End of July

July always goes by too fast for me.  Perhaps it is because I spend so much time thinking about the 25th of July, my birthday.  I feel excitment and anticipation as "my day" approaches while also feeling dread and regret.  The excitment comes from knowing my dear friends and family, acquaintences and the like will all be more attentive on that day and those around it.  We will celebrate my having come into the world.  The dread and regret comes when I think about getting older and how life is passing by so rapidly and I start to realize I haven't accomplished everything in my life I thought I might.

It is a real mixed bag of emotions for me in July.  

Then the 25th passes and the end of the month rushes in.  July is over and August begins and soon it will be Labor Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving in a blink of the eye.  Christmas and New Year's and then another year begins.  My how the time speeds up year after year.  And July is the fastes month of the year, for me any way.

So I survive every year and thank my lucky stars I am alive and can celebrate another year on earth.  I look back and realize things have not been all that bad...just not super-star brilliant.  When I was a kid, I dreamed of being someone, someone famous I suppose.  It would just happen.  Never worked on it.  Just got by.  And that's not so bad.  I have many people who care about me as much as I care about them.  I have a comfortable life and am free to do much of what I want to do.  

I am happy...overall.

So I say goodbye to another July.  August will be here in a few short hours.  Now that I think back on the past thirty one days, I haven't fallen into the usual ruminations about what is the meaning of life or where I am I headed.  I actually am fairly content.  And there is still time to live my life as I intended.  

I need to make a list...a bucket list, maybe?  No, a list. I do better when I can see my intentions in writing.  I think I will work on that in August.  August can be a very long month.

Sitting in Recovery

Some things take time.  Like recovery.  You know, like when some big thing happens in your life and you have to adjust, to get over it.  You may have known it was coming.  You may have studied for it.  You might have meditated on it for hours.  Probably you talked about it with friends or family.  You imagined how it would affect you.  You dreamed about it.  In your heart of hearts you knew it was inevitable.  Yet, you thought maybe, just maybe, it would not come.  That the change would somehow circumvent you.  You would be spared.  And still, you knew it would come.  The change.  The event.  The big thing that would change your life for ever.  And you knew you would survive.

So here's what I am recovering from now: another birthday.  To be precise, my 60th birthday.  

Birthdays are curious things.  And those ending in “0” are even more “curious-er”.  They are only numbers indicating the passage of time, yet so much importance is attached to those numbers.  And without them, would we ever truly realize how much time has passed and how old we have become in comparison to those around us?   And if we didn’t count the years and mark the milestones ending in “0” how would we ever know we are indeed maturing like a fine wine?

And so I sit here in awe realizing 60 birthdays have come and gone.  Who would have thought that it would come to this for moi?  And yet, here I am and, for all intents and purposes,  I am still here.  Yet I still feel like the kid of 10, the youth of 20, the serious man of 30, the middle-aged guy of 40, the half-a-centurian of 50,  all wrapped together in a package called getting older.

And life goes on.  An I am in recovery from the jolt of realizations and reflections.  And the best thing is I have friends and family who are patient and supportive as I muse my way through these times and share thoughts on life, love and laughter...and what might have been....and best of all, what is yet to be.

This one may be for me, but I think you might relate.  I am amazed by how fast my fifties flew by.  I turned fifty just before 9/11.  Not only my station in life changed, but the entire world changed.  And time seemed to speed up.  Of course that is a factor of age I imagine and the vast changes in the world in general.  But it occurs to me that for most of the past ten years (age 50 through 59) I lived a somewhat distracted life.  Great things happened to me but they also happened to others in my life and in the world in general.  Things events all seemed to take my attention away from my own life.  Aha!

I have been meditating a lot about being mindful, about living mindfully.  Life is for the living.  60 is the new 40.  Be mindful.  Be aware.  Be present.  The last one is the one I seem to have trouble with.  Being present.  It seems people are constantly asking me about places or events I have been physically present at, but have no clear memories of.  That is worrisome.  Sometimes the memories come back.  Sometimes not.  I am on Catalina Island this weekend. I know I have been here before.  But when we first arrived, I couldn’t remember when or with whom.  That is of concern.

