Ideas Have Consequences

I've been thinking for about a week of a blog I'd love to write.  The title as you see above is "Ideas Have Consequences."   The title isn't original with me, it's a book by Richard Weaver of the University of Chicago.  I first encountered it some years ago and it introduced me to the concept of worldviews and the logical ends of them. 

In looking at my life, I notice that it's very difficult to pick apart the ideas that make up my worldview.  Oh, the broad outlines are readily discerned, but it's the underlying nuance that intrigues me.  Where did those small tones and discords begin?  Some of them are the result of growing up in a particualr time, place, and culture.  If I weren't a female born in south Arkansas in the 1960's, I would have experienced a radically different introduction to the world.  Like a baby duck opening its eyes upon its mother, I was impressed by my world and adopted it without thought.

Now that I'm nearing 40 years of age, I'm thinking about it.  I see the consequences, and I'm working backward to the ideas.

Fugitive in the Hood!

Oh, yes, the girl is here, we have been kicking up our heels all day long.  By we, I mean me and Tim.  Fugitive made breakfast this morning then sent the two of us out to have a "date".  I'm willing to bet she regrets that now.  We had thought we'd have lunch and see a movie, maybe sit in the very back row of the theater and do some necking.  But we got sidetracked in a crafts/hobby store.  All of a sudden it dawned on us that we could go ANYWHERE - even a store with BREAKABLE items - because we were KID FREE.

Whooooo Hoooooo!  We've been ALL over Lousiville.  It's been GREAT.  I bought the dog a tee shirt that says "attack poodle" because everytime she sees a butterfly she has one (so it's a panic attack, she's trying!)

To make it up to her, I came home this evening (don't laugh, I was tempted to stay and stay and stay) and cooked her favorite meal of all time (stir-fry), which I served with her favorite drink of all time - (a fuzzy navel.)  We are having a fantastic visit.  I wish that we had a week instead of just the weekend.

Now, I'm going to hang out with my sister and prove to her and my husband once and for all that I am not addicted to Xanga, I am capable of limiting my sessions to 30 minutes or less.  (I'll see you all soon.) 

**********************

I'm Baaaaaaack!  I have to tell you this one.  While I was being really good making a quick Xanga entry, my husband is lying on the couch with his eyes closed.  My sister took the children's flashlight with the red filter and shined it at his eyelids. . . "Wooooo, You have died and gone to Heeeeellllllllllllll" - his eyes flipped open.  She quickly amended her speech, "But don't worry most of your friends are already here."

Life is NEVER boring with Fugutive in the Hood. 

Are you a true blue loyal type?

I had a conversation earlier this week in which the concept of brand loyalty came up.  Okay, my friend mentioned that she would always and forever use a particular brand and I laughed.  I know, that was rude of me.  Brand loyalty strikes me as somewhat old fashioned and frankly a little odd.

When I shop I look at quality, price, availability of technical support, compatibility with other items I own, costs of maintenance, ease of exchange if things don't work out.  Can the product me customized to my preferences?  Is the same thing available in a generic?  The brand hasn't ever been much of a selling point.   I'm not a good target for designer products, I don't care about labels.

The only brand I can think of that I've been loyal too has been diet coke.  Only recently I've developed an intolerance for nutrasweet/aspartame.  I know, some of you have been saying for years that nutrasweet came from Satan, but I've hung in there.  Then I started devloping symptoms that couldn't be explained.  Pain in my joints - a lot of pain in ALL my joints.  Even my toes hurt.  The doctor didn't know what it was, it went way beyond the arthritis pain I've dealt with for years.  Unlike arthritis, there was no inflamation, just pain.  When it was all said and done, I have no tolerance for nutrasweet.  The stuff is aparently broken down by some people into the same poison that makes fire ants - firey.  I am one of those statistical few.

So I quit drinking diet coke, adding nutrasweet to my tea, and eating low calorie yogurt.  (There really weren't many sources of nutrasweet in my diet, so it was fairly easy to identify and eliminate.)  Within 36 hours of the time I had my last diet coke, my joints were clear of pain.  Is this starting to sound like an infomercial?  I'm just amazed at how quickly the pain disappeared. 

So what does that have to do with brand loyalty?  I notice that since I'm avoiding nutrasweet products I'm finding a lot more stuff on the shelves to choose from.  I'm sampling herbal teas (some of which I sweeten with a drop or two of honey.)  I'm appreciating my filter more as I drink more plain old water.  I've had fruit juice with my bagel, and I'm enjoying an occasional ginger ale.  I had forgotten how much I like ginger ale.  Is it really less sweet than other pop?  Or does it just taste that way?  The other day, I thought I really must have caffeine, and I bought regular coke.  I was up half the night, so I'm back to my decaff state. 

