Grannymar

On 17th March Ireland celebrates the Feast of St Patrick, the Patron Saint.  For many years the day was more celebrated by those outside the country than the residents on home soil.  American street markings turned green and so did the Guinness, that last bit is sacrilege pure sacrilege! Baino danced on Bondi Beach. It seemed like the whole world was Irish for the day.  All the politicians travelled abroad for a free shindig to represent their country at parades, dinners etc across the globe.  The only person left at home to mind the house country was the President.

The ordinary men and women in the street were feeling neglected so they decided too have their own party.  Thus St Patrick’s Festival was born.  I was in Dublin last year for the Parade and the party at the Storehouse afterwards.

If you are unable to come over and join in the Craic and the céilidh in person, then how would you like to own a little piece of Ireland no matter how far from the Emerald Isle you are!

You heard me!  You can buy a piece of the ould sod and feel more Irish than the Irish on the day!  Mind you I think you will have to provide your own rain to water it! ;)  Maybe by next year someone will have discovered how to sell Genuine Irish Rain!  Maynard, stop your laughing.  It is not such an outrageous idea after all.  Conrad, please don’t confuse Irish rain with Irish Mist or Tullamore Dew they are different entirely.

Over across the channel in mainland UK they have gone even further.  I think you better sit down for this one…. Someone look at the calendar please; is it 1st April today?

Right so.  Are you sitting comfortably?  Then I will begin…

I was reading an article the other day in the Guardian online that The National Trust is selling jam jars of fresh, ’stress-relieving’ country air to city folk!!!

All that is left now is for someone to come up with scratch and sniff cards for smelly sox…

I think I need to lie down!

I now lead a simple life and ‘upset’ is not something I encounter very often.  Large or small ‘upsets’ are not good for my heart so I try not to let them interfere.  A Consultant said to me recently “You know your body very well, listen to it and deal with situations in the correct way!”  When you live alone you have to.  Were I to panic every time my heart went into spasm, it would make things worse and I would spend half my life in A&E or worse…..

On the World scale I am surrounded with natural disaster, disease, famine, war and the effects of greed.  I am unable to solve these problems on my own, so I must step back and hope that those more talented, capable and with the expertise will provide the solutions necessary.

Since I am human, well…. I think I am, nature has a way of raising the hackles every now and then.  It is usually something that others decide I must do, think or feel.

When I have a problem niggling at me, I go quiet, working it through in my mind.

I remember Jack saying to me once “Your mother was right!”

“In what respect?” I asked.

“She told me before we married, that if you were very quiet, to leave you to your thoughts, as you were working through a problem!”

“Really!”  I said.

“Darling, you have hardly spoken for three days, and only now have you shared what was on your mind.”

So, as in the Reinhold Niebuhr prayer: I am accepting the things I cannot change and moving on.  I change the things I can, and hope I have enough wisdom to know the difference between the ‘can’ and the ‘cannot’!

I drew back the heavy curtains and opened the blinds to a bright white world clothed in frost.

All of a sudden I gasped in horror.  The beauty of nature was spoiled by its alter ego when I spied the trail of bloody footprints.  They passed the full length of my picture window.  Donning warm layers I went to investigate.

At the corner of the house were the signs of battle.  It was not a fight to the bitter end since there were no bodies in sight, only bloody trails in differing directions.

The trail past my front doorstep, I think it was a cat limping off home.

The battle scene

Now, if the first row of paw prints were a cat - I say this because in snow and we had plenty this winter - the paw prints are usually left in a single row, what was the other combatant?

Two rows of prints widely spaced.

This second set of prints trailed all along the side of the house, round the back only ending where the patio met the shrubbery.

Do you think it was a fox?

The evidence has been removed, I cleaned and scrubbed until all was once more pristine, so arriving to investigate is a waste of time.  Is it any wonder I get tired?

The brighter mornings gladden my heart, at six thirty I was sitting up in bed contemplating breakfast.

Suddenly there was an almighty THUMP!  It sounded like it was outside and not far away.  At that hour my neighbourhood is like sleepy valley…. well sleepy hill top!  I looked out the window and there was no sign of movement or disturbance.  Moving to a room on the other side I lifted my eyes to the glass and bang in the middle, stuck on the outside was a clump of feathers!

Is nature telling me it is time to move?

As the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver draw to a close today and we are fired up with the amazing stamina, skill and talent of the participants, I share a story that came to me the other day by email:

Two Choices

What would you do?….you make the choice. Don’t look for a punch line, there isn’t one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fund-raising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

‘When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection.  Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.  Where is the natural order of things in my son?’

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. ‘I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.’

