Phrase Thesaurus - ideas generator for writers

The Phrase Thesaurus is an interesting website. This service is available to subscribers only, but gives a few samples to whet your whistle. You can enter in any phrase and it will give you alternatives to replace that cliche. Or, you can enter in any word or pair of words and it will give you phrases that include those words. Looks like a promising tool for writers!

Have You or Do You Use Sonlight?

If you have or currently use Sonlight, I'd love to hear your opinions. I've seen a lot of Sonlight users around the blogosphere lately. I appreciate our current curricula choices, eclectic with a few workbooks and a dose of Switched On Schoolhouse by Alpha Omega, plus lots and lots of hands-on and organic learning, but I have relied on SOS for the bulk of our academics and I'm pretty fed up with it. It frustrates me because of the many errors and glitches in the grading system, plus our dependence on the computer is hampered by its constant crashes and incompatibilities.

So, I'm up for suggestions. I just perused the Sonlight webpage for a few minutes, but I'd like to hear more from people who've actually used it.

Thoughts?

I'm Never Wearing All Black Again

We headed out for the square dance late. I didn't really think it would be that big of a deal. My birthday's in two days, and I figured that, if nothing else came about, I would have a night on the town with the ones I love.

I tried to convince my fourteen-year-old son Houdin that it really was cool to dance, that girls would fall all over him if he learned how, but he wasn't convinced. Either that, or he's not ready to be interested in falling girls just yet. Regardless, he wouldn't come.

But fifteen-year-old Bard was in, as was my husband Bohemian and soon-to-be-six-year-old Sweetheart (in case you didn't figure it out, these are not my family members' real names. They're pseudonyms I use to refer to them in this blogosphere).

So I dressed in black. All black. Black socks, black skort, black flouncy skirt over the skort to give extra bounce during the dancing, black camisole and a black flouncy shirt with swoopy sleeves to give extra bounce during the dancing. I even stopped at the local Stuff*Mart to get a new pair of shoes, as my black shoes are third generation hand-me-downs that wouldn't have lasted through the evening. Well, okay. They would have. But it's a nice excuse for new shoes. Anyway, I thought black would be dramatic. And besides, the only flouncy clothes I have are black. Actually, half of my wardrobe is black.

When we arrived at the Grange Hall where the dance was to be held, I knew that it was a bad thing to see the caller getting into her car. That's never a good sign. She saw us just as we pulled in and let us know that the dance had been cancelled due to a shortage of dancers--there weren't enough to make a square, even with our three. But we were welcome to go in and listen to the band, she said, apologizing again before she left us for the night.

The music from the Grange Hall drew us in. Strains of "You Are My Sunshine," "She'll Be Comin' Around the Mountain" and "Redwing" kept us entertained. I implored Bo to take a swing at playing the upright bass--a very unique "naval bass" made of aluminum. I was proud to watch him play and wish with all my heart that I could buy him an upright. I'd listen to him all the days. Maybe I should just send him to this website and have him build one of these.

After a few numbers, we bid the band adieu and headed for Coccia House for pizza. It came very highly recommended, and we're always up for a good pizza, especially since I'm soaking this pre-birthday thing for all it's worth. Soon to be six-year-old daughter Sweetheart happened to mention the birthday thing out loud, because her birthday is two days after mine, and the waitress came to our table carrying our pizza which was boasting two birthday candles. Sweetheart and I puckered up and blew out the flames, though Sweetheart claims that I blew them both out. She's probably right.

Coccia House was probably the most interesting and surreal restaurant experience I've ever had. We walked in the back door and through the restaurant, which really is a huge house, and it just kept going on and on and on and on. It was like a funhouse restaurant, with rooms off of rooms off of more rooms. We happened to seat ourselves next to a very happy drunkard who took pleasure in informing us that you have to take your bill to the register, not wait for your waitress to take it. He spent several minutes trading apologies with the waitress for not knowing this fact and then proceeded to knock over his chair, almost knocking over himself in the process.

