Green Eggs and Ham

Do you like green eggs and ham?

I could not, would not, on a boat.
I will not, will not, with a goat.
I will not eat them in the rain.
I will not eat them on a train.
Not in the dark! Not in a tree!
Not in a car! You let me be!
I do not like them in a box.
I do not like them with a fox.
I will not eat them in a house.
I do not like them with a mouse.
I do not like them here or there.
I do not like them ANYWHERE!

You do not like them.

So you say.
Try them! Try them!
And you may.
Try them and you may, I say.

Say!
I like green eggs and ham!
I do! I like them, Sam-I-am!
And I would eat them in a boat.
And I would eat them with a goat.
And I will eat them in the rain.
And in the dark. And on a train.
They are so good, so good, you see!
So I will eat them in a box.
And I will eat them with a fox.
And I will eat them in a house.
And I will eat them with a mouse.
And I will eat them here and there.
Say! I will eat them ANYWHERE!

I do like green eggs and ham!

Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am!

I fed my daughter green eggs and ham one morning then read Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss to her. Of course, she loves green eggs and ham! Yes she does, Sam-I -am!

My Little Big Brother

This handsome man is my brother and this post is for him. Today is Tim’s 25th birthday.

Tim, you are a quarter of a century now. Do you feel old? Well, don’t feel old. As of April you will be only half Mom’s age. (Wow, last year Heather was half Dad’s age.) They are half a century! 25 is a wonderful age. It was one of my favorite ages. You are only half way through your 20s and still young. You have your whole life ahead of you.

I have always wished I had an older brother, but since I am the oldest that couldn’t happen. But I kind of got my wish anyway through my little brother. Ever since he got bigger than me (if not before) he has acted like my big brother. Yes, he even used to boss me around. But he also looked out for me. He’s a good protective brother. I think even though he’s far away he would still look out for me.

What kind of person is my brother? Well, on the outside he looks like a tough guy (and he is) especially when he’s holding one of his many weapons. He loves martial arts and hunting. (Maybe one of the reasons I always feel safe around him. I know he can defend himself.) But under that tough exterior he is a gentleman and has a heart of compassion for others. He is dependable and hard working. Most importantly, he loves the Lord.

So Tim, am I totally embarrassing you yet? Honestly, that is not my intention and don’t worry, only about 5 or 6 people read my blog as far as I know. I just wanted to let you know that I am glad you are my brother. I couldn’t have asked for a better one. I am very proud of you. And even though you are bigger than me, you will always be my little brother.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIM!!!

Motorcycle Chick

My daughter went on her first motorcycle ride last night. Stephen took her around the circle in our gated community a few times. She loved it. All she needs now is a leather jacket and a real helmet and she'll be a real motorcycle chick.

With the wind blowing through my hair
I will ride from here to there
On my cool motor bike
I will go where e're I like

I will cruise up to the mountains
Then along the ocean shore
Drive around the city fountains
And the whole world I'll explore

With the open road before me
I like to get there quick
There's so much to go and see
I'm a motorcycle chick

Stolen Expressions

I often envy people who are talented; people who can express themselves through music or art or written words.

As I listen to music, I hear a person’s soul and emotions dance upon the notes he sings or plays. It echoes through my being and I wish I could put my feelings into beautiful music; music that would bring tears to your eyes or make your heart soar with joy and hope. Music fills me and I wish I could move with it gracefully so the beauty inside flows out.

I see a painting and know that it is so much more than a pretty picture. It is the mystery of a person. It hides within its layers secrets of the past. The colors the artist chooses give me a glimpse of his personality. The style of the painting shows his passion and the images show what he loves and cares about. I wish I could paint from my heart, revealing who I am inside or who I want to be.

Words may seem like an obvious way of expressing yourself but there is a difference between writing words on a piece of paper and using words to create another world or describe your innermost being. I wish I could make my words flow poetically or use imagery to convey my deepest thoughts or at least sound like I know what I’m talking about.

There is so much trapped inside of me and I don’t know how to let it out. My music is just noise, my movements jerky and clumsy. My paintings are senseless splotches of color and my words are meaningless mumbo jumbo. My thoughts, feelings, emotions, everything I am swirl around inside me. Joy, sadness, love, hate, compassion, anger, contentment, frustration, calm, restlessness, passion, loneliness…all bottled up in such a small space that they get mixed up, pushing and pulling me from one emotion to another until I feel like I’ve been riding a roller coaster. There is no way for me to express myself, no outlet. I open my mouth but no sound comes out. My canvas is twice as thick as when I started from the layers of paint covering up the images that were not right. Words flee my brain as my pen hovers over the blank paper.

So I try to substitute my feelings with those of another. I listen and move to music that mimics what I feel, but it is not my music. I admire paintings that look like what I would want to paint, but it is not my art hiding my secrets and revealing who I am. I read poetry and books that portray close to my thoughts and who I want to be, but they are not my words. They are merely reflections of other people while my own remain locked away inside of me longing to be released.