I have a little more loyalty to stores than to products.  I shop Walmart and Target because of the relatively low prices, but I don't shop there exclusively.  I shop Barnes and Noble online because I live out in the country where the nearest bookstore is an hour away.  From my desk, I can find the books I want online, and Barnes and Noble will ship them to me free of shipping and handling.  I compare their prices to other online options - half.com, Amazon, buybooks.com, and others.  I can usually get popular books through half.com for pennies on the dollar so that's been a good option, but for new books, it's hard for me to find a better price than I can get through Barnes and Noble. 

How about you?  Are you loyal to a brand?  If you are, what kind of product is it?  Are you more or less loyal to a brand than you were five or ten years ago? 

Wormy has a blog today about good, evil, necessity, causality, and perception.  And I'd recommend it even if he weren't my favorite brother. 

Did you ever have a day where ablsolutely nothing went right?  Oh it started off well.  It's raining and that's a good thing.  We went out to lunch at a local diner.  The people on either side of us were obviously deaf but unaware of their condition because they were yelling their conversation.  It took an hour to get our food.  And then the order was wrong.  When we left the loud people were still there, still yelling.

No problem.  We went to Walmart - shopping always cheers me up.  Except today I went to a brand new Super Walmart that is the biggest Walmart I've been in to date.  I couldn't find the things on my list.  Why do you think they would have put the pet food in between the shampoo and the Ibuprofen? 

It was raining and I needed new windshield wipers because in the three months since the last time it rained mine apparently dry rotted.  So when I turned them on not only did they fail to clean the windows - they waved annoying little trails of rubber in front of my eyes.  But could I find the wipers in this Walmart?  Could I even find the automotive section in this Walmart?

I looked and looked for a certain expansion pack that I've been wanting for my SIMS game.  I couldn't find it.  I asked a sales associate if they might have it in a different display since its the newest one.  He stared at me like I was a three headed alien with spinach between my toes.  I asked him if he could check his computer to see if they had a copy in stock.  He looked at me with a puzzled tone of eyebrow, "Why would I do that?"  How silly of me, I assumed that the bright blue vest and Walmart name badge meant that you WORK here.

I got home and was unloading my stuff.  (Only about half of what I set out to get, but who's keeping score?)  Out the corner of my eye, I saw my kid opening a box that I had specifically said was to be saved for this weekend when the cousins visit.  I double checked with him, "Is this the _____ that we just bought?"  Yes, Mom.  "Did you hear me say that this is being saved for when the cousins visit?"  Yes, Mom. 

I yelled at him.

Later I realized that he had not in fact opened the box of _____ that we just bought, the unopened new box was right where it was supposed to be.  So now I'm not only confused, I feel bad.  "Michael, why did you tell me that you opened the new box?"  I don't know, Mom, it seemed important to you.

Tim called to see how my day was going.  I told him.  He brought home the new expansion pack.  My SIMS are UNLEASHED.  I however, have been effectively reined in. 

Fugitive Is Coming To Town

Years and years ago, there were two sisters from a tiny town in Arkansas.  The older sister married a tall guy named Tim.  Exactly one year later the younger one married a tall guy named Tim.  The two Tims are almost polar opposites.  One is quiet, writes poetry and sculpts for enjoyment.  The other is more outgoing and prefers to tinker on cars, hunt, fish and eat chili in the woods. 

So the sisters had much to talk about.  Even though life took them to opposite corners of the country, they still talked a lot.  The older sister was living in the south talking about politics, barbeque, Memphis Jazz and the books she read.  The younger landed in Minnesota so she talked about hair, snow, life in a city, and the weird foods they sold in the local deli.

Then tragedy struck.  The younger sister signed up for a cooking class.  No stick with me this was a serious tragedy.  See they decided to make candies for the Christmas holiday.  Unbeknownst to the instructor, the double boiler the students were using was dry and vapor locked.  She told them to use it anyway.  Just as the melting sugar and fats were reaching their highest temperatures - the double boiler exploded.  Burning hot candy blew up into the face and onto the arm of the younger sister.

For days she was unable to see anything and there was a serious question whether she was permanently blinded.  Obviously, something must be done.  The older sister packed up her husband and her books and moved to Minnesota and into the townhouse of the younger sister.  For the next three months, the two Tims went to work each day while the two sisters hung out.  The older sister is something of a domestic goddess so she cooked, cleaned, and generally took care of things while the younger sister recovered.