So as I begin this new decade...the seventh decade of my time here on Earth...I am cultivating mindfulness.  I will pay attention and I will be present...especially in my own life.  The journey is the essence of life.  It is as we walk we exist, we experience and we thrive.  The journey is indeed more important than the destination.  When we get there I do believe it would be imperative to remember how we got there.

Being Somewhere Between Hopes and Dreams

It is very difficult to let go of hope and of dreams. Sometimes the two are intertwined.  Sometimes they are the same thing.  Other times, hope is what gets you through a difficult time while a dream is something that can take you out of that difficult time.  In either case, hopes and dreams are something that we can find ourselves clinging to.

Change is inevitable.

Perhaps it is change I am resisting.  The unknown is just so, well, unknown.  I hope that some things in the present reality will change.  Often, no usually, they do not.  And dreams die hard.  If you are lucky, dreams don't have to die.  And some dreams do come true.  At least I hope they do.  It has happened a time or to for me.  But it is that pesky prospect of change that gets in the way of moving beyond hope and actuating those dreams.

What are these hopes and dreams I am referring to?  Well, more often than not they are for success or for love or for successful love or simple love of what your life has become.  Dreams are born of fantasy.  In my fantasies, all is well.  The birds sing while at my feeder or birdbath and the dogs sleep by my feet while I spin tales of past and present.  Reality and memory blend together into my version of what was and what will be.

Indeed, I say again, change is inevitable.

So here I am in a moment of peace.  I know it will not last, but I fall into it with grateful abandon.  The air is just the right temperature and a gentle breeze stirs the trees.  But soon again those bothersome activities of people doing what people do to keep their lives in order come into my consciousness and bring me back to my own "must-do's".

But for one more moment I resist the change and then with a settled heart, move into it.  Thank goodness for memory and the ability to choose where I give my attentions.  I will continue to hope for the highest good for all concerned, dream of times both coming and gone that gave me joy and accept the changes that are inevitable.

Just Stop And See What Happens

Just stop something you have been doing and see what happens.  This will certainly clarify for you in many cases if what you are doing matters to anyone and what you personally may be getting out of it.  And most importantly, if no one notices, perhaps it isn't something you need to be doing.

Just stop and see.

I stopped, not intentionly, doing my daily blog.  My goal back in February of this year was to "blog" Monday through Friday, just as if it were a daily blog.  I had hoped it would become something people looked forward to and actually read and, maybe, just maybe, got something out of.  Well, indeed, it was!  I found that there were folks who were reading it regularly.  Some of them actually commented and gave me feedback.  I cherished those e-mails and took heart.

Just stop and see.

So here and there I missed some days.  In fact, I missed Tuesday and Wednesday this week.  No notice.  Just got busy and didn't sit down and write my thoughts and musings those days.  No one said anything, yet I am sure some folks noticed.  I know I noticed.  I noticed that I let myself down and then it hit me, that is why I do it.  A committment to myself to accomplish something with my writing.

It was a start.

Just stop and see.

So here I am again, at the keyboard, thinking and musing and posting it to the small mailing list and to Facebook.  Only two people ever subscribed to the actual blog, but then I make it easy to get it if you want it.  The important thing is I do it.  And I know when I don't.  And I am disappointed in myself when I don't.

And that is the important thing I guess.  What I think, what I muse and that I follow through.  Aha!

So here you are and there you go.  Once again the blogger blogs.  He hopes for affirmation, for comments, for your observations and comments, but in reality, it is the doing that is important.  I don't suppose the great authors sat and wondered if anyone would read or was reading their product.  They just did it.  Because they had to.  Because they wanted to.  Because it was something they did.

Just stop and, my friends, you will see.

Then It Hit Me

A week ago I went to the dentist for a routine cleaning.  Somewhere during the process, my hygienist, whom I have been going to for over 15 years, asked me if I was thinking about getting invisaligns.  I immediately said no.  I had said no many times before.  No, no braces of any kind for me.  My teeth aren't that bad. Plus, like I have been saying for 15 years, I am too old for that nonsense.  My teeth will last me until I don't need them any more, crooked or not.