Even though the menu said the pizza was fresh made so it takes longer, it didn't take longer. This is because it was the wrong pizza. And, silly me, I didn't notice that it had too many pieces and too few toppings to be our pizza, so we ate half of it before the waitress realized what had happened. I felt badly, like I had purposely stolen the pizza. But I didn't. Really. I promise.

Bo noticed that the waitress looked very much like Michelle Pfeifer. No joke. She really did. When he mentioned this to her, she rolled her eyes. "You're tired of hearing that?" I asked. "Yeah," she answered. Sheesh.

The pizza was okay. Wasn't as good as Luigi's in Akron or Tomasetti's in Wooster. Just okay.

On the drive home, Bard lobbied emphatically for a trip to the coffeehouse, but Bo and I took pleasure in our cruelty and denied her the privilege. She told me to write that previous line.

And now, it's time for bed.

Visions

Inaugural Art Class at The Sprouted Acorn, featuring artist Fred del Guidice

For many years, I have held onto the dream of building a house in the country, a place for the gathering of family, friends, good food and fine music. We've had many hopeful signs, and many devastating heartbreaks, but we held fast to our dream. Years of prayer often felt worthless. After all, many people have no home at all. How could I be so myopic as to believe that God would grant me a big house on a hill in the country somewhere? Yet it was a desire of my heart, and I continued to pray for God's will in my life. If there were a place for us, I would be willing to go, whether that was in the city or in the country. And then, an injection of inspiration came that I could not ignore...

During a concert in Wheaton, IL in July of 2001, one of my favorite musicians, David Wilcox, David shared this word picture:

"Imagine an acorn planted in a paper cup. It's a seedling. You say to yourself, "It's an oak tree. It's the strongest of trees. It's an oak tree." And somebody looks at it and says, "Oh, come on! That's no oak tree! Look at that! That's an acorn with a sprout!" And you say, "Yeah, well. I'm...I'm taking care of it. It's gonna grow." "Oh, yeah. Where you gonna plant it? It's nothing but parking lot and broken glass! Have you looked outside? Have you seen this world?" And you say, "Yeah, yeah, yeah." You don't show it to everybody. Sometimes you keep the dream tucked inside your coat when it's cold. But's it there. And it's growing close to your heart. You find yourself a little garden. You call it a garden. It's a square foot of ground. It's a place to call home. The dream's gotta be planted. It's gotta have a place to dig in. And you clear a little more as you have time. A lot of time goes by and sure enough, the dream can grow. Grow right where you are. Right in your little town, in your little street, in your little home. And it grows. In those scorching hot summer days that used to feel like there was nothin' but pavement and broken glass, you got shade. What is that shade from? What is that great, green shade from? Oh, that's an acorn, in a paper cup. Well, and...time. Yeah. Take care of that dream. "

You have to understand...I'm a gardener. I love anything that grows. Even as we speak, I'm trying to nurture a couple of hormworms that I found devouring my tomato plants. Most people kill them, but I learned that they turn into very cool and very interesting hummingbird moths, creatures that amaze me as they flutter from one brightly colored herb to another, helping to pollinate my garden.

You also have to understand that I'm a treehugger. I don't love all trees more than I love all people, but there are SOME trees that I love more than SOME people (nods to Jane Goodall).

Finally, you have to understand that I have some family members who are *not* gardeners, or tree-lovers, or dreamers. As a matter of fact, a particular family member can be downright discouraging. If I didn't have people like my husband, and David, and other musicians, I would be pretty despondent a lot of the time.

Usually, when some exciting dream comes into my life, it just bubbles out of me. I share it with those I love. Including my discouraging family member. And most often, this person fills my ears and my heart with discouragement.

