Today, someone asked me about a grammatical rule.  It was actually, the most commonly made grammatical error in English.  It’s the old …. ITS rules…..  whether or not an apostrophe is needed in a particular sentence.

But before I answered, I said… “Well, it’s the strangest thing.”

What a thing to say!   Of course it ISN’T the strangest thing.  The strangest thing might be Bigfoot, or Aliens in corn crops making freakish designs.   Or maybe even Chris Fultengocker, who was in my third grade class.   That kid was really weird.  Perhaps we think snails are strange.  Or ghosts.

But there is not a Law of the Land in this matter.  When it comes down to it, we all have different versions of what we consider “strange” or “normal.”  Some people think that being Gay is strange.  Other people find that the practice of Fundamental Christianity is weird.  And still others think Sara Palin, Matthew McConaughey, or The Beetles are peculiar and strange.   Like I said, there is not a single answer.

Yet.   How we respond to what seems “strange” to us is an entirely different matter.  Just because we think playing Cribbage is cool, others may find it completely odd.   How we behave towards others, who believe differently than us…… is paramount.

It is called a lot of things.  The “go-to” phrase is “Accepting Diversity.”  I call it being human.  I don’t know anyone who is smart enough to know everything about everything.  That would be like having a god among us.

No.  We are all humans.  Each of us has our high and low points….. our gifts and our faults.  With that being said….  I am not sure it is right to hold judgement on others.

Embrace the strange?  Hug the Yeti?  Not if you don’t want to.  But I think we should, at the very least, offer respect and understanding toward others.  I think in most cases…. that is how we expect others to treat us.

Yes, I think that displaying compassion, understanding, and deference toward our fellow humans is the best thing we can do.

Anything else….. would be…..just……  strange.

Or as the profound statement is going these days … ….  “Be Together.  Not Alike.”

We protect ourselves.  This is a huge part of life.
We have that precious part of us that we want to keep safe.  That little gem inside of us which is always…. “Right” and “Knowing.”

You see, today I was thinking about people changing their minds.

I wondered why changing our minds is often so difficult.  After all, everything is constantly changing.  And…. the world and our view of it….. are constantly changing.  There is never a circumstance which remains the same and static and motionless.

But why in the heck do we sometimes resist the fact that our responses might be subject to change.  How can they be forever locked in their origins?

Sometimes….. we seem to demand steadiness and consistency… that lethal stagnated static.  And we do this….  even when it makes no sense.  And most of the time…. WE like people to change their minds only when it benefits us.

A big part of this… could be…. I think…. that we get attached to answers like we do possessions.

Once we give someone an answer….. it is  no longer  just a little answer.  Once we have said it out loud…..  dag gone it…. it is OUR answer.  We’ve committed.  We now start becoming emotionally biased in favor of this incredible answer of OURS…. even if it isn’t quite on track.

IT seems we become very resistant to changing our minds because our answer has become part of who we are.   So… don’t question the answer… otherwise you are questioning me….. and this becomes a threat.

Well, dag nab it… today…. I am going to try to switch this up.  I’m going to realize that I am not always right.  None of us are.  And all and all and all of everything changes.  So it is okay… to change our minds.  It doesn’t make us weak.  Or wafflers.  It just makes us human.  And that is a good thing to be.

Tonight,  as I was leaving for an appointment, I was headed east, for a short period of time.  And I said to myself… “Holy Smackerels Polly.  That is one dang BIG orange ball in the sky!”  And it was.

The moon was epic tonight.  Actually, the moon is pretty epic every night.  It doesn’t change.  Just the light reflecting off the surface differs.  You know, the angles and such.

It is all very dependent on how earth is lining up with moon is lining up with sun.

Most people, on most nights, don’t even take notice of the moon.  But I like the freaky thing.

The Moon (or Luna) is the Earth’s only natural satellite.  And it is old…..about  4.6 billion years old.

Thankfully, the Moon is in synchronous rotation with Earth meaning the same side is always facing the Earth.   Most people will never see the dark side of the moon.

