Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Ponderous Thoughts...

Things to ponder:

1) I had an ad on my page yesterday that I can't say I would support. But I have no control of the ads that are posted by the affiliate I'm associated with. Everything one reads on the internet is not necessarily the whole sum of reality. My ad had been replaced later in the day, and it certainly didn't tweak my reality. Just sayin. 

2) Pinterest can be a great thing. Or a really, really, really good way to use up stuff that lacks purpose or is destined for a landfill. It can also be a time-waster. In more ways than one. This letter K is an example. One would think wrapping twine around a cardboard letter would be simple and quick. Well. Neither. Hot glue = pain. Tacky glue = wicked mess. The final product is cute and cheap. But people. Trust me...any letter of the alphabet (expect maybe l, I know for a fact that G and E are two hour projects, too) will take two hours and make a crazy mess of your work station or hands. 

 3) I'm a big fan of not taking press completely seriously. Some of what we believe and embrace is clever marketing or agenda. Whether or not you agree with the information in this little infographic, it's worth considering.




Provided by: http://www.learnstuff.com/

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Spider Tracks...

I’ve had a tag-along ride to work with me every morning this week. And he returns home with me, too. And I think the seven miles each way clipping along at 30 miles per hour must be pretty taxing for the little fella, but, yet, each morning, he's there, waiting for me to take off.

A spider has claimed the truck’s outside mirror and driver’s door as his domain. He doesn’t bother me, even though he is a spider, because he hunkers down and hides behind the mirror when I open the door.

His web takes a serious beating from the wind. As does he. At 30 MPH that web is jumping and he's hanging on for dear life. Not pretty at all and I kept expecting to see him flung from his super strong web into certain death. But he hangs on, day after day. He’s either an adrenaline junkie, thinks he scores better hot, fast food than the average spider, doesn’t know any better, or refuses to consider that there are safer yet infinitely more satisfying ways to live life. Or maybe it is that insanity thing I already mentioned. The definition of insanity? Doing the same things and expecting different results. (That’s the socially functional insane, the others are varied and nasty and we don’t want to meet them in dark alleys…spider or otherwise…shudder.)

Why would a spider continue rebuilding a web on an object that randomly takes off at high speeds? Any bug that manages to hit the web at 30 MPH is likely going to put a big hole through the web. Maybe the spider wants to work on his catching arm? But even then, there are better, less dangerous ways to do that, too.

I don't know whether to admire him for his perseverance or place him in an inpatient facility.

Oddly, he may remind me of people I know, a category to which I might belong. Sometimes we are stubborn to an insane level, aren't we? Why would I let the crazy windstorms buffet me, wreck my peace and rattle my brain when it might be an issue I could just let go of? How about clinging to insecurity or beliefs about who I am and what I have to offer the world, even when others tell me I'm crazy to hang onto the two or three comments that made me believe I have no worth in an area. Or refusing to forgive someone until they say the right words from the script I've written and keep hidden in my heart. Or bitterness over __________________________________________ (fill in the blank). Or refusing to live this big, amazing life until I complete ___________________________ (fill in the blank).

After I arrived at work yesterday I found out a fatality happened in an area where & and I regularly walk the dogs. A woman went out to take her early morning walk, another was headed somewhere in her car. The sun was rising, bright and blinding, and a fatal connection was made. Two lives changed in a heartbeat, two women who probably didn't wake up and say, "Today, my life will be forever altered." as they crossed the threshold into their futures. They likely just went about their business, not knowing what the next minute might hold.

I want to take lessons from these two very different scenarios. Perseverance is a thing of beauty when you are talking about Olympic athletes, choosing to do the difficult things to make a better life, sticking out a relationship that is a commitment and maybe a little bogged down but not poisonous. But stubbornness might very well be insanity in disguise.

And, I have no promises that tomorrow is mine, that it will be beautiful, that I will be able to see the sun set. If tomorrow was my last day on earth, what would I want it to look like? What would I want to leave behind in the hearts, minds and souls of those who knew me? Do I know what happens to the essence of me after I die?  Do I have an emotional or relational list that I will leave unfinished, incomplete, or torn to shreds? And am I okay with all my answers to those questions? 

I hope your day is altered only by blessings and goodness today.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Oy Vey, Watch That Mouth ~

I learned something yesterday. 

Let me back up a bit and give you some history. I have three bosses. (Technically four, however, one might choose only to ground me vs. get rid of me, and we'd have five if one of my coworkers got her way.) But that little aside is beside the point. 

So my three bosses have all fired me at least once. One of them got up to seven or eight times (I lost count) but then he decided that since I just kept coming back post firings he needed to up the ante. He began publicly booing me. When I forget to do "the only job that I really need to do/worry about is keeping paper in the printer" I get a hearty boo. (You'd think, since that's my only "have to" chore I'd never forget, but I kind of like getting fired and being booed...call me an adrenaline junkie.)

Yesterday said boss comes in complaining because he has a hole in his pants. (No, that was my first thought, too, but it was on the side of his pants.) He said he felt like a (insert now forgotten Yiddish word here). I said, "Bummer, Dr. (insert forgotten but parroted Yiddish word here.)"

