ducks

Do you remember The Story about Ping, by Marjorie Flack?

I loved reading it as a child and was quite taken with the various Chinese people drawn in it, mostly because they had their head shaved with dark little pony tails here and there. As a mid-western little girl, they were something to behold.

I was thinking about Ping yesterday. Are you familiar with him? He is a fluffy yellow adorable duckling. He belongs to a big BIG family of aunts, uncles, cousins, mom, dad, brothers and sisters. Every day they are let off a boat with two wise eyes on the yellow waters of the Yangtze River (something else for a little girl to ponder).

They go about doing what ducks do… finding things to eat. Every evening, the ducks’ owner calls out to them, ‘lalalalalalalei’ and the ducks come running up to the little bridge to get on the boat. The very last duck gets a swat on the back. I’m not even sure that this swat hurt.

Ping didn’t want to be swatted, EVER, so he always made sure he was never last. Was it a pride issue? A fear issue? He had never been swatted, so how was he to know what the results would be?

But one day…. ONE day… he wasn’t paying attention. He was off doing his thing and by the time he heard the call, he knew full well he was going to be last. He was going to get spanked.

So he hid.

And he was all alone.

And he decided to find his wise boat and his family. But he got caught and had various misadventures.

Always looking for his family, he finally spots the wise boat and hears the owner call. And you can probably guess the rest. He is last… he doesn’t care anymore.

Sometimes we are off doing our own thing, avoiding what really needs to be done because we think it might hurt. We don’t even know if it really will. So we turn our backs on it, perhaps thinking that we are really doing something more important. We miss the boat. And find out it hurts even more.

New Year’s exercise…

nope, not situps or pushups or aerobics....

it is to write for 15 minutes a day. Let’s see if I can do this before I actually put it on my list for 2009.

Many of the people who know me know I thought I was going to be a writer when I grew up. When asked that question: What do you want to do when you are an adult? I would answer: Write.

My dad would laugh and say that wouldn’t pay the bills. So far he is right.

One of the ways to improve writing is to write, so perhaps by writing 15 minutes a day about anything that pops into my head will finally pay off.

Write now, I mean RIGHT now, I am thinking of Christmas lights. I am thinking that when I grew up, I really liked the colored lights. I still do. I liked the ones that blinked. I don’t anymore. It seems that the ones I buy that blink, all decide to blink at the same time, which leaves the tree totally dead looking half the time. We’ve adjusted the blinkers, but it seems to have made no difference. This year the hubby bought white lights. I like white lights, but the biggest deal for me is you have to have TONS of lights. We only have four strands, which means even though we only put them on the front of the tree, the bottom third still is dark. Unlit.

I think that the reason I like tons of white lights is that they remind me of stars. I’ve always been a sucker for stars. Right now in fact, I’m wearing star earrings that my sister gave me. They are one of my favorite pairs of earrings.

I liked lying on my parent’s deck at night, watching for falling stars, wishing on them, wanting to find the perfect soul for me to love. That was my wish for all time, each time.

I remember saying “Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight…” you got it: the perfect soul to love…

I wish I knew more about astronomy. I wish I knew how to read the stars. I’ve read enough books on how in the eastern part of the US, circa pre-railway, the best way to get cargo to California was to sail all around South America. It was a perilous journey. And the stars guided the captain and his crew. I would be so lost. It wouldn’t really matter that the stars down there would be different than the stars up here- I wouldn’t know. I can make almost anything look like the big dipper. Or the little dipper.

Stars are pretty. Stars twinkle. Stars make me feel small, make me feel safe, make me know that Someone created them. And me. For a purpose, although most of the time, I can’t figure that out.

Dang… I wrote all of that in seven minutes. I don't think I can do this 15 minute thing.

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket,

Save it for a rainy day….

silly little things

I am taking the easy way out here for a blog entry.

You Are: 50% Dog, 50% Cat

You are a nice blend of cat and dog. You're playful but not too needy. And you're friendly but careful. And while you have your moody moments, you're too happy to stay upset for long.

Are You More Cat or Dog?

You Are Flannel Pajamas

You seek comfort above everything else. You rather feel good than look good. You are a very relaxed person, especially when you're surrounded by your favorite things and people. You are a homebody. Home is the place where you can truly be yourself. You are likely to wear pajamas a lot. In fact, you often change into your pj's the minute you get home!

What Kind of Pajamas Are You?

you mean I had to get OUT of them?

You Are 10% Left Brained, 90% Right Brained

The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning. Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others. If you're left brained, you are likely good at math and logic. Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet. The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility. Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way. If you're right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art. Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports.

Are You Right or Left Brained?

how about you guys?

Merry Christmas

Who is this so weak and helpless, Child of lowly Hebrew maid,
Rudely in a stable sheltered, coldly in a manger laid?
'Tis the Lord of all creation, Who this wondrous path hath trod;
He is God from everlasting, and to everlasting God.

Who is this, a Man of sorrows, walking sadly life's hard way,
Homeless, weary, sighing, weeping, over sin and Satan's sway?
'Tis our God, our glorious Savior, Who above the starry sky
Now for us a place prepareth, where no tear can dim the eye.

Who is this? Behold Him shedding drops of blood upon the ground!
Who is this, despised, rejected, mocked, insulted, beaten, bound?
'Tis our God, Who gifts and graces on His church now poureth down;
Who shall smite in righteous judgment all His foes beneath His throne.

Who is this that hangeth dying while the rude world scoffs and scorns,
Numbered with the malefactors, torn with nails, and crowned with thorns?
'Tis the God Who ever liveth, 'mid the shining ones on high,
In the glorious golden city, reigning everlastingly.

(rockin' alto part!!)

oh, and Daddy, we sang Von Himmel Hoch at church Sunday. In English, though.

Merry Christmas to you and yours and for Theo, an extra special burp******