My hygienist is alway cheerful and rarely daunted.  She said to me that if I ever change my mind, let her know.  She thought I would be happy for straight teeth...even at my age.  We laughed, because she and I are the same age.

So we finished up with the scraping and polishing and deep flossing and flouride treatment.  And all the while, I kept thinking.  I thought, "Maybe it would be nice to have straight white teeth and who cares how old I am?"  And of course invisaligns are clear and most folks would never know I had them on.

Then I began to think about that one tooth on the lower front, that was sticking out behind the rest.  And how my two front teeth up top kind of overlapped.  I thought to myself that maybe it was not such a bad thing to want straight teeth.  And so, even though I had said no to the hygienist, when the dentist himself came in, I found myself asking about invisaligns, etc.

The dentist told me that my teeth, in fact my whole oral hygiene and health would improve dramatically.  In fact I would keep my teeth longer and not be as prone to certain orally generated diseases, including heart attacks and strokes.  Having read this in various publications, I knew there was probably some truth to it.  "Okay, Doctor, how about it?"

So today I began the process of getting fitted for invisaligns.  Expensive, yes.  And my insurance pays zilch for orthodontics.  Maybe it paid more while I was working, but not now.  But I do have a medical savings plan, so, I thought, why not?

It was while I was sitting in the chair having the molds made and pictures taken and x-rays done, it hit me: I am not getting any younger.  Okay, I already knew that.  And this year as 60 approaches, I figure, why not treat myself to something that is for me and will make me not just smile, but smile more broadly?  And then I thought I could make this process that will take about a year more or less, a time to self-improve, you know, spruce up the old temple of God here.
And so it has begun.  I am going to do it.  It hit me too that had I done this ten, twenty, thirty years ago...well...who knows?  But I also wonder if when it hit me, it knocked something loose, like a screw or something.  But it really doesn't matter.  Its not botox or face lifts or even coloring my hair.  It is a permanent change to permanently improve my health.  And this could be just the beginning.  And even if a bus hits me tomorrow, I might as well doing something to liven things up, just in case it doesn't.

Checking In

It is important to check in.  Just a quick hello to see how things are going.  So, how are things going?  Are you doing well these days?  What's the scoop?  Is life treating you okay?  I am doing well.  Things are not exactly as I thought they might be at this time in my life, but then, when do things ever go the way we imagine...at least en toto.

Of course I had no clear vision of how life would be when I retired from the County.  There have been twists and turns, U-turns, forks in the road and cliffhangers.  But all in all it is going well by me.

I often think about you and yours and all that is going on in your life.  Really.  You may not think so, but my cross my mind daily.  Hopefully you don't trip on the debris and scattered thoughts in my mind, but I am sure if you do, it would be soft landing.  Do I cross your mind now and then?

If you are reading this, then I am happy.  I write to be read.  I like to share my thoughts and musings with you.  I hope that you are often entertained and sometimes enlightened.  Maybe sometimes you are even provoked to think about things in a different way...whether you agree with what I say or not.

Okay, just thought I would check in.  Plus I had no other thought or musing right now.  I will return you now to your regular station.  Remember to tune in to what is going on in your life and enjoy the ride.

I Coulda Dun That

I was thinking today that I could get a head start of some things and then not have to feel pressured at the last moment to get them done.  I thought, why not sit down and write that blog...or two...and get them ready to send out over the next couple days. Why not schedule payment of those bills you know are coming up?  And you certainly could get those files organized for your taxes that you know are going to have to be accounted for at the end of the year.  And what about the report you are going to have to make for closing that project you have been working on?

At least make a list!

There are calls to be made.  You could make a list and as you make them, check them off or better yet, draw a line throught them.  What a satisfying feeling it is to cross something off the to-do list!  What I really need to is a self-generating to-do list.  You know, one that automatically puts something that you know needs to be done even as you finish doing it?  Like laundry or taking out the trash or getting the dogs' teeth cleaned, cleaning the bathroom, going to the market...a shopping list is really good...saves you money and keeps you from impulse buys...especially when you remember to take it with you to the store. And don't talk to me about coupons.