But as David spoke that night in Wheaton, I closed my eyes and I saw...I mean it, I *saw* our house on the hill. I saw it as clearly as if it were right there, right there in front of me! I could *see* a room full of people, loving and enjoying music, in my home, up on my hill, in a beautiful country community. Music is a big part of my life (my husband and children are musicians...I'm just the groupie) and a coffeehouse is something I had dreamed of for a very long time, but never, NEVER before had I been given a true vision of it. Actually, I'm not sure I've ever had a clear vision about anything. I was smitten. And inspired.

That was the beginning of a realization of a dream.

After the house concert, I was able to speak with David for just a few minutes. I told him about my dream of a paramusic career, how his story inspired me, how clearly that vision of our future home came to my mind, and I handed him my journal to sign. Here's what he wrote:

"To Denice:

It's an Oak Tree
(all it needs is a place to grow and time--
because all it needs to know is inside)
It's inevitable.

David Wilcox"


I've held that dream, that little tree in a cup, close to my heart and shielded it from those who would discourage me and laugh at my fragile sprouted acorn. I've shared it with those, including my husband, who could say, "Yes! Let me help you water that! I know a place where you can plant it!"

Shortly thereafter, by the grace of God, we were able to purchase a beautiful piece of property which included a gorgeous hilltop that commands quite a view. And, indeed, our little acorn has begun to grow. That's not to say there haven't been times of drought along the way, but all the roots grow deeper when it's dry, don't they?

The Sprouted Acorn has been my working title. I have even found the most amazing photograph by photographer Dan Suzio, of a sprouting acorn. It stands in our piano room as a reminder of that little dream and how it grew.

And the house on the hill...it stands, too, just as I envisioned it that night in Wheaton.

We've just begun hosting an art class in our home, and I hope that it's the first of many events and activities this house will see.

Tripping On Air

Tripping on air
Heels kicking of their own accord
My own clumsy limbs
are not themselves
I know for a fact that the foot in the red shoe

is no longer my own
for my feet can't handle normal walking,

let alone dancing.

Dancing!
The word hardly does justice to the feeling.

I feel like flying!
I feel like singing!
I am flying.
I swing
breathlessly
from partner to partner,
forgetting that my face is probably purple;
forgetting not to smile because I hate my smile;
forgetting to be shy because I don't know the boy whose arm is around
forgetting everything but the rhythm I feel;
And it's good.
Very good.

~By Bard, April 2nd, 2005

Lil Niece, the peanut. :-)

Sweetheart, Lil Niece and The Baby with her collection of giraffes.

The Baby with Lil Niece and all of her new giraffes. Can you see her?

That Was Nice

I had just walked out of the store and was heading toward my van, feeling just a bit guilty that I had parked at such a strange angle. I was within the yellow lines, though, so it really wasn't bad that I parked weird; it was just messy looking, careless, like I don't know how to park or was in too much of a hurry to do it right. These kinds of thoughts nag at me, are part of my desire to be the poster child for good Christians, large families, homeschoolers. I have to be careful. I have to make a good impression. Can't let someone make me the example over the dinner table. "This lady, called herself a Christian, but you shoulda seen the way she parked. Them Christians don't care about nobody but themselves..."

This is what I was thinking about when I heard a voice calling from nearby.

"Ma'am!" The voice said. I inwardly cringed at the chastising I was about to receive. My bumper was too close to her bumper. My front door was too close to her front door. I should be more careful. I should be less selfish. Was this my paint on the body of her car? Regardless of the lack of real fault on my part, I've seen those kinds of arguments unfold, and they aren't pretty. I heard the voice call again and looked around. The voice was coming from behind me, from the next aisle over.

"Could you get my walker for me? It's in the trunk of the car." The voice belonged to a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair. She was seated in the driver's seat of a white Lincoln Towncar, her feet swung out onto the pavement of the parking lot. I must have been dazed. I had to switch the gears in my head. I think she repeated herself, or maybe she just explained.

"I should have had my kids get it out before they went in the store, but I didn't. Could you get it for me?"

