20 Lines A Day

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Weekend Plans to Make You Smile

 

It it a big weekend on the comedy stage.

Laughter and hilarity are the costumes they wear.

Audience participation is how they will gauge.

As the Improv ensues- Come out if you dare!

 

There will be games and music for all to enjoy.

Vendors, carts, and stands full of food.

A karaoke band to help sing out your joy.

On a hot, summer night, this will lighten the mood.

 

This is a carnival of medium proportion

With jesters and quartets of some fame.

No cover charge or any such notion

Spend your dollars on goodies and games.

 

A once a year kind of deal.

Bring the whole family to see.

It does not matter how low you feel

For the good times will make you happy.

 

 

 

Copyright © Jamie Nowinski and Grandmother Wisdom/ Grandmother Musings 2012-2013.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jamie Nowinski – Grandmother Wisdom/Grandmother Musings with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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A Comedy Tonight

A tragedy it is, when drama’s left to rule my life

And all about the tears I cry, the worries and the strife

What fun that it can be to take the drama all around

And turn it into comedy and laughter, I have found

~~~

I know that it’s not easy implementing this ideal

The drama that I sometimes have, is sorrowful and real

I know I must allow myself sometimes to frown and cry

To cry out to my God above and ask, Lord when?  Lord why?

~~~

But wallowing is not an option I’ll allow myself

I’ve been there and I’ve done that, now I’ve put it on the shelf

It’s much more fun to smile and laugh, e’en in the midst of pain

And in the end, the difference ‘tween insanity and sane.

~~~

So laugh at me, I won’t protest, when I am feeling blue

But don’t forget that I will do the same regarding you

I do not speak of making fun of pain that’s raw, and real

I have a heart that feels for you, it is not made of steel

~~~

Above all, may I not forget that kindness matters much

Cold shoulders often harden hearts, not so a gentle touch

This is the day the Lord has made…that’s what I’m talking ’bout

I will rejoice, and glad I’ll be, and of His love I’ll shout!


4 Comments

Morning air..

English: Morning still-life. Monotypy. 2004

English: Morning still-life. Monotypy. 2004 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

         I get up everyday to the same smell of rejuvenated life . The attitude of the past slowly leaving as the new fills the day . I sometimes get stuck in the past as we all have small failures while we heal and look for future success . This particular morning the feelings a bit stronger , the fresh air engulfs my being like the sight of a newborn life . The flood of emotions that haunted my day are being sorted , revisited , processed  so future feelings can be dealt with in a more resourceful manner without the fear of relapse . I have been so afraid of feeling , I have regressed my natural sense of  livelihood . I have accepted less from my day-to-day existence , hiding from the joys of family and friends only to be living in lies from one to another . This new day , today’s new air has something for me , I feel it . I know I’m here for a reason , this feeling , this caress that life holds for me is overflowing today . I love the smell of morning air……..


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a friend ..

 

with friends you never walk alone

always love to speak on the phone

your best is there through thick and thin

cheering you on if you lose or win

we always feel there’s none for me

if we knew who cared , surprised we’d be

no matter what we think in the end

we ll always be missed , by a friend

 

PLEASE LIKE AND SHARE BELOW ..THANKS   TIMZAUTO..

 


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Captain of My Own Destiny

Math Mark

Math Mark (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have to admit that I’ve had a love/hate relationship with my brain for as long as I can remember. Our relationship began to have trouble when I was in the third grade. Evidently, I was unable to keep up with the class when it came to math, and I was dispatched, to my utter dismay and humiliation, to a mobile classroom on the outskirts of the school for an hour each day. While the rest of my class stayed put, I would have to scoop up my flagrantly different math text-book, exit the class with my cheeks burning, walk the long distance to the Special Ed building, all the while feeling stupid,  and meet a sugary sweet teacher who would talk to me like I was not only mathematically challenged, but also having trouble understanding the English language. The whole experience was completely appalling to me, and I decided that I’d work extra hard on my own so I could get out of the Special Education Math Class.

To me, my circumstances have always been something that I felt I could change, if I could just figure out a plan of action.

Evidently, I have always been a control freak.. :-)

My plan was to get better at math immediately. Back then, though, there were no home computers, much less the World Wide Web, so I was a tiny bit unsure about how to go about becoming a mathematical genius overnight. Luckily, my mother had a set of Encyclopedia Britannica‘s, and I began my quest right there. Everyday after school, I would begin my research into a quick, sure way to improve my brain’s performance.  Often, I would get distracted from my mission, running across something entirely unhelpful, but way more interesting.