Then he told the following story:

Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, ‘Do you think they’ll let me play?’ I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, ‘We’re losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we’ll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.’

Shay struggled over to the team’s bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart.  The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay’s team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.

In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.

In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay’s team scored again.

Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay’s life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.

The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.

The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.

As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.  The game would now be over.  The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman’s head, out of reach of all team mates.  Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, ‘Shay, run to first!  Run to first!’

Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.  He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, ‘Run to second, run to second!’

Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.  By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.

He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher’s intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman’s head.

Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, ‘Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay’

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, ‘Run to third!  Shay, run to third!’

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, ‘Shay, run home! Run home!’

Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team ‘That day’, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, ‘the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world’.

Shay didn’t make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY:

We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate.

The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.

If you’re thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you’re probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren’t the ‘appropriate’ ones to receive this type of message Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference.

We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the ‘natural order of things.’
So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:

Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it’s least fortunate amongst them.

You now have two choices:

1. Delete
2. Forward

May your day, be a Shay Day.

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With thanks to Carol for this story.  When you have time you can watch Wayne Dyer tell the story at the end of this clip from section 9 of his presentation of ‘The Power of Intention’

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4vGCCmbxik
<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4vGCCmbxik&feature=related>
&feature=related

When I first embraced blogging, I had a Blogger Blog.  After a year or so I was moved over to WordPress and a have stayed with them since then.  My old posts were relocated to the new base and anyone who landed on an old early post link found themselves redirected here to Grannymar.  I happily continued to post and visit my usual round of favourites leaving comments when I felt the urge.

Life was sweet.

In recent months I have noticed a change.

When I visit Blogger Blogs these days a large proportion of them have re-introduced moderation of their comments.  So now when you post a comment there is no indication that it is the first response, or dumped in an in-tray with a million others.

That is not the reason for my frustration.

My annoyance comes from the actual effort in leaving a comment on a Blogger Blog.  Particularly when faced with this:

I have added my words of wisdom thoughts and want to submit or hit publish but how?

The Open ID option does not work for me so I am forced to use the Google Account!  It worked fine for a while but recently I have found it annoying.  Particularly when somebody uses that link to come back to my blog.  They are landing on the ‘oldBones’ my old Blogger blog! I know because a recent visitor* left a comment on that old blog, thankfully I was notified by email.

There is an answer…..

This version gives another option:- Name/URL

It allows me to use my Blog name and my URL (blog address).  Simple!

Did you know I have a pet hate?  Using a captcha.  Sometimes I type exactly what I see.  Honestly.  I am usually sober when I type…. uoy should ees what ti is elik when I ma tispy!

Now there was one evening….  I finished my dinner and refilled my glass to enjoy while surfing the blogs….  There was this captcha to fill in.  It was refused, so I tried again.  And again…. and again!  No! it was not the fault of the wine, that was a very nice bottle given to me by a friend.

The captcha didn’t like me so I sought help.   I clicked on the symbol

Well it is there for a reason and I needed help!

Dear Lord of demented Corncrake choirs! What in hell was going on?  My living room sounded like I had been invaded by 7 coachs of Japanese tourists who found an ancient mummy!   OK1  OK!  I know I am ancient but Elly will tell you that she was warned at age 10 never to call me ‘mummy’ at the risk of being disowned!

No matter what I did the noise continued, asking for help was dangerous and telling them to be quiet didn’t work, hitting the escape button didn’t work,  Elly & George were out on the town so no help there.  In my panic I forgot Twitter.  I went for the total desperation option and did a hard shutdown.  I went off to read a book instead.   Yes, Ramana, I do actually have a book or three!

I thought about it during the dark hours of wakefulness.  What did I do before the noise started?  I retraced my steps in my mind and decided that I should have hit the disabled logo to close off the sound.  It works.

When Nurse Hitler was nagging me one day - you remember her - I clicked that sign and she shut up PRONTO!  I don’t think she ever tried it before!  Her face was a picture and I got two choccie bikkies with my coffee!

* Well worth reading this linked post.

Last Wednesday was the appointed day and we arrived in good time joining in line with the others waiting to perform.

A shuttered door was raised and the lights changed from red to green when it was time to enter.  It was a large warehouse type building with modern computerised equipment to record details and speed up the process.

Our turn came and we moved forward until a raised hand told us to stop.  Opening the window I handed over the paperwork.

At this stage there were two toyboys playing with my pride and joy.  One worked from the rear connecting a hose, while I played twenty questions - avec des actions - with the other. Once the lights - side, dipped and full beam, break, fog & hazards and the indicators, all shone, blinked or flashed to prove they could, it was inside to check that all five seat belts  closed, opened and showed no signs of wear.  Before closing the last passenger door I was asked to pull the leaver to open the bonnet and then the engine was examined in detail.

