An unprotected egg (or more) dropped from a height exceeding four feet will not balance. It will break. I did once drop an egg out of a helicopter from a distance greater than fifty feet and it did not break. However, there were several layers of insulation and materials designed to absorb impact. Taken fresh from the refrigerator, it stands little chance. Listen to me; I learned this the hard way.
Despite what your mother might have told you, it is fun to play in the pool. Cool water, a hot grill, good friends and brilliant sunlight can comprise the pinnacle of good times. It is my belief that life is expanded by such activities. Pool days not only enrich life, but also append time. Perception may be altered by the fact that most pool days occur during the summer.
Misplace control. Hide it underneath a sofa cushion, bury it in a sock drawer, place it on that shelf in the kitchen only your tallest friends can reach, or nestle it between the peaches and the vegetable medley in the back of your freezer. Put it away from your person. Studies indicate again and again that attempting to control a situation over which you have little to no influence (traffic, gas prices, politics, etc) will decrease the pleasure available in life. Are you agitated by tardiness, your own or someone else's? Ride whenever possible with someone for whom punctuality is an archaic concept, utilize public transportation, or both.
You are a unique person. You are the product of two other unique people. They are the product...point made. What gain is there in comparing yourself or your situation to others? This is also about misplacing control. Celebrate your differences, assume they will be appreciated. Joy cannot flow through a dam constructed of envy. This is not something I've learned so much as it is an acknowledged truth I'm trying to learn.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
a grinding halt
It happened this morning. The radio was blaring that agonizing morning show with the people I hate, and I began the recovery from a restless night of sleep. I stumbled into the kitchen and began to prepare some coffee. I felt lousy, but I hoped that putting something strong, black, hot and wet into a cup would help wake me up. The beans were already out, sumatra this round, so I picked up the grinder and it sprang to life. You gave this to me how long ago now? I think it was Christmas of 1996. Yes, that's right. It was after the summer of frozen cappuccinos. I gave you that amethyst ring, and you gave me a shiny black coffee grinder. It surprises me that it has been that long.
The grinding done, I flipped the machine to prepare the contents for dumping into the basket. There was a fresh aroma hanging all around me, and my senses rejoiced. Then, something slipped and tragedy was at hand. Tumbling through my groping fingers, letting gravity take hold, and then the blurring of time and space. Do you remember when I told you about watching that plane crash? The slow stop-motion, the expectation that any moment fate might look the other way, a scene seared into memory. One moment of hoping you'll catch hold, another moment of recognizing a lost cause, and then it's over. The grinder hit the floor, the lid sprang off, and freshly ground coffee sprayed across the kitchen floor, even onto the carpet. It was so frustrating, but I didn't realize the scope of the incident. I picked up the machine and lid, and noticed the huge chunk missing from the top. The machine still works, but not if you want to keep its contents contained.
I swept, vacuumed, put all back in its place. I miss it already. I never used it as much as I should, leaving it for long stretches of time in the cabinet or a packing box after a move. Yet, it was always there. Such a small thing, I suppose, but the effect of it rippled through my day. Thank you again for giving it to me. I have replaced it now, but I will always remember my first coffee grinder.
The grinding done, I flipped the machine to prepare the contents for dumping into the basket. There was a fresh aroma hanging all around me, and my senses rejoiced. Then, something slipped and tragedy was at hand. Tumbling through my groping fingers, letting gravity take hold, and then the blurring of time and space. Do you remember when I told you about watching that plane crash? The slow stop-motion, the expectation that any moment fate might look the other way, a scene seared into memory. One moment of hoping you'll catch hold, another moment of recognizing a lost cause, and then it's over. The grinder hit the floor, the lid sprang off, and freshly ground coffee sprayed across the kitchen floor, even onto the carpet. It was so frustrating, but I didn't realize the scope of the incident. I picked up the machine and lid, and noticed the huge chunk missing from the top. The machine still works, but not if you want to keep its contents contained.
I swept, vacuumed, put all back in its place. I miss it already. I never used it as much as I should, leaving it for long stretches of time in the cabinet or a packing box after a move. Yet, it was always there. Such a small thing, I suppose, but the effect of it rippled through my day. Thank you again for giving it to me. I have replaced it now, but I will always remember my first coffee grinder.
Friday, May 05, 2006
cinco de mayo
If I have one weakness... Hmmm, scratch that. I have several weaknesses; among them, well-designed cars, a pretty smile, bbq, days at the lake, eloquent prose, plus others. In some of these I am weaker than others.
