Day 6, three personality traits I am proud of. Well, first of all, of course, my humility....only kidding, it's a joke....you know, I am proud of my humility. Makes no sense.
I am not a fan of these self-interested prompts. But, as stated, I am trying to follow them as part of this challenge.
Okay, let me think...three personality traits I am proud of.....
1. I am an encourager, unless I am discouraging someone,which is always an accident caused by a clogged personal filter. I do try to be intentionally and genuinely encouraging.
2. Generally, I am not terribly fractious, unless I am. But, when I am feeling fractious, I do recognize it and can let everyone know to beware. Most of the time I am pretty content.
3. I am punctual. Is that a personality trait? I am not sure, but I can be counted on to be where I am supposed to be when I am supposed to be there.
Day 6 - three personality traits I am proud of - check
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
My Guilty Pleasure
Day 5 challenge is my guilty pleasure. This is a hard one for me. There are a lot of options. My 5 malted milk balls I get almost every time I go to Kroger or Fresh Market. I truly do enjoy that first Diet Coke every morning. I gain great pleasure in a nightly bath, and how fresh my Dove body wash smells. I often buy myself flowers, just because I love fresh flowers. I do love a spin through the sale room at Anthropologie. Oh, and I would be remiss if I failed to mention my love of Hallmark movies; dorky, formulaic, mushy, awesome Hallmark movies. On vacation, I read Danielle Steele. In my head, I tell some people off. I am brilliant and articulate and their lives change for the better because of my efforts.
I realize as I move through these challenges that I am as ordinary and provincial as a person can be. Perhaps, the fact that I am content in that station is my greatest guilty pleasure.
Day 5 - my guilty pleasure- check.
I realize as I move through these challenges that I am as ordinary and provincial as a person can be. Perhaps, the fact that I am content in that station is my greatest guilty pleasure.
Day 5 - my guilty pleasure- check.
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Meaning of my Business Name
Well, it seems i proved my lack of linear thinking by not.being.able.to.count! I do know that 3 comes before 4 but it was drawn to my attention that I goofed. So, today a twofer!!
My business name is "I'll Take Tennessee." It means: I = me! Marilyn Switzer, and hopefully as many 4th grade teachers, students, and parents I can entice to come on my tours. 'll= will, meaning to desire, choose, or consent.
Take = seize or capture, hmmmmmm
Tennessee = 16th state admitted to the United States; the place where I live.
So, the meaning seems to be, Marilyn Switzer desires to seize the 16th state of the Union.
Or, if you know someone who is studying Tennessee history, and they love a good narrative about people -what they felt, how they thought, what they did, then an I'll Take Tennessee tour might be for you.
Oh, and there is a website www.taketntours.com.
Day 3, what does your business name mean - check.
Riveting stuff, huh?
My business name is "I'll Take Tennessee." It means: I = me! Marilyn Switzer, and hopefully as many 4th grade teachers, students, and parents I can entice to come on my tours. 'll= will, meaning to desire, choose, or consent.
Take = seize or capture, hmmmmmm
Tennessee = 16th state admitted to the United States; the place where I live.
So, the meaning seems to be, Marilyn Switzer desires to seize the 16th state of the Union.
Or, if you know someone who is studying Tennessee history, and they love a good narrative about people -what they felt, how they thought, what they did, then an I'll Take Tennessee tour might be for you.
Oh, and there is a website www.taketntours.com.
Day 3, what does your business name mean - check.
Riveting stuff, huh?
Earliest Childhood Memory
Day 4 challenge is earliest childhood memory. I was four years old. My mom was something of a celebrity here. She was on The Noon Show with Judd Collins. She shared recipes and talked to people, and one time a hypnotist tried to put her "under" on air, but could not. He blamed it on her, saying she couldn't concentrate. Perhaps, my pinball machine mind is genetic?
