I'm sitting here watching the morning news, nibbling on some grapes, and getting ready to go out and have breakfast with my friend, Pam, at 7.30 this morning. Skyler started school yesterday. Everyone is still buzzing over the earthquake we had here in the mountains two nights ago. It was 20-30 miles north of me, so I didn't feel anything. I think they said it was a 3.4, so wasn't serious enough to damage anything, just scared many people.
Better go put on my face and go. Will visit with you later.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Saturday, August 20, 2005
From my friend, Carol. Something to ponder...
Mexican Fishing Village
A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.
"Not very long," answered the Mexican.
"Well, then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American.
The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.
The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"
"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends,play the guitar, and sing a few songs ... I have a full life."
The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat. With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge enterprise."
"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.
"Fifteen, perhaps twenty years," replied the American.
"And after that?"
"Afterwards? That's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!"
"Millions? Really? And after that?"
"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast,sleep late, play with your children..."
Mexican Fishing Village
A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.
"Not very long," answered the Mexican.
"Well, then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American.
The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.
The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"
"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends,play the guitar, and sing a few songs ... I have a full life."
The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat. With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge enterprise."
"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.
"Fifteen, perhaps twenty years," replied the American.
"And after that?"
"Afterwards? That's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!"
"Millions? Really? And after that?"
"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast,sleep late, play with your children..."
Tuesday, August 9, 2005
I put away my clean laundry and Skyler's. I then wipe down the kitchen counter, put away the clean, dry dishes; place 3 home-grown tomatos on the window seal, although they're so ripe that they could burst and don't need any extra sunlight. Tomatos just want to sit on the window. I've also cleaned the bathrooms and taken out the trash. And I settle in to watch some appontment tv, which for me today is sports shows on ESPN.
I realize I'm worried about my daughter and her friend, Sam, who've left early for a concert in the city and cannot sit still to watch tv. I keep jumping up remembering something else I could be doing. She's not driven on the interstate highways before and was taking the back roads into Asheville. She's unsure of the directions to the new venue and I was worrying about her getting lost and ending up on the Smoky Park connector.
It's near downtown Asheville where 3 major interstate highways, I-26, I-40, I-240, come together over the French Broad River. I always get chills driving around that area. Cars are merging from all over the place and are jockying for best position; road rules be damned. I usually have a little word of prayer on this stretch of road and also call on my guardian angels to guide me. My main angel is my Father who passed away 14 years ago.
Sounds a little dramatic, I know, but the older I get the more unsure, but careful I am behind the wheel. When I was young and driving I was invincible, as we all were. I also had several wrecks. Now I'm older and more aware because I know what can happen on the highways. My daughter is a very good driver, but I'll never stop worrying until I see her walk into the house. I now know how my parents must have felt when I was out with friends at 17.
UPDATE: She pulled into the drive at 10:00pm. Yeah...umm, better check her head for possible fever or other illness.
I realize I'm worried about my daughter and her friend, Sam, who've left early for a concert in the city and cannot sit still to watch tv. I keep jumping up remembering something else I could be doing. She's not driven on the interstate highways before and was taking the back roads into Asheville. She's unsure of the directions to the new venue and I was worrying about her getting lost and ending up on the Smoky Park connector.
It's near downtown Asheville where 3 major interstate highways, I-26, I-40, I-240, come together over the French Broad River. I always get chills driving around that area. Cars are merging from all over the place and are jockying for best position; road rules be damned. I usually have a little word of prayer on this stretch of road and also call on my guardian angels to guide me. My main angel is my Father who passed away 14 years ago.
Sounds a little dramatic, I know, but the older I get the more unsure, but careful I am behind the wheel. When I was young and driving I was invincible, as we all were. I also had several wrecks. Now I'm older and more aware because I know what can happen on the highways. My daughter is a very good driver, but I'll never stop worrying until I see her walk into the house. I now know how my parents must have felt when I was out with friends at 17.
UPDATE: She pulled into the drive at 10:00pm. Yeah...umm, better check her head for possible fever or other illness.
Skyler starts back to school soon....
AUGUST 2005
Dear Teachers:
She may be one of 30 to you, but she's one in a million to me. Please guard her like the precious cargo that she is. If you call me to say she's been naughty, I'll try my very best to be objective. If she smarts off to you, please remember that behind that brash bravado is a frightened teenage girl who's still discovering where her place is in this world. Along with peer pressure about drugs, and fitting in and the opposite sex, she's trying to be a good student.
This is the heart and soul of a normal teenage girl in America today. Love her and the others like they're your own. Because from August to May and from 8 to 3, they are.
Sincerely,
Mom
AUGUST 2005
Dear Teachers:
She may be one of 30 to you, but she's one in a million to me. Please guard her like the precious cargo that she is. If you call me to say she's been naughty, I'll try my very best to be objective. If she smarts off to you, please remember that behind that brash bravado is a frightened teenage girl who's still discovering where her place is in this world. Along with peer pressure about drugs, and fitting in and the opposite sex, she's trying to be a good student.
This is the heart and soul of a normal teenage girl in America today. Love her and the others like they're your own. Because from August to May and from 8 to 3, they are.
Sincerely,
Mom
Monday, August 8, 2005
just a quick note to say i'm still alive...we stayed in the country with friends over the past few days, making music, having a big garden buffets, enjoying the outdoors. will be back blogging soon. sending love...
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