"Sure!" I answered, maybe a little too enthusiastically. I walked across the aisle and looked into the trunk where I saw a wheelchair on top of a silver walker. I pulled the wheelchair aside to wrestle the walker from its place. It felt strange. I felt like I wanted to do more, not just pull the walker out and hand it to her. While she may have felt that she was imposing on me, that I was doing her some big favor, I felt just the opposite. I felt honored, priviliged. I felt...needed.

As I handed her the walker, she thanked me. That was it. Just a pure, sincere thanks. I resisted the urge to help her into the store, to follow her around and help her with her shopping. This "feeling needed" was good, but it could definitely go too far, turn quickly into being a pest. Me, not her. I settled for, "Would you like me to close the trunk?"

"Yes, if you would, please!" She responded. And I did. I made sure to close it just right. And while I've probably closed hundreds of car trunks hundreds of times, I was very aware of how I should close this one, kind of like when you're driving along familiar roads carrying a passenger that you barely know or want to impress. Suddenly it all slows w-a-a-a-y down and you want to make sure that you take every curve, every turn, ever stop just precisely, exactly right.

And do you know that I thought I messed it up? It didn't look to me like the trunk was completely closed. I pushed on it a couple more time, vaguely aware of the woman's presence a few feet away from me closing her car door.

"Did I do that right?" I asked stupidly. She assured me that I did, that it was indeed closed.

I crossed back to my crookedly parked van, nearly getting run over by an oncoming vehicle who was gracious enough to stop for me. My thirteen-year-old son, Houdin, was still standing beside the van.

"That was nice," he said, echoing the thoughts in my head. Yes, it was nice.

But I'm really not sure if he was referring to what I did for the woman with the walker, or what she did for me.

Acts 20:35 (The Message)

In everything I've done, I have demonstrated to you how necessary it is to work on behalf of the weak and not exploit them. You'll not likely go wrong here if you keep remembering that our Master said, "You're far happier giving than getting.'"

The Message (MSG) Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson

It's An Obsession

So, I went to Wal*Mart today. I bought new shorts and t-shirts and cleats for Monet. He started baseball today, see, and really needs summer clothes to go with his brand spankin' new summer haircut. And while I was there, I bought Monet and Houdin each their swim trunks for the summer. It felt really good to get that stuff into my cart, into my van, into my house and into the closets.

So, I went to The Thrift Shop today and dropped off a huge garbage bag of stuff. I'm trying to declutter as much as I can, but it never seems to get done. In addition, we have renters in our cabin who are apparently trying to declutter, too, so they're bringing our cabin stuff up to the house and I'm trying to find room for it all. Much of it will go to The Thrift Shop. But even once I get it sorted and into a pile, it takes me forever to get it into a bag. Once I get it into a bag, it takes me a while to get it to the van. Once I get it to the van, it's a good week until I get it to The Thrift Shop. So, it felt really good to get that big garbage bag of stuff out of my house, out of my van, out of my life.

Wait a minute.

There are two things that make me feel really good. Well, more than two, but two that give me that "Wow. I've just accomplished something" feeling. Bringing stuff home and getting rid of stuff.

I guess the best thing for me would be to go to Wal*Mart, buy a bunch of stuff, bring it home, wash it and fold it, put it in a garbage bag and take it to The Thrift Shop.

I'll bet the kids' clothes would even last longer that way.

What I Haven't Told You About

Sounds like a really juicy title...but actually, it's just about the things I've done in the past week and a half that I haven't blogged, namely:

• Seeing my new niece for the first time and a whirlwind visit from my inlaws;
• Piano lessons;
• Art lessons
• Houdin's first soccer practice
• The trip to MAPS with pics
• Our first art class!
• Creative writing class
• Contra-dancing

See? Doesn't that sound like fun?

I'll get to it. I hope.

Reforming Hollywood

Yesterday Bard asked if she and I could have a movie night, just the two of us. Since I try not to plan anything on Sundays, our day was open and I thought it would be a great idea. I asked Bo if he was up for taking Sweetheart, Monet and Houdin bowling, and he was so inclined.