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Don't get me wrong, I do have reminders set for when the dogs go to the groomers or I go to the groomer or the doctor or dentist or am taking someone to the airport, on and on, ad infinitium.  Every week I know to do the church newsletter.  I sometimes start early.  That is good.  Getting a head start though can give you a false sense of relaxation.  Not that I'm saying its good to be filled with anxiety.  Worry gets you nowhere.  But some worry is good.

If we don't worry about somethings nothing would ever get done.  You just have to draw the line.  Just not in the sand.  Sand shifts.  It shifts with the times.  And if you plant your flag in shifting sands, you may not find it when you go to look for it.

And so there you have it.  I coulda dun all that.  I coulda made life so much easier but planning ahead and doing today what I could put off until tomorrow.  But procrastination is such a fun little vice.  It rewards you with a sense of impending doom and eventually reminds you that whatever the task was you were putting off then rushing to get done and worrying about what people would think if you didn't get it done, wasn't in the long run, all that important.

And so it goes.  There is a lesson in all this but I have to put pondering on my list of things to do.  After all, if it wasn't on the list yet, why worry about it?

On the Birthday of Henry David Thoreau

Walden Pond early fall

In the fall of 1994 I went to Walden Pond.  It was about as I expected, small, surrounded by trees wearing autumn gold leaves and appearing much as it had when Thoreau lived there in the mid 1840's and producing his most famous work, On Walden Pond, in 1854.  I was introduced to Thoreau as a junior in high school.  His thoughts on self-reliance, the illusions of progress and transcendentalism greatly influenced me and my budding views on the world.  I fell in love with Thoreau and his contemporaries who wrote pro and con at that time: Emerson, Alcott,  Longfellow, Hawthorne, Dickinson, Wadsworth and others.  I went to what is called "Authors' Ridge" in the Concord's Sleepy Hollow Cemetery where some of them are buried.  I imagined them rising up by the light of the Massachusetts moon and once again expounding on their deep thoughts and comparing notes on the what they now know to be true about the afterlife.

Sleep Hollow Cemetery
Author's Ridge

It was an amazing time in the history of American literature, one I often wish had been a part of.  In high school these long departed men and women of amazingly advanced theories and beliefs about the nature of life and living spoke directly to me over the centuries.  I wonder if they still are taught as reverently in school today as they were when I was a boy?  Surely some of their writings would cause quite a stir amongst the conservatives and great unread of today.

I was never a great reader, yet On Walden Pond, The Scarlett Letter, Moby Dick, all the essays and poetry of Emerson, all had a great impact on that impressionable mind of the young boy naive boy I was then.  How fortunate I was to have been taught by a wonderful English teacher, Nadine Dyer, who made it all come alive. And to this day, those who wrote of core beliefs in an ideal spirituality that "transcends" the physical and empirical and is realized only through an individual's intuition, rather than through the doctrines of established religions.  Whether one agrees or not with what they posited in their writings, they inspired thought and that is what is a most valuable lesson: how to think.  That, in my estimation, is something we don't instill in the new generations.  But I could be wrong.  I hope so.

It's the birthday of Henry David Thoreau (books by this author), born in Concord, Massachusetts (1817). He got his first glimpse of Walden Pond as a young boy; he wrote later: "When I was five years old, I was brought from Boston to this pond, away in the country, — which was then but another name for the extended world for me. [...] That woodland vision for a long time made the drapery of my dreams."


Thoreau was a bright young man, but also good with his hands, and he planned to become a carpenter. His parents sent him to Harvard, and he excelled there, but he didn't like it much. He graduated in 1837, but had no career ambitions, and after a failed two-week stint as a teacher, he moved back home to work in his family's pencil factory. He and his brother opened a school, which also failed. A few years later, his beloved brother died, and Thoreau was even more lost. He spent a couple of years working for the Emerson family as a handyman and tutor, then went back to the pencil factory. He improved his family's business when he discovered an economical way to bind graphite and clay, and he seemed on track to spend the rest of his life manufacturing pencils.


