Today, I asked Ollie what she thought about living with us. We adopted her from the Humane Society… about 6 months ago. She said she liked it pretty dang good here. She wishes we would let her play with that cat downstairs…. but other than that, it is all good.  Oh… and…… she remarked about her strong appreciation of the chicken jerky treats in the blue bag.   Yes, if she could get those more often…it would make her happy.

That little dog is really something.  She is full of energy and vigor.  She is a bit on the clumsy side though.  She rams head first into a lot of walls when chasing toys in the house.  Also, there is an award-winning actress in her.  If she wants commiseration, she limps around on three legs….. holding up her right front wing.

And, unfortunately, she is still bound by fear… of things that probably happened during her first go-around with humans.

But back to our little talk we had this morning.  I inquired why she still had so much puppy in her. She cocked her head sideways and gave me a look, like….  I was completely and thoroughly mindless. “Oh….” I said…. “So you DON’T act like a puppy?” To which she put her paw on my forearm.

Which only leaves one explanation. She is blonde.  A fog dog.

Our other two dogs are much older. Twelve, and nine. But they are dark colored dogs. Ollie’s a blonde.

I feel that it is okay to talk about it. You see, I was born as blonde as the day is long. But lil’ Ollie takes it to new heights.

You can’t really potty train them… or teach them tricks.   She knows one…  …. “Hey Ollie!  Run in circles and chase your tail.” She is really good at this one.  Actually, I think she is much smarter than she lets on.  So…..  The rest is just going to take some time.

Which reminds me…..

A blonde has just gotten a new sports car. She cuts out in front of a semi, and almost causes it to drive over a cliff. The driver furiously motions for her to pull over, and she does. The driver gets out and draws a circle and tells her to stand in it. Then he gets out his knife and cuts up her leather seats. He turns around and sees she’s smiling. So he goes to his truck, takes out a baseball bat, and starts busting her windows and beating her car. He looks back to see that she’s laughing.

He’s really mad now, so he takes his knife and slices her tires. He turns around and she’s laughing so hard, she’s about to fall down. He demands, “What’s so funny?” She says, “Every time you weren’t looking, I stepped out of the circle!”

“Be Smart.  But never show it.”  – Louis B. Mayer

I love hats.

Unfortunately, I don’t look so good in them. I have friends that can put on any hat and look totally great wearing that darn topper. And I mean ANY cap, bonnet, scarf, or brim.

Some people simply wear hats well.  There are a lot of great examples of classic hat wearers throughout history.

Abraham Lincoln comes to mind first and foremost. I always think of him in that big tall stovepipe hat. There are plenty of photos of him without it. But the hat is always on his head…. in my mind.

How about Gilligan? He always had on his little sailor hat, with the rim turned down. Like a bowl on his head.

Sherlock Holmes. Now there was a thinker for you. The old pipe, cape, and the cloth detective hat. I believe it is called a Deerstalker. Kind of creepy… but that is name of this type of hat in the European hunting circuits. I think… in his case…. it helped keep his brain waves all tucked in.

Jackie Kennedy. Pink Pillbox. Say no more.

Cat in the Hat. The leaning Tower of Pisa… red & white striped concoction. If I could wear another hat in public, besides my sock monkey hat… it might be this one. Crazy-good-style Seuss.

Wicked Witch of the West. Elphaba. Pointy. Black. Classic.

Robin Hood. I don’t think the real Robin Hood wore a hat… I think he did the hoodie deal. I am pretty sure that Eroll Flynn prettied up the green felt number with the feather.

Annie Oakley. Shoot ’em up girl. Loved YOUR hat.

Little Red Riding Hood. Her name says it all.

Queen Elizabeth.  That woman has one on constantly.  I think she most likely sleeps in a hat.

General Patton. Helmet head.

The Mad Hatter.   Way too much mercury. Common among hat makers of old. They used the mercury to cure the felt which was used. The mercury made ’em loopy.

Oh, and my favorite.  Minnie Pearl.  Price tag and all.  $1.98.

Yes… lots of historical hat wearers. But back to the present. Some “Clubs” get to wear hats. I have a bunch of friends in Rotary… but I am pretty dang sure they don’t wear hats.  I need to join a club that gets to wear some kind of capper… like the Shriners. Yet…… I don’t think they let women in… which ticks me off.  BUT.  That is for another night.

But the Shriners look like they have all the fun… as far as those clubs go. They get to wear the funny hats… they drive those squirrely little cars in parades and such… and they get cool names… like Grand Poohbah. The Chief Rabban. The Potenate.   Big Kahuna.