And in time,  I found a little excerpt from an old research study that stated  how the brain worked in general, and had come to the conclusion that people who write with their left hands tended to have better mathematical abilities. Ah Ha! I thought.  All I needed to do, in my own estimation, was to teach myself to write with my left hand. This, I surmised, would “wake up” the right side of my brain, and I’d be a mathematical wiz…Good-bye, Special Ed Math. Hello, Popularity and Wealth. Actually, I didn’t really care about the popularity and wealth thing so much..just getting out of that humiliating class.

I had this gut feeling that I’d just stumbled on to a little known cure, and that soon, I’d leave my classmates in my mathematical dust…

So, I did exactly that. I practiced writing with my left hand for weeks, then months, and then years. To this day, I will occasionally write with it just to make sure I still can. I have so blended my left hand/right hand capabilities that I made myself somewhat ambidextrous.  :-)

But did it help my math abilities? I did catch up in math during my fourth grade year, and then later, in high school, I was able to hold my own, and to get good grades. I scored higher than average in math on my SAT’s, though I always find English grammar, literature, and the like easier to learn and understand, and those scores were higher than my math scores. I ended up working most of my life in accounting.

I have no idea if my little quest tricked my brain or not. Maybe, because I believed that it would make me smarter in math, it did. All I know is that I’ve learned that the brain is exceedingly magnificent and complicated, and we can train it to do what we want. Too cool!

One teacher that I admired and respected once told me that I was unusually logical, always breaking everything down to its simplest forms, which was actually a mathematical skill, and he thought it was unlikely that I was ever behind in math, but instead just wasn’t being taught in a method that I could learn from. Back then, in the 1970′s, the multiplication tables were taught by memorization, and he theorized that this method would not have been something I could have kept up with. A bunch of numbers memorized for reasons I couldn’t explain would not have been easy for me to retain. Instead, had the teachers shown me what exactly was actually being done when you multiply 2 by 2, I would have kept up just fine.

I remember thinking that I liked that teacher’s theory about my brain, but a tiny part of me wants to believe that in elementary school, I figured out a way to trick my brain into being smarter in math. :-)

– Bird


15 Comments

Dreams, Like Wine, Need Time To Age

Vicar

Vicar (Photo credit: Nick Kidd) A Man Who Isn’t Afraid to Dream!!!

So, I was strolling through the internet this evening, really rather bored, but trying to keep my hyper-vigilant brain from worrying to death over the fact that my husband has been on his motorcycle for 5 hours on a trip, and hasn’t called me even once to let me know he’s alive, and I came across this little nugget of delight:

Vicar Quits To Become Elvis Presley Impersonator

And it got me thinking about dreams. I may be mistaken, but I think it is safe to say that everyone in the world has had at least one dream while growing up. Of course, depending on where you come from, the dreams would vary drastically. I imagine if you are starving in a hut in a third world country, getting enough food to live to puberty would be a common dream. However, in America, the dreams are probably a little bigger and less life-sustaining. For me, when I was little, I dreamed of being an architect. My favorite uncle,  The Master Debater and All Around Most Awesome Uncle Ever, my Uncle John, gave me some of the tools an architect would use, and I spent endless hours designing fantastic mansions. Then, after a relatively small amount of time, I realized that I just kept designing the same mansion over and over again, and the luster wore off the dream. Well, that and the amount of math involved…So, I moved on to other dreams (tap dancer, stand-up comedian, Comparative Religion Professor), but the only other one that ever stuck was to be a writer.

In my family, there are several excellent, published writers, and even more just as excellent, unpublished writers. What is really cool about this dream, though, is that we all write different genres, and none of us write with the same kind of “voice”. For instance, my brother writes about his church ministry and how he and some other financially strapped guys were able to build a church from scratch. Yes, he and I have the same sense of humor, but our interests couldn’t be further apart and our approaches to life are spectacularly different. My mother wrote many, many romance novels. They are actually really clever, well written, and juicy… but have you ever read a graphic love scene written by your mom? :(   I can barely read a romance novel, much less one written by my mom, and to write one…I am not that gifted. Romantic I am not! I have an  aunt who writes young adult books, including some kind of strange book that lets you make decisions throughout the whole thing, which then changes the ending. Witty and interesting, but beyond my abilities…..And another aunt that wrote science fiction back in the 60′s and 70′s. I was told that one of her books was made into a story for some drama series back then, but I’ve forgotten all the details. Strange that our interests never once seemed to cross over with the number of writers in this family, but so far, that is the way it has all turned out.

