There's Always Something...

Sleep...

I've noticed lately that both of our dogs seem to sleep all the time. Well, most of the time.

Now, what I'm wondering is why I can't sleep all the time. Well, most of the time.

Do dogs know something that we don't?

"Sleep in heavenly peace...

Sleep in heavenly peace." 

And a merry Christmas to y'all.

The Importance of Good Donuts...

Maybe it's just cranky old me. 

But something funny happened yesterday. We go to this monthly get-together that keeps the residents of our community informed on what's going on behind the scenes. It isn't exactly the high point of the month for me, but I go because I don't want to miss anything.

Yesterday everybody seemed upbeat and positive. The atmosphere was relaxed; fun. Folks were hanging around the refreshment table - even going back for seconds. I did too. Lots of laughter. Then I realized what had happened. Someone on the staff had stopped by Dunkin' Doughnuts and loaded up with freshly cooked donuts. Then on to a New York bagel shop for freshly cooked bagels. The atmosphere and the food were electric!

The breakfast goodies generally consist of somewhat stale rolls from the day before - still cool from the night in the frig. I'd never given it much thought. Isn't that what happens? Besides, it gave me an excuse for not eating anything on top of our own breakfast of a few hours before. 

It also started the meeting on the wrong foot.

But that's the way it is and isn't the type of thing that folks talk about. Who wants to be a grouch?

There's a lesson here. For businesses, churches, clubs, etc. - any organization that starts things off with refreshments in the morning. There are few things as soul-satisfying as fresh, delicious, thoughtfully served donuts and coffee. It says to people in delightful terms, "you matter - and what we're doing here this morning matters!" Something like that may involve more effort, more thought, but it is a special gift to those fortunate enough to be there and it pays off in unexpected ways. This is second mile stuff.

I look forward to next month's meeting. Yes. I said that. I did. And I do.

New Car...

I was thinking it would be fun to get a new car for my birthday.

On second thought, nah... 

Terlingua, Texas

Cowtown Patti got me to thinking. Might just move to Terlingua, Texas.

Thing is, I'd fit right in on the Chile thing, though my style is a bit more New Mexico. Beats gated communities all hollow.

FaceBook Song...

Yep. Here it is - the national anthem for FaceBook Friends!

Common Ground...

Good old Garrison Keillor often comes up with wondrous stuff. Today's poem should provide a chuckle for fellow grumpy old men - (like me).

Common Ground

by Paul J. Willis

Today I dug an orange tree out of the damp, black earth.

My grandfather bought a grove near Anaheim

at just my age. Like me, he didn't know much.

"How'd you learn to grow oranges, Bill?"

friends said. "Well," he said, "I look at what

my neighbor does, and I just do the opposite." 

Up in Oregon, he and his brother discovered

the Willamette River. They were both asleep

on the front of the wagon, the horses stopped, 

his brother woke up. "Will," he said, "am it a river?"

My grandfather, he cooked for the army during the war,

the first one. He flipped the pancakes up the chimney, 

they came right back through the window onto the griddle.

In the Depression he worked in a laundry during the night,

struck it rich in pocketknives. My grandfather,

he liked to smoke in his orange grove, as far away on the property

as he could get from my grandmother,

who didn't approve of life in general, him in particular.

Smoking gave him something to feel disapproved for,

set the world back to rights. Like everyone else,

my grandfather sold his grove to make room 

for Disneyland. He laughed all the way to the bank,

bought in town, lived to see his grandsons born

and died of cancer before anyone wanted him to, absent

now in the rootless presence of damp, black earth. 

"Common Ground" by Paul J. Willis, from Visiting Home. © Pecan Grove Press, 2008. Reprinted with permission

Rooster of the Week...

Word comes that yesterday traffic on I-17, the main interstate connecting Phoenix with the hinterlands to the north came to a screeching halt when  a rooster appeared and kept changing lanes as confused drivers tried to decide how to cope with this unusual phenomenon. While the rest of the world was trying to decide how to deal with the death of Michael Jackson and the resignation of Sarah Palin, Phoenix got down to more vital matters - a rooster versus a thousand or so frustrted motorists.

The police department finally solved the problem when an officer got in front of the traffic and chased down the rooster. As the story goes, he had a cage in the back seat of his vehicle and putting the bird in it kept the rooster from flying around his car as he drove off, much to the relief of the cheering drivers, who now could procede on their respective ways.

Where the bird came from, what he was doing on the interstate or what happened to him after his adventure was not revealed.

No statement to date has been issued by Sheriff Joe Arpaio, Sarah Palin or Michael Jackson. But things being what they are, we will probably hear from all of them before the weekend is over.

Life With The Swat Team...

In the event that you get in the mood for some action and decide to sign up for the local swat team, just remember that there are downsides. Here, for instance:

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/no_one_on_swat_team_wants_to_wait?utm_source=onion_rss_daily

I Won't Tell if You Won't...

What Makes Commercials Fun?

They're fun when they spoof realities that need spoofing. Like the current girl-craze of screaming in chorus.