His eyes got wide and he stared at me. "You can't call me that!"

I smiled. "You just called yourself that, why?"

"That's a bad Yiddish word. You can call me (rattled off 6 or 7 Yiddish words that sounded suspiciously like THE word but I've forgotten them, too.) but (TABOO YIDDISH WORD) is reserved for bad situations or used by very elderly Jewish ladies who's frontal cortex has lost it's inhibition filter."

Ha. Ha. Good thing my memory is like a colander or I might be tempted to slip it into everyday conversation. Next to a good public booing, or firing, my favorite just might be shocking my bosses into speechlessness or leaving them laughing. 

So, my advice, get out there and act like a (insert forgotten but TABOO Yiddish word here) and see where that gets you.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Law Lessons - Tunneling and Dead Ends ~

A few more thoughts on my Citizen Police Academy time. 

There is so much information and most of it is fascinating. 

One day's coverage was not enough for last week's class. 

I'll have more facts and stories tonight. I believe we are going to pick the brains of CSI. (sorry for the really icky pun...but now that I've made it, I must share.) 

But....here's what else I picked up last week.... Can someone die of extreme shock, a broken heart, surges of adrenaline? I learned about a couple of infrequent but “they happen” scenarios via my Citizen’s Police Academy class. 

Our officers are given tools to help them do their jobs. One of those tools is reading people, situations, body language and other signs. Some examples of this training -- our police officers are required to get blasted with pepper spray so they can develop the ability to work through the pain. Often pepper spray, when aimed at a perpetrator, is going to blow right back into the officer’s face. They need to be able to deal with those sensations and not lose their heads. A police officer is very aware that if they lose their heads lives could be at stake. 

In their preparation they are are also trained to recognize things about themselves and others. Tunnel vision is something real and they are given skills to keep ahead of the mind altering results. In the midst of extreme noise, activity and uber sensory overload the mind will funnel information and block some out. One officer told of a moment of tunnel vision that ended up giving him nightmares. It was a dark night, a tense negation with an armed man. A cruiser shone a spotlight on the suspect's face and the suspect took it up a notch to horror level extremes. The policeman who told the story said that his mind literally closed off all sound and any peripheral vision and he was riveted to the visual spotlight in front of him. When the shot was fired, the officer saw the effects, heard nothing and didn’t know where the shot had come from. He even wondered if he’d shot the man, not understanding until several minutes later that he'd witnessed a suicide. 

Another bizarre condition is called excited delirium. This doesn’t affect the officers, other than complicate their lives. Middle aged men, who have an addiction to alcohol or drugs, who have a big beer belly and the perfect storm of stress, have been known to literally drop dead. When a police officer encounters a man who fits that profile, they are very aware of this type of possible sudden death. Imagine the paper work scenario involved in a death during an arrest. A piece of brain tissue has to be sent out to a specific lab to confirm this diagnosis. It’s real enough that they are schooled about the possibility bizarre as it sounds. 

Our police are also trained extensively on the use of handcuffs. Apparently this is extremely important. I'm so naive. Less so now. Kinda

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Ramblin, Ramblin, Ramblin that Eventually Gets to a Point...

What to post? What to post? I think I understand the creative focuses bloggers adopt. It helps categorize thoughts into smaller sub-themes. You know, the Linkys and the the Theme of the day...like the underwear that's cutesy and different for every day of the week. Today is rambling panty day in my house. I'm not sure what to post so I'll write until something jumps out at me.


I have literally, (shout out to Parks and Rec's very own Chris) ten Vegan cookbooks I could review. Could, but not quite... I like to try a few recipes before giving a review, ya know? 

& and I did some cooking yesterday. Happy Healthy Life's Sweet potato burgers, my "hamburger" crumbles, my buns, Katie's graham crackers. We ate up the doctored Pinterest Salsa  (the changes we made...two cans of tomatoes and one can of diced chilis vs one can of tomatoes, one can of Rotels and the jalapeno called for, easier, as tasty and a little cheaper) that has taken over the web. And finally,  almost killed off my Orange You Glad We're Together Bars.


I swished salt water. Glad the tooth is gone. It was really bugging me. Interesting how that happens. You just get used to life and deal and bear up under it. And one morning you wake up and face a change and realize that you now have a different perspective. This, of course, can be a negative change like a diagnosis or shock or loss. Or, a realization that the hard work you've put into something is paying off, or that you are a better person than you were a year ago.


You might, one day be single, the next a couple. Or a couple and then shockingly a single. Healthy you think until those words rock your world, or hearing that the discipline in exercising or eating has changed a dire fact into a different reality. Or maybe you use Jesus as a curse word on Tuesday and on Thursday you meet Him and change your mind. A relative is hospitalized and seems to have nine lives where a neighbor might take one last trip to the grocery store and never return home thanks to a texting driver. 


A toothache could maybe even trigger a deep vein of thought on a blog that has it's share of the ridiculous. 


I hope your day is rich with blessings and hope and promise.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Laundry Time, Soul Starch...

My friends are all in various stages of life, and each of us has our own unique set of problems.