I blew off my dream to write most of my adult life. I’d written a couple of fiction books as a teenager, but I cringe to even speak of them. They were horrible. I just figured that my writing career would go the way of my architect career…no where. I just didn’t have the imagination one would need to create a believable story.

So, I lived my life, married, had a family (not in that order), and worked my little accounting jobs and all but forgot my childhood dream.

Then, I set up my blog, and I started writing about stuff I was interested in, or things I felt I wanted to share about myself, and boom! The dream came back to life like Snow White being kissed by Prince Charming! And you know what? It occurs to me that I am now in a better position to be a writer because I’ve lived a whole life. I’ve endured this circus show called life, and now I actually have something to say. I have something I can write about from the heart, and with real honesty and conviction. The dying embers of the flame of hope have been fanned into a roaring bonfire, and for the first time since I was a little girl, I have a real dream to work towards!

And vicars who quit their jobs to become Elvis Presley impersonators serve as a MASSIVE inspiration to me…Thank you, Vicar! You are my hero.

You are the wind beneath my wings… :)

I just think we never get too old to dream, and we should go for it!!! What is your dream??

– Bird


The Red Carpet of My Mind

Bird:

Reblogged from Everyone Has a Story…

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

It occurs to me that making friends on the internet is kind of an odd exercise when it comes to me. I spend a lot of time watching people…how they speak, what they say, body language, tone inflection, etc. Last night, I spent a good amount of time talking with Sara, and we talked for hours about subjects I’ve almost never discussed with anyone in my entire life, except maybe with Audra.

When I first set up my blog, it never occurred to me to not put my picture on my gravatar or in the About Me section…But some of my new friends on the internet chose to keep their physical appearance a secret. In fact, most of my Blogosphere friends who opted for anonymity have been assigned a “look” in my head based on some pretty goofy criteria.

For instance, Sara looks like Katherine Heigl to me in my…

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Preventative Measures and My Panty Drawer

Bird:

A recent offering…

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

Panties For Peace

Panties For Peace (Photo credit: divid3d)

Yesterday evening, I swore offf watching the news. Forever. But, as my world often does, I was thrown a curve ball. My husband won’t jump on the anti-news bandwagon with me. I guess the upside of this latest little battle is that I would have missed the breaking news that is happening right here in Tulsa. A rogue exterminator has been caught rifling through a woman’s bra and panty drawer. It scares me to know just how close I came to missing this valuable little nugget of life. Here is the full story: Exterminator Caught in Bra and Panty Drawer.

I often ponder what makes people take the risks they do when it comes to decisions like this. For the life of me, why do men want to look at a woman’s underthings in a drawer?? I mean, I get it when men, being visual creatures,  want to…

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The First Time I Met Chef’s Entire Extended Family

Bird:

Chef introduces me to The Family.

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

Mariachi en la ciudad de Guadalajara, Jalisco,...

Mariachi en la ciudad de Guadalajara, Jalisco, México. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Chef is from a very, very large Hispanicfamily. His mother is the eldest child of 13 kids. How incredibly awesome is that?? Basically, her parents gave birth to their own football team, with alternates. I love that…Anyways, Chef’s white father left his family pretty early on in Chef’s life, and left his mom and her very large, close-knit family, to raise their four kids. Sad, but it was what it was.

To introduce me to this large extended family, Chef thought it would be fun to take me to one of his family’s get-togethers. And these people throw a fantastic party. Good food, good locations, and Mariachi‘s for entertainment. And I was really nervous, but excited to be going. When we arrived, the family was really nice to me, especially my new mother-in-law. The only fly in the soup was that they all spoke Spanish

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Google Knows I’m God’s Worst Child

Image representing Google Images as depicted i...

Image via CrunchBase - Google Knows Everything!!

I just love WordPress‘s dashboard. It is fun to see the little map light up with color, or to see how many times someone looks up my gravatar. I love the breakdown of which of my many bizarre stories people have continually looked up…they are never the ones I think were my best! But best of all, is the search terms that people typed into Bing or Google that led them to my site. I have wonderful ones.

Without doubt, Disclaimer: I’m God’s Worst Child Ever is my popular article of all time. So, approximately 180 people have typed in “God’s worst child” and they’ve been directed to me. Out of curiosity, I’ve been asking random friends to type that in and see what comes up. Guess what! My article..no wonder it is doing well. My son typed the phrase in to Google Images, and my picture pulls up. I guess I’m seriously God’s Worst Child!!