Once satisfied that all was in order under the bonnet I was invited to vacate the car and sit on the cold hard seats behind protective rails.

The vehicle tester then drove to stage two where first the front wheels and then the back two are dropped into the bone shaker (my name for it), I wonder if it is to find out if any parts are ready to fall off? :roll:   Nothing fell on the ground, not even the fifty pence piece I lost in the car last week.

Then it was on to greater heights:

Slow down there Mister, or I will hit the roof, never mind my little treasure!

So Mister tester stepped in under my car with a powerful torch light and a screwdriver to poke and prod every inch of the under surface, the axles and the inside of my wheels.  Once he was satisfied the car was lowered halfway until the wheel arches were at eye level to the examiner.  The front wheels were turned and again the bright light and screwdriver were employed in checking everything out.  The back wheel arches were given their check over too and then the car was lowered to ground level.

Once a few buttons were punched and the details compiled, I was waved forward from my pen.  The guy had a little piece of paper in his waving hand.   Good sign!

Yes!  My little treasure passed with flying colours for another year.

“Nice little car you have there!” said the guy as he handed me the certificate.

I was one happy bunny, although frozen, as I tootled back home.  It was dark, but dry, unlike the route from Carrickfergus.  Another lady who joined me in the waiting area, said it was snowing as she drove over to the test centre.

It was 7pm when I reached home and turned the key in my door, the blast of heat was very welcome and I was ready for a warming dinner!

God’s cake…

Sometimes we wonder, ‘What did I do to deserve this?’ or ‘Why did God have to do this to me?’ Here is a wonderful explanation!

A daughter is telling her Mother how everything is going wrong, she’s failing algebra, her boyfriend broke up with her and her best friend is moving away.

Meanwhile, her Mother is baking a cake and asks her daughter if she would like a snack, and the daughter says, ‘Absolutely Mom, I love your cake.’

‘Here, have some cooking oil,’ her Mother offers.

‘Yuck’ says her daughter.

‘How about a couple raw eggs?’

‘Gross, Mom!’

‘Would you like some flour then? Or maybe baking soda?’

‘Mom, those are all yucky!’

To which the mother replies: ‘Yes , all those things seem bad all by themselves. But when they are put together in the right way, they make a wonderfully delicious cake! ‘God works the same way. Many times we wonder why He would let us go through such bad and difficult times. But God knows that when He puts these things all in His order, they always work for good! We just have to trust Him and, eventually, they will all make something wonderful!

God is crazy about you. He sends you flowers every spring and a sunrise every morning. Whenever you want to talk, He’ll listen. He can live anywhere in the universe, and He chose your heart.

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance!

This wonderful lesson came to me in an email from Corky Hake.  I wish I had known about it when Elly was young.

Friday was pay day when I first joined the land of the workers.  We stood in line to get our reward: £6 14s 0d (after deductions) counted into my hot ice cold hands, I then had to sign a big sheet to show that I got the money.  I handed over half of it to mammy to go towards my keep right from the beginning and the remainder kept me in tights, make-up, paid for my lunch each day and the odd trip to the cinema.

What would you get for the equivalent today?

You have time to think about it…. I’ll be back at LBC time!  See you then.

Maynard sent me this edited copy of one of my photos.

To blog you need words and today I have few.  I was outdoors this afternoon cleaning the inside of my car.  It was wonderful to be out there in the fresh air, able to clamber in and out and up and down.  The sunshine warmed my heart and now I feel content for a job well done.

♣♥♦ ♣♥♦ ♣♥♦ ♣♥♦

I was going to post some other pictures that I took while out the other day, but they are in my cell phone, and when I add the USB connection it refuses to do what I want. :(  I suppose it might be a senior moment and I can’t remember quite what to do….

I do have a photo to show you

I am not talking about the empty shop across the way.  I heard a dreadful statistic on the radio yesterday morning…. One in ten shops in the UK are closed for business!

I am talking about the sign on the door, one I hoped never to see again.

Coming in closer…

I am not asking for the vigilance to stop.  I want to live in a world with no need for signs like that.

At times we need to forget the past and live today while building for tomorrow!

Just because…

You are not in full time employment, doesn’t mean you don’t need to eat.

You are on a diet, doesn’t mean you cannot peruse the menu.

You are alone, doesn’t mean you are lonely

It is Sunday, does not mean the sun will shine.

If the sun don’t shine, does not mean you cannot be happy.