Yeah.  Well.  Club or no club…..  I wear hats now. But only when no one is looking.

But I sure do wish I had a Fez….  that might be a game changer.  I would wear that thing…. at……  …..  well… at the drop of a hat.

_______________________

“Hey, I bought a new hat today.”

“Fedora?”

“Nope.  I bought it for me.”

______________________

Dear Polly,

I can’t get in the “Christmas Spirit” this year. It just don’t feel like being very merry this holiday.  I am curious though.  Do you believe in Santa Claus?

Scroogey,
Anita
Harrington, Delaware

Dear Anita,

Yes I do.

Most sincerely,
Polly

…. and I’ll tell you why.

Santa Claus was one of the first people to teach me about the magic of giving.

It is a good thing to give. To share with others. To give the gift of yourself. It is truly magical. Giving comes from a genuine heart filled with compassion. When you become filled with kindness, tolerance, and love for others, you find the natural desire to want to give.  At least…. that’s what I think.

This idea has been around as long as mankind. It has been written about in all forms of prose. While I don’t know the bible very well… I have always loved the line from Thessalonians… which says… “So encourage each other and build each other up.”

So encourage each other. And build each other up. Holy smokes… this is good advice.

Giving comes in many shapes and sizes. From the simple to the complex. We have special people in our lives… family and friends, and dogs and cats. It is with those individuals where we find a constant “dialogue” of giving… of encouraging each other… building one another up. Yep. Friends.

Things happen each day which remind me of this wonder and goodness.

Tonight we had a get together here at our house. We invited ALL our Facebook Friends. Collectively, that would have been 418 people… if everyone had shown.

But about 20 or so did show up. I liked being with those friends. We gave back and forth all night.  It was just like the magic of Santa Claus to me.

And, besides all of that Anita…. I think I saw him when I was little. In the sleigh… with the reindeer… flying through the December sky. I hope you can get into the spirit. It is all around you.

After all…….  Sleigh Bells ring… are you listening?

Give what you have. To someone, it may be better than you dare to think.
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

P.S. Anita…. we have lots of leftovers.  We cooked for 418!  So if you’d like some party meatballs, chicken wings, or those little cocktail weenies wrapped in blankies… just let me know.  I can send a package up to Delaware.

I never learned how to play Hopscotch. I’m not sure why I was thinking about this today….. but indeed… I did. Funny how things come up in our old noggins.

At any rate, we had a few Hopscotch Boards on our playground at Our Lady of Mercy Grade School. We’d run right over the top of them. I think there was one girl in our class…. she had horned rimmed glasses….and always wore white anklets with lace trim….. her name was Linda….   …I think she hopscotched.

But I never did.  Not even once.

The hopscotch area is where we played “Steal the Bacon” and I LOVED that game.  We would nudge that girl Linda right out of our way.    ….Kids.   So… You’d line up on opposing sides… all scrappy and chomping at the bit.  When it was your turn, you would run like crazy to the center…. and stand over someone’s sweater (the bacon) laying in the middle.  You would tease each other and wave your hand around it… and such. Then… ALL OF A SUDDEN… you would make your move. You’d try to steal the bacon and get back to your team’s side before getting tagged.

Man I loved that game. Way more fun than Hopscotch ever looked.  Sometimes it would be full-contact. You just never knew when that “tag” would turn into a “tackle”  (I came home from school with lots of skinned knees and elbows… I’ll tell ya’).

Seems like my love of games carried on. I still like a good game of just about anything. Trivial Pursuit. Bezzerwizzer. Darts. Bowling. Full-Contact-Bridge. You name it.

On the other hand… I don’t like the “games people play.” You know the type… the pouting  games, or the martyr games, or the angry games, or the stubborn games.   There are buckets full of those games people play.   It all comes down to falsities.   Not being true with ourselves… I think.

I’m capable of them.  Everyone is… on some level…. I think again.

Mostly…  I guess….  we use them to manipulate situations.  To get things to happen in the way that we want.   But in the end, being true to ourselves… and being honest with others… is what ultimately works the best.

Those “games” are kind of like watching hopscotch. There seems to be a lot of jumping around, and motion, and hopping… and ups and downs…. but you never go anywhere…. except back to square one.

“The truth, of course, is that a billion falsehoods told a billion times by a billion people are still false.”- Travis Walton

“There are two freedoms; The false, where man is free to do what he likes; The true, where man is free to do what he ought.” – Charles Kingsley

There are a lot of farms near our house.  There is a manure pit on one of them. Cow poop.  Lots and lots of cow poop. Yes. It is a rather large hole in the ground…. and in that hole is where they put the poop.

