Three Thoughts for Thursday


  1. Dealing with website issues for almost a week at has revealed two more personal character flaws: I have some unresolved patience issues, and I have as much chance of landing a job in the tech field as making the 2016 Olympic gymnastics team.
  2. The Japanese beetle’s mindset is the insect equivalent of a World War 2 kamikaze pilot mindset: leave no survivors or die trying.
  3. On almost every morning this week, I’ve crossed paths with a doe and her twin fawns. Each encounter is a reminder that God is the Master Creator. What signs of His creativity have amazed you lately?

Three Cloudy Thoughts for Thursday

After a month and a half with nary a storm cloud in the sky, a few welcome rains have fallen on our little patch of earth. Not quite enough for the weather powers to declare an end to the drought of 2012. But enough for the resident man of steel to go a few rounds with the lawn mower and for me to think of these three rainy thoughts for Thursday.

  1. Apparently, Japanese beetles don’t like the rain. Though it’s more fun to imagine them huddling under the eaves because they can’t find itty-bitty umbrellas to match their itty-bitty kimonos.
  2. All it takes is one good rain and one swath around the lawn with the mower, and the kitchen floor is covered with grass clippings.
  3. Every rainy morning, my pathetic tan, acquired during early morning walks spent soaking up a year’s worth of Vitamin D, fades a little. So much for my dream of attaining the tan and toned body necessary to audition for the Jane Fonda role in a remake of one of my favorite movies, On Golden PondYouTube Preview Image

How about you? What movie do you want to see remade and what role would you play in it?

Three Etymological Thoughts for Thursday

This year’s lack of rain hasn’t had much effect on bugs as far as I can see. In fact, sharing our digs with them led to this week’s three etymological thoughts for Thursday.

  1. Every time someone mentions Japanese beetles, I imagine sweet little black beetles wearing itty-bitty kimonos. Unfortunately, real Japanese beetles aren’t nearly so cute.
  2. About a week ago, a teeny-tiny centipede greeted me when I opened the dishwasher one morning. When I opened it a few days later, a great big centipede did the same. If this pattern continues, I’m putting Ghostbusters on my speed dial.
  3. The drought has produced a bumper crop of grasshoppers. They remind me of the grasshoppers my little brother and I (see above picture) held during a childhood trip to Kansas with our aunt and uncle’s family. Our littlest cousin, Julie, called grasshoppers “hopgrassers.” Ever since, I have to remind myself. “They’re grasshoppers, not hopgrassers.” I also have to think twice to avoid confusing the words rubber band and Band Aids.

How about you? What words do you have to think twice about before speaking?

Time for a Haircut

This summer has not been kind to the flower beds along our bit of gravel road.

Blame it on Hiram’s back injury preventing yard work.
Blame it on the heat trapping us indoors after he recovered.
Blame it on the drought eating up my time watering.
Blame it on the Japanese beetles gnawing leaves and blossoms to shreds.
Blame it on my tendency to use any excuse to avoid weeding.
Blame it on whatever you want, but like I said…

This summer has not been kind to the flower beds along our bit of gravel road.

So Hiram and I were surprised when a Sunday morning peek outside showed the sweet potato vines were taking over the patio. The vines’ fingers, which three days ago were hanging close to their container pot homes, were inching up the trumpet vine pole, snaking across the grass, and twining around the patio furniture.

I blame their wild abandon on Saturday’s rain.

The downpour and the cool down that followed had a similar effect on me. I snaked my way around the house, twining my fingers around windows long shut and impatiently tugging them open, though rain was still falling. I understood the sweet potato vine’s over-the-top response to the rain. But if such behavior continued unchecked, the patio would disappear forever. The the patio furniture. And finally the house.

So I grabbed the plant clippers, and gave the vines a haircut.

They required some persuasion to relax their grip on the patio furniture. And they dragged their snaky little feet in the crispy, brown grass while I hauled them across the lawn to the refuse pile. Once the job was done, I put the clippers away. Heading toward the house, I noticed the pesto had grown about 6 inches since the rain.

Maybe cosmetology school would be a wise investment.