We've all heard of the Seven Wonders of the World. Most of us couldn't name them all. I couldn't, so I Googled and discovered I hadn't even heard of some. Embarrassing, I know. Unfortunately, I'm more familiar with embarrassment than the Seven Wonders of the World. Actually, it's more complicated than one list of seven wonders. The original list was compiled eons ago, in years B.C. Most of those wonders don't exist anymore. Since then, various entities have compiled various lists of various seven wonders, so there isn't one definitive list anymore.
I worry. We all do. We all have things to fret about and fixate on — real and legitimate things that could and may go wrong that will mess other things up big time. And lately — oh, lately — doesn't it seem there are more major, huge and catastrophic issues to occupy our brain space? It seems that way because it is that way and that, in and of itself, is cause for worry.
They'd be the first to admit they are more adept at handing off a football versus a tiny human being, but during the last week, they've certainly given the latter their best efforts. At exactly two minutes before midnight on a recent Sunday, soon-to-be Monday, my three sons became instant uncles. Their excitement and curiosity regarding the whole process has been interesting (to say the least).
Life is supposed to be an adventure. That's what they tell us, anyway. Thing is, what type of adventure isn't specified so I guess we are left to our own devices. Most of us would welcome a nonstop, exciting, inspiring all-expense-paid and anything-but-banal adventure. Truth is, some things are easier said than done. There are practically an infinite number of real-life non-adventurous adventures that can — and do — interfere and impede our ability to experience the jaw-dropping, isn't-this-the-best adventures that we'd choose if given the choice.
She is going to have a baby. The little pink bundle we carried home from the hospital but a blink ago is soon going to be a mother herself. My baby girl is having a baby girl. It seems too good to be true — and scarier than heck, all at the same time. I'm the one who's scared, not her. Well, maybe she's just a little bit scared.
In many parts of the world, people walk miles just to access it. Here in the U.S., we may take it for granted because for most of us, it comes from the tap with the flick of a wrist. Some of us buy it bottled. Some of us like it with a slice of lemon or lime. Some prefer iced. Others, straight up. It is the base for our coffee, tea and even wine.
It was going to be a busy day. I had a to-do list longer than a Minnesota winter or a Texas summer — take your pick. Of course the kitchen was a mess. The best mornings always start out that way. Dishes were piled in the sink because after dinner the night before we'd discovered the dishwasher was already full and in need of a wash cycle. Oops. I was midway through unloading the dishwasher when the crisis du jour hit.
My family goes through a few — OK, more than a few — aluminum cans. And even though we've always recycled and attempted to condense the cans the barehanded way, surplus metal was impacting our recycle bin in an overflowing manner. When the excess wouldn't fit into the bin, the bags started piling up in the garage. I knew we were at a crossroads.
It's my job to come up with words each week. It's become almost a habit, but I've wondered what I'll do when the words don't come, as I suspect will happen at some point. So far, though, I've been able to find something to say. Or maybe nothing to say, but the words have been there nonetheless. Over the last few days, I've pondered words and how our lives are filled with a plethora of them — on the news, at the dinner table, work and home, online, through texts, on the phone, social media, billboards, message boards and hashtags.
The Winter Olympics are waning. Competition officially ends Feb. 25. Sigh. It's been a good (sleigh) ride. If you're like me, the Winter Games provide opportunities to develop an interest in and become an expert on sports not typically televised during prime time. Let's start with curling, which as far as I can decipher has nothing to do with anything curly, especially hair. It involves large round granite disks called stones that slide across the ice toward a target.