Times were really lean.  It helped that the two husbands were both working and the two families were sharing the expense of one rent, and one set of utility bills.  It also helped that the sisters were together, so the long distance bill all but dissappeared.  But, the medical bills still had to be paid, and under the circumstances, there was legal dispute as to who's insurance was responsible.  While the insurance companies argued, the younger sister was forced to pay all the bills.

Many, many moons later, the court finally told the insurance companies who had to pay what, but lo and behold, the hospital, ambulance, doctors, and pharmacists were all paid so the money was refunded to the younger sister.  Rich, she was rich!  And in her moment of wealth, she decided to buy plane tickets for her family (which now included an almost year old baby) and her sister (along with her five month old baby) to go see their aging parents.

Fast forward to this weekend.  It's been 7 years since Fugitive bought mine and Michael's plane ticket.  It's time for her younger son to get his turn for a first flight.  Isn't it wonderful that they will be flying here to visit me?  We still have a lot to talk about.  Today I'll be going to Russell Stovers to pick up chocolates.  I'll stop in at the grocery to get special ingredients for the foods that Fugitive likes me to make.  I'm taking the dog to be groomed so that the whole family will be ready to entertain guests.

It's less than 36 hours til the plane lands and there are four little boys counting each tick of the clock.  If you hear a loud buzzing sound coming from this part of the country, don't be alarmed - it's just me and Fugitive catching up. 

Sensual Evening

Sometimes its time to call it a day.  I go into the bathroom and drop all my clothes in the hamper, turn on the tap and add my favorite scented bubble bath with skin softeners.  Then I light the candles.  My drink sits on the little shelf in the corner of my tub, my CD Player sits next to the tub on the timeout chair my boys donated to my cause. 

I slide into the water, and lean back.  I brought a book, but tonight, I'm not as interested in reading as I am in being totally in the moment.  I watch the flickering flame through my lashes, not analyzing, just experiencing the playful spark that teases the wick even as it burns.  I turn on the music.  The perfect music.

Because I know some of you really detest music that plays automatically when you visit a site, I'm not putting a sound file on this page.  I am giving you a link - HERE - to a webpage where you can sample some of the California Guitar Trio's music.  I think if you navigate around the site you can find an interview they did for NPR in which they explain why they are able to play the music they play.  I tried to explain it to a musician friend once, and quickly learned that I just don't have the musical vocabulary to offer a coherent explanation.  Anyway, maybe you don't really care how  they are able to get that incredible rich sound out of their instruments.

Maybe you just want to get naked, slide into a bubble bath, listen to their cover of Caravan and watch a candle flame.  That would be okay with me.  That's what I'm doing.

Dialogue is a Two Way Street

In teaching my children the rules of social interaction I ask them to consider three things before they speak.  1) Is it true?  2) Is it kind?  3) Is it helpful?  It's amazing how thoroughly these three rules cover almost every situation in which you are tempted to open your mouth. 

On my Xanga site, I talk around the concept of truth a lot.  What do you believe?  Why do you believe it?  How can you know?  What kind of reason is a sufficient reason for accepting a proposition which cannot be proven with philosophical certitude (and lets be frank here, there is NO proposition which can be proven with philosophical certitude.)  But, the fact that I do not believe it's humanly possible for one person to know the exhaustive truth, doesn't mean that I believe we can never access any truth.  I'm a lot about truth. 

I don't play mind games.  I don't write things here from the "Devil's Viewpoint" - let the Devil get his own Xanga site if he wants to publish his viewpoint.  I write things here that I believe to be true.  Sometimes, someone will point out that I've left a variable out of my consideration.  That's more than cool, that's helpful.  It shows me places I may have overlooked, blind spots in my thinking.

Some people have a very difficult time disagreeing with anyone.  They have to screw up their courage before they can break that social barrier of the polite nod.  In their acceleration to break the barrier, these people sometimes crash into unkindness.  That doesn't make them wrong, and if I'm unkind in return that doesn't make me right.  I prefer comments from folks who are kind in their disagreement, who don't attack the person.  But, I understand human nature enough to appreciate that someone who is trying to speak the truth isn't always thinking about being kind.

You are welcome to my site.  All of you are welcome here and all of your opinions are valued.  As perverse as this may seem, I especially appreciate the people who are willing to thoughtfully disagree with me.  I've learned far more from conversations in which I have to go look something up than conversations where my opinion was affirmed. 