So Bard and I headed to the only things we really have near us: Movie Gallery and Wal*Mart. We have a local grocery, too, that rents DVDs for .99, but you can only keep them one day and the selection is pretty limited. Alas, life in a small town. If these Amish would just get gas-powered DVD players, the demand would increase and we'd have better selections.

We loaded up on all of the nasty snacks we'd need: Doritos, Fritos, Cheetos and whatever other "O" junk we could find. IBC Rootbeer, which doesn't end in "O" but Bard likes it, and some nacho cheese sauce.

But here's the thing: to have a movie night for girlies, it's essential to have a good movie or two. Can I just say that such a thing is quite rare? We scanned the racks of the Movie Gallery and found pretty much nothing.

I don't understand this.

We walked around the store twice before we decided on Little Black Book and First Daughter. I wasn't exactly comfortable with Little Black Book, but since I'd seen it, I at least knew what to expect. I haven't seen First Daughter.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't the biggest blockbuster hits the ones that whole families can enjoy, like Secondhand Lions, Shrek, and Robots? Aren't those the ones that families flock to see, buy all of the action figures and purchase their own copies when they come out of DVD? Aren't those the universally appealing films? The most popular? The highest grossing?

Isn't this why movies like Napolean Dynamite, which is a very low-budget film, end up gaining such national attention? Because it appeals to everyone? Well, okay. Not everyone. I do know some unenlightened people who don't "get it," but I'm still praying for them. ;-)

So why are these family-friendly movies so few and far between?

"I don't get it," I told my Bard as we headed home. "You would think there would be more universally appealing movies, more family-friendly films with real meaning and less nudity, language and sexual references. I mean, after all, who wants to sit in the room with their mom and watch naked butts?"

"Well, when I grow up," Bard said, "I'm going to reform the movie industry. I'll become a director and make more family-friendly movies."

I realize that not everyone DOES sit in a room with their mom to watch movies. I understand the appeal of movies that are more gritty, and I can even justify a few of them, but overall, it seems that high-quality films can be made without the grit.

So here's to the next generation, to kids like Bard who don't want to shove garbage into their heads, who want parables that leave them feeling better, braver, more encouraged. Here's to my daughter and her hope for the future, her goal of taking integrity into Hollywood.

I, for one, am pulling for her.

Isabella!

I am SO thrilled to announce the arrival of Isabella! I just received these photos from my mother-in-law who will have to remind me of the details. She weighed over ten pounds and was born at home with my sister-in-law as the midwife. Congratulations Eener and Bunny! I can't wait to hold her, buy her stuff and feed her pancakes and hershey's kisses!

Team Fox is ON THE MOVE!

Four years ago, our family attended a fundraising banquet and, I'll be honest, the goal was to get a good meal. A neighbor had invited us to a local Amish-style restaurant that was hosting an awareness dinner for Cystic Fibrosis. At the time, I really didn't know anything about C.F. and neither did my family, but I took Bard and Houdin.

Wow. We learned a lot. A couple from the church we were attending were at the banquet and we learned that they have two children who suffer from Cystic Fibrosis. After meeting Eva and her brother Christian and learning from their mother what a nightmare C.F. is and how frightening it is to wake up in the middle of the night to a child who can't breathe, we decided to get involved. We're not alone. I'm amazed how this community rallies around Eva, Christian, their family and the many others in our community who suffer from or have lost children to C.F.

I've mentioned before that my eldest son, Houdin, could ask for money from anyone. It's just a gift he has; he has no inhibitions and holds the belief that people generally want to be of help. When Houdin found out that there would be a fundraiser for Cystic Fibrosis called the Great Strides Walk for a Cure, he was all over it. I turned my head in embarrassment every time he asked a stranger for money, but, somehow, people just believe in him and he almost always gains their support.

