Wednesday, Oct. 31, 2012

Tough times we’re in!  Between the upcoming election, not knowing which way that will go, whether the economy will pick up…and when, people unemployed, unable to find work, pay their bills, put food on the table…yeah, it’s a cesspool of tough times in which we’re swirling.

Our resources—financial, emotional, physical and mental—are being stretched to their limits.  The result?  We’re exhausted.  Looking for anything we can cling to.  Like rats fleeing a sinking ship, we’re desperate to grab hold of something that will support us.  Bring us comfort.

Times like these it’s imperative that we find something…anything…that makes us smile—if only for a moment or two.  It can be something as simple as a friendly text.  A phone call.  Gazing into the eyes of the one we love.  Helping a stranger.  Seeking to bring a smile to our children.  It can be the whoosh of a gently breeze as it tussles our hair.  Or the scent of a fragrant flower as we pass by.  The vision of birds taking flight.  Of nature carrying on.  Of life being renewed. 

Whatever makes us smile, we need to consider ourselves worthy enough to reap such pleasures, however fleeting they may be.  For a short-lived smile that touches our soul is better than no smile at all.       

Tuesday, Oct. 30, 2012

There are times when our growth is taxed more than others.  Least I know it is for me.  There are occasions when I falter, my footing shaky and unsure, as I attempt to navigate through life’s trials and tribulations.  Sometimes I manage to surprise myself and walk away from a situation, thinking, wow, I’m really proud of how I handled that.  Other times, I’m not so fortunate. 

When the latter happens, I can tend to get bummed.  Guess that’s human nature.  Or…it could be my own stubborn insistence that I rise above what I am.  Hard goal to achieve….

But one thing I try to remind myself as I dust myself off after stumbling is that growth is part of living life.  If we don’t stagger and fall, learning better ways to avoid such pitfalls through the process, then how can we ever hope to grow?  

Monday, Oct. 29, 2012

“Consult not your fears but your hopes and dreams.  Think not about your frustrations, but about your unfulfilled potential.  Concern yourself not with what you tried and failed in, but with what is still possible for you to do.”  I love the principals behind this quote by Pope John XXIII.

As the quote implies, spend your energy on your hopes and dreams rather than on your fears.  To do otherwise courts nothing but grief, limits your abilities and can cause you to cower in the face of new possibilities. 

Instead of focusing on your frustrations, think of all the things you could do if only you’d allow yourself the possibility to succeed.  Doesn’t mean you’ll hit your goal every time.  Only that you disallow your frustrations to hold you back, instead applying your energy and efforts in more positive directions.

Don’t let past unfulfilled attempts consume you with feelings of inadequacy.  Just because you tried something and weren’t able to achieve that which you set out to do doesn’t mean you’re a failure.  Only that your reach was too vast.  Perhaps all that was needed to succeed was for you to narrow your aim—a bit.

Believe—really and truly believe—that the sky’s the limit.  That you’re free to try most things.  That you may fall short your mark, but that you have the intestinal fortitude to get up, dust yourself off and try again…and again…and again if necessary.

Bottom line…don’t limit your ability to succeed by succumbing to fears, frustrations or failures.  

Sunday, Oct. 28, 2012

“Our challenges may be new.  The instruments with which we meet them may be new.  But those values upon which our success depends—honesty and hard work, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism—these things are old.  These things are true.  They have been the quiet force of progress throughout history.”  There’s no way for me to expound on this eloquently stated quote by Barrack Obama.  Though I may not agree with many of the things he’s done while in office, these words hold true.  I hope they will for you as well….

Saturday, Oct. 27, 2012

“Learn to say no.  It will be of more use to you than to be able to read Latin.”  What a great quote by Charles Haddon Spurgeon.  Though I’ve blogged on this subject before—how many feel incapable of saying no—I thought it worth another mention.  Learning to say no is one of the most meaningful lessons a person can learn.

Saying no clearly establishes one’s boundaries.  It disallows a person to be taken advantage of.  In addition, learning how to say no—definitively and right from the start—helps manage expectations.  What do I mean by that?

There are those who believe it’s kinder to let a person down easy.  So instead of telling them no right when asked to do something, the person who’s been asked to do something hems and haws, stalling.  Maybe they hope the other person will forget the request or move on to other things.  In the meantime, the person who asked is left believing, since they weren’t told no, that there’s a chance of getting what they want. 

