Nov 17, 2009
I hate it when others can’t wait to place blame — somewhere…anywhere! I think it’s so they don’t have to admit that they simply aren’t perfect.
Things happen. Sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes people will talk smack about these bad happenings. And, sometimes, the talk gets back to us. That sucks. We’ve all been there. Right? But who do you blame? And a better question — why point fingers at all?
The burg is a little bitty place where we pretty much know everyone’s business. If you live in the burg and something happens to you or your family that’s newsworthy, you will have some that support you, some that will openly say mean and rude things to you, and some that will simply talk about you behind your back. But kids, that is NOT something you can blame on the burg! No matter where you live, people are going to be people. Those things said behind your back might not get back to you, but people are still talking.
I lost my deep affection for the town I grew up in quite some time back. It’s no secret that I’m thinking about a move soon that will provide a different climate and more local things to do. But I still get defensive when others act like Crothersville is the only place on the planet where bad things happen, or where people gossip.
Nov 16, 2009
RIP my dear friend, Mark Johnson.
Mark posted the above on Facebook before leaving on the annual MasterSbilt cruise. He and the MasterSbilt crew will dock in Miami today, and funeral services will be held at Buchannan’s. Mark was loved by so many, and will be greatly missed.
Nov 12, 2009
So I’m getting ready to do a Google search and I type in “why”. Google is kind enough to give auto suggestions. How about that?
I snickered. You probably did too — right after you clicked to find out why you have nipples (if you’re a guy), or why your poop is green (if you’re a chick). The whole dead Pakistani on the couch thing shook me up, and now I’ve totally forgotten what it was I was searching for in the first place. On a roll, I type in “why won’t”…
Ok. So exactly why won’t your parakeet eat your diarrhea? And more importantly — why won’t God heal amputees?? Remember that Google makes search recommendations based on what people are searching for most…
Not sure if you see the same thing as I am…but it appears as if most of the searchers are women. Fat (or pregnant) women who are depressed because they don’t know if they are in love or not and have therefore gotten drunk and think they might be a calculator.
I’m feeling lucky!
Nov 12, 2009
This morning as I’m working in my office, I hear some pretty loud sounds coming from the kitchen. Of course I rush in there to see what’s up. Gracie is standing with a major ‘deer in headlights’ look on her face — and she has a rather large slice of half-eaten pizza in her mouth.
It’s not hard to see where she got it. Heck, if I was a dog, this mess would be pretty irresistible for me too!
I’ve said it before, and I still don’t get it. Does anyone see when the trash can is full besides me and the hounds? The ‘over-the-top’ trash was added after I went to bed, and most likely was contributed by a certain house guest that works 3rd shift. Yes, this issue will be the topic of discussion later this afternoon.
So all you ladies out there — you have the same problem? Do those in your house notice that trash cans get full? And for you guys — do you make a conscious effort to notice these types of things and do your part to help out?
Maybe it’s just me…
Nov 11, 2009
Last night our family slept peacefully because of the sacrifices and dedication to God and Country our Veterans have made.
I want to share a comment made by a Facebook friend, Dan LeClerc…
This morning, I saw the old man who has served as the crossing guard down the street for years in a new light. Usually he’s wearing overalls and beat-up ball-cap. This morning he was in his old dress uniform, the chest covered with medals and ribbons. I guess his job has always been to protect us.
I’m especially proud of my family, the McKain’s, who hold the record in the State of Indiana (and who knows where else), for the largest number of brothers in the armed services of our country. I can’t imagine how my Grandmother felt to have her sons — Dean, Roland, Richard, Dallas, Max, Roscoe, Otis, Jack and Johnny — as well as a daughter-in-law (who served as a registered nurse) in places such as North Africa, Korea, Sicily and so many other areas so far from home. Yet, she was quoted as saying if needed, she would join them herself.
I have a brief childhood memory of the funeral of Dad’s brother, Roscoe. I was so young, and didn’t really know the man, my uncle, who was to be laid to rest. I do remember a tattered gentleman walking up to the casket right before the services started. He was wearing a uniform, and he did nothing but salute, turn and leave. I remember that it made my Dad cry. 40 plus years later, I understand why.
Wouldn’t it be awesome if today, we would all take a moment to personally thank those we know that have served, or are serving, our country?
This morning as I’m working in my office, I hear some pretty loud sounds coming from the kitchen. Of course I rush in there to see what’s up. Gracie is standing with a major ‘deer in headlights’ look on her face — and she has a rather large slice of half-eaten pizza in her mouth.