes.

Like our ability to be aware.  To be compassionate.  To be kind.

Now THOSE… truly are… Super Powers.

The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are.
— Joseph Campbell

A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.
— Jackie Robinson