Eighty percent of success is showing up. ~ Woody Allen
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Monday, March 24, 2014
Monday Moan
Does your town have Monday Moans? They are a time to air those little grips that are momentarily irritating, and then forgotten until the next time. I'm not sure what's going to happen with it here, now that John Lannigan is retiring this weekend, but I'll share mine with you - I'm not really the type to call the radio station anyways.
I went to grocery store, at a non-busy time, but no one could park in the first few parking spaces due to abandoned shopping carts.
Really? We're so lazy now we can't even push the carts back to the store or into the cart corral?
Back in the stone age when I was a kid, my sisters and I fought over who would get to push the cart back into the store. Possibly from the back 40 of the parking lot (cart corrals would have been laughed at then). Of course, nowadays, we're too busy texting at 30 mph down the parking lot lanes to allow children the small responsibility of putting something back where it belongs.
Today's attitudes of It's Not My Job / I Don't Feel Like It / Let Someone Else Deal With It just gets under my skin. Yes a shopping cart isn't a big deal, but the big deals in the world are made up of a bunch of little deals and how we handle those colors everything.
I went to grocery store, at a non-busy time, but no one could park in the first few parking spaces due to abandoned shopping carts.
Really? We're so lazy now we can't even push the carts back to the store or into the cart corral?
Back in the stone age when I was a kid, my sisters and I fought over who would get to push the cart back into the store. Possibly from the back 40 of the parking lot (cart corrals would have been laughed at then). Of course, nowadays, we're too busy texting at 30 mph down the parking lot lanes to allow children the small responsibility of putting something back where it belongs.
Today's attitudes of It's Not My Job / I Don't Feel Like It / Let Someone Else Deal With It just gets under my skin. Yes a shopping cart isn't a big deal, but the big deals in the world are made up of a bunch of little deals and how we handle those colors everything.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Once Upon a Time ...
I used to hike ... a lot. Nothing too hardcore, backpacked a few times, picked up a few items here and there that are only useful for hiking, but nothing too over the top. I just liked walking in the woods, or fields or anywhere "away" from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, enjoying whatever nature chose to present me with that day.
I hiked a lot with my mother. We used to make an annual trip to the Smoky Mountains National Park every year, usually in the spring. It started with a photo on a calendar of a burbling stream flowing over smooth, moss-covered stones. I showed it to my mother and told her that I would really like to see that in person, and she asked, when did I want to go? Just like that, we started planning a long weekend in Tennessee that turned into an annual trek. The caption on the photograph was just Smoky Mountains National Park, TN, so our excuse for going back every year was that we hadn't found the place in the photo yet.
My father once asked why we kept going back to the same place. With over 850 miles of established hiking trails, it wasn't necessary to set our feet down in the same place twice, but we often did. Either way was enjoyable - discovering new things, rediscovering things we had forgotten, finding new things in old places. I like waterfalls and my mother enjoys big rocks and since these two things are usually found in the same general area, we didn't disagree much about which trails to follow.
Twelve straight years we made the trip, until life got a little too complicated. Which is a bit ironic, considering that the point of hiking is to get away ...
I hiked a lot with my mother. We used to make an annual trip to the Smoky Mountains National Park every year, usually in the spring. It started with a photo on a calendar of a burbling stream flowing over smooth, moss-covered stones. I showed it to my mother and told her that I would really like to see that in person, and she asked, when did I want to go? Just like that, we started planning a long weekend in Tennessee that turned into an annual trek. The caption on the photograph was just Smoky Mountains National Park, TN, so our excuse for going back every year was that we hadn't found the place in the photo yet.
My father once asked why we kept going back to the same place. With over 850 miles of established hiking trails, it wasn't necessary to set our feet down in the same place twice, but we often did. Either way was enjoyable - discovering new things, rediscovering things we had forgotten, finding new things in old places. I like waterfalls and my mother enjoys big rocks and since these two things are usually found in the same general area, we didn't disagree much about which trails to follow.
Twelve straight years we made the trip, until life got a little too complicated. Which is a bit ironic, considering that the point of hiking is to get away ...
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
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