Conflict Management

Conflict swirls everywhere around me.

The Iran Arms Deal.

The Confederate Flag.

Marines gunned down.

Donald Trump v.John McCain.

Monday - Friday there's conflict at work and boys battling to sit in the front seat of the van on the way to camp.

Student v. Instructor

Federal Regulations v. Local Needs

Nights and weekends I live with conflict at Job #2 over tip allocations and who will put away glassware and clean the bathrooms.

Family conflict between siblings. Conflict between divorced spouses over telephone calls.

Confict in my own brain over modernization and the preservation of memories.

It seems, lately, that there's no RECESS from the hard work of moving forward.

I could really use a pause button.


Psalm 143
A psalm of David.

1 Lord, hear my prayer,
listen to my cry for mercy;
in your faithfulness and righteousness
come to my relief.
2 Do not bring your servant into judgment,
for no one living is righteous before you.
3 The enemy pursues me,
he crushes me to the ground;
he makes me dwell in the darkness
like those long dead.
4 So my spirit grows faint within me;
my heart within me is dismayed.
5 I remember the days of long ago;
I meditate on all your works
and consider what your hands have done.
6 I spread out my hands to you;
I thirst for you like a parched land.[a]
7 Answer me quickly, Lord;
my spirit fails.
Do not hide your face from me
or I will be like those who go down to the pit.
8 Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go,
for to you I entrust my life.
9 Rescue me from my enemies, Lord,
for I hide myself in you.
10 Teach me to do your will,
for you are my God;
may your good Spirit
lead me on level ground.

Lord Have Mercy On Those Black Socks

Black socks, they never get dirty,
The longer you wear them the stronger they get.
Sometimes I think I should wash them,
But something inside me says No, no, not yet.
Not yet, not yet, not yet...

There sits a pair of black socks in the cup holder of my mommy van. A young man must have borrowed my vehicle and marked his trail.

I found some black socks in the garden, a few on the back porch, and I ALWAYS find several in the couch and among the couch pillows.

I was amused, this weekend, when I took a tour of my son's camp residence, an "apartment" located above the camp store. As a staff member he shares the space with two adult leaders and one other young staff member.

Underneath the stairs leading up to the loft, among the mud and blades of grass, I spied several "lost" black socks.

Black Pants, White Powder

Boys. They can overlook a coffee table full of dirty dishes in a TV room littered with candy wrappers and dirty socks.

They don't seem to "see" dirty dishes, a floor that needs sweeping, or a light left on in an empty room.

But for some strange reason, they all notice white powder on my black pants.

It struck me this morning when one of the teenagers ran after me yelling, "Mom! Mom!"

"You have...powder on your pants. "

I thank him but think, "so what?!"

Men are from Mars.

Women are from "If-my-slip - or - a -tag-shows -it's no big deal but-could-you-please-notice-that the garbage-needs to be-taken out-planet of - Venus."

NIcks & Cuts/Shearing With Mom

The month of June has been rainy...very, very rainy. I heard the weatherman say this morning that we received 1/3 of an average year's rain TOTAL during just the last 30 days.

Yesterday I found that the boys left an extension cord, the medical supplies, and the the shears in a wheelbarrow, OUTSIDE, over the weekend. It rained so hard that the wheelbarrow filled up with water and all of the items were completely submerged.

Thankfully, the box that houses the shears and the corresponding combs, oils, and blades, protected the machine, for the most part.

The sun was out so I mowed until the lawnmower died and wouldn't restart (argh).

My oldest son, now 19, offered to catch and shear one of our new Cormo-Merino wethers, "Licorice." I had noticed that the animal was limping and he had been carrying at least two season's worth of wool.

We haven't worked on an animal together in awhile, my oldest son and I. I'm slow, and apparently I make my son very nervous (he commented that "it's like learning to drive with you. Sometimes it's just better to learn from someone else").

He was so nervous that he had several "oops" moments while cutting, leaving the animal bloody under the belly and on the neck. The shears fell to the floor, breaking the brand new replacement comb.

I wasn't grumpy.

Or a nag.

Or loud.

I'm working hard, in fact, to choose HAPPY.

In spite of the political climate, international events, and a very discouraging situation at my full time job, I want to be an encouragement to others and to "keep on the sunny side of life."

Maybe I can learn a thing or two from old "Licorice," who, despite being nicked and cut by the shears, seemed glad to have the wool trimmed from around his eyes and ears.

J and I pushed the lawnmower into the shop and it started to rain again. WE enjoyed a bowl of ice cream and I went upstairs to read (a fictional novel instead of a textbook!)


"I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles."
Audrey Hepburn

from Brainyquote

A Business Process

Awhile back, the book Who Moved My Cheese? was popular among managers. There was a widespread understanding that individuals, and organizations, needed to constantly scan the environment, evaluate options, and quickly change course in order to successfully compete in today's technology-driven marketplace.

Ironically, perhaps, I'm now surrounded by an organizational culture of rigidity and complacency. If something doesn't work, people blame the business process (even if there isn't a business process.) (Yes, I actually heard this today, "Yes, you should have been notified of the outage but there isn't a business process for that.).

The secretaries and I agree that the phrase "business process" has become nausea-inducing.

Imagine, in the "Who Moved My Cheese" scenario, that the mice voluntarily spend months...years even...in meetings, trying to agree upon a route through a maze they've never navigated before. Through layers of committees the process would be sketched out until the "top mouse committee" gave the go-ahead to navigate toward "the prize."

Chances are, the cheese gets pretty rotten and stale by then (or, in my own case, our "customers" take themselves elsewhere.).

Here's to It's FINALLY Friday and a a break from carrying the weight of b.p.'s (bleh).

Boiling Over

There's something I need to get off of my chest. I wish that there was someone...someone in my family...who would teach our little boys to fish. A grandparent or an aunt/uncle.

This weekend is "free fishing" time in our state, a few days when neither adults nor children require a fishing license. I'll be working long days at the winery while hoping that, at a minimum, the boys aren't in danger while under someone else's care. It would be a luxury to know that they were OUTSIDE, learning valuable life skills like fishing.

I purchased a fishing license yesterday for our 17-year-old who is headed off to work at a camp for the summer. I also bought a machete, boys' underwear, mens' socks, golf balls, and "Jacked" Doritos.

After shopping, we went to the library where the boys borrowed books on such topics as Werewolves and Minecraft. Later we built a "small" bonfire in the backyard, which the boys expanded via the addition of lighter fluid and a school year's worth of papers and folders.

I broke up an air soft gun fight, cleaned 20 matchbox cars out of the tub so that I could shower, and listened to a lengthy description of a scream-o metal concert with highlights like dancing on broken glass, ripped out stud earrings, and an ear-drum smashing first number.

I cleaned up enough dirty dishes to find a small patch of counter underneath, recycled several empty soup cans, fished dirty socks from the couch pillows, picked a box containing a wench off of the kitchen floor, and disposed of the pancakes left in the back of the minivan.

Mine is a boys' world. And when their dad is working out of town, the "boy antics" seem to boil over.

Good Things

I like-

Holding sweet Adeline, 6 weeks old.

Hearing Joe Dady play an instrument first owned by the banjo player from Bill Monroe's band.

Watching The Dady Brothers play, canal side.

Tug boats, canal bridges, sunshine on the water.

Petunias

Chicken barbecue

A Dalmatian in the fire house.

Kale, cucumber and green apple smoothies.

Cold dense, dark stout from the tap that tastes like burnt caramel and cocoa.

Teaching my children our favorite drinking songs.