Before I go any further, let me say this.  I can tell you. Our senses are pretty amazing and keen things.

Each one its own right.

Sight. Hearing. Smell. Taste. Touch.  Aristotle (384 BC – 322 BC) is credited with the traditional classification of the five sense organs.  We have a bunch of different sensory organs which make it possible for us to experience these perceptions.

I truly believe that some of us have heightened abilities when it comes to our senses.

And boy oh boy. My sense of smell seems to be getting more perceptive every day. Now, I accredit much of this to the size of my nose. It is quite large by mere mortal standards. If you have any doubts about this….. check back on Project 368…. just a few days ago.  I displayed a photo of my parents. You may notice that each of them has a wide and protruding proboscis. Holy Honkers. Yes. I get the prolific schnozzola honestly.

This all brings me back to the manure pit. Cow poop, especially large quantities of cow poop, which has been accrued in one locale… has a tendency… … not merely to smell poorly… but perhaps… take on a life of its own.

Recently, this has come to an apex. With all the rain we’ve had, the pit had a Big Pit problem. It overflowed. The farmer…  the one with the pit… not the one in the dell… decided to pump the pit and spread the contents to the surrounding fields.

Imagine my elation.

Me and my gargantuan nose.   Heightened sensitivity.

Truthfully, I don’t think I will ever be the same.

Sometimes, perceptions are so strong, that the senses get crossed.
We were driving by the aforementioned farm one day… during the “pumping” incident. The odor was so intense, I could taste it.

The person who was riding in the car with me… (who I will not name to protect the innocent)… exclaimed at the height of the potent stinky-ness…. “That is the WORST smell I’ve ever heard!” We looked at the pit with scorn.

And there, in that moment, four of the five sense had intertwined…. smell, sight, taste and sound.

I am still trying to figure out how it was the worst smell she ever heard… but I believe her.  Personally, I’ve heard a lot of things… but never a smell.  I guess it was a really, really loud one.

When I was a kid, there were all sorts of things I wanted to be. I didn’t want to be the actual people… I just wanted their abilities.

I wanted to play baseball like Davey Concepcion.

I wanted to be as smart as Albert Einstein.

I wanted to sing like Maria Von Trapp in the Sound of Music. She looked a lot like Mary Poppins, and I wanted to sing just like her too. The other…. was Fanny Brice in Funny Girl.

I wanted to play tennis like Billie King; swim like Mark Spitz; be funny like Lucille Ball…..

and I wanted to draw like Norman Rockwell.

Of course… none of these “Want To Be’s” came true.  We can’t all be kings.   But such is life. There are a very few talented people in the world of this class and style. However… these people took their talents, and mixed them with a good dose of work, determination, and discipline.

Tonight we went out with a couple of good friends to the Dayton Art Institute to see “American Chronicles: The Art of Norman Rockwell.”

I was enthralled with the exhibit… with seeing his work displayed in this manner. It brought back so many memories.

We had a big Coffee-Table-Book of Norman Rockwell paintings… on …. of all places…. our living room coffee table. I would sometimes step on it by accident when I was up on top of that table. Yes, those times when I’d be singing to the Funny Girl album…. dancing around… with my pretend microphone… in front to the big mirror above the mantle.

But the times I remember most with that book, is when I would pull it from its place on that make-believe stage…

I would grab a stack of looseleaf paper and a few good pencils with erasers. Then I would sit on the floor, with that book, for hours on end…. trying to draw like Norman Rockwell. No matter how hard I tried, how slowly and deliberately I made the lines on my paper… it never once looked like a Rockwell. Ever.

He was an amazing artist… producing more than 4,000 original works in his lifetime. Amazing paintings, and illustrations. He is best known for his covers on the Saturday Evening Post…. although his talent goes far and wide. What a delight for me to see this exhibit. What a privilege.

But there is a lesson in there for me.

We can’t wish to be like others. As much as I’d like to sing like Barbra Streisand, or hypothesize like Einstein…. or swim like a fish…. it is out of my realm. Those people are unique. We are all unique.

I think the best thing I can do….. is to be me. Just me and nobody else but me.

And…. to be grateful for the abilities I DO possess.   Thereafter, spending my days working on those talents with determination, spirit, and courage.

…. …. …But boy oh boy… that Leonardo da Vinci sure could paint…. I wonder if I could paint like that guy…..

Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else.  – Judy Garland

A well spent day, brings happy sleep.  – Leonardo Da Vinci

Predictions.