But do you know what I think sort of stinks?  The Moon has only been walked on by 12 people…… all American males.  Not that there is anything wrong with American males…. it just seems wrong to me.  (Neil Armstrong was the first and Gene Cernan was the last.)

But, I digress.

This whole night I have been digressing.  So back to it.  As I looked up and saw that massive ball of orange and red up in the sky,…. the little trapdoors in my maze of a brain…. started snapping open and shut.

I went from seeing the moon, to thinking about Charlie Brown, and The Great Pumpkin… to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata… to mooning people in high school….  to Werewolves…. then on to Moon River….  and to my old neighbor named Moonie…. Moon Pies…. and on and on….. But my brain finally settled on this: “Why on God’s green earth did Michael Jackson name his famous dance “The Moon Walk”?

In all the footage I have seen …. of the 12 white American men who walked on the moon… None… NOT a ONE…. walked around backward grabbing his crotch… with sparkly white socks on.

And then… I heard a car horn.  An SUV was behind me… and the guy was waving his arms for me to get out of the way.  It appears I was a little lost in thought… pondering the mysteries of the Moon.

I smiled, waved, and made my left turn.  He hollered out the window… “Lunatic.”

And there you have it.  He knows one when he sees one.  Shine on, my friend.  Shine on.

Groundhog Day.  Another one has come and gone.

In my mind… Groundhog Day begs just one question:  “Why?”

Seriously.  Does anyone give this thing any credence?   It is merely a misguided superstition.   It has turned into a Freakish Circus of Interest.   You see…. the whole ball of wax got started on this day in 1887.   Of course it featured none other than  a rodent meteorologist.

The big celebration of this….. began at Gobbler’s Knob in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania…. with a  furry dude named Phil. By a bunch of drunken Groundhog Hunters.

And.  According to tradition, if a groundhog comes out of its hole on this day and sees its shadow…. there will be six more weeks of winter weather.  Conversely….. no shadow means an early spring.  Oh yeah.  Makes perfect sense to me.

If people won’t believe in things like Wood Nymphs and Magic Faeries … why in the heck do they put water in the pail with this Groundhog thing?

GH Day is merely a superstition with tradition.   Superstitions come in many shapes and sizes.  The number 13… for instance. Most regard it as an unlucky omen.   The list is enormous….
A cat has nine lives
Eating fish makes you smart
Toads cause warts
A cricket in the house brings good luck
A rabbit’s foot brings good luck
To find a four-leaf clover is to find good luck
If you walk under a ladder, you will have bad luck
If a black cat crosses your path you will have bad luck
To break a mirror will bring you seven years bad luck
To open an umbrella in the house is to bring bad luck
To find a horseshoe brings good luck
Never shut a pocket knife someone else opened, they must shut it themselves…..

And of course… rodents seeing shadows….

Now, I don’t really buy into the whole superstition thing.

Although, I will say….  I rely on my Sock Monkey for some things…. which I like to call “Advice”….. they’re not really Superstitions.

Like…. on the morning right after a full moon, I watch my Sock  Monkey when he wakes up.  If he throws his Sock Monkey sheets to the left…. it means we should eat more Bleu Cheese.  But if he tosses his sheets back to the right… it indicates that I should put the utility bills in the mail.

And that is sound Sock Monkey advice.  Don’t ask me why.

Okay.  Maybe because my Sock Monkey has such awe-inspiring sheets.  The things dreams are made of.

Goldmines.  I’ll tell you.  Goldmines.

Tonight, it felt like being surrounded with nothing but treasure.  We had family over this evening, and all I can say is… “What Superbowl?”

Oh sure, we had the game on, and we kind of watched.  But the best part of the night… besides the pizza, and all the snacks….  and some of the commercials…. especially the one with the horses and the puppy….. was being with those wonderful people.

I know you get my drift.  So I won’t go on.  But it was golden.

I probably only saw about a quarter of the game, if that.  And only a couple of commercials.  But tonight, as I started making some of the snack-happiness-or-dervies, I pulled out a container of Kraft French Onion Dip.

Now… I have to tell you… somebody at Kraft must have thought they had a genius and awe-inspiring moment.  There, on the lid of the container… is a picture of a potato chip with dip on it…. and right beside that image… are the words…

…. ….. “Serving Suggestion”.