Within days of setting out, Houdin had asked everyone he knew for a donation. He walked the streets of our local town and asked businesses to contribute. By the end of his fundraising campaign, he had raised over $500 for a cure for Cystic Fibrosis.

That was four years ago. Last year, Houdin decided to form his own walking team, Team Fox. We had twelve walkers and he met his fundraising goal due to the generous donations from friends and family, AND the team walked six miles in the rain!

This year, Houdin is again forming a team, but he has tripled his fundraising goals and doubled his team goals. This year, by May 8th, Houdin would like to raise $1500 and have twenty four walkers on his team. It's a big goal, but I believe he can do it. I believe that in encouraging him to continue his fundraising efforts, we are encouraging Houdin's gifts and talents.

If you would like to donate to Houdin's efforts, you can do so through the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation webpage. You can access Houdin's fundraising page by going here. Any little bit will help and every dollar will not only work towards a cure for Cystic Fibrosis, but will also help to boost Houdin's confidence.

For more information about Cystic Fibrosis in an easy-to-read kids' presentation, please visit this site.

Thanks for your support!

Scenes from NASA

Here's a way mobie cool collage of the day we spent at NASA Glenn Research Center in Cleveland. Click on the collage for a larger image.

Migration Sensation

So, I was actually a bit disappointed in the Migration Sensation today. I'm sure if I were a woman who had no kids and really liked slide-accompanied lectures in dark rooms, I'd have enjoyed it. But I didn't enjoy it as much as I had hoped.

That's not to say the topics weren't interesting. They were! But when compared to years previous, with speakers like Amish farmer, conservationist and author David Kline and owl expert and enthusiast Paul Boyd, this year's speakers didn't really hold my attention.

This is the third year we've attended the Migration Sensation in Shreve, Ohio. The past couple of years were better, but not by much. I guess I just figure that they have an awesome draw--the wetlands around Shreve are some of the best for observing migratory birds and wildlife--they may as well do it right. The children's programs were a nice effort, but interaction would be much better than lecture. The lunch was very sad--overcooked, cold coney dogs for $2.75 each. It only cost us $15.00 to attend the event and all of the lectures, but it cost us $27.00 to eat lunch of soup and hot dogs, and everyone was still hungry. And since it snowed (!) today, it was too cold and wet to go observe the wildlife in the bog. Aside from that, the event begings at 7:00 A.M., and just TRY keeping a teenager interested in ANYTHING but sleep at 7:00 A.M. Next year, we hope to take our own food, hike even if it's raining, and maybe even try to help the organizers create better kids' programs.

But there were a few cool side benefits. First, there were two bird sanctuaries who had displays in the vendor area, and between the two of them, we were able to see, up close, a great horned owl, a red-tailed hawk, a northern saw-whet owl and an eastern screech owl. The screech owl was in a man-made log with a hole in the front of the top part of the log, and he sat so very still and was so very perfect that he looked like he wasn't even real. When Monet approached the owl, he said, "Wow. That almost looks real."

"Yeah, doesn't it?" I said, keeping Bard from spoiling my joke by a nudge of my elbow. "If you look really closely at his eyes, they almost look like they would wink at you," and I drew Monet closer to the little creature for a closer look. After just a few seconds, the owl winked and Monet jumped back, shouting, "Whoa!"

The other side benefit was the sign I saw that said, "Contra dance tonight!"

After all of the energy expended at the Migration Sensation, I wasn't sure I was up for a dance, but I really, really wanted to go...

What We Did Today...

Shreve festival touts migrating birds

by Bob Downing

Beacon Journal

The wetlands in southern Wayne County will be alive with migrating waterfowl and songbirds when Shreve hosts the fifth annual Shreve Migration Sensation from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday.

The activities include speakers from 8:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. at Shreve Elementary School, 598 N. Market St. (state Route 226).

There will be self-guided birding tours from 8 a.m. to noon to nearby 5,492-acre Killbuck Marsh, 228-acre Shreve Lake and 1,154-acre Funk Bottoms wildlife areas.

