Monday Morning's Rascal

Strange noise outside my breakfast room window this morning:  It was up to me to solve the unsolved mystery.  No one else even knew the possible danger that lurked between me and the two thin sheets of plate glass.  Everyone else in the house still slumbered and dreamed of yesterday's chicken enchiladas smothered with thick, smooth sour cream sauce.

With coffee pot in hand I inched towards the window, following the sounds.  It could be a cat.  Creatures like that do prowl my deck:  those, as well as opossums.  It could be a rat, but with the noise so loud, the rat would have to be inside.  Negative... don't even think that.  I'd rather it be a person out on the deck instead of a rat inside.

Backing up, I decided maybe I better finish making my coffee and get the glass pot out of my hand.  I just might drop it if startled, and common sense told me a cup of coffee might help me decipher just what was going on.  Besides, if it were a burglar... maybe he would GO AWAY, and I wouldn't have to subdue him.  Anyway, I'd hate to have to deal with the police before I put on my make-up.  They might arrest me for something similar to indecency.

Scratchy noise?  Not really.  Rustling noise?  Well, sort of.  It would sound off, then stop, as if waiting for a response.  I was not the one to answer, for I was the investigator.  Listening and looking were my tasks, and I took my job seriously.  The safety of my household depended upon me, and I, a solitary woman demanded an answer!

With nothing in hand, for the coffee was slow to drip, I armed myself with hands on hips and inched forward to the window.  Fear pulsed through my veins:  courage through my arteries.  I wasn't prepared for what I saw.  For there was nothing to see, but a robin.  I backed off and waited.  Surely the intruder would strike again, and I would catch it in the act.  Patience was my game, and I, Superwoman, would outlast the culprit and, save the day.

"There it is, again!", I whispered to myself.  "What is it?"  With steady eyes and ears attuned, I caught it in the act and witnessed first hand its trespassing deed.  It thrashed about giving its all to its mind-boggling purpose.  Determination defied the odds, and common sense it had not.  It unleashed its flurry as feathers flew, and my window clouded over with feathered dust.  That pitiful little robin kept bopping into my window, and my heightened senses felt sorry for the creature, but sorrier for myself since I had just cleaned that window two days earlier, and had waited a year to do so!

By gosh, and by darn... here I had revved up my super powers to conquer the world, at least the enemy outside, and now the enemy was no bigger than yesterday's lunch.  Super powers were not necessary at all:  just wasted energy.

With something very special muttered by my mouth, my hands flew up to shoo away the rascal.  As he flew away, my "uncaffeined" brain can't confirm what I saw, but with wings outstretched and a glint in its eye, I'd swear that that pesky little robin, that pretty little orange-breasted creature gave me a wave and a good bye sign...  one seen out on the highways and byways of life.  I'm not sure which one of us felt more stupid:  the bird that gave me "the bird"... or me.

Alas... what a way to to start a new day.  Guess even Super Women make enemies...

Looking for the Windex,
Cindy Lou

I told my husband about the robin and its strange behaviour. He said that he's familiar with the bird's activity of flying into the glass. It seems to happen only in the morning, and he suspects that the robin sees his reflection in the window and considers it a threat. Therefore, the sign language I saw was not meant for me, but rather for the other bird!

Gotta' love it!!!

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Daydream

I was so involved with my daydream that I missed my mouth with my coffee cup.  Surprising?  Not at all.

The imagery was spectacular, and the band was in the grove, uh groove.  There I stood with the microphone, not one ounce of fear piercing through my body.  All eyes were glued to this magical moment:  all ears tuned to the soft nuances that would soon flow from my soul.  No one knew this was the moment I had longed for.  No one knew the expense of this adventure.  No one knew.  No one cared.  No one, but I.

Spotlight intact.  Curtain up.  Applause filled the air with the echo of triumph.  Taking in one last breath, I opened my mouth to sing, and right there, in the middle of my daydream... was the sound of fire alarms and clanging bells!  Uh... no:  it was the telephone.  The audacious, stupid phone was screeching right in the middle of my once in a lifetime "moment".

So, there went the coffee all down my shirt.  There went the daydream:  there went the diva.  I felt like Ralphie, the little kid in the movie, The Christmas Story.  Spectacular were his daydreams that spinned with unbridled enthusiasm!  They out shined the grandest of schemes, and in this world of doubt, they kept his fragile, creative spirit alive.  No one knew about his secret scenarios.  No one knew about them at all, and no one cared.  Or, so he thought.

I guess, inside all of us dwells either a diva or a Ralphie, and somewhere along the way we picked up the notion that the child in us should grow up and throw aside our childish ways replacing them with grown-up thoughts and grown-up behavior.   (Oh, that's in the Bible.  Isn't it?  It's in I Corinthians 13:11.)  That's what is required of us as responsible adults, but I can see a meltdown coming if the child within is forgotten and never released to play, to create, or to daydream.