Well, her TV work was the reason I had to go to daycare at MISS RUBY'S. Say MISS RUBY'S in your mind with a loud and menacing voice. I despised going to MISS RUBY'S. Truth be told, I do not remember anything specific about MISS RUBY, but I remember the hard dirt playground, the dirty little boys, and the lack of compassion shown by MISS RUBY and her minions. On the playground was a swing made from an oil drum, hanging on a frame by two ropes. One could swing straddling the drum, or we more lady-like girls in our dresses would sit daintily on the barrel and grasp the ropes. It was all quite idyllic in our minds. One day I asked someone to give me a push. When they obliged with great enthusiasm, I went flying off the back of the barrel, dress over my head, landing hard on my back in the dirt. When I cried, I was told, "you got what you asked for."
I rarely had to stay for rest time at MISS RUBY'S because my grandparents would pick me up. As much as I despised playtime at MISS RUBY'S it did not compare to my dislike of rest time. If one raised one's head from the cot and MISS RUBY saw it, she would snap her fingers and yell in a harsh voice, "put your head down right now!" She terrified me. I really only remember staying for rest time once. The memory still terrifies me.
I was never a squeaky wheel. Frankly, I am still not, really. For that reason my mother never knew how much I hated going to MISS RUBY'S until when I was 5. It was the first day of my second year at MISS RUBY'S, and Mom began to fix my hair, I began to cry. Great, gulping sobs. Mom was stunned. When she asked what was wrong, I poured my heart out about everything I could not bear to endure another year. She immediately called MISS RUBY, and told her that I would not be there. MISS RUBY had some unkind things to say, but she was no match for my mother. I spent my five-year-old year going to work at the television station with my mom. It was great!
Day 4 - earliest childhood memory - check
Well, her TV work was the reason I had to go to daycare at MISS RUBY'S. Say MISS RUBY'S in your mind with a loud and menacing voice. I despised going to MISS RUBY'S. Truth be told, I do not remember anything specific about MISS RUBY, but I remember the hard dirt playground, the dirty little boys, and the lack of compassion shown by MISS RUBY and her minions. On the playground was a swing made from an oil drum, hanging on a frame by two ropes. One could swing straddling the drum, or we more lady-like girls in our dresses would sit daintily on the barrel and grasp the ropes. It was all quite idyllic in our minds. One day I asked someone to give me a push. When they obliged with great enthusiasm, I went flying off the back of the barrel, dress over my head, landing hard on my back in the dirt. When I cried, I was told, "you got what you asked for."
I rarely had to stay for rest time at MISS RUBY'S because my grandparents would pick me up. As much as I despised playtime at MISS RUBY'S it did not compare to my dislike of rest time. If one raised one's head from the cot and MISS RUBY saw it, she would snap her fingers and yell in a harsh voice, "put your head down right now!" She terrified me. I really only remember staying for rest time once. The memory still terrifies me.
I was never a squeaky wheel. Frankly, I am still not, really. For that reason my mother never knew how much I hated going to MISS RUBY'S until when I was 5. It was the first day of my second year at MISS RUBY'S, and Mom began to fix my hair, I began to cry. Great, gulping sobs. Mom was stunned. When she asked what was wrong, I poured my heart out about everything I could not bear to endure another year. She immediately called MISS RUBY, and told her that I would not be there. MISS RUBY had some unkind things to say, but she was no match for my mother. I spent my five-year-old year going to work at the television station with my mom. It was great!
Day 4 - earliest childhood memory - check
Monday, December 28, 2015
20 Facts About Me
Well, this prompt is certainly an exercise in egotism. Who could possibly care to read 20 facts about me. I don't even want to read it. But, as I promised myself, I will try to follow the prompts faithfully.
20 things about me that you may not know.
1. Possibly I was the only cheerleader at Isaac Litton High School in all its years of existence who could not do a cartwheel...not even close.
2. When I am nervous, I type out words in my mind....and sometimes my fingers move too.
3. When I open kitchen cabinet doors, I never know what will fall out.
4. I once stuck my hand in a yellow jacket nest pretending I was Jeanette McDonald in a movie.
5. I am allergic to bee stings.
6. I am very prone to motion sickness.
7. My thought processes are like the inside of a pinball machine. I am not much of a linear thinker.
8. I once was stung in the throat (not on my neck) by a yellow jacket. A recurring theme?
9. I am not afraid of spiders.
10. I am afraid of mice and snakes.......and bees.
11. I was supposed to appear on TV with Eddie Arnold, but I fell on my neighbor's steps and pretty much demolished my face, thus losing my big chance at fame.