It seems that humans are largely preoccupied with them. In all shapes and forms.
By definition, to predict….. is to say or estimate that (a specified thing) will happen in the future. A forecast, prophecy, prognosis, projection, conjecture. A guess.   Some even think dreams are predictions.

Yessirree.  Humans to like to know what is going to happen next.  We really like to know what is going to happen way, way, WAY down the road.

Truthfully… neither is possible.  Not really.   There is no certainty in life… absolutely.   Strike that.  We can be certain of uncertainty.

“I think I am going to order the Cheeseburger with pickles and mayonnaise.”
Prediction.

“If you take a couple of Tylenol, it will help your headache.”
Prediction.

“The plane will arrive at 7:09 this evening.”
Prediction.

“The Groundhog SAW his shadow…… this means….”
Yep. Another Prediction.

We shape our whole day around predictions. Weather forecasts. Stock indicators. Point spreads on football games. Upcoming appointments. Cooking times on pot roasts. All these are merely conjecturing about what might happen, albeit some of these things are educated guesses. But all in all…. they are mostly suppositions.

We have lots of Psychics in the world.  People who say they can see the future.  Tell us what will happen.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  I think more of them would be winning the lottery…. or something.

Today is Nostradamus’ birthday. Michel de Nostredame… a French born doctor, and later a reputed seer. (14 December 1503 – 2 July 1566) A lot of people think old Nostradamus has predicted many major occurrences in our modern world. Maybe. Maybe not. But he is one of the most famous Predictors.

The Amazing Kreskin. Now there is a Predictor for you. Bends forks too.  He is a lot of fun at dinner parties… except for the “forks” thing.

Seems like a lot of other people like to guess about the future. Sometimes… they don’t quite hit the mark:

“Man will never reach the moon regardless of all future scientific advances.” — Dr. Lee DeForest, Inventor of TV

“I think there is a world market for maybe five computers.” — Thomas Watson, chairman of IBM, 1943

“640K ought to be enough for anybody.” — Bill Gates, 1981

“Heavier-than-air flying machines are impossible.” — Lord Kelvin, president, Royal Society, 1895.

“I’m just glad it’ll be Clark Gable who’s falling on his face and not Gary Cooper.” — Gary Cooper on his decision not to take the leading role in “Gone With The Wind.”

“There is no reason anyone would want a computer in their home.” — Ken Olson, president, chairman and founder of Digital Equipment Corp., 1977

And there you have it.  You just never know… about “around the corner.”    But, it makes us feel better to predict.  The thing about the future is… it comes to us one little minute at a time.  Maybe it would better not to predict it so much.  Maybe it would be better to enable that future…. … in hopes of making our dreams come true.

“Prediction is very difficult, especially when it is about the future.”
-Niels Bohr

Today, my Dad asked me to fix his Norelco Shaver. He is in his ninth decade…. and has been using an electric Norelco Shaver as long as I can remember. I was happy to make the repair… and thankfully, I could. But HE is the one who used to do all the fixing.

“Dad, can you fix my bike?…  Dad, I struck out in my last at bat, and we lost the game. Please make it better…..  Will you take a look at my car?….  Dad, I start a new job tomorrow and I’m nervous.”      But today, I was fixing something for him.

Things change.

My Mom used to be the best cook in the world. She loved photography. And knitting and sewing. These things don’t come so easy to her any more. Truth be told… they don’t come much at all.

Everything is in a state of change in this little thing called life.

We are all getting older by the nanosecond. With each tick of the tock…each and every one of us are aging.  Growing old.  It is inevitable.

For the most part… I am glad for this. Oh, it is true….. I am not as young and spry as I used to be. But with each of these passing years, I have discovered things about myself…. in ways that I never could have imagined in younger times.

Change. Sometimes it is very hard. Other times, transformations are a welcome phenomenon.

When we are young…we have this misguided notion of infallibility… of certainty. We think we are unbreakable.

But the fact of the matter is… we are all very vulnerable. We are susceptible to all sorts of life’s mysteries. Sometimes this is fortunate, and other times it is not.

I don’t know if I really have much to say about all this… other than it just seems to me… this is how it works.  We are trying to keep our balance on this huge ball… which is looping a very big sun… indefinitely.

Tonight I am glad to be sitting here, writing… at this very moment. It is obviously, exactly where I am supposed to be.

And tomorrow….. I may be the one who does the fixing… or I may be the one who needs the fixing.

I think… THAT is just how it goes.

The secret of genius is to carry the spirit of the child into old age, which means never losing your enthusiasm. – Aldous Huxley

The old believe everything; the middle aged suspect everything: the young know everything. – Oscar Wilde

Today I think I should give a bouquet
To birthdays of all sorts…people born on each day.

