"... TO GIVE UNTO THEM BEAUTY FOR ASHES, THE OIL OF JOY FOR MOURNING, THE GARMENT OF PRAISE FOR THE SPIRIT OF HEAVINESS; THAT THEY MIGHT BE CALLED TREES OF RIGHTEOUSNESS,THE PLANTING OF THE LORD, THAT HE MIGHT BE GLORIFIED." ISAIAH 61:3

Friday, May 13, 2011

Child Psychology and Essence 'o' Buddy



About the former:

Joey and I fight.

Shocking revelation, I know.

Joe and I are best friends and usually get along very well. But once in a while, humans being what they are,  something will set us off.
It's rare. But it does happen. And when it happens - whoa Nelly!

We don't have an official fight rulebook, per see. We just try to keep it as civil as possible.
~ No fighting in front of the kids.
~ No name calling.
~ No kicking, scratching, biting . . .
~ No trash talk - "Yo' Mama!"

Joe and I love to laugh. This has, quite unintentionally, given us a successful formula for fighting.
Somewhere in the middle of the "you always", "you never", or the "well let me tell you a thing or two", one of us will quip. Make some off-the-cuff remark.
This is a sign that the first party, or 'quipper', has said their piece, and he/she is ready to forgive, forget, and move on. If the second party agrees, a return quip is issued, the fight is over and all is well.

Anyhoo, there comes a time when closing the bedroom door just isn't enough. The kids aren't stupid.  They can see a mile away the tell-tale signs of "Let's get ready to rumble!"

So, not long ago, I had a little chat with the girls. I realize I have no official degree in psychology, but I think I did OK.
When the girls first asked if mommy and daddy were fighting, I honestly replied, "Yes. But don't worry.  I won't divorce you're daddy - it's too expensive. And I won't kill him - it's too messy."

Our oldest got it. She just gave a little smirk and went on her merry little way.

The youngest, however, did not seem comforted or amused by my answer.
We sat and cuddled a while on the couch and I asked her,
"Do you and sissy fight sometimes?"
"Yeah."
"Do you feel like yelling and screaming at her?"
"Yeah."
"Do you say things when you're mad that you don't really mean?"
"Yeah."
"Do you still love sissy?"
 Long pause.
"Yeah."

She looked up at me and smiled. No more worries.



About the latter:

Buddy has gas.

I mean toxic-burn your eyes-clear a room in 3 seconds flat kind of gas!

This is a dog who's own stink will wake him from a deep sleep.

This is a dog who will sniff the air after doing the deed and give us a "Did I do that?" kind of look.

This is a dog who, on more than one occasion, pooted so loudly that he jumped up, swung around, and proceeded to growl at his own butt.

A genius he's not.

So, Joey and I were in the middle of one of our little tiffs. Neither one of us was ready to joke. Neither one of us was ready to concede our 'right' to be mad.

In comes Buddy to lighten the mood.
I dare you to keep a straight face and hold on to your anger when a dog plops himself right between you and your adversary and sets off a bomb.
Joey and I looked at each other, eyes watering, through the low hanging fumes.
That was it. Fight over.


Before you worry, all is well in the land of Smith!

Arguments end in laughter. And if we lose our way, well,
there's always Sir Stinks-a-lot to ease the tension.



Friday, May 6, 2011

A little, um, research . . .

We've lived in enough places to know that no state holds the patent on crazy. That being said, our preliminary findings tell us that, if there were such a distinction, Colorado would definitely be a contender . . .


 ~ In the 1940's, farmer Lloyd Olsen went to get a chicken for dinner. Wanting to leave as much of the neck as possible, he lopped off the chickens head as tightly as he could. However, because of a bad aim with the ax, the chicken did not die, and continued to "peck" for food as it walked around the yard. Amazed, Olsen started feeding the chicken with an eyedropper. The headless bird, dubbed Mike, appeared in Life magazine and traveled to exhibitions around the country. Mike lived for 18 months after his head was chopped off.  Today, the Mike the Headless Chicken Festival is a great success.




~ Guests stayed in Denver hotels at their own risk until the first hotel with locks on the doors opened in 1872. Reported one newspaper at the time: "Guests may lie down to peaceful slumbers, undisturbed by apprehensions of getting their heads blown off." 

~ San Luis Valley, Colorado, has America's highest concentration of UFO sightings, crop circles and Bigfoot sightings, as well as cattle mutilations and appearances of mysterious aircraft.



~ Apparently, it is unlawful to lend your vacuum cleaner to your neighbor in Denver.

~ It is legal to challenge a police officer, but only until he or she asks you to stop.


~ Couches may not be placed on outside porches.




~ It is permissible to wear a holstered six-gun within city limits, except on Sunday, Election Day, or holidays.

~ It is illegal to bring your horse or pack mule above the ground floor of any building.


Now last, but certainly not least, the ever popular 'Top 10' list . . .


Top 10 ways you know if you're from Colorado;

10) You can run up 10 flights of stairs without huffing and puffing.
9) You see your East Coast relatives now more than when you lived there.
8) Your dog wears a bandanna.
7) Your SUV tire size might exceed your IQ.
6) You think gun control is not dropping it.
5) The entire top of your head is bald, but you still have a pony tail.
4) You get depressed after one day of foggy weather.
3) You've ever stood on solid ground and looked down on an airplane in flight.
2) North means "mountains to the left," south is "mountains to the right," and east and west are where all those pushy liberals keep moving in from.
1) You personally wouldn't pay $10 per head to drive up Pikes Peak, but you tell all your out-of-town house guests to do it.


Now what's not to love about a place like that? 

Bring it on!!!