Life is fatal.
Just by being born, we know that one day we are going to die. And while none of us knows the exact number of our days, there are some things we can do, or not do, that might affect when we succumb to our mortality.
More specifically, some of us are risk takers, while others of us prefer to be more conservative with our lives.
One of our daughters works at a small design company. The owner is pretty much fearless. He travels to parts of the world most of us would be happy to avoid. And once there, it seems that he looks for trouble. While he has some pretty amazing stories, he’s not the travel companion most parents would wish for their 28-year-old daughter.
However, since this is a design firm, creativity is a requirement. To get his designers thinking outside the box, the owner likes to shake these mostly young and single artists out of their comfort zones. Recently, this email was distributed to a number of employees:
This poem is widely distributed on the web. It made me laugh, so I thought I would share it with you. I have no idea who the original author was… if you do, please let me know so I can give credit where credit is due!
When I was a young turkey, new to the coop,
My big brother Mike took me out on the stoop,
Then he sat me down, and he spoke real slow,
And he told me there was something that I had to know;
His look and his tone I will always remember,
When he told me of the horrors of… Black November;
I came across this blog quite by accident, and thought it was interesting, funny, cute, amazing, you name it. While some of their stuff is also gross, disgusting, and not recommended, there were enough postings that I really enjoyed that I couldn’t resist directing you to their site. My favorites were the ones listed as “cool.” I particularly loved the pictures of the overloaded vehicles. Reminds me of fitting seven people into a rather small taxi in India.
(Please note that I have absolutely no idea what they will have posted on their front page when you click on the link above.)
Should you believe everything you hear? I was relaxing for a few moments, reading random websites, when a list of “old wives’ tales” caught my eye. I give full credit to www.snopes.com for their informative and entertaining work.
1. Should you tap the side of a soda can before opening it, in order to prevent its contents from foaming all over your hand?
2. Do you only use 10% of your brain?
3. Can you determine the temperature by counting cricket chirps?
4. Is the Great Wall of China the only man-made object visible from the moon?
5. If you are kidnapped, blindfolded, and taken somewhere far away, can you determine which hemisphere you are in by which way water spirals as it does down the drain?
6. Should we be cautious around water that was boiled in a microwave oven, in case it suddenly “explodes”?
Which ones did you answer yes to? Let’s have some fun, and maybe you’ll pick up a bit of healthy skepticism.
I’ve been pretty serious lately, so I think it’s time for some silliness. I was just out in the chicken coop collecting the day’s eggs, and it hit me that hens are the epitome of brainless inanity. Therefore, today’s posting is about chickens. More precisely, it is a somewhat (but not very) fictionalized story about how we got our very first chicken, Bawky. The year was 1986….
I was scraping cereal off the last of the morning’s dishes to the accompaniment of Bert and Ernie, when the doorbell rang. Dropping the bowl back into the soapy water, I grabbed a tattered dishrag to dry my hands. The sound of running feet heralded the breathless arrival of two little girls, curious to see who was at the door. Chubby hands gripped my knees. We opened the door together. Continue reading