Number two article is trailing behind the first one at 169 searches, and it is How My Own Brain Humiliated Me. The phrase internet explorers keep using to find this one, you ask?

Three boobs. :-)

I typed that one in, and thankfully, while it pulls up my article, I’m not number one, nor does my picture pull up under Google Images. I can live with being God’s Worst Child, but if everyone who has never seen me thinks I have Three Boobs, I’ll just die…

– Bird


Embracing Our Own Truth

Bird:

Posted originally at Everyone Has A Story

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

In my quest to catch up with the blogs that I follow, I have found some interesting things to ponder..as usual, And one thing that really leaped out at me today was about a woman who had adopted a child from another country, and was concerned about the fact that the child was adamantly refusing to embrace Christianity at the

Map of The Christian World, with the largest C...

Map of The Christian World, with the largest Christian populations. Made from File:Muslim world map.png (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

moment, despite the best efforts of her new parents. The story reminded me of some of my fears as I was raising my two daughters and my son, and I thought it would be a good thing to write about today.

From the day my babies were each born, they were my most beloved accomplishment, and my most prized possessions. I read every parenting book that was recommended, prayed for them, adored them, and to this day, I marvel at their existence. So, obviously, I wanted with all of my heart…

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What’s In A Name?

Daffy Duck, as he appears in The Looney Tunes ...

Daffy Duck, as he appears in The Looney Tunes Show. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) - Also a name I would have agreed to while I was sedated!

I know this is going to be a shocker, but I occasionally choke on the foot I stick in my mouth at times. I thought I’d share one of those bright, shining moments in my life.

When my son DJ was born, he was very, very premature, and due to a loss of a lot of blood, I was unconscious the entire delivery. Because it was a little country hospital, DJ had to be helicoptered to a larger hospital in Dallas, some two hours away. So, when I woke up, my son was not there. Very distressing for a new mother, to say the least.

To transfer hospitals, a child has to have a name on his birth certificate, and normally, the mother is the one that fills this form in. However, because I was clearly out of it, my then-husband, Dennis, had to fill out the form. And being Dennis, he decided to trash the name we’d agreed on — Michael Anthony — for a name that embodied his own family — William Harold. :-(

Now, in fairness to Dennis, he insists that I told him this was okay sometime that drugged night, and I am going to even say that they may have been possible. But I was heavily sedated, so I would have named the kid Daffy Duck or Mickey Mouse at that point. He should have stuck to the name that we agreed on.

It took me a month to heal from the birth of my son, and all along, as I’m talking to my family and friends, I’m calling my baby Michael. Dennis, obviously nervous, says nothing to me, until I’ve finally been released from the hospital and am headed to Dallas to meet my new baby. That is when I find out that my son has been named William Harold Bell. And that Den’s family is calling him Billy Bell. O.M.G. I was pissed. Billy Bell???

Sure enough, there was my absolutely beautiful little boy with a placard on his crib with the horrifying name Billy Bell. Immediately, I made the nurse take it down and put up a placard that said William Bell. I needed some time to fix this, but now wasn’t the time. In the end, I changed his nickname to DJ. It doesn’t stand for anything. I just didn’t want him to be called Billy. Being poor, we were stuck with the name.

Flash forward to a couple of years ago, I was telling this story to some new biker friends of Chef’s (my present husband). In the biker culture, almost everyone uses biker names, so you almost never really know what the people around you’s real names are, and such was the case with the guy I was talking to. His reaction was odd when I finished my story. Slowly, he pulled out his wallet and showed me his identification. William Harrold.

I’d just insulted this man’s name. I totally suck.

Bird


Facebook Love Connections and Why They Fail

Bird:

Yes. I still got it. :-)

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

So, evidently Facebook changed some stuff up over two years ago, and I just wandered across several messages that have been sitting in there forever, patiently waiting for my attention. Sorry to all my friend who thought I was just ignoring them…I am not too tech-savvy, so changes don’t leap out me very often.

This one message, though, just cracks me up to no end. I think he’s trying to hit on me, but frankly, I am not really sure…

Image representing Facebook as depicted in Cru...

Image via CrunchBase

First, the grammar is lacking. I have said it out-loud a couple of times, and I sound like a gangsta rapper..But second, and far more humorous to me, are the advertisements underneath the guy trying to make a love connection with me…If these aren’t cautionary tales, then nothing is…If these same ads are showing underneath all of this guy’s romantic connections, I’ll bet he isn’t feeling any love these…

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