Omitted from the list above is chocolate. Chocolate and I have a special relationship, but I am limited in my love for this treat. You may take your milk chocolates and dispose of them at will; they have little appeal to me. They are scarcely more than some cocoa mixed in with a lot of sugar, the diet-Sprite of the chocolate world. The ancient peoples of central America discovered chocolate, and consumed it usually in the form of a spicy beverage. However, this unusual treat was limited to the royal house; it was not something for the common people. It was dark, rich, and mysterious. During the explorations of the sixteenth century, Europeans discovered chocolate and began the long evolution to create the refined product we find today.
Why this historical discussion of chocolate? I opened the drawer to my desk this morning to withdraw a pen, and made a tantalizing discovery. The drawer was overflowing with dark chocolate, a co-worker's gift. A blessed and happy Friday.
Omitted from the list above is chocolate. Chocolate and I have a special relationship, but I am limited in my love for this treat. You may take your milk chocolates and dispose of them at will; they have little appeal to me. They are scarcely more than some cocoa mixed in with a lot of sugar, the diet-Sprite of the chocolate world. The ancient peoples of central America discovered chocolate, and consumed it usually in the form of a spicy beverage. However, this unusual treat was limited to the royal house; it was not something for the common people. It was dark, rich, and mysterious. During the explorations of the sixteenth century, Europeans discovered chocolate and began the long evolution to create the refined product we find today.
Why this historical discussion of chocolate? I opened the drawer to my desk this morning to withdraw a pen, and made a tantalizing discovery. The drawer was overflowing with dark chocolate, a co-worker's gift. A blessed and happy Friday.
Monday, May 01, 2006
composure
Last summer, I was aware of blogs. I had an intellectual marker defining the scope of blogging, its purpose, and the type of people who pursue the activity. I took a snapshot of the situation, made a few judgments, and rolled that into my personal database under the heading of what it must mean to blog. Then, last fall, I began to read two blogs seriously. I'm tempted to link you to them; one taught me a lot about what can be done with a blog, the other a lot about what shouldn't be done (by example). Yet, I am reticent to reveal because it could provide too much a glimpse into my interests. It would allow you information to interpret I don’t want you to have. Besides, blogging is about controlling the flow of information.
That last sentence is wrong, but since I’ve slipped into blogiography (blogging about blogging), I’ll move on. Ultimately, I’d read enough of others’ creations, I knew I had to try my hand, and here I am. I’ve been humbled by the experience.
When you’re writing for an audience (even just two or three people), you become conscious of what you’re saying. For those who pour out unfiltered access to their actions and thoughts to the world, I ask you to stop. It will come back to you; a quick read through the daily news reveals the internet isn’t as anonymous as it used to be. The temptation to use it as a mask is very real, and it is a temptation that has found a home in various media for a long time.
The art of rhetoric, so woefully maligned these days, allows one to tailor a message so that it fits the precise impression intended. In life, I do this all the time and it precipitates episodes like that seen in my last post. The bottom line is that I want to provide enough of myself here to be real (acknowledging that I know many who will read), and yet not cross over into excessive disclosure. Some of you will read that and laugh. I guess the question I’m asking is what if I don’t fall between those boundaries all the time.
What if? This is too dangerous a question, and it comes up in my mind again and again. Too much of my life is driven by fear. Fear that I’ll fail to meet expectations, fear that I’ll never achieve goals, fear that certain desires will never be satisfied, etc.
There are good people in my life, even if they don’t know me. I am touched almost daily by these people. I wish I was better at taking note of that.
That last sentence is wrong, but since I’ve slipped into blogiography (blogging about blogging), I’ll move on. Ultimately, I’d read enough of others’ creations, I knew I had to try my hand, and here I am. I’ve been humbled by the experience.
When you’re writing for an audience (even just two or three people), you become conscious of what you’re saying. For those who pour out unfiltered access to their actions and thoughts to the world, I ask you to stop. It will come back to you; a quick read through the daily news reveals the internet isn’t as anonymous as it used to be. The temptation to use it as a mask is very real, and it is a temptation that has found a home in various media for a long time.
The art of rhetoric, so woefully maligned these days, allows one to tailor a message so that it fits the precise impression intended. In life, I do this all the time and it precipitates episodes like that seen in my last post. The bottom line is that I want to provide enough of myself here to be real (acknowledging that I know many who will read), and yet not cross over into excessive disclosure. Some of you will read that and laugh. I guess the question I’m asking is what if I don’t fall between those boundaries all the time.
What if? This is too dangerous a question, and it comes up in my mind again and again. Too much of my life is driven by fear. Fear that I’ll fail to meet expectations, fear that I’ll never achieve goals, fear that certain desires will never be satisfied, etc.
There are good people in my life, even if they don’t know me. I am touched almost daily by these people. I wish I was better at taking note of that.
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