21 Ruminations

These are not things I worry or obsess about.

These are things I ruminate on.

(Thanks Scout.)


* Working 6 days a week.
* Not making any money 6 days a week.
* Keeping the gremlins out of two coffee shops.
* Selling three rental houses.
* Finding more time to write.
* Actually getting paid to write.
* Knowing that my house is twice as big as it needs to be.
* Helping my son get on a college/career track
* Not letting my daughter's dream of acting/modeling die.
* Getting my Mom out of the nursing home.
* Keeping my Mom happy in the nursing home.
* Selling Mom's house.
* Managing Mom's money.
* Growing my faith beyond mustard seed size.
* Regaining faith in Divine involvement in my life.
* Having time for friends.
* Getting to know the redhead that lives in my house.
* Watching all the movies that I really need to.
* Creating time to give back.
* Seeing the other 99% of the world.
* Mining the other 90% of my potential

Random thought: Cows are ruminants, right?

Subliminal Ooze*

I sits me down
I stops to think
And listen to
My brain cells clink

Why does it seem
I try too hard
Ideas die
In some graveyard

But if I catch
Myself off guard
I write a bit
Don’t try too hard

The thoughts leak out
From hidden place
Ooze out to fill
My writing space

Line up with care
Each precious drop
When it’s all gone
I know to stop.


*This is what happens when my subconcious springs a leak for six minutes.

Barfly vs. Banker

Much as I love words, I think wisdom for the ages can be found in the comic strips. I yield the floor to the Rogers -- Mahoney and Kettle -- and their associate, Andy Capp.

Your House Got Soul?

Perfection is reached, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing more to take away. - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

A sculptor in his sunlit studio contemplates a cold block of marble. Within that stone, he alone sees the beautiful shape wanting to emerge. So he strips away everything else to get to that image. Cutting, chipping, sanding, polishing till he’s down to perfection.

That’s my ideal when I write, to get down to the pure essence of the matter. I instinctively write short, saying the most I can with the fewest words. Too many words clutter the landscape and get in the way of the story.

Now I find the same principle at work as I look at home design. Where is my home bigger, more bloated than it needs to be? What’s the excess that’s getting in the way of the best use of my house? For that matter, what’s the primary purpose of my house?

Ah, now we’re talking. What do I want from my house? A shelter to live in? A mansion to impress my friends? Or an estate to maintain? Do I want a palace to rule from? A fortress with which to intimidate? Or a museum to fill with beautiful things? Do I just want a home for my family?

If I don’t know what I want, how will I know when I have it? If I get what I don’t want, I’m dissatisfied and so I want more. Maybe it’s not more I want, but different.

You can’t get enough of what you don’t really want. That’s the root of excess. Even better, it’s the key to simplicity. Know what you want, and why. When you have it, it will be enough. Strip away everything else and you may just discover the image of what was tucked away in your soul as happiness.

Sometimes contentment comes not from having more, but having less.

No one can hear you scream

In the end, it was the friends, not the house, that impressed the most. And with a brand new house like Eugene and Joanie's, that's saying a lot.

It's a special thing, an evening spent with friends in their home. We were welcomed, given the tour, and had a grand time oohing and ahhing at their gorgeous digs. The kitchen is a perfect place for a family to hang out. There's hardwood flooring handscraped by prison inmates. The iron railing on the stairway looks like it came from an Italian villa.

We moved downstairs for pizza which was paired perfectly with wine, for no other reason than it's the wine we happened to bring. Pomegranate martinis were mixed by our host, and then it was movie time.

Ah yes, the main event. I can't begin to do justice to the techie aspects of the theater room. I'll use terms like waaaay cool. Red leather power reclining seats. Ginormous screen. Sound that registers on the Riechter scale. Clarity of sound and picture that makes you dodge the bullets. And there were bullets, since we watched the great western 3:10 to Yuma.

It was like Tinseltown, only better. No crowds to wade through. No loud comments from the row behind you. And halfway through the movie, we paused the movie, refreshed our drinks, exchanged comments on the plot, and went back when we were ready.

It was a grand evening. But when I think back, here's what really brings a smile to my face; the best part was how much our hosts enjoyed sharing something they really loved. Eugene and Joanie love their house. But not more than the people in their lives.

The house is beautiful. The theater room is amazing. But not so long ago, in a galaxy not so far away, these friends are out of this world.

All the Colors

From this poet's dusty shelf:

Sings the artist to his painting
Words unheard and words unseen
Paints the singer on the canvas
All the colors never known
Writes the poet with his fingers
Dipped in blood from out his soul
Disappears the pained creator
There stands truth, and art is whole

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.

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Moving Crew

I've never had so much fun moving furniture. Maybe because it wasn't mine. But mostly because of the crew I worked with. And their wonderfully fun attitude.

Let me introduce them in order of enthusiasm:

Joseph - What an adventurer. Figuring out how to take apart a table or move a bookshelf is amazing when you're 9. Sitting on top of the truck cab while it's in motion is better.

Emmanuel (Manny) - Half workhorse, half engineer. If he could budge it, he would move it to where he wanted it. At 8, anything is possible.

Peter - The senior brother (11), and carries himself with the wisdom his position calls for. He actually thinks before he acts.

Rebecca - At 13, that perfect in between little girl and young woman attitude. She was the tomboy who loved to jump in and help, and the young lady who knew how to stay out of the way.

Larry - The grown up. The blend of brain and brawn was great for working with kids and furniture. And nobody told him that moving your Mother-in-law's furniture shouldn't be a fun way to spend a Saturday morning.

Not in the photo, but certainly in the picture:

Shar, the queen of packing and crowd control.

Carol, the queen of food and organization.

MaryGrace, the four-year-old queen of "Don't step on me sitting in the middle of the room while you carry a sofa over my head."

Emptying your Mom's house is exhausting and stressful. And on this day, fun.