Here I must ask.  Is it kinder to string a person along like this?  Or is it better to take a definitive stance by saying no right from the start when asked to do something you’re either unwilling or unable to do?

The art of successful communication is an art everyone should invest more time in mastering, myself included.  One of the ways we can accomplish this is by practicing the skill of saying no when appropriate instead of misleading others or being coerced into doing things we’d rather not or are incapable of doing.     

Friday, Oct. 26, 20112

“The deepest principal in human nature is the craving to be appreciated.”  This is such a lovely quote by William James.  Its sentiment, though simple, is anything but. 

Humans need to be appreciated.  Just as flowers need the light of the sun to guide their growth, so too do humans need the rays of appreciation to inspire them to do more.  Be more.  Continue on.

It’s such a simple thing—to show/tell another that they’re appreciated.  And yet, many overlook this crucial step.  Some withhold praise as if they believe doing so will cause others to work harder.  It doesn’t.  Instead, it fosters discontentment that if allowed to fester can undermine a person’s actions in negative ways.

Really, how hard is it to say, “You’re doing a great job,” or “I’m proud of you,” or “You’re amazing?”  If words aren’t your thing, then why not demonstrate through actions your appreciation?  Something as simple as a smile, pat on the shoulder or hug goes a long ways towards generating good vibes.  It proves to the receiver that they’re worthy.  They mean something to another.  Their actions don’t go under the radar but stand alone and make a difference.    

Again, the deepest principal in human nature is the craving to be appreciated, so why not extend an olive branch of appreciation for someone to cling to?

Thursday, Oct. 25, 2012

Here’s a great quote by Richardson Wright.  “Until a man has known the rhythm of spading, he knows not gardening.  It is the first essential.  All other acts that gardening entails cannot compare with this one simple process in profound necessity.  Profound because it is changeless and simple as all time-aged customs come to be….”

My maternal grandmother was an amazing gardener!   She worked her gardens till they produced breathtaking displays of peace and tranquility that inspired and invoked a deep sense of contentment.  Her gardens were featured in Sunset and also Better Homes and Gardens magazines. 

To my grandmother, gardening wasn’t work.  It was a passion.  A deep-rooted joy that filled her with a feeling of accomplishment.  Once her work was done, she was able to sit back and reap the benefits of her labors, gazing out over an expanse of incredible plants that overflowed with life.  Vitality.  Promise.  Fulfillment. 

Though this grandmother and I always lived on opposite coasts, her on the east, me on the west, her passion for gardening was passed onto me.  Ingrained so deeply within the fibers of my being that to not garden has always felt like a slow death.  There’s just something about working the land to its potential.  Creating beauty from something that didn’t originally exist. 

Whenever I’m swinging a pick ax, leveraging with a pry bar, tilling with a hoe, shoveling dirt or pruning overgrown plants, my spirit soars.  The feel of dirt on my hands or under my knees as I kneel is comforting.  And, just as my grandmother knew and Richardson Wright’s above-mentioned quote so eloquently stated, it all beings with the essential first step if spading.  Just as spading is the essential building block to a healthy garden, a strong life foundation relies upon the same simple processes of preparations manifesting a solid foundation upon which more can be built.   

Wednesday, Oct. 24, 2012

Today, I’ll pick up where I left off yesterday’s blog about my beloved coffee maker, why I like it and why it should never have been placed in the discard pile at my old house.

It’s a charming little device.  Caught somewhere between an asthmatic dragon, gasping out its last raspy breaths and a Jules Vern concoction, sputtering and spewing a swirling cloud of steam, my coffee maker sounds like the next drop of coffee it creates might well be its last.  But it’s not. 

Here’s the irony.  Since moving to my current home, complete with a water softener, purifier and decelerator, my coffee maker is “healing.”  Drip by drip, brewed pot after tasty brewed pot, the hard water deposits that had fused themselves to my beloved coffee maker and couldn’t be removed with specific cleaners, those are being washed away. 

My maker now brews faster…not much, but fast enough.  Does it still sound like it’s caught between an asthmatic dragon, gasping out its last raspy breaths and some form of Jules Vern concoction, sputtering and spewing a swirling cloud of steam?  Absolutely!  And though it still sounds like the next drop of coffee it creates will be its last, I’m confident that my coffee maker won’t let me down.  That for as long as I like, it will continue to start off my mornings right, causing me to smile and warming me with a delicious brew that cannot be compared.

Let’s hear it for the mentality that if it’s not broke, then why replace it!  