The three state wildlife areas are part of Ohio's largest inland wetland on the border between Wayne, Holmes and Ashland counties.

You will likely see lots of migrating waterfowl and perhaps sandhill cranes and bald eagles, and the event is designed to appeal from beginner to expert birders.

Stop by the school and get a map and directions to the wetland sites, where experts from the Ohio Division of Wildlife will be stationed and spotting scopes will be set up for visitors to use. You can bring your own binoculars or spotting scopes, if you prefer.

The biggest crowds are usually drawn to the bald eagle nesting site in the Killbuck Marsh. It is off Force Road east of Cemetery Road in Franklin Township.

The schedule of speakers is:

• 8:30 a.m. -- Prairie Plants by Randy Carmel, a science teacher at Wooster High School.

• 9:30 a.m. -- Ohio River Otters: An Amazing Success Story by Chris Dwyer of the Ohio Division of Wildlife.

• 10:30 a.m. -- Butterflies by Roger Downer, a researcher at the Ohio Agricultural Research and Development Center at Wooster.

• 12:30 p.m. -- Waterfowl by Jim McCormac of the Ohio Division of Wildlife and author of Birds of Ohio.

• 1:30 p.m. -- The Peregrine Falcon: Nature's Most Efficient Flying Machine by Chad and Chris Saladin of Lorain, who monitor nesting peregrine falcons in the Cleveland area.

• 2:30 p.m. -- Ohio Bats by Merrill Tawse of the Richland County Park District.

For youngsters, Tom Roig of Shreve will present a program on sled dog racing for youngsters and Laura Jordan of the Medina Raptor Center will be on hand with hawks and owls.

The program is being sponsored by the Friends of the Killbuck Marsh, a grass-roots nonprofit group; the Shreve Business & Community Association; and the Ohio Division of Wildlife.

The fee is $10 a person or $15 a family.

For more information, call 800-821-0456 or 800-362-6474. You can also check out the Internet site www.shreveohio.com.

Fits from Blogger

While I have been getting fits from Blogger, yesterday's April Fool's joke was NOT one of them. :-) I'm glad so many of you enjoyed my little prank. For those of you who weren't very persistent and never did "get it," shame on you. ;-)

When the going gets good, the bloggin' gets...gone? I don't know, something like that. Things have been busy here in o-HI-o but in a GOOD way, so I haven't been blogging like I want to. Instead of giving you a rundown of what I've been doing lately, I'm actually going to take advantage of the whole bloggin' date thingy and enter the posts as if I actually did them on time. So, if you're a regular blogreader and you're interested in reading the goings-on of Thicket Dweller's past week or so, you'll have to go back to the old stuff to read the new stuff. ;-)

So, read on! Or...um...read back. Or whatever.

It was a JOKE, folks. ;-)

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NEW POST: All Grown Up.

I think I'm officially getting old.

I was at the city offices this morning to pay my real estate taxes and noticed that the license bureau is in the same building. Since my birthday's in ten days, and my driver's license will expire then, I figured I'd save myself the hassle and just get it renewed while I was there.

Even though I hadn't showered.

Or done my hair.

Or in any way prepared to have my photo taken.

A photo that will stay with me for the next four years, that I will keep for identification purposes, that I will show to complete strangers in the checkout line of the local grocer's or The Gap.

But I knew that if I didn't get it done while I was there, my whole procrastination thing will kick in the minute I leave the parking lot and I won't renew my license until August, and all of the cashiers will say, "Do you know your license is expired?" And I'll say, innocently, "Oh, is it?"

So I did it. I renewed my driver's license even though I wasn't even remotely ready. I didn't even look in a mirror before I had my photo taken! There was a time when I wouldn't have even left the HOUSE looking like I did! But I was there, I seized the moment, and I did it. I chose maturity and responsibility over vanity.

And, boy, am I ever sorry I did.