A holler, a cheer, a big whoop-dee-doo
For folks just like me… and some just like you.

So pull out the cake, the ribbons and presents.
Cook big fluffy game hens, or even small pheasants.

To celebrate friends… show we’re glad for their birth.
They mean to us more, than all else on this earth.

If this little verse starts to sound somewhat Seuss-ical.
It is more like the book, and less like the musical.

So I’ll sing, and I’ll clap, and I’ll kick my left heel.
I’ll cause a commotion…. I’ll make a big deal.

Play the tuba, the fiddle, or bang on the drum.
Sing it sideways or backwards… or give it a hum.

I mean just to tell them what they mean just to me.
I’ll say it with heart. I’ll shout it with glee.

From the rooftop or doorway or even the bus.
Be quite sure of this… I will make such a fuss.

To say Happy Birthday to all… and to YOU.
I’m glad you were born on the day you were due.

Thanks for giving and sharing and being so nice.
And the time that you lent me your red fuzzy dice.

You make the world sparkly. You do thing so right.
So happy day to you… from morning ’til night.

Great people born on December 12:

John Jay, First chief justice of the United States…old
Gustave Flaubert, French novelist…. old
Edvard Munch, Norweigan painter, old
Arthur Garfield Hays, American lawyer and defender of civil liberties… old
Edward G. Robinson, American actor and singer… old
Hubert Seuss Geisel, Dr. Seuss’ brother… old
Frank Sinatra, American singer, actor…old
Bob Barker, Gameshow host…. old
Ed Kock, Former Mayor of New York…. old
Connie Francis, American actress, singer….old
Dionne Warwick, American singer … old
Mary A. Bullen, American awesome person…. young

“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” – Dr. Seuss

“Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.” – Gustave Flaubert

“Practice compassion.” – Mary A Bullen

I think I’ve said it before…. but it always bears repeating:

There are three kinds of people in the world.
Those who are good at math….
and those who aren’t.

Which leads me to this.  During the past week, I’ve heard that old cut-and-dry phrase a few different times…

“There are two kinds of people in the world, those who….”
and then the last part of it always changes. It morphs into something different depending on each situation.

There are two kinds of people in the world… homebodies and adventurers.

There are two kinds of people in the world… givers and takers.

….those who like cherry pie, and those who like apple.

…. those who tell the truth and those who lie.

…. cat lovers and dog lovers.

…. liberals and conservatives.

…. pessimists and optimists.

Oh…It can go on and on for days. But once again, I think there is always that third option. Those who are a little bit of both.

Most of the time… it seems….  I find myself in the “both” category. Take the first one. Homebodies vs. Adventurers. Oh, I will be there first to admit I am a homebody of homebodies. Capital H.  Whoever coined the phrase “There is NO place like home,” is directly related to me, I am sure.  I would rather be home than anywhere. On the flip side of that… I enjoy seeking original ideas and finding unknown things. I love to go out and explore new places, see new sights, smell the roses. But when I am through… I like to go back to the comfort of my home with all my home-family.

Liberal vs. Conservative…. I lean more toward the liberal end of the scale. But there are a lot of conservative ideas that I think are good… and which I value.

I like cats and dogs. Sometimes I am optimistic… other times I am downtrodden.  These are just a few examples.

I’m not sure what it is about me… that I am seldom “all or nothing.” Frequently I can be found tottering up on that fence.

Call me indecisive. Or don’t. Oh, I don’t know… again… I’m having a hard time making up my mind about this… okay… maybe I am a bit vacillating…. dang, I wish I could make up my mind about this…..

One thing I do know… there is no such thing as a sure thing. And just when I think I am absolutely sure and positive about something… someone introduces yet another possibility to me.

And truly… I love that part about my life. There always seem to be endless possibilities in this universe of ours. Heck… there may be a chance, that one day,  I’ll be good at math.

The old adage of “two kinds of people in the world” is as old as the hills… with more fill-in-the blanks than I could ever write about here. And many people have offered observations in its recognition.

Abigail Van Buren noted…. “There are two kinds of people in the world – those who walk into a room and say, ‘There you are!’ – and those who say, ‘Here I am!’ ”

Yes a good quote indeed. But to that, I say… in response…. “Here WE are.”

And how glad I am for WE and the endless possibilities it brings….

__________________________

“The only thing that makes life possible is a permanent, intolerable uncertainty: not knowing what comes next” -Ursula K. Leguin

“We have more possibilities available in each moment than we realize.” – Thich Nhat Hanh