Then, in 1844, 26-year-old Thoreau took a vacation and went fishing on the Sudbury River with a friend. It hadn't rained much lately so the woods were unusually dry. The two men lit a fire to cook up some fish chowder, but they lost control of the fire. The fire spread from the grass along the river to the trees, and eventually burned down nearly 300 acres of the Concord woods. Local citizens were furious, and whispered "woodsburner" behind Thoreau's back for years.


No one knows whether Thoreau's guilt over burning the woods had any connection to his decision, about a year later, to move to a cabin in the woods on the shore of Walden Pond — the experience that would inspire his most famous book, Walden (1854). He didn't write about the fire until six years later, in 1850, by which point he acted nonchalant about the whole thing. He wrote: "I once set fire to the woods. [...] I said to myself, 'Who are these men who are said to be the owners of these woods, and how am I related to them? I have set fire to the forest, but I have done no wrong therein, and now it is as if the lightning had done it. These flames are but consuming their natural food.' It has never troubled me from that day to this more than if the lightning had done it. The trivial fishing was all that disturbed me and disturbs me still. So shortly I settled it with myself and stood to watch the approaching flames. It was a glorious spectacle and I was the only one there to enjoy it."

Seven Eleven Eleven Seven Come Eleven

Today seemed like it should be one of those days, you know, those special lucky days just because of the numbers assigned to it.  July being the seventh month and this being the eleventh day of July, this would be 7/11.  Add to that the fact that this is the eleventh year of the 21st century, then you have 7/11/11.  So it must mean something, right?

My first thought was of that Vegas craps term, "seven come eleven".  I pictured someone standing at a craps table (is that different from a routlette table?) picking up the dice, shaking them in their hands, blowing on them and uttering those words followed by "baby needs a new pair of shoes."  They toss the dice and they land where they land, either winning for the thrower of the dice or losing money he probably cannot afford.  It is a game of chance after all.

So it that why the "7/11" thing struck me today?  Not sure.  Life could be considered a game of chance.  We to roll the dice everyday and see where they land.  Well, we do if we get up and get into the game.  Some of us watch as bystanders only.  We do not take the chance.  Gambling is wrong.  But is it gambling to take a chance on living?  Isn't risk what it is all about?

I wonder.

The ubiquitous convenience store 7/11 was giving away free slurpees today.  It was of course "their day".  So why not take a chance that people would come in upon being lured by a free slurpee and ultimately buy something else to go with it or some convenience they didn't know they needed?  The risk that they might lose money handing out free slurpees was outweighed by the free publicicity and increased consumer traffic the prospect of a free slurpee would create.  They rolled the dice, and no doubt, they won.

Seven come eleven on seven eleven seems like a sure thing cosmically and maybe even spiritually.  Plus those numbers rhyme.  Whenever something rhymes it seems to ring more true and amuse the ear more than if it were seven ten or seven twelve.

What a difference a day makes.

So go ahead, roll those dice.  Take a chance.  You never know what you may win...or lose.. until you try.

About "Seven Come Eleven"  (I still don't understand though)

From Craps, a "come" is an even money bet (ie bet $1 and you receive $1 if you win). 

In Craps, the only real difference between the Pass Line and the Come Bet is that you make a come bet after the point has been established on the Pass Line. After you make a come bet, the first roll of the dice will establish the Come point. If a 7 or 11 rolls, you are an automatic winner. But, if you roll 2, 3 or 12 on the first roll you lose. 

So Seven Come Eleven, means you that any time after the first roll when a shooter has a point to make You win on natural seven or eleven and lose on craps (two, three or twelve). Any number that comes up is a “come point”, and must be thrown before a seven is thrown.

And There You Have It

And There You Have It

Anonymous was a very wise sage.  It was Anonymous who said, "Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves for they will never cease to be amused."  Thank you, Anonymous, I needed to be reminded of that fact.  Lately I have been taking things much too seriously, especially when it comes to me and my place in the world.  One can truly work oneself down into well of pity if one takes things too seriously.  Standing back and taking an objective look, I can see that I can be rather amusing, just as Anonymous says above.

