Yaba! Yaba! that means “weighted by guilt” about two weeks going by without a post. Here’s the new news about living in Sonoma.
First I bought a bucket, then I bought a box: of worms. Not just any old worm, but composting worms. The bucket of worms came from a nursery in Novato. They were dud worms. So I ordered a box of worms from a world renowned worm farmer in Alabama (naturally I found them on Amazon where else?).
This blog is for all ages, so I will confine my opening lines to @##!!!%%&&!!! So the wrong movie was announced for Best Picture of 2017. BFD!
Did anyone die because of a mistake that was subsequently corrected? How many people lost a limb from this mistake? How many people filled the hospital from heart failure? How many buildings fell down? Did the Earth move?
I like movies as much as the next person, and more than a lot of persons, but I don’t consider it a national emergency if that ugly little statue is held by the wrong set of sweaty palms for a three minutes.
I am not an advocate of drugs, but in this case, take a valium and chill.
P. S. Correcting a mistake in public during the Oscar awards does not count as “grace under pressure” in my book.
Two Thousand Seventeen crept into the second week of February, before I was finished with January. I’m holding on to my crown with one hand while running madly to stay in the same place: just like the Red Queen.
I lived most of January against a canvas of rain, rain, rain: except for the last weekend. I spent that under the cold, blue skies of the Sonora desert. Good friends “flew me” on Southwest from Oakland to Tucson. During the drive from Tucson, to their home in Oro Valley, I discovered the special beauty of that desert. Cactus were never on my list of “wonderful things in the world.” Until I experienced the Saguaro forests: amazing those tall pipes standing against the blue skies.
Most of Saturday was spent at the Pima Air and Space Museum. I am told its beginnings were humble. But the Mars family of candy bar fame took an interest. Their funding elevated the museum into a wonderful tribute to aeronautics. They are close to having one of every model of commercial and military planes. There was even a Stinson L-5, the plane my Dad flew in the China theater of WWII. In the interests of breaking up this text a little, I am inserting an old photo of this plane flying the a low pass between mountains. (Sorry about the tape marks).
As they used to say in hill country “I’ll be over for supper if the creek don’t rise.” Fifty feet behind the back gate, the creek IS rising. Rain sluices down in sheets. It has been sluicing down for hours. It will continue sluicing down today and well into Monday. Drought has been cancelled for 2017.
What’s up for 2017
This year I replaced the usual list of resolutions with an operating theme. This new year of 2017 is the Year of Imagination. What sparked this idea is the following quote by Maxwell Maltz from New Psychocybernetics.Continue reading “A Week Into 2017”
The folk who bring us WordPress published a recommendation urging we remind friends and relatives to VOTE! Election Day looms. Personally speaking, I hate going to the polls so I vote by absentee ballot and have been doing so for years. It’s worth the price of postage.
While one person hesitates because he feels inferior, the other is busy making mistakes and becoming superior.
– Henry C. Link
A well-known story is attributed to Watson, the founder of IBM. A newly hired engineer had made a mistake costing the company a healthy chunk of change. Facing Watson, the young engineer expected to be fired, but Watson said “why would I fire you when the company just spent a hundred thousand dollars on your education.
Just in case my fairy godmother shows up in this lifetime, my wish is to have discovered that quote fifty years earlier. There were far too many times I hesitated at the threshold then turned away from the door, worried. . .no, not worried, but fearful of making mistakes.
I was in third grade at a brand new school. The teacher selected me to deliver the lunch money to the classroom next door. I remember standing outside that door. My heart was going like a trip hammer, and I was terrified that I had made a mistake and that I was the wrong door.
Why is it that children are trained away from making mistakes? Maybe a better question to ask is what compels us to compare ourselves to others, then conclude our own inferiority? Perhaps it’s genetic. Some of us stop when they don’t immediate achieve a desired outcome; others keep on learning from undesirable outcomes until they achieve mastery.
Yeah well! Spending time with those questions just keeps me from pushing the “publish button.” And before I go, here’s something else to chew on. Would it make any difference if there were answers for me?