12. Sometimes I cheat on my FitBit as riotous rocking in a chair in my den will produce the effects of many steps, and sometimes I put it on one of my grandsons.
13. I think My Fitness Pal has some trust issues....well, if it doesn't, it should. I am pretty certain an entire carton of ice cream has more calories than the 47 I need to get to my daily 1200.
14. My vision is 20/200 without my glasses. That's not real good.
15. I am not proud, but I considered killing the grass in my neighbor's hard with salt spelling out the word "ass." I didn't do it, but I shocked myself when I realized how much I really wanted to.
16. I love flowers, but I have a brown thumb. So much so that my mother gave me an ornamental stone for my garden that says, "I tried, but it died."
17. I sometimes talk to Trigger and Marfa May, the scarecrows in my planter. Her Christmas poncho keeps blowing up over her head, and she needs to know that is immodest!
18. I once had a pink piano in my 80 square foot bedroom and I was convinced that all my stuffed animals who sat on it came alive at night. I talked to them too.
19. Sometimes I think inanimate objects have feelings.
20. I think, after reading items 1-19, I need to make an immediate appointment with a psychiatrist.
Day two, 20 things about me - check.
20 things about me that you may not know.
1. Possibly I was the only cheerleader at Isaac Litton High School in all its years of existence who could not do a cartwheel...not even close.
2. When I am nervous, I type out words in my mind....and sometimes my fingers move too.
3. When I open kitchen cabinet doors, I never know what will fall out.
4. I once stuck my hand in a yellow jacket nest pretending I was Jeanette McDonald in a movie.
5. I am allergic to bee stings.
6. I am very prone to motion sickness.
7. My thought processes are like the inside of a pinball machine. I am not much of a linear thinker.
8. I once was stung in the throat (not on my neck) by a yellow jacket. A recurring theme?
9. I am not afraid of spiders.
10. I am afraid of mice and snakes.......and bees.
11. I was supposed to appear on TV with Eddie Arnold, but I fell on my neighbor's steps and pretty much demolished my face, thus losing my big chance at fame.
12. Sometimes I cheat on my FitBit as riotous rocking in a chair in my den will produce the effects of many steps, and sometimes I put it on one of my grandsons.
13. I think My Fitness Pal has some trust issues....well, if it doesn't, it should. I am pretty certain an entire carton of ice cream has more calories than the 47 I need to get to my daily 1200.
14. My vision is 20/200 without my glasses. That's not real good.
15. I am not proud, but I considered killing the grass in my neighbor's hard with salt spelling out the word "ass." I didn't do it, but I shocked myself when I realized how much I really wanted to.
16. I love flowers, but I have a brown thumb. So much so that my mother gave me an ornamental stone for my garden that says, "I tried, but it died."
17. I sometimes talk to Trigger and Marfa May, the scarecrows in my planter. Her Christmas poncho keeps blowing up over her head, and she needs to know that is immodest!
18. I once had a pink piano in my 80 square foot bedroom and I was convinced that all my stuffed animals who sat on it came alive at night. I talked to them too.
19. Sometimes I think inanimate objects have feelings.
20. I think, after reading items 1-19, I need to make an immediate appointment with a psychiatrist.
Day two, 20 things about me - check.
