The winter is a bleak and dreary time for me. I am a desert rat, born under the rays of the Southwest sun. For over twenty years, I have lived in the north tundra and still have a hard time with the winter. You would think that I would be used to it by now. I am not nor I ever will be. I long for the heat of summer. To sit at the pool and soak in the warmth of the hot sun. To drink a cool iced tea and read a good book. To be outside without four layers suffocating . The snowy landscape can be serene at times, but it does wear on the soul after the scene is replayed day in and day out. Even when the sun is out, the brightness against the snow and frost seems to only put an extra bite into the air. Sometimes I wonder why I have endured this arctic arena for so long. The tradeoff- the summer here in the hills. And so I press on, wrapped and bundled, knowing that the mercury will eventually rise and so will my spirits.
End of the week
I am a nomad. I have been wandering this forsaken desert called Work Week. It has been treacherous. It has been long. It has been frustrating. I have come across other nomads in this desert. Most of them have been on my nerves while we are wandering. They should be stomped by camels. If I had a camel, I would say “go ahead and stomp them.” I have stopped every evening to rest, but knowing I had to continue the next day, the rest was short and fitful.
But I have found an oasis. It is called The Weekend. Two whole, glorious days of rest and relaxation. No one calling me to save their day.
Derby Day
As Grand Poohbah Cubmaster of my Cub Scout Pack, I have the honor of emceeing our annual Pinewood derby race. Tonight is the night of the race. Imagine if you will 34 elementary boys, hopped up on hot dogs, chips and pop, yelling at the top of their lungs, hoping that their car will win. Add to that all the parents, grandparents, and siblings that join in the fun. They usually aren’t yelling as loud as the boys. Rather, most of them have their fingers in their ears. If you are a lucky senior citizen, you can turn off your hearing aids. For two hours tonight, we will celebrate youth at its finest. Creativity abounds as you look at the work gone into the cars. Competition is fierce. Only 4 boys go home with trophies. Only 11 win medals. Everyone gets a ribbon, but would rather score the trophy. There are winners and losers, a small life lesson taught at an early age. Some are disappointed, but all have fun over the course of the night. That includes the Grand Poohbah Cubmaster.
People In My Dreams
Do you remember your dreams? I do. I dream almost every night. I wish I could hook up a DVR to my head and record my dreams to watch at a later time. I would never have to rent another movie again. Some of the dreams are pretty awesome. Very Micheal Bay or Jerry Bruckheimer or John Woo (without the doves). They are full of action and I am usually saving the world, or at least the day. Sometimes the dreams are dramas, with a lot of dialogue, most of which I don’t remember when I wake up. I have been known to wake up with tears in my eyes from all the drama in my head. I would skip those movies unless they are very compelling. Then there are the dreams that you probably don’t want anyone to see. Those are the ones that usually involve your old high school locker that you can’t remember the combination to, and your lack of clothing.
Something that I have been noticing in my dreams, or least trying to, are the people that take part. Since the 13th I have been writing down the names of the people that show up. If I can’t remember their name, a breif descriptions works. The next day, I pray for them. I don’t know if these people are there because of divine placement or they are there because of the mysterious working of the brain. I did, however, feel a strong urge to pray for them. It is interesting that they are not people I had contact with the day before. Two men were from my high school days, almost 20 years ago. One man I could only describe as “round guy” made enough of an impression on my dream, that he was included in the prayer list. This new “task” of praying for the dream people (that would be a great title for a book or movie, “Praying For the Dream People”- a new bestseller by Steve Hill) has done two things so far: 1)It has re-activated my prayer life to a certain extent and 2) has taken the focus off of me and my somewhat selfish desires.
It will be interesting to see who shows up tonight. I’ll let you know if you were there.
The Journey Starts
Here we go. At one point, a friend of mine suggested that I start a blog. With the new year already underway, I put more thought into what she had to say. I begin this blog to keep me on task. On task to contribute something at the computer, rather than erode myself spending hours (yes, hours) surfing the web. On task to put down my thoughts on a number of subjects. Some days will probably be random scribblings. Other days, I hope to actually have a profound musing on an important matter. If you stumble across this small pebble in the rockyard of blogs, I hope you enjoy. Please comment on what you read. Have a great new year.