Yep.  Old Floyd Clemmens… he’s been with Kraft for nearly 3 decades… leapt from his desk one day… ran into Mr. Jenkin’s corner office, and announced … “I’ve GOT IT!  Let’s put the words Serving Suggestion right next to the picture of the chip with the dip on it.  Just in case someone doesn’t understand.”

Oh, nothing worse than the misunderstood Dip Container Lid.  Travesty.  Complete Travesty.

Which brings me to this.  Tonight was absolutely great, and happy, and fun.  But some parts of life aren’t so easy.  Some can be downright difficult, ambiguous, or even complicated.

At those times… wouldn’t it be great if our “Life Instructions” were printed clearly on the lid of things.  Our Serving Suggestions.  Those little clues about what we are supposed to do, or say, or think.  Yep.

Sometimes, life can feel a bit perplexing, and demanding.  At those times, I feel like I need a good Serving Suggestion.   At those times when I am either feeling like a Dip… or dealing with a Dip.

But tonight… we didn’t need a Serving Suggestion.  We had each other.

I don’t care about this Superbowl.
I bet a lot of you don’t either.
So I propose a Superbowl Challenge for anyone who reads this….
Consider donating $5 today to your local Homeless Shelter.

This may not be as exciting as the mass appeal of the Superbowl.
It will pay for a different kind of bowl.
Perhaps A Super Bowl of Soup.

And now… my gift to you… a tribute to the Ball.

Boy, I hope he doesn’t drop the ball.

Let’s get the ball rolling.

That’s the way the ball bounces.

No…. That’s the whole ball of wax.

But, the ball is in your court.

Well, give me a ballpark figure.

Oh, I’ll just eyball it.

Nonetheless… I had a ball.

Do you ever feel like you have become the Scary Clown?   You know…. …. THE Scary Clown.

Tonight, I gave some Photoshop Demonstrations at the Preble County Art Association.  It was a great turnout for the Open House.  There were a couple of us doing demonstrations.

But, toward the beginning of the evening, and near the end, it got a little slow.   So I mingled about the classroom area of the Center for a bit.

Early in the night, there were four girls painting at a table nearby.  One was fashioning a rabbit on her little cardboard canvas.  To which I said… “I’ve never met a rabbit I didn’t like.”  And the little girl laughed and laughed.   But a moment later, she was finding her mother, and scrunching up her face, and looking my way.

Oh my gawd.  I’ve become the Scary Clown.

Late in the night, a little boy sat at another table with his Mom.  He was munching down a plateful of baby carrots.  To which I said… “When I was your age, I loved carrots.  I ate more carrots than Bugs Bunny.  I still love carrots.  Yep.  Carrots. Cabbage.  And Cauliflower.  Hey… they all start with ‘C’!  My middle name starts with C.”

The little boy smiled at me and nodded.  THEN…. a couple of minutes later…  I saw him  scrunching up his face, looking my way, and holding on to his Mom’s arm.

Again… I fear… I have become the Scary Clown.
Am I now the guy in the Shriner’s Hat?
Or have I become Aunt Eleanor, who pinches the holy-crap out of your cheek when you see her?

Perceptions.  How we perceive ourselves, and how other’s perceive us… are two entirely different things.   And it changes with every person we encounter.  When I see myself… I always have this picture of Might Mouse in my head.  (Okay, not really… but I liked the way that little mouse dressed).

But when others meet us, or know us…. what do they see?  The Scary Clown?  Or some sweet old funny lady?  Who knows.

The thing I wonder is….. should we care?  I think some people don’t give a Rat’s Booty about what other’s think.  And then there are those who are extremely concerned about other’s perceptions.  I know I tend to put way too much weight into what people think of me.  Somewhere in there… I bet there is a healthy balance.  The trick is finding it.

If we stop for just a few little moments….   and take the time to contemplate ourselves and our lives…. we can see one thing is apparent.   It is not difficult to recognize that “familiar” inner feeling…. that we are different from anybody else.  We are individuals.  Each our own.