Sunday, December 27, 2015
Then and Now
There are things I do too much of now that I used to not ever do; things like playing solitaire on the iPad or posting things on FB, or listening to my husband with one ear due to electronic distractions or texting someone instead of calling them or spending hours perusing Pinterest. Not all these things are bad, but I am feeling the need to make a few changes. Soon, oh, so soon, but not today, I am deleting solitaire and QuizUp and Trivia Crack from all devices. I am going to consciously pay attention to Mr. L even if he is discussing the price of gas or why that referee's signal was wrong. I will listen. There are those I will continue to text, it seems the only way to communicate with some people in my life, but I will try to actually talk to them from time to time as well. I will continue to look at FB. I love wishing people happy birthday, hearing about trips, seeing funny children and grumpy cats and your favorite YouTube videos. I love your pictures. I have already begun blocking those who are politically or religiously strident and unkind. That kind of negativity can start a day off or wind a day down poorly. Because I rationalize that I have not spent money on a magazine since I discovered Pinterest, I have made some stellar dishes from recipes found on that site, the boys and I have done countless crafts and projects, and I dearly love the creativity of people who post marvelous hints and ideas, I will not be giving up my Pinterest fascination, but I will try to limit new pins and wade through the bazillion I already have. In fact, this blog is the result of a Pin. It came in the form of a 31-day challenge to post a blog a day with prompts to spark a bit of creativity. We will see how dedicated I am.
There are things I used to do that I do not do as often now, like read books. I used to be a voracious reader, but I have allowed mindless electronic pursuits crowd out my joy of reading; well, that and my absolute inability to stay awake at night. I intend to read more this year. I used to take a photograph a day and keep them in a hard-copy journal with little tidbits of trivia about the picture and the day. I did that for 5 or 6 years, but recent starts and stops have sort of killed my enthusiasm. While I may not keep a daily journal, I do intend to take more photos of beautiful or odd things, and not just of my grandchildren, though I will not be slowing down on my picture taking of them. That
brings me too much pleasure. This year I bought myself an art journal of 44 pages of watercolor paper. I am going to try my hand at that. I enjoy watercolors more than other kinds of paint simply because I don't have to wear a hazmat suit while using them. With oils and acrylics, I make a huge mess. I do not excel at any of them, so I figure why not stick with the one I find most convenient. Well, and I do love watching what watercolors do.
So day one of 31 days of blogging prompts says make an introduction. The 5 of you who happen to read this blog know me already. This is my intro to the next 31 days of blogging-well, maybe I will make it 31 days, for self-discipline is another of those things I could use a bit more of. Probably I was supposed to start this January 1, but too many rules will ruin the experience.
Day one-introduction - check.
There are things I used to do that I do not do as often now, like read books. I used to be a voracious reader, but I have allowed mindless electronic pursuits crowd out my joy of reading; well, that and my absolute inability to stay awake at night. I intend to read more this year. I used to take a photograph a day and keep them in a hard-copy journal with little tidbits of trivia about the picture and the day. I did that for 5 or 6 years, but recent starts and stops have sort of killed my enthusiasm. While I may not keep a daily journal, I do intend to take more photos of beautiful or odd things, and not just of my grandchildren, though I will not be slowing down on my picture taking of them. That
brings me too much pleasure. This year I bought myself an art journal of 44 pages of watercolor paper. I am going to try my hand at that. I enjoy watercolors more than other kinds of paint simply because I don't have to wear a hazmat suit while using them. With oils and acrylics, I make a huge mess. I do not excel at any of them, so I figure why not stick with the one I find most convenient. Well, and I do love watching what watercolors do.
So day one of 31 days of blogging prompts says make an introduction. The 5 of you who happen to read this blog know me already. This is my intro to the next 31 days of blogging-well, maybe I will make it 31 days, for self-discipline is another of those things I could use a bit more of. Probably I was supposed to start this January 1, but too many rules will ruin the experience.
Day one-introduction - check.
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
I Miss Him
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| Love this man, and I actually thought this sweater was adorable...where is it when I need an ugly Christmas sweater? |
I miss him. This will be the 18th Christmas without him, my wonderful, handsome, kind, gentlemanly daddy. He would have had you believe that Christmas was a humbug. He loved playing the role of Scrooge, but he was no Scrooge. He was not a particularly good gifter nor receiver of gifts. I remember one year early in my marriage, I knitted Daddy a scarf. He opened it and said, "that's nice, but I will never wear it." Funny how that might have hurt my feelings coming from someone else, but that was "just Daddy," and I adored him. Even if he might have grumbled, he always helped Mom fashion elaborate wreaths for the front door. He always made sure the spotlight hit the wreath perfectly.He may not have been a shopper, but he wanted to be sure that we had what we needed and what we wanted. Mom was in charge of acquiring those gifts. What Daddy loved most about Christmas was being with family. He may have talked about too many kids, too many gifts or too many decorations, but he loved us all. I miss him.