Tuesday, Oct. 23, 2012

Listening to my coffee maker brew this morning, I couldn’t help but smile.  Before I moved, I fetched this coffee maker from the discard pile my ex had created in the garage.  Did the pot still brew coffee?  Yes.  So why did he discard it?  Probably wanted a slicker, shinier one that would be more impressive. 

But I liked my old coffee maker.  Always had and was sad when I’d returned from a trip to find it missing, just another of many casualties that ended up out in the garage to be donated.  The mentality that if it’s not broke then why replace it runs deep in my veins.  Always has.  I come from a long line of relatives with the same mentality that I just can’t help it.  And truth be told, I wouldn’t want to.

Back to why my coffee maker made me smile.  It’s a wonderful creation that brews a delicious pot of coffee and keeps it the perfect temperature till late into the night since it’s complete with an effective thermal carafe.  So why did it make me smile?  Well…this particular coffee maker sort of fell victim to the massive levels of hard water deposits at my old house.  The result, it takes a while to brew a pot of coffee.  But that’s not a bad thing.  

Since it takes so long to produce a pot of coffee, the beverage that results is a delicious concoction that tastes exactly as it was created—a super strong slow brewed mix that fills the air with an intoxicating aroma and tastes oh, so pleasing. 

Then there’s the sounds the coffee maker creates as it brews….

Tune in tomorrow to find out more about my charming coffee maker.  : -)

Monday, Oct. 22, 2012

Some things we just have to let go.  It’s part of life.  It’s a matter of don’t sweat the little—and even bigger—stuff or let it consume you.  There are those who think they’re pulling this off.  But the stress they wear plastered across their faces and carry in their posturing says otherwise.

It’s not an easy thing to accept things as they are and move on.  Part of that process is to let things roll off us that might otherwise worm their way under our skin, undermining our every thought until we can concentrate on nothing else, consumed with anger, frustration, sadness, etc.

Change tends to bring out these feeling.  Not always.  But often enough to send our normally on-track selves careening down a path we’d rather avoid but somehow find ourselves on, desperate to put things right.  As they once were.  Or better than they were.

Whenever I find myself in these situations, I try to brush off whatever is bothering me.  Does that mean I’m not affected.  No.  Just that I allow myself some time.  That may include a brief stroll down self-pity lane.  Or it may cause me to venture to darker places.  But all in all, I force myself to pick myself up as soon as possible in order that I might move on.  Regain control of myself.  After all, as I opened with, some things we just have to let go.  It’s part of life.          

Sunday, Oct. 21, 2012

Here’s a poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.  Hope it finds you well and brings a smile to your face as it did to mine. 

One ship sails east and the other west

On the selfsame winds that blow.

‘Tis the set of the sails and not the gales

That determine the way they go.

Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate,

As we Voyage along through life;

‘Tis the set of the soul that decides the goal

And not the calm or the strife.

Saturday, Oct. 20, 2012

For the past few days, I’ve been holding my breath and sending positive healing energy to a friend who was rushed to the ICU, battling the side effects of Agent Orange.  Though I just received word that my friend is back home, they’re far from out of the woods with their medical complications. 

Chemical warfare…what a crummy inhumane way to fight a war.  Not that any form of killing others is my ideal.  But to alter a person’s physical state—forever—through the exposure to chemicals dropped on them…geez, what could be worse?  It’s not like these people die quickly.  Or in a humane fashion.  No.  What awaits those affected by chemical warfare is a slow agonizing death that may take days, weeks, years or even decades to slowly and mercilessly eat away at their bodies and immune systems, robbing them of their strength, vitality and will to live. 

Again, the after effects of chemical warfare…what a crummy price to pay for being in the wrong place at the wrong time….

Friday, Oct. 19, 2012

I’m continuously surprised at how the disciplines we use in one aspect of our lives can be applied to other areas.  Allow me to explain….  Yesterday, I blogged about getting mentally strong through running.  The strength of will and determination necessary to run through discomfort in order to reach one’s goal is awe-inspiring.  But this level of dedication needn’t only apply or be achieved through running.

Many of the skills we learn or adopt to wade our way through this thing we call life can cross over to other aspects of our lives.  While running, one teaches themselves to mentally override the mixed messages sent when their body becomes stressed.  This same level of grit can be applied to other areas of life.

Consider the employee who has a dictator for a boss.  No matter what the employee does, it just never quite seems to be enough for their boss.  The employee receives feedback such as, “You could’ve gotten that done faster,”  “Saved us more money,” “Been more creative,” etc.  This even when the employee’s accomplished all of the above.  It’s not that the employee is lacking in their ability to do their job.  They’re not. 