You are.  I am.  Individuals.  And somewhere in there is the balance of knowing this is okay… and not worrying so much about what other’s may regard.

But I can’t help but wonder.
Are they thinking…. “Dang, that is a cool reptile.”
Or…. “See you later alligator.”
Or maybe… “Don’t EVER smile at a crocodile.”

I guess all I can do… is smile back.

How could I possibly have known.
That is what I said tonight.

I’ve decided to revisit some of my old images for a little while.  At least from time to time.  I literally have boxes of Hard Drives, in my office, filled with tens of thousands of images I have taken in recent history.

Many of those, I will probably never look at again.  My method for organizing them comes down to one line:  “Oh.  I’ll get to that later.”  Sure, I have them all backed up.  More than once.   But there is no rhyme or reason to them, mostly.

This evening, as I began to explore a random hard drive, I found this photo.  Happenstance.   And when you find a photo, you begin to find memories.  Like it, or not.

Two years ago, this month actually, we took a trip to Hawaii for Mary’s 60th birthday.  The family went.  It was joyous. …. a tremendous trip. We had so much fun.  Great company, great weather, food, and adventure.  So. I saw this photo and remembered the exact day…. walking on the beach with Levi.  I stopped and shot this photo of a shell… because I thought it looked like a face.  He concurred.

A few minutes later, my phone rang, and it was my brother.  He called to tell me Dad wasn’t feeling well, but that everything was okay.  Dad had recently had a bout with pneumonia, and was, once again, having a low period.  At 90 years old, he never been seriously sick before.

I asked if I should come home, and Jerry said, no way, no how.  All was okay.  So we stayed the remaining 4 days of the trip.  I went back to shooting on the beach.  And there I was…. never imagining that in 2 months… my Dad would be dead.

Yes, we just don’t know the things we don’t know.  I had written something completely different tonight about acceptance of being in the moment … until I found this photo.  But that is what my photo told me once again.

It reminded me to remember…. just how important it is to cherish the moment we are in…. whether it is on a beach in Hawaii, or spending the night in a dark hospital room … holding my Dad’s hand.

I am not sure how many more of my old photos I want to revisit.  I am not so sure at all.

You know how one memory can lead to the next and on and on?  Tonight, I heard a song from way-back.  It was “Safety Dance” by Men Without Hats. In one moment, I am thrown back 30 years, dancing at a Mega-Dance Bar in Dayton, and in the next moment, I was roller skating in the basement of my childhood home.

But all of the thoughts, the memories, somehow had to do with taking risks or playing it safe.

Back to the basement.  We had a huge old coal furnace down there.  It looked like an Octopus.  It had been converted to gas, I think, at some point.  But in the back… at the narrowest pass, it had a duct that hung way down, with a big square vent on it.

So we would roller skate around that furnace, like Roller Derby Queens.  I was pretty dang young.  But you would get to the backside of the Octopus, and if someone pushed you a little, or you miss stepped…. WHAMMMO.  You would crack your head on that vent.  Trust me on this one.

It was a risk we took.  We were young.  We were Roller Derby Queens.  We were girls without helmets, and we didn’t care.

I used to take a lot of risks.  A lot.  Some happened as a result of my having an underdeveloped child brain. (See comment above about “cracking head on vent”)   Yes… it still had lots of years to grow-up and into reason.

The other times I took unnecessary risks…. typically were a result of my impaired judgement from external influences.

These days, I am not much of a risk taker.  I do the Safety Dance a lot. By definition…. taking risks usually involves some kind of danger, or unpleasant occurrence.   Yet, on closer inspection…. it is….simply life.

Every time we place our feet on the floor when we get out of bed in the morning, we begin taking risks.  There is no such thing as a sure thing.   Our safety, our health, our well-being can be disrupted at any given moment in time.  Our Safety Dance could lose its beat.

Sure, we can make educated guesses, well-informed decisions, and even believe in weather forecasters.  But it is all open for chance.  I think the happiest people in the world are the ones who embrace this…  the unknown.  The risk. The chance.

I’m going to try and be more like them.  Yep.  Once again, I shall skate like a Roller Derby Queen.  I’m going to dance without my helmet on.