I don't know about you, but I am planning on longevity here in my life.  My long awaited first grandchild will soon be born, and I want to be around to see her coo & giggle, to see her take her first tiny steps, and to see her twist and turn as she masters her first pair of high heel shoes.  I would love to be around for her wedding day as she lovingly takes those solemn steps of marriage.  And when I arrive at those later stages of my life, I don't want to be a dried-up, old prude who doesn't know how to laugh, or sing, play, or daydream.  I want to be young at heart, and laugh at the days ahead... the days present. 

That sounds like quite a challenge, because aging can be terribly cruel.  Injuries and insults assault us, and time marches on without our permission.   As my Aunt Polly used to say, and now my mother says, "Aging ain't for sissies!"  Yes, I have to agree, it isn't.  Neither is daydreaming.  It takes a lot of courage for grown-ups to dream like a child, and even more courage, I think, to admit that we do.

They say that confession is good for the soul, so here you have it:  I confess.   I daydreamed, and it didn't cost me anything other than the time to wash my coffee-stained blouse.  That was just a few, well spent minutes, and I think that little snippet of time added new wonderment to my child-like faith.

What about you?  Have you daydreamed lately?  It isn't painful, and the child in you just might thank you for the freedom.  Dance, sing, build bridges, climb mountain cliffs, paint like Rembrandt, design fashions, write a best-seller novel, discover a cure for cancer, find a forgotten city, go to the zoo, go watch a baseball game, or imagine your flower beds a botanical wonder.  Be creative... there are no limitations when we daydream, and without our permission, no one can take our dreams away from us.

Because they are precious, we must protect our dreams, and we are instructed to guard them continually.  They can be a gift or a burden, so we are to use them wisely.  We should even pray about them, asking God what they should be and asking God to direct our thoughts and take them where He wants us to be.   Can't say that I remembered to do that before my "diva dream", but I should have.  For I have found that heavenly daydreams are the sweetest of all and the longest lasting.

Take heart, my friends.  There is hope for all of us!  With my grown up knowledge and my child-like faith, I face the future; and you can face it with me.  We may be fortunate enough to daydream a brighter future, and we may even be fortunate enough to find ourselves basking in the spotlight as we stand in front of cheering crowds.  Or, we may find ourselves flat on our backs facing the frightening sounds of emergency sirens.  No one can accurately predict what awaits us, but I do know that we don't have to face those times alone.  There is Someone who cares.... Someone who knows.  And, I would like to know Him better.

Think I'll grab my Bible, turn off the telephone, and ask God to fill me with His love and even more child-like faith.  It can happen, you know... and that doesn't have to be a daydream!

Blessings to you as you rediscover the child within you.  Guard it.  Protect it.  Nurture it.  And, then, give it a friend by the name of Jesus.

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou



"For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he..."
--Proverbs 23:7  King James Version, Holy Bible

"I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."
--Luke 18:17, New International Version, Holy Bible

"...there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother."
--Proverbs 18:24, New International Version, Holy Bible



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

Dire Consequences

"Out of coffee creamer this morning... Ugh! Have to be tough this morning and drink it black... Yuck! It's tough being a grown-up, tougher acting like one! :)"       ---posted on Face Book 9-18-2010

How do you envision yourself?  Do you see yourself as a competent adult?  Do you think of yourself as a kid in a grown up body?  Do you think of yourself as a team player?  Do you consider yourself a loner?  Do you consider yourself unique and a contribution to society?  How do you perceive yourself?  Really?

After posting today's comment on Face Book, I realized that I unconsciously exposed the real me!  Scary thought!  Wish I could retrieve my comment not just from Face Book, but from my mind and replace it with something more...... hmmmm, think I'll say, "grown-up".

It would thrill me if I could philosophically convince others that I am an intellect, and that I am consistently so, but a greater thrill would be if I could convince myself.  Even though, even I have a few "light bulb" moments, I don't see myself as a "thinker".  But I guess I am, at least right now.  The proof is here in front of me.

As I searched for some kind of coffee creamer this morning, my mind wandered back to some of my very first coffee experiences.  Grandma & Papa allowed me to use a cup & saucer, sometimes the LuRay yellow set, which was my very favorite.  But at our house we used mugs:  durable, sturdy, utility type mugs.  They were green, a light colored green with a few rough edges here & there.  When I complained about the roughness on the handle, Daddy just looked at me and said with a wink, that those rough edges would make me tough.  He also said something that I still laugh about.  He said that drinking coffee black would make black hairs grow on my chest!  Really, now!!!   Really?  For real???

So, here I sit, drinking my morning brew, pondering what to say:  pondering what to think.  I'm philosophizing and trying to convince myself and you, that I'm a smart person... that I am a smart woman.  But I can see that today I won't win that debate, because when it came right down to it, I just couldn't drink my coffee black.  No way...Yuck.  Not only does it taste bad that way, but it could have dire consequences if I do.  Really.  Really?  Really.  And, after all... I am a smart woman!

Really.

Cheers to all those folks who give us good memories and good things to smile about!  Raise your cups. Raise your mugs.  Raise your praise high.  Bravo, my friends, Bravo... and thank you!

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All rights reserved.