I don't have any rules for you.  When you are here you are free to say or not say whatever you want.  In real life, I don't expect the people I talk with to align their mood with mine before they respond.  I talk to my sister every day.  If I'm having a crappy day, and she's having a great day, I don't expect her to talk to me as though she's in the depths of despond just because I'm wallowing in that mud.  What I do hope is that she will let me know that she heard me (she does this very well), tell me if she has a thought she considers might be helpful (she does this very well, too). 

See I think that even if she calls me, she doesn't call me so that she can think what I think, feel what I feel, and say only what I want to hear.  Nor do I expect that people who visit my Xanga site will do that for me.  If I write something that's just too personal, too private, too gutwrenching for me to be willing to have some dialogue about it - well that's what the private button is for. 

So when you come to my site, leave comments, leave eprops, leave smileys, leave little dancing goofy guys, leave whatever you feel like leaving in the comment box below.  (And if you are thinking at this point that I'm just shamelessly pretending to write a thoughtful blog when what I really want are comments and eprops - you'd be mostly right.)

For two excellently written blogs on the topic of commenting on Xanga - pros and cons check out Daffodilious from last Saturday and MyKidsMomZaPothead (probably I spelled this wrong) from Sunday, if you haven't already.   

Growing a New Skin

I've been playing around with the look of my site.  (Duh!)  Okay, okay, that was lame.  I'm trying to figure out this whole skins phenomenon.  I really liked the look of my Autumn page, Thanks Fugitive, so this is no reflection on the beautiful work my sister has been doing.

There is still a lot to learn and I'll probably be tinkering over the next several days.  Tweaking and twirling and moving things around.  Which is odd when I think about it.  I've lived in this house for almost 4 years.  In that time I have never rearranged the furniture except when I absolutely had to (as in the Christmas tree will only fit in the spot currently occupied by my couch . . . so if I MUST move it) and then when the need is over, I put the couch right back where it belongs and breath a sigh of relief.

My Xanga home gets a new look every couple of months.  I'd probably change it more often but it takes me days to work out a new look (unless I beg until Fugitive agrees to do it) and those are days that I don't write anything.  Since the main thing I enjoy is the writing, I'm ready to get back to it . . . tomorrow. 

So what do you think of the new look?  I'm thinking I'll call it "Purple Prose".  Catchy, iddn it?

Stormy Weather -

Friday is a good thing.  Today we have heavy thunderstorms rolling in.  These follow on the heels of storms we had yesterday and the night before.  Yum!  We needed the rain.  (We still need more rain of the long slow soaking variety.)  The grass is so happy, and green.  You can't even tell where Tucker left the waterhose running all night anymore.  It's about 100% better than it has been.

What is it about the hint of electricity in the air?  That inimitable smell of dust that rises in little puffs with the first drops of rainwater?  Why does the smell of rotting vegetation and dank mosses make happy shivers run up my spine?

I have a favorite season.  I'm surprised to realize that my favorite season comes four times a year.  I love the season of change.  This is a double surprise because as a general rule I don't appreciate change.  I greet alterations to my plans as signs of betrayal by enemies of my state.  If you want to surprise me, well, just don't.  I don't like surprises.

It's getting to be Fall.  I love the change from Fall to Winter when we hang the house with holiday decorations and bake treats.  I love the change from Winter to Spring when new life peeks up from the cold brown dirt.  I love the change from Spring to Summer when all the colors of the rainbow burst out in bloom.  And I live the change from Summer to Fall. 

After the exuberance of Summer, Fall is a time of slowing down.  After the mindless joy of splashing in water and the thrill of sand in the shorts, Fall is the time of turning the mind back toward more intellectual pleasures.  I start thinking about what new thing I'm going to focus on learning this year.  I walk the aisles of school supplies and breathe with thankfulness the smell of fresh notebooks and college ruled paper.

Fall is the time I start planning my crafting projects.  I choose the fabrics, the yarns, the colors and the tools I will need to hole up and create something with my hands.  There is something especially comforting about doing needlework with a cold wet rain falling outside.

I have all the things I love represented in this scene.  There is the warmth of being surrounded by family in the warmth of the blanket I wrap aroudn me.  The security of my husband's love and provision rises in the steam from my tea cup.  The passion of creation flows from my fingers into the project of the moment.  The laughter and joy of growth is in the air I breathe.  The passion of learning is in the quiet moments when I lay aside the needlework and pick up a book.

Oh, it's a Good Friday.

I like the graphic for the mad cat (below) but what's up with this madness level of 42%.  That's not even hardly respectable.  I'm pretty sure that the test must have been flawed in some way.  Because I'm sitting here writing on Xanga - in my pajamas, while my kids are eating peanut M&M's and watching television.  There is no sign of sanity anywhere around me.