Take Note of Beauty

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

“Boss, I’m sorry I was 10 minutes late to the office this morning. Sometimes you just have to stop and take note of beauty.”

The weather forecast called for 4 to 7 inches of snow overnight.

I think we got 4/7 of an inch instead, not even enough to exceed the height of the grass, and certainly not enough to make the roads hazardous and give me an excuse to work from home. How disappointing.

However, with every disappointment comes glimpses of happiness and beauty, depending on how you look at the circumstances. It’s all a matter of perspective.

Two miles from home, this mountain smiled at me and said, “Good morning! Nice to see you! How do I look?”

“My dear, you look lovely! Spectacular! I love your highlights!”

Actually, what I thought was, “That looks like a delicious brownie with powdered sugar! Yummy!” You can’t say such a thing to a lady. But we are talking about a mountain here. Mountains are delicious!

Being a creature that likes to stop time and possess what I view, I pulled into a nearby lot to snap a few photos. Below is Point Mountain, proudly modeling on a January morning. Enjoy her beauty.

(The first photo includes Mansfield Township Elementary School in the foreground. I attended 5th and 6th grade there, started playing drums there, and had an early encounter with the occult there. Stories for another time. Yes, the occult.)

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DADIATOR

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(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

“Et tu Brute?”

“Desmond Tutu, Brute?”

“Nice tutu, Brute!”

So, here I am pictured in my stunt double outfit for the movie “300”. Let me tell you. Those helmets make your head sweat!

Okay. You’re smart enough to realize it’s a plastic helmet and I’m not much of a stuntman. But I am one heck of a trick or treater! (“treatOR” in Old Latin) Those Greeks in “300” may have marched through mountain passes and challenged the monstrous Persian army, but I, Samuelus Caesar, flew all the way to Georgia to confront my enemies. Well, sort of. My ex-wife was there. But I intimidated her with my red plumage and she left me alone. Thank Zeus! No tricks. Just treats. The treats of seeing my daughters and “Roming” around the neighborhood pillaging and plundering in a confectionary sort of way.

Over the past few years, my employment arrangements have become flexible enough to permit me to work while visiting my daughters. I was here last year and dressed up as a prisoner. The funniest part of that was when a little girl didn’t realize what I was and with wide eyes said, “Hello zebra!” as she and her father passed by me. Children are delightful and the things that come out of their mouths sometimes is happily revealing of their enviable simplicity. My youngest daughter, who is almost 12 now (what??), said that this year I was her “dad in plastic armor”! Where did she get that sense of humor? Hmm…

For trick or treating, I took command of a troop of four boys, three girls, and two other dads. One of the dads dressed up. The other didn’t. I court marshaled him for being out of uniform while on patrol in enemy territory. A few of the boys were dressed as football players. Two girls looked like gypsies or something. My daughter was a cat. (My other daughter was a rock star, but too cool to hang with us. She went with her 13-year-old friends in a different housing development.)

The people in Georgia, or at least in this part of Georgia, participate in Halloween more than the folks back in New Jersey do. I don’t know if that is due to “Southern hospitality” or the warmer weather here or that I’ve just lived in the wrong parts of New Jersey. Down here there were people out having a grand time! Granted, we’ve already had frost back home and down here the people panic at the first chill breeze… while I’m sweating in short sleeves (and plastic armor)! Case in point: I am writing this while sitting in a coffee shop late in the afternoon. It’s over 70 degrees outside. They have a fireplace burning in here! I kid you not, soldier’s honor, cross my breastplate and hope to die, stick a javelin in my eye. Now I know why the Confederate Army lost the Civil War. They were cold!

The kids had a great time going door to door for candy. It was hard to keep up with them at times! With so many kids and parents out and about, it was hard to keep an eye on all the kids in our group. At times, one or two got lost in the melee and I nearly dispatched the other fathers on search missions. But I was able to keep the troops together and on course. However, after an hour, grumblings within the ranks began: “My feet hurt.” “My legs ache.” “I’m tired.” “I don’t want to walk anymore.” The terrain was quite hilly. But, in the tradition of Alexander the Great, Samuel the Awesome roused their loyalty and ambition, leading them home with their spoils in bulging pillow cases. Victory was sweet!

Now, as various and sundry pressing duties require my attention, I must sign-off.

“Ave et vale.”

“Caveat Emptor.”

I command thee to Google it if thou doth not understand.

“Ha ha.” (Latin for “laugh”)

I CAN’T SLEEP

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(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

I cannot sleep. I tried and I tried. I read. I tossed and I turned. I stared at the clock and watched the amount of time I had left before work shrink and shrink.

Then I got up, somewhere around 12:30 AM.

“What did you do?” you ask.

I re-potted plants.

“What? Are you crazy?”

Yes, but that’s beside the point.

I remembered that there was a “Snake Plant” that I wanted to thin out and re-pot. It was outside. So, I shuffled out there in the late October chill air, in my old sleeping shorts, a t-shirt, and my two-year-old bedroom slippers that are now splitting at the seems. To my great nocturnal pleasure, I found that the Snake Plant had produced new shoots. They were perfect!

Being that it was too chilly outside for mid-night gardening, I moved operations to the basement.

“What? Are you a doctor?”

Not those kinds of operations.

I found a partial bag of potting soil outside the basement door at the bottom of the outside steps. I dug up a couple of decent pots. Next, I disentangled the roots of the shoots. (If I were wearing boots I could make a rhyme like Seuss. But I was wearing slippers. Do you remember? Soon they will be “trippers” without a mender.)

“You ARE crazy!”

Yeah, well, it is now 2 AM. Tick tock. Tick tock. Work is inching closer.

All rhyming aside, I scooped the soil into the pots, installed the plants, and swept up the mess.

A little farming should make anyone tired. Right? But just in case, I made a cup of chamomile tea.

“Oh! Just like Peter Rabbit!”

Well, sort of. Peter’s mom gave it to him because he was a naughty, fat, little rabbit who ate Mr. McGregor’s plants (Rabbits are evil! Don’t believe me? Just watch this!). I made some for myself because it’s supposed to make you sleepy.

Poppycock (as the Brits in that video would say)! That was over an hour ago and I’m still wide awake! I’m so wired it’s as if somebody slipped me a massive load of caffeine somewhere along the way tonight. I don’t know what else to do with myself. More gardening? Mow the lawn? Watch a Monty Python movie?

Hey… now there’s an idea! Just as soon as I plaster this jibber jabber on the internet, I’m going to crank up the dvd player and watch me a good ol’ silly movie. If nothing else, it will give me a reason to smile when I walk into the office at 9 AM – something in addition to the delirious smile sleep deprivation usually plants on my face.

And now I bid you happy tidings
As in your beds you’re tucked and hiding
I cannot sleep, tis how I am
There is no sleep for Sam I Am.