diddlee

It was a year ago that I began posting on this site. I called it Bike Safari because I was using it to log the preparation for the bike ride in Florida. After the safari, I continued to post little notes about riding. Then I got the bright idea to just post whatever came to mind. Now I am sitting here just before the new year wanting to get down some ideas about how I am going to raise my fitness and lose that excess weight for the next year. Same old story. First of all, I know what must be done, I just don't want to do it. Next, I am using my food to combat my unhappiness. I have been depressed at times and compensated with the wonderful feeling food gives. My job that was so enjoyable has changed and will change more. I doubt it will be the real joy it once was especially if we don't get any more work out of the people that are there. The degree I hoped to get through Auburn is really becoming a bore. The people putting the information on the sites have been tardy for the la...

Everyone is worried that the true meaning of Christmas is lost. It seems to me that the meaning of the Holidays at this time of year have been rewritten so many times and each time the old meanings either blended or forgotten until what has resulted is a modern day masterpiece that is the highlight of our capitalistic, materialistic, consumer based system. The meaning that cannot be lost is the rush to spend, spend, spend. So much of what we call traditions are borrowed from so called pagan sources that it is impossible to distinguish which is what. Yule, Mithras, Druid, Christian, or Saturnalia. And you know what, it doesn't matter. We give it our own meaning within our own lifetime. And that is what will count for each of us.

The Non Traditional Pharm D program I am in took an unexpected turn recently. Despite the usual delays that go with it, it has hit a new low with the loss of Ann Janer. She represents a connection with the past. Ms. Janer taught at Auburn when I was there in the 70's. Now there is virtually no one left but those very young ones who may not have a clue where we all came from. Right now I am wondering if it is worth it. Much has changed for me since I began. It was August over 2 years ago that I applied and sent in the application. I probably have another 2 years to finish. I am wondering why? Is there much I will do with the degree. Perhaps not. Especially if I stay there at Coosa. What would I do with the time I spend worrying or preparing for that program? I am not sure. I thought I would endure at least one module before considering leaving it. Those modules may be more relevant. I hope so. If it isn't relevant, I won't be continuing.

Here we are less than 2 weeks till Christmas. We are observing many of our traditions. Pajamas have been purchased. The presents have almost all been wrapped. Cookies and candies are made and being made. Plans for travel have been finalized. The tree sits decorated in the living room. Santa Claus and Grammy sit in front of the fire place. Everything waits for Christmas Eve. But none of this is exactly as it was for your Mother or I when we were little. My Dad didn't make much of Christmas. Oh, we had a Christmas tree but after a while it was me putting it up. The most faithful one about having a Christmas tree was my Grandmother Odessa. We would search the woods for a cedar with a good shape and cut it and drag it back home. then we would decorate it with some simple ornaments and tinsel. Sometimes we strung popcorn and put the strands around the tree. The cedar smell would fill the little house. There wasn't any waiting for Christmas morning. I remember my Dad giving me an ele...

Back in November of 1988, Bev, the kids, and I had a family portrait made at the home of Bobby Adamson. That makes Sara 2 years old. The photos we had made were in our van and were stolen right before Christmas. The fishing rods were stolen from our boat at that time. Why anyone would have stolen photos doesn't make any sense, but this one photo was left. It is a small photo and doesn't have a lot of definition once scanned to a large format. But it is all that was left.

I was reading from Tony Robbins this morning. His comment was to look at life as a gift. I think that is a beautiful way to view our existence. It makes one feel as if we are chosen. As if we are special. But that really doesn't describe how we get life. Our lives come to us more like Branches sprouting from the trunk of a tree. We depend on everyone who has come before us because we are made of the combining of genetic information created by countless pairings back to the dawn of existence. The fact that we have made it so far is remarkable. Bill Bryson in his book about the history of everything said we should feel fortunate that all our ancestors were attractive enough to find mates and lucky enough to live sufficiently long to have children. That is an impressive string. Every ancestor before us was attractive and healthy enough to find a mate and have kids so that we are where we are. When we are looking at our family tree as you did in that class, we can only go back so man...

As I went through college, I learned that the whole concept of Thanksgiving had been concocted so that it was more like a fantasy than reality. The Indians sitting down with settlers to have a big meal was simply false. The idea of being thankful is something I approve of. But we are often thankful to the wrong one. It was really something to go to your Grandparent's and Maw Maw Johnson's for Thanksgiving dinner. They really put on a feast. I've never seen the like of food and pie and cake and candy. those folks really knew how to eat. What they were doing was sharing the work and sweat and labor of their lives with the people they cared about. Every mouthful of food represented work that they could have kept for themselves that they shared. They traded all that work for the joy they shared with all of us eating till we thought we would explode. Our contentment was more important to them than their own. And what do we take away from these family get-togethers? Memories. It ...