Okay, so I didn't get invited to three social events last weekend.  So is it worth getting into a funk about?  Maybe I am devoting way too much time to activities that don't matter to others all that much and certainly is above their "that's good enough" attitudes.  But it matters to me.  Now certainly that is all that is important.  Or am I caught up in that old bugaboo about needing approval and validation to feel good about myself?  Now how silly is that?

I do miss having that special someone to do unspecial things with.  Those inconsequential things become special only because you are doing them with someone special.  So, why can't that someone special, be me?  I mean, doing things alone can be fulfulling and quite entertaining.  Life on the edge of society is actually quite enlightening.  Just ask Hester Prynne.  She came to embrace her scarlet "A" as it set her apart from society.  She became anartist, able to act and attach meaning she might never have done otherwise had she not been set aside from the main intercourse of society.  And had she had her druthers, she probably would have chosen to be Anonymous.

Now I should laugh.  I am not a Hester Pyrnne and I do not have a scarlet letter to bear.  That thought makes me smile close-lipped.  If I did, it might be an entirely different subject here. 

And so there you have it.  We make our own society.  As Emily Dickinson wrote, "The soul selects her own society...".  Whether in solitude or among the throngs, we are our own best companions.  Anonymous would surely agree.  Say, wouldn't you just love to have met Anonymous?  What a converstation that could be! 

Old Glory Today

Benjamin Franklin once said, “Those who desire to give up freedom in order to gain security will not have, nor do they deserve, either one.”  Interestingly enough this letter was written on September 11, 1773.  Sometimes coindicidences span centuries.

When those who signed the Declaration of Independence, what were they thinking?  Surely they could not see all the successes and failures of what they set in motion.  What they did know was that there is no such thing as security, especially in an ever-changing world.  Two hundred and thirty-five years later we celebrate this declaration and seldom do we truly understand all the ramifications of living free.

It is not doing whatever you want.

It is knowing that compromising your life for a sense of security is a fool's bargain.  It is becoming a slave to the very thing you hope will make you safe.  You cannot be free and be secure at the same time...not unless that security is born of knowing there is something much bigger than what we see as our world and much more safe than any man-made armor or fortress can ever be.

Faith in oneself born of a greater faith in the truth and the Truth beyond is the only thing that can make us free.  We must defend against complacency and guard against smugness.  Liberty, justice and the American way is not just a motto that Superman fought under.  Liberty, justice and the American way is what unites us and gives us hope.

I am flying my flag today as are many of my neighbors.  I may not agree with the politics of others, but that does not mean I have the only answer.  That is what makes America great; that we can agree to disagree and defend each other's rights to hold the truths we find self-evident, "that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."  And happiness is not always light and fancy-free, but it comes with knowing that we are among the most forunate peoples in the world to live as we do and speak as we do and be secure and free while practicing personal responsibility for the land we call home.

Many bombs have burst in air yet our flag is still there.  Give thanks.

Have a happy and safe Independence Day.

Don't Let the Niceties Get in Your Way

It all began with the ubiquitous smiley face and then came the command, "Have a nice day."  The fading away of niceties.

A nicety is the quality or state of being nice.  It can be an elegant, delicate or even civilize feature of life that one enjoys.  Table manners are a subtle fine point or distinction separating us from the Barbarians.  A nicety can be giving careful attention to details that you don't necessarily have to, but it would make an occaision much nicer, much more enjoyable.  Sometimes it is just a dilicacy of taste or feeling.  It might be being fastidious, but it results in a much more pleasant experience for those involved.*

So I wonder now, where have all the little niceties of life gone?  What started me thinking about this was the prospect that the US Post Office will most likely soon be discontinuing Saturday mail service.  Not a big thing, I suppose.  Just makes Monday mail deliveries bigger and the sacks for the letter carriers (mailmen, mailpersons, postal workers, letter deliverers, what's policitally correct these days?) much heavier.   Now it is probably just a nicety to get mail on Saturday, but somehow losing it feels a lot like other little niceties that have gone by the by over my lifetime.

