Tracking
My little grandson was 8 weeks old yesterday. Crazy hard to believe, but then it's May already. MAY. Ridiculous. As it turned out, his due date had been miscalculated, because when he arrived they realized that he was not as far along gestationally as they'd thought. After a few weeks, my daughter was a little concerned that he didn't seem to be tracking with her (locking his eyes onto her face, or an object, and following it when she moved it). He didn't really seem to lock onto anything, almost appearing to look past it. But, just about the time she was ready to ask the doctor about it, he showed up to the party. Now he's a tracking professional. He tracks toys, and other kids,...
Allergic Reaction
Spring. Beautiful flowers, green trees, lush grass, itchy eyes, pouring and/or impacted sinuses...yes, lovely, amazing spring is a two-faced scoundrel in my house, especially to me. As much as I adore it, my body does not, especially when the oak and grass are high in the counts. It stages a revolt the likes of which haven't been seen since...well, the Revolution. So I watch the counts and try to stay ahead of what's coming, avoiding being outside when mowing is going on (Which is a bummer because I love to mow. Yes, really.) I make sure my arsenal of both prescription and OTC drugs is full of fresh inventory, secure eye drops for every possible location I might need them, and stock...
Let it be an Offering
When I was a little girl, my parents would let us put some money in the offering plate at church. The heavy, wooden plate with the maroon velvet lining in the bottom would pass under our noses and we would each drop our offering in it, proud. It was good teaching, certainly, but I don't think we ever really felt any sacrifice in it. After all, the money wasn't ours ; we just happened to be its mode of transportation from Dad's wallet to the offering plate. I do remember, though, when we each received a little (plastic? tin?) church in Sunday School, into which we were to place coins for a specified time and then turn back in. It could've been for a specific purpose or cause that we...
And So It Begins
Once upon a time, there was a boy. He was a wonderful boy, filled with mischief and adventure outside the classroom, but filled with angst and frustration inside its walls. Today, he would've been diagnosed with Dyslexia, but then, they thought he was having problems reading because he was left-handed. So, they pulled him out of his class, and put him into a program referred to as "Plan A." There, he joined a lot of other kids labeled as 'different,' kids with special needs of all kinds. They worked and worked to change his handedness, and two things happened as a result: 1) he became ambidextrous 2) he fell behind in school. Fortunately, over time, he received the help he really...
It Just Takes a Change in Perspective
We have all manner of plants out here on our little ranch. In the spring, I see a lot of blooms I've never seen before, and some are just exquisite. Really intricate in design, and look like art. Case in point: I look at that and think what a great photo-on-canvas it would make, or how the pattern itself would make a great wallpaper. Just beautiful. If you pull out a bit from the image, you can see that it's round. What an interesting addition to a floral arrangement, I consider to myself. Or maybe a round throw-pillow with this image on it. It's really all in the perspective of things, if you think about it...the way we frame them in our minds. Do we look only at the whole of a...