I was discussing this very thing with two friends the other day. One has a multiplex of relationship issues and is in the midst of trying to sort out the details, the other, well, she has some relationship issues, too.

Another friend doesn't speak the same language as her husband. Wait. That likely describes every married woman I know. Let's just say that her communication failures seem extraordinarily confusing. Another. Well. We probably all struggle with the fine balance of supporting, loving and respecting our men with varying degrees of success and failure waning and waxing with the phases of the moon and/or hormones. 

And that's just the marriage struggles. Pile on work issues, church issues, children, budgets, extended family, friends, health...oh we can have some problems.

As my friends and I chatted we all looked at each other and said things like, "I could not have survived what you went through." or "I think my life sucks, but it's nothing compared to yours. How can you even get out of bed?' Or, "I'd have locked and shut that door a long time ago." And an old story came back to me. Three women hung out laundry to dry. They compared their items, they lamented with the others stains and struggles, gave advice and listening ears. In the end, they all chose their own laundry, folded it and took it home.

When I look at the lives of others, I am amazed at what the human spirit can endure for love, or for sanity or for survival. Amazed. And when they look at mine, they may well wonder why I've made the choices I have.

Bottom line. We humans are stronger than we give ourselves credit for. The will to live, survive, thrive and love is a strong one indeed. When given the choice to choose faith over substances, peace over numbness, joy over bitterness, the survivors in life choose faith, peace and joy. 

Bottom line. Our paths are ours. And given the choice, we will still pick our path over our neighbor's. Our laundry may be stained and dingy, but it is ours and is permeated with our essence. We who will continue to live will choose our journeys no matter how difficult they may become.

So survivor. Put those feet on the floor, pray hard, slide on the freshly laundered big girl panties, make one decision at a time, and go thrive on that path. It's all yours, and for all it's bumps, potholes and ruts, you know you'd choose the same one.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Drive Me Crazazy...

Distorted Filter

I’ve lived long enough and crashed and burned just often enough to understand that each of us has an inner drive of some sort. A need that pushes us and shapes us, our lives and relationships.

Doubt it? Go to a gathering of people and observe.

Here’s an example from a past social event repeated more than a time or two. Two very strong women engaged in a subtle competition. Bathed in faux sweetness though it was, it was indeed a serious competition. The recipients of the goodies and grand gestures were unaware of the power struggle, for the most part. The body language, the quick intakes of breath, the slightly flared nostrils, the empty smiles all spoke of an underlying agenda for the key players though. For the innocent bystanders, it was just a fun party full of great goodies and good times. But for the ladies, the unspoken one-ups-womanship made the party a whole lot of emotional work. And when they retreated to their separate corners insecurity and bitterness likely flared when they compared themselves to the other, dissected their shortcomings, planned for the next event, and picked apart the competition’s offerings.

Where did that competition come from, and why did it manifest in over-the-top out-doing?

I believe we are all internally flawed. Some more so than others, and some it’s more obvious. The majority of us are functionally flawed, with quirks and bents, and “you know how she is” labels. But these folks are usually loving accepted if the person is approachable, or warily accepted if the person tends to steamroller those in his or her path. The really, really needy ones tend to burn bridges and take hostages or embrace their unhealthy needs and chase them into dark places.

Our needs aren’t necessarily birthed from our parents’ failure to meet our basic needs, though there could be part of that in the equation. We are all so unique. What one person survived with parents may have been another’s undoing. Siblings or lack, money or lack, school issues, imperfections, differences, successes...all of these go into the blender of who we are, and what we need. And money, the perfect career, the right schooling, the perfect mate and even God/Jesus and the Holy Spirit living within us isn’t necessarily the instant healing/filling of that need. We need to recognize that we’ve got the quirk first. Then we can go about taking care of it.

I think the major drives that push us are combinations of the need to matter and the need for love, and each of those needs sparks strong emotions like fear, insecurity, anger, jealousy. Each of these can manifest in clinging, indifference, competition and then the really unhealthy 1st and 2nd cousins that lead people to the darker neighborhoods of dysfunction.

The ladies in my example really mean well. And they are generous. But they both have issues they think are long healed that seem to drive them to invest in frantic behavior that looks great on the surface but probably steals their joy. These ladies are put together, polished, but insecure in their own worth, so they have to prove their worth to everyone, make themselves indispensable, experts, the go-to gals. .

My flawed inner drive is peace-seeking, oh, and people pleasing…great combo, isn't it?

In my personal experiences with those drives, the insecurity that surfaces, the desire to make everything look and feel good for all concerned has certainly made me miserable a time or two. Insecurity makes me feel anxious, and I can't help but take a failure personally because my sense of worth and my lovability as a human being is somehow, in my mind, on the line.

Awareness of my drives, acceptance that i'm going to screw things up on a regular basis, and that my worth as a person has nothing to do with what I accomplish is the beginning of loosening the bonds of the pedal-to-the-metal lead-foot drive to be all I imagine I'm supposed to be. My worth has everything to do with my character, integrity, and the unique path and fingerprint of God on my life and my willingness to follow and listen to Him as that path unfolds. .

What is your quirk of crazy-making? Noting it is the first step to breaking it's control over your life.