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| Does this look like a Scrooge to you? |
I miss him, that beautiful, complicated, sensitive, wounded oldest brother of mine. This will be the tenth Christmas without him. Truth be told, our last few Christmases together were strained in many ways for many reasons. As time goes, if I am allowed to follow my own heart, those uncomfortable Christmases fade into the background while congenial ones become more vivid. Mr. L worked with my brother for several years. I remember a specific Christmas office dinner and gathering at my brother's home at which he made me feel most welcomed and loved. Probably, as long as I live I will be able to feel his hand gently resting on my shoulder as we gathered in his parlor (it is an old house and "living room" will not do-it was a proper parlor) and he thanked us all for being there. He was a great giver of gifts. He loved beautiful things, and loved giving beautiful things to others. He loved the decorations, the music, the fanfare of the holidays. I miss him.
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| A merry Christmas |
I miss him. This is our first Christmas without him, my straightforward, uncomplicated, big-hearted brother. His health was such last year that he could not join us for the family gatherings, but we all made sure to see him during the week of Christmas. I think I took the boys, and maybe some Christmas treat. He had the family sweet tooth. He loved my mother's boiled custard. My memories of him are loud and bright and span my entire lifetime. My childhood Christmas memories cannot be separated from him. He was a mischief maker. With his beautiful face and rosy cheeks, he looked like a really jolly Santa. While he required very little in the way of material goods, he wanted to be sure everyone else had what they needed. One year after playing Dirty Santa, my brother had relentlessly stolen what Mr. L. had opened. It was one of those foot spas for aching, tired feet. My sister-in-law teased my brother about taking that gift from the one person who actually needed such a thing because of all Mr. L's running. When we left my mom's that night, in the backseat of our car sat that foot spa. That is who he was. I miss him.
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| This was less during his Santa look alike days, and more his James Dean/Paul Newman days.
So, today, I wish you Christmas blessings
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Sunday, December 13, 2015
Guilty or Grateful
This world seems in a mess. Students of history would tell us that it has been worse. This is our mess, however, and there are times it feels as though it never will be any different.
In my heart I have great empathy for the Syrian refugees. I can only try to imagine what it must be like to live in such fear, or worse in such fear for one's children. I have no comprehension of living in camps with thousands of other refugees, depending on others for every necessity, and knowing that in many parts of the world you are despised simply because you are.
There are child soldiers in Congo and other areas who have been indoctrinated, threatened, and forced to kill their families.People die all over this world for lack of fresh water. They die of dehydration, kidney disease and other conditions simply because there is no local means of getting fresh water. Children live on dumps and die from starvation and the effects of sniffing glue in Kenya. Approximately 85 young people travel through this city every week being transported across state lines for the specific purpose of sexual slavery. Right here in the buckle of the Bible Belt there are homeless people sleeping in the rain and eating out of garbage cans. There are marriages falling apart or miserably staying together; where spouses derive no pleasure in each other's company. There are people languishing in the throes of addiction. There are people in prison who truly did not have any hope for much of anything else for no one told them it could be different.
Yes, it seems this world is in a mess. I contemplate these things as I walk in my quiet, safe neighborhood. I wonder about these matters when I get a drink of water or wash my dishes or take a leisurely bath. I think about these situations when I have the choice of what or where, not if, I will eat my next meal. It crosses my mind when I look at my kind and hilarious husband.
So, what do I do? Do I feel guilty because I walk peacefully in my neighborhood where people are better able to take care of their pets than some are able to care for their own children? Do I feel guilty when I take a long bath after a day that I consider tiring that someone from another part of the world would think was a cake walk? Do I feel guilty because when it rains I can come into a warm, cozy home and be dry? Do I feel guilty because most days I eat three meals, and I get to eat what I want? Do I feel guilty because after 41 years of marriage I still find my husband a joy to spend time
with?
