A Whole Buncha Randomness...
I saved up today’s funny from yesterday (since today was one of those less-than-funny kinds of days - the kind where you pull out your past funnies like a photo album and flip through them to remember the good times). Here it is:
We were all sitting together at dinner last night, and I was talking to Jared about the new special issue coming out. I said this: “I really want there to be this giant… (I was going to say “response” right here, but hadn’t gotten it out yet).” …
And you should know that I have this bad habit of pausing in the middle of stuff, and either going off on a tangent, or, if I’m concentrating on something else, sometimes I just trail off and don’t even start up again (it used to drive me NUTS when my dad did this, and I was always like, “This giant WHAT, Dad?”, and he would look up from whatever he was doing and say, “what?”.. as if he hadn’t even spoken in the first place. Enough to drive me bats at 17, but I somehow inherited the ability…). So I was pausing, probably taking a bite of food, and perhaps not even going to finish my sentence, and Rowen piped up and said,
We both looked at her, and thought for a few seconds, and then laughed SO hard when we finally got it. “This giant beanstalk.” I was amazed that she was following along closely enough to what I was saying to hear the word “giant”, AND that she automatically associated it with “beanstalk”. She does love that Mickey’s Clubhouse episode where Donald and Goofy and Mickey go up to see the giant to get Boo Boo chicken back… but seriously. How’s that for amazing?
And it looks like okay, everyone, I really want there to be this giant beanstalk.
Thank you. That is all.
Except this, a photo from Saturday. Note the Lightning McQueen “sticker” (okay, Band-aid) on her hand. And she LOVES her daddy. Who can blame her? I think he’s pretty swell myself. :D
No Wood Destroying Insects For You. Today.
In other news, after a visit by Mr. Terminix, we officially do NOT have termites. Whew. But we are still full of ants. And apparently, according to the aforementioned Mr. Terminix, North Carolina is either #2 or #3 (depending on who you ask, he says) after Florida and South Carolina for “pests”. *sigh* Not really one of those stats they advertise in their “Move to beautiful North Carolina” brochures, I guess, and certainly one of the things you discover to your great misfortune after having moved all your stuff here and you can’t leave. I hate bugs. But I also hate 6 months of winter. Probably even more than I hate bugs, as long as the bugs live outside and not on my bathroom countertop.
I will give Minnesota this: aside from the bird-sized mosquitos in Minnesota in the summertime, it does a good job of killing off its pests every winter. Apparently the approximately .75 inches of snow we received in North Carolina just doesn’t do the same trick. I actually think I can remember hearing the scoffing laughter of all the pests hiding under our deck, watching the little flakes fall…
Jared and I have just finished what has strangely become one of my favorite books. Certainly my favorite from Terry Pratchett, who is always good for a laugh, but Thud is awesome. Pratchett even created a companion childrens’ book called Where’s My Cow?, which is extra-funny if you have read Thud (the main character in the book is very obsessive about reading this fictitious (but now real - see how that is so cool?) story to his son at precisely 6 pm every night). This is a hilarious book with some very timely messages.
There’s a dwarf, his name is Bashfullson, and he lives with a family of 19 other dwarves in a cellar in this huge city called Ankh-Morpork, which if you’re a Pratchett fan, you’ll recognize from a bunch of his other books. Pratchett says, “For a dwarf in Ankh-Morpork, solitude is something you cultivated on the inside.”
I thought about this in relationship to my own life now, with little kids. I can’t remember the last time, for example, that I took a shower with nobody else in the room. Can’t remember the last time we had a meal where there wasn’t a whole lot of general chatter and noise (and talking about beanstalks…) and throwing of food on the floor. Can’t remember the last time I got to just sit somewhere during a morning and enjoy a bowl of frosted mini-wheats without a small someone coming up and saying, “Wheat wheat?” and pawing at my leg until I handed one over. Solitude is definitely NOT at the top of the list of perks a mama enjoys on a daily basis.
But I love this idea of cultivating solitude on the inside. Of letting my own thoughts and heart be at peace, even in a swirl of chaos (and the aforementioned thrown food). Of really stopping during those rare quiet times and just enjoying a bit of silence, instead of always busying myself with something. Of trying a little harder to really get something out of church or lessons or scriptures and cultivating the solitude that enables you to to process a rational thought or two, or to hear yourself think, or to just think about nothing, and let the ideas and answers flow if and as they will. I totally don’t do this often enough.
My Best Ideas Always Come in the Shower
BUT I was just talking today with a friend, and remembering an article I read several months ago, about the human mind really needing a mixture of attention and relaxation to generate its best ideas. So it’s actually not a new phenomenon (although I am sometimes embarrassed to admit it) that our best ideas often arrive in the shower. :)
After Googling, I came across a bunch of blogs that say the same thing. One of them pointed to a great article from from Inc magazine, that starts out with some great ideas for brainstorming, and ends up talking about why our best ideas come to us in the shower (the writer attributes it mainly to a relaxed state of mind and actually being out and away from the context). So I’m wondering, where do your best ideas come from? Have you been able to cultivate solitude on the inside?
Oh, and apparently Squarespace ate my funny from yesterday. It WAS about strawberry jelly after all.. I will go update that now. No wonder nobody thought it was funny originally. :P
And don’t forget, that I really want there to be this giant beanstalk. Okay? Okay.