My last official day of summer was yesterday. That of course, means that today is the official first day of the fall semester.

Many are the feelings and thoughts with which my mind is occupying itself. One of the thoughts happens to be a quote I came across last spring. It is is a very true saying from the dedication portion of my chemistry book. A certain Mr. William Feather is the author of it.

"An Education isn't how much you have committed to memory, or even how much you know. It's being able to differentiate between what you do know and what you don't. It's knowing where to find out what you need to know; and it's knowing how to use the information once you get it."

Well said, no? I don't know about you, but it helps with that often forgotten aid called perspective.

Today is the birthday of the most wonderful man I know. Happy Birthday Dad!!

A Web of Words to Catch a Smile

It is true. I can myself confirm the old saying regarding the inspiration to write ignited in those who avidly read. I myself have been bit with the very bug, been rushed along in the mighty gale, been burned by the fire of a good book. More on that later of course, but now for the flood of words that have recently originated in my mind, run down my arm, and hurried from my fingers. Yes, here is, yet again, a very random web of words intended to catch a smile. This time, it was Monday's laundry that was the source of inspiration.

A Poem of the Sole: A grave reflection upon the continual occurrence of retrieving one sock from the dryer instead of two

~*~*~*~

Of all the queries from ages past,
The answer I’d most like to know,
Regards the mystery of two halves;
The mystery concerning the two soles


By soles I mean the socks I wear.
Those fabricated tubes of cloth,
Whose loss leads often to despair
And stirs within me hopeless wroth.


Respecting the allusive pair
Universal understanding is abreast.
And brilliant minds from here and there
Have pondered questions such as this:

In what part of traversing do,
The pair of one, split into two?


Conspiracy. Can that be it?
The washer and dryer would be to blame.
But why only socks so they bandit
And never treat other articles in manners of the same?


If not conspiracy, then what?
Do quarrels break out between the two?
Do jealousies and harsh words cut
And severe the friendship once like glue.


Or can it be, like all bosom friends,
Their natural paths do part.
Such farewells do not ensure the end
of the bond ‘tween kindred hearts.

Some solutions I will never find,
Of this I am convinced.
Some golden threads ne’er will unwind
The way through the labyrinth.


Alas, the answer yet evades my mind.
The mystery lingers on.
And though it may be solved in time,
I thus must end my song.

~*~
Copyright August 9th 2008

The Melodramatic Plea of a Pizza (after being sorely abused by me)

Following, is the most recent of my literary inspirations. To understand and appreciate it fully, I must give you the context. The shapeless blob over to my left is, contrary to what the first glance may surmise, pizza dough. I made dinner a few nights ago and after wrestling with this herbal ball of elasticity, I was able to produce this sorry shape. Had my recently wedded sister LK., been in the kitchen, I know this would not have happened. Despite claiming to "prefer baking over regular cooking," L.K is a wiz with pizza dough. I truly cannot explain her talent (neither can she since she certainly does not practice!), I can only say that it is a gift. After considering this fact and after staring at my pitiful doughy disk, a random rhyme popped into my cranium.

The following poem is dedicated to L.K and her mastery of pizza dough. This sad and melodramatic testimony of my pizza has one fault in that it does not have a proper title. After reading this tale with the passion and drama due it, I would ask for suggestions for the proper title. At the conclusion of writing such a piece I am, shall I say, at loss for words?

(Note: when I refer to "your" I am referring to L.K. herself)

The floured hands and dusted board
Kindled in my doughy soul unbridled fear.
No words describe that terrors sword,
Except the moan, “ Wish you’d been here!”


At first, with docile hands, seeming soft,
She plied me in a mound.
Then without warning, tossed aloft,
Then calloused knuckles pounded down.

My herbal epidermis broke.
My misshapen form, friendless and alone.
With one last and heartless stroke,
She me slapped down upon the stone.

Your tender hands would not have pulled
My delicate frame asunder.
No! All your faculties you would’st have culled
And not have made such blunders.

And though by now it is too late.
Lift not thy culinary nose and sneer.
Tis true, I cannot change my fate,
Yet I say again, “Wish you’d been here!”

Copyright July 2008

Move 'em on, head 'em up

That is right, tomorrow we "move 'em out" to deliver my sisters "stuff" to her new home in another state. Dad was unable to secure the smallest size truck from Penkse, however, that turned out to be a blessing in disguise. We ended up filling the size we got-- a 16 foot truck!! It is amazing the large quantity of items one little lady can possess! Loading took 2 1/2 hours for 3 1/2 adults (Mom was on the phone for half of the time). It was 2 1/2 hours of problem-solving, weight lifting, and laughter. After loading, the four of us celebrated with sparkling cider (we didn't have Coke and the bottles had been taking up shelf space since 2006) and a delicious, homemade tri-tip salad.

Hopefully, when I get back, I will have some pictures to share. Wagons ho!

Tidy Tips

Here are some simple tips to help you maintain your room/s so that you can fully enjoy that your summer. After all, we all work, think, and serve more effectively when we are unencumbered by clutter:

1. Close the closet door/s. This is such a simple act that makes a HUGE difference in the appearance of even the messiest of rooms.

2. Make you bed BEFORE you leave the room. This is one of the best things I have ever done when it comes to tidying up. The temptation to never make the bed is so much stronger after re-entering after breakfast. Plus a bed that is made does wonders psychologically as you go and start your day.

3. Put your laundry away. Seriously, it takes a wopp'n minute or two (perhaps 5 if you have a sizable stack of procrastination). No one likes wrinkly clothes anyway. Do everyone a favor.

4. Put things in your room/ space that you love. If you have an item that you just love (a picture, trinket, or collection) you are more likely to spend some time caring for it. Sometimes putting a flowering plant in your room is incentive to pay attention and and to give it some TLC. If a wilted and dried-up poise doesn't make a body feel guilty I don't know what will.

5. Do the 5 (or 10) minute pick up...once a day. I normally do this at night so that I can begin the next day without the confrontation of clutter. I actually don't time myself because it has become such a habit, however, if this is not a habit of yours, the timer is your best friend!!

I love my room. There is is just no getting around it. My little green room is my oasis and I love keeping it clean because it signifies that it is very own special space. Check out how many different items I have with my name on it!