Embrace The Suck

Today is a momentous day in our house. Mark the calendar, Feb, 23, 2007, the day we got a new washer and dryer. And that’s not all, with the delightful purchasing power of my Dad’s credit union check book, we went for a trifecta and bought a dishwasher too. What’s so special about new appliances? I’m sure that every day someone goes into Lowes armed with the Sunday sales papers ready to do business. Even when the TV ads use the deceptive make-them-feel-sorry-and-they-will-come ads about the lonely Maytag repairman, I bet people buy Maytag washers all the time. What makes our purchases so extraordinary is that the washer and dryer had given us almost 20 years to the day dedicated and loyal service. TWENTY YEARS?! I don’t have the receipt to prove it, but I’m pretty sure the dishwasher was less efficient, with only seven or eight years to its credit. But in an age where manufacturers expect us to throw products away instead of repairing them, I think seven years is still a pretty good ru

Yesterday I heard that someplace in New England was going to have -35 degree weather. Minus 35 degrees? How is that even possible? The temperatures dropped some in Florida. I think it’s going to dip into the 50’s tonight. I’ve actually heard people complain about it being too cold. Complaining seems to come naturally for most people. It must be one of those conditions God programmed into humans around the same time he came up with the idea of free will. One might ask, what was He thinking? But really what would be the point? God is God and no doubt He had a pretty good reason(s) for the things He created. I don’t think humans are the only species that complain. I heard a mocking bird the other day who was pretty upset about something. And my dog was none too happy about having a visiting dog get living room privileges when she was locked up for having poor manners. The cat, however, doesn’t complain. He just turns his nose up and walks away. Maybe he’s on to something! Even though I co

I wonder if there is a special formula God uses when he puts families together. Probably not. When moms and dads get together to make babies, it’s most likely a random DNA crap shoot as to how the resulting family is going to look/be. Like the grass on the other side of the proverbial fence, or the kind of hair you are born with, it’s a given that even the people who have the most Norman Rockwell-esque family on the planet, might at one time or another want a different one. Trimmed down to the barest definition, a family is just a group of people who live together. Although we all hope for companionship and support and happy memories none of these are requirements for getting through life. Some degree of love, however, has got to be a basic ingredient for a family’s survival. Love is what happens when a mom sees her new born baby for the first time. It is not necessarily the same feeling she has when that child uses a bright red crayon to paint a picture on white living room walls; or

Last Friday night I declared that Saturday would to be a "pajama day." No one ever participates in pajama day but me, but I always feel if I declare it ahead of time, my housemates won't look down their noses at me like I'm some kind of sloth. Pajama days aren't necessarily about being lazy, although naps are often a natural side effect of the comfy, cozy feeling that pajamas bring. Wearing pj's all day is just a way of saying, I don't think I'll go anywhere today. Well, you know what they say about best laid plans and mice and men; or in this case, birds and pajama girls. Once I was up and moving, but still comfortably encased in flannel, I mosied out to the kitchen to fill the morning's breakfast orders. As I was saying hello to the birds, I couldn't help but notice that Hoppin' John, my red-headed, yellow Gouldian finch, was hopping with less finesse than usual. In fact he looked more like a tequila-tippling Mexican jumping bean that a b