I remember there was a time that when you pulled into a service station an attendant would great you, ask how much, what grade and if he could check under the hood.  I must admit I always worried about them checking under the hood.  Sure it was nice, but what if they weren't completely honest?  What if they were just looking for ways to increase business?  The trick of course was to develop a relationship with the service station and get to know them well.  Then you could trust them.  Of course now, there is no one at the pumps and the person inside the food mart is more interested in selling you a lotto ticket than giving you directions (another lost "nicety").  And relationships!  Who has those any more with service people?

I risk sounding like an old fart here, but really now.  When did it become okay to ignore the customer checking out at the grocery store and talk about whether it is time for your break with the box boy or whether Susie was going to be waiting for you when you got off at 9?  And of course these checkers don't seem to realize that soon they will be extinct when the corporate types get us all trained in used those self-scanners where we don't have to interact with another human at all!  Bye bye nicety number 1,265~!

I like being nice.  I like making people feeling welcome where ever I am.  Too often now I am told things like, "Oh, don't worry about baking cookies for coffee hour at church!  Just buy some Mother's Bag of (Mass Produced) Assorted Cookies).  They will eat anything, you know!"   Somehow going the extra step just seems nice and I am sure someone, some time appreciates it.  It may go unacknowledged at the time, but the feeling will be remembered and the cookie eater will likely have a tender thought or two about the experience, if not the cookie.

I could go just on and on, and probably have already.  "It sure would be nice if he would shut up and just get over it," I can hear someone thinking right now.  Letting someone merge onto the crowded freeway, picking up you dog's business on your walk, smiling if not saying "Hello" when you pass someone along your way, reaching for that top-shelf can of Spam for the vertically challenged patron at Von's.  All niceties that seem to be the exception these days.  

I remember my folks and my grandfolks lamenting the passing of things like courtesy behavior and consideration for your neighbor.  What on earth would they think of our modern ways?  We tolerate so much, but you daren't say a thing.  Everyone has their rights, you know, to be as borish and Barbaric as they choose.  Even the Supreme Court says its okay for children to purchase electronic games that feature man's inhumanity to man.  And then they wonder why things are getting so, so, so.... "un-nice".

Thanks for listening.  In case you've forgotten, thanks is what used to be said when someone appreciated something.  Not, "Here ya go", followed by the retort, "No problem".  Just another nicety to be remembered fondly.

Oh for Pete's sake!

********

*The above base on the definition found in Merriam-Webster's Dictionary, a "nicety" that makes understanding words easier.

M-W's definition of "NICETY"

1: the quality or state of being nice

2: an elegant, delicate, or civilized feature

3: a fine point or distinction : subtlety

4: careful attention to details : delicate exactness : precision

5: delicacy of taste or feeling : fastidiousness

July

Did you know that July 1 is the 182nd day of the year (183rd in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar? There are 183 days remaining until the end of the year. The end of this day marks the halfway point of a leap year. It also falls on the same day of the week as New Year's Day in a leap year.  The new fiscal year begins today. 

Ruby is the gem for July.  My grandfather had a ring much like this one.  I remember trying it on and hoping someday I would have one like it.  Grandpa would let me try it on and wear it for a while.  When he died, my grandmother gave it to me.  I am not sure where it is now.

Some say the water lily is the flower of the month of July.  What could be more cool and refreshing than to comtemplate a flower floating in a cool pond?  Others says it is the larkspur because it brings the enery of laughter and relaxation much like those people born in July.

I think I like both.  Comtemplation of a water lily sitting at the edge of a pond on a warm summer day sounds so appealing.  And I like the idea of flowers laughing and relaxing so I would claim both for July.

July was named for Julius Ceasar.   

A sale at a department store used to often be called Christmas in July.  I suppose it would be a Holiday in July Sale now, but not the same I think.  In the southern hemisphere, it would seem fitting to celebrate Christmas in July since it is winter there.  There was an movie made called Christmas in July.  Never seen it, but now I think I will look for it.

July is the beginning of true summer I believe.  It is the first of the two months leading up the true beginning of the year, which comes in September, after Labor Day, when school starts again traditionally and most regular activities resume after a summer hiatus.  Used wisely to recreate and re-create oneself, July and her sister August are the months that give us time to pause, relax and enjoy.  

Maybe that's why I like all those things said about it here.