But getting this level of disapproval day after day, project after project begins to wear away at a person.  That is…if they let it.  Consider this.  What if instead of getting upset at their boss for not recognizing their performance, the employee mentally overrides the boss’s comments?  Doesn’t take them personally?  Decides to be proud of their achievements and brush off their boss’s inability to offer praise?

The same skills needed to override the boss’s lack of acknowledgement are what are used when running through discomfort.  The person needs to teach him or herself how and when to ignore things that might otherwise derail them.  In succeeding, the individual flexes their mental strength, building it to a force that isn’t easily broken.  Bit by bit, the person learns to turn within for guidance, strength and the determination necessary to move more fluidly through life.         

Thursday, Oct. 18, 2012

Becoming mentally strong.  Yesterday, I wrote of how I oft turn to poetry.  I do so when I’m feeling happy, sad, on top of things or am seeking deeper meaning.  I believe this is a step towards taking control of myself in order to become mentally strong.  One of the other things I do to increase mental strength is to run. 

My youngest son is in cross-country.  His coach says that it’s important for runners to be mentally strong.  I agree.  Sheer strength is not enough.  Why?  Because, as any marathon runner will tell you, there comes a point when one pushes their body hard that the mind just sort of…gives up.  In that process, it sends all kinds of false messages such as that little leg twitch is really a ligament about to tear.  Or that the side pain you’re experiencing isn’t due to shallow breathing, an easily corrected problem, but rather something more sinister that will end with severe medical complications if you don’t stop running now.

Learning how to push one’s self beyond the point where their brain is giving them false messages as well as learning to run through the minor aches and pains that accompany running is one way of becoming mentally strong.  Why?  Because it takes deep determination to push through that kind of discomfort step after grueling step when all you really want to do is stop or slow to a walk.

Since I run marathons and have competed in obstacle courses, shorter runs and also mud runs, I’m told by people all the time that running “must just come easy for you.”  They go on to tell me how, for them, they can’t seem to get past the first half mile where everything hurts, their breathing seems to be off and their gait is awkward at best.  Smiling, I reveal every runner’s secret: that we experience the same discomfort during the first half mile of each and every run we do.  This is when I get astonished looks and comments along the lines of “we thought running must be easy for you cause you do it all the time.”

Revealing my runner’s secret helps others gain the courage to try again.  Push a little harder.  Challenge their minds to remain still and not complain so much while they put in their mileage.  In short, I help others do what I strive for each and every run—become more mentally strong.

Though running is one of my ways to gain mental strength, there are other ways.  Ironically, at least for me, I’ve found that in order to push past that mental barrier and grow in mental strength, I have to do the same with my physical body.  So the stronger I want to become mentally, the more physically strong I must become.  It seems the two go hand-in-hand.  After all, it takes grit and determination to become physically strong.  It doesn’t just…happen.  So why shouldn’t one gain the benefit of becoming mentally strong in the process?  

Wednesday, Oct. 2012

I love poetry.  Always have.  Whether I’m feeling adrift, buoyant, pleased with life or looking for deeper meaning, I’ve always turned to poetry.  As a little girl, I began writing poetry early on, venting the frustrations, joys and accomplishments of my soul onto pages I meant none to read…though some did.  And what they read, I was told was good—very good.  Though my stylization didn’t follow traditional stringent poetic guidelines, it did have a rhythm and tempo all its own.  One that worked, even though it seemed to labor against itself at times.

A while back, I picked up book of poems from a writer friend of mine who no longer had use for it.  The book is called The Venus Hottentot.  Elizabeth Alexander writes all poems contained within.  Her style of poetry spoke to me.  Reminded me of my own…in a fashion.  Though I suppose no two poets ever mirror one another’s styles.

As I finished the final touches of unpacking yesterday, I came across that book, placing it on a shelf in my office where it would be close at hand, many of the poems contained within having struck a chord in me.  Here is one that spoke to me today.

Zodiac

You kissed me once and now I wait for more.

We’re standing underneath a swollen tree.

A bridge troll waits to snatch me if I cross.

Your bicycle handles are rusted blue.

 My mouth has lost its flavor from this kiss.

I taste of warm apple.  My lips are fat.

If these blossoms fall they’ll mark our faces:

Gold shards of pollen or flower-shaped dents.

Is it bird wings that bat between my legs?