I choose to not feel guilty. I choose to be grateful. Certainly, out of that gratitude I am compelled to help where I can with money and time and prayer. I want to choose to "bloom where I am planted." I want to meet needs where I can, and sometimes that means giving of my time and sometimes it means giving money and sometimes it means praying. Sometimes it means a kind word. Sometimes it means keeping my mouth shut. Sometimes it means caring for my family and sometimes it means reaching out beyond that. I will choose to be grateful and not feel guilty, trying to remain ever mindful of those hurting, for whatever reason. Pain is pain whether we bring it on ourselves or not.
I blame my FitBit for this blog. It is a persistent task master, and the time I spend seeking those 10,000 daily steps is the time I best hear the whisperings of the Spirit. I hear, "be grateful for life's beautiful gifts...don't feel guilty about the beautiful people and activities in your life....help every time and every place you can. It is arrogant to do otherwise."
For today, I wish you a grateful heart, a blessed Christmas, a new year with peace that passes all understanding of the mess it seems this world is in, and I wish you
Blessings
In my heart I have great empathy for the Syrian refugees. I can only try to imagine what it must be like to live in such fear, or worse in such fear for one's children. I have no comprehension of living in camps with thousands of other refugees, depending on others for every necessity, and knowing that in many parts of the world you are despised simply because you are.
There are child soldiers in Congo and other areas who have been indoctrinated, threatened, and forced to kill their families.People die all over this world for lack of fresh water. They die of dehydration, kidney disease and other conditions simply because there is no local means of getting fresh water. Children live on dumps and die from starvation and the effects of sniffing glue in Kenya. Approximately 85 young people travel through this city every week being transported across state lines for the specific purpose of sexual slavery. Right here in the buckle of the Bible Belt there are homeless people sleeping in the rain and eating out of garbage cans. There are marriages falling apart or miserably staying together; where spouses derive no pleasure in each other's company. There are people languishing in the throes of addiction. There are people in prison who truly did not have any hope for much of anything else for no one told them it could be different.
Yes, it seems this world is in a mess. I contemplate these things as I walk in my quiet, safe neighborhood. I wonder about these matters when I get a drink of water or wash my dishes or take a leisurely bath. I think about these situations when I have the choice of what or where, not if, I will eat my next meal. It crosses my mind when I look at my kind and hilarious husband.
So, what do I do? Do I feel guilty because I walk peacefully in my neighborhood where people are better able to take care of their pets than some are able to care for their own children? Do I feel guilty when I take a long bath after a day that I consider tiring that someone from another part of the world would think was a cake walk? Do I feel guilty because when it rains I can come into a warm, cozy home and be dry? Do I feel guilty because most days I eat three meals, and I get to eat what I want? Do I feel guilty because after 41 years of marriage I still find my husband a joy to spend time
with?
I choose to not feel guilty. I choose to be grateful. Certainly, out of that gratitude I am compelled to help where I can with money and time and prayer. I want to choose to "bloom where I am planted." I want to meet needs where I can, and sometimes that means giving of my time and sometimes it means giving money and sometimes it means praying. Sometimes it means a kind word. Sometimes it means keeping my mouth shut. Sometimes it means caring for my family and sometimes it means reaching out beyond that. I will choose to be grateful and not feel guilty, trying to remain ever mindful of those hurting, for whatever reason. Pain is pain whether we bring it on ourselves or not.
I blame my FitBit for this blog. It is a persistent task master, and the time I spend seeking those 10,000 daily steps is the time I best hear the whisperings of the Spirit. I hear, "be grateful for life's beautiful gifts...don't feel guilty about the beautiful people and activities in your life....help every time and every place you can. It is arrogant to do otherwise."
For today, I wish you a grateful heart, a blessed Christmas, a new year with peace that passes all understanding of the mess it seems this world is in, and I wish you
Blessings
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