Is there a myth for trolls?  Bulfinch says no.

My mother has a friend who reads the stars.

I am fourteen.  “My dear, you look in love.”

Your fingers stained dull orange from the bike.

Svetlana eyes and hands, no crystal ball.

White ripe blossoms on a trembling tree.

Again, I think.  I want you to kiss me. 

Tuesday, Oct. 16, 2012

Talking with a friend yesterday, my heart ached as I listened to them share how they believed that, once again; the world was taking a giant stab at them.  That they felt unworthy.  That they wondered why the heck they bothered reaching out to others when all they got in return were unpleasant results.  That got me to wondering.  Why are there times when it appears that the world is taking a bigger stab at us than normal?

I don’t believe the world actively is out to get us more one time than another…or at all for that matter.  But I could empathize with my friend’s feelings.  I know, all too well, that feeling of being overwhelmed.  Feeling vacant.  Feeling the uselessness of getting up and dusting the dirt off myself only to have those around me knock me back down. 

But unlike my friend, I don’t subscribe to a doomsday attitude of the world is out to get me…along with everyone in it.  Does this mean I’m not as affected as my friend when bad things come my way?  I don’t believe so.  Just that I try to put a more positive spin on them.  Look for the silver lining—no matter how obscure it may seem.

Have I had my moments when I feel an avalanche of garbage has been dumped one me?  Sure!  Do I struggle to claw my way out?  Absolutely?  Do I succeed right away?  Sometimes…other times I, like my friend, get overwhelmed and wallow a bit.

One thing I know for sure.  If I flounder in the trenches too long, their sides cave in on me, making it all the more difficult to pull myself out.  My friend knows this as well, and I have every bit of confidence that they feel much better today, having had an outlet yesterday.  That outlet was me.  Someone in whom they could confide.  Trust.  

Heavens knows, this particular friend and I have reinforced one another’s foundations more times than I can recall.  Each time, we come to the other feeling the weight of the world dragging us down.  After revealing our anguish, we walk away feeling strengthened.  As if the balance of the weight of the world gets pushed askew, no longer sitting so heavily upon our shoulders. 

With it being askew, we’re then able to shift our shoulders and knock it off.  May not be entirely.  Or all at once.  But within a short span we’re back to feeling like ourselves, aware that, in reality, it’s not that the world was taking a bigger stab at us than normal, just that we were in a more vulnerable position when everything hit the fan.  Capturing that knowledge allows us to regain control and steady ourselves, reclaiming our balance in the process. 

Monday, Oct. 15, 2012

Here’s a great quote by Albert Camus.  “We rarely confide in those who are better than we are.”  How true and…I wonder why.  Why is it that we only feel free to reveal our vulnerabilities and truths to those we believe to be equal or less than we are?  Why is it we can’t stand tall while revealing those same frailties to those who surpass us?  Those whose shadows we walk within?

Does lack of confidence play into this?  Or is it something deeper?  Perhaps darker?  Could it be that somewhere buried within us we only feel comfortable showing ourselves—all that we are and hope to be—to those we suspect we can “control?”  By control, I mean those whose thoughts and actions we believe we can influence. 

Perhaps there’s a part of us that senses that those who rise above us are a bit of a wild card—someone we don’t know how they’ll react or what things, once told, they’ll repeat to others.  I suppose this is where trust—honest to goodness trust—comes into play.

It’s one thing to believe in another person.  Something different to lay one’s belly unprotected before those who would then have ammunition to harm us (with the information we share) if they so chose. 

So how does one go about discerning the right individuals to trust?  The ones they’re willing to not only believe in but also put their faith in even though that faith may seem to defy reason and the opinions of others?  How does one locate such individuals in whom they can confide? 

Here we are back to the quote by Camus. “We rarely confide in those who are better than we are.”  In seeking the right individuals in whom to confide, does one eliminate whole pools of possible candidates simply because they’re “better” than them?  It happens often enough….  But what does that buy a person?  Does it ensure that they’ve chosen the right one(s) in whom they can confide?  The ones who won’t pass judgment, walk away from or worse, share their vulnerable truths with others as…gossip?  No. 

So why do it?  Why align with only our equals or “lessers?”  If it doesn’t guarantee us “safety” then why do we go to such lengths to limit our possibilities?  Wish I had the answer.  This is worth exploring with deeper thought….    

Sunday, Oct. 14, 2012

For the majority of my life, I’ve lived close to nature.  As such, I’ve seen both the charming and sadder faces nature presents.  Now that I live at the beach, I have to learn the various faces the nature here displays.  Most parts I love.  But there are some—the same ones that have always bothered me—death and dying—I find hard to stomach.

Walking/running along the beach is an adventure that I thrive on each and every day.  No two outings are the same—the beach offering up an endless supply of sights for me to behold.  Some are lovely.  Others are breathtaking.  Still more make me pause, wondering over them.  And then there are some that cause a lump in my throat that I have to choke down.  It’s either that or burst into tears.  Today I stumbled across one of the latter.

I strolled the water’s edge when up the beach a little ways I caught sight of something…a shape…one big enough to cause that lump in my throat to form.  The one that tells me not to look.  But…like a person drawn to a train wreck, I’m helpless to turn away.  The closer I got, the larger that lump formed, until I found it hard to breathe. 

What caused such a reaction?  A large sea lion that had washed ashore.  It was positioned as if it was resting.  But its energy told me otherwise…or rather, the fact that it had no energy.  No life force.  Instead what circled the sea lion was an invisible yet oh, so tangible cloudbank of death and overwhelming sadness.

I’ve always loved sea lions.  Since spotting my first ones as a little girl, I fell in love with the barking sea mammals that others found unattractive and annoying.  The one I found on the beach today had the same allure.  Yet…there was that overwhelming aura of sadness….

Unsure why I was more affected by the death of this beautiful sea creature than others I’ve stumbled upon, I took a closer look.  Didn’t take me long to realize why a cloak of sadness, heavy enough to make breathing a chore, hung in the surrounding air. 

Nature is a never-ending cycle of life and death.  Those that die are replaced by new life.  New hope.  New beginnings.  But for this fallen sea lion, life and death became a cruel twist of fate.  Why?  Because the sea lion, which was female, had died in the process of giving birth, her pup only partly free of her protective womb.  In this, nature was savage, not allowing a new life to fully emerge and robbing the mother of her own vitality.

I had to pass by that macabre scene twice while on my walk.  Each time, my stomach cinched, throat ached and I felt the urge to cry for the mother and her pup.  For two lives cut short.  For the one that would never be.  For the one that had given hers, trying to bring another into the world.  Today I was reminded of nature’s tangible grasp on life and death.  Of it’s sorrowful side.  The experience left me feeling melancholy.  Didn’t crush me, just reminded me how affected I am—have always been—when faced with the harsher realities of nature. 

Saturday, Oct. 13, 2012

A couple of weeks back, my girlfriend came to visit me from Canada.  One of the activities we did while she was here was to visit thrift stores.  In Canada, she explained that all the thrift stores “smelled yucky” and had no variety of anything worthwhile to look at much less purchase.  But, since my girlfriend loves finding buried treasures and deals as much as I do, she was game to give our stores a try. 

We went from one thrift store to another, each clean and offering a great selections of items to browse through.  My girlfriend grew more and more perplexed and impressed.  I explained that like the ones in Canada, our thrift stores used to be dismal places most would avoid instead of choosing as fun destination points to hang out in.  But all that changed a number of years back when Goodwill and also The Salvation Army upped the bar for items they would accept for donations.

In the past, one could donate just about anything in just about any state of disrepair and be certain these companies, the largest two donation centers, would accept them.  But the companies got smart, realizing the failing economy and the opportunity to provide valuable slightly used items to consumers for unbelievable low prices.  So they got picky with what items they would accept, only choosing those they knew they could immediately put on their showroom floors and that would sell quickly.

Until my girlfriend mentioned how dismal the thrift stores in Canada were, I’d forgotten that ours had been the same not that many years back.  I’m glad things turned around.  That the donation centers got selective with what caliber of items they’d accept so they could turn those items into gems we shoppers would enjoy discovering.  Sad that it took the fall of our economy for all this to happen.  But hey, a good thing is still a good thing, no matter what’s its origin.

Friday, Oct. 12, 2012

I came across this quote by Robert Fulghum and thought I’d start out your weekend by sharing it with you.

  “I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history.  That dreams are more powerful than facts.  That hope always triumphs over experience.  That laughter is the only cure for grief.  And I believe that love is stronger than death.” 

Don’t think I could add anything to these sentiments that would make them more profound.  They stand well on their own, and I couldn’t agree with each of them any more than if I’d thought them up myself.  So, for today, I won’t elaborate.  Instead, I’ll leave this quote as is so it can percolate however you deem appropriate.