It’s about time!


Do you ever notice people’s clocks?

I think clocks say a lot about who we are. Even if you didn’t buy it yourself, if you have it hanging on the wall or sitting around, that monstrously huge timepiece that plays a song every 15 minutes says a bit about you. I mean, let’s face it, most of us would chuck it into a closet if we didn’t like it.

My sisters’ clocks …

My youngest sister has a wall clock in her kitchen that chirps like a different kind of bird every 15 minutes. Personally, that would drive me bonkers but she really likes it. What does that say about her? I think it says she has a calm spirit that allows those chirps to just wash right over her. I, on the other hand, have a frantic spirit that makes every one of those chirps ding my brain whenever I hear them.

My other sister (the middle one) has the clock mentioned in the first paragraph. Somebody gave this masterpiece to her — and she really likes it. What I think this clock says about her is that she likes shiny things hanging on the wall and she likes being serenaded. As for me, when the music plays, loudly, it startles me (… it’s that frantic spirit of mine).

My tick-tockers …

So, about now you’re wondering what kind of clock(s) I have. Well, I have a clock hanging in the kitchen that I found at a local consignment shop (it’s from the 60’s, I think). It’s in the shape of a coffee cup with colors that match my kitchen wallpaper. So, what does it say about me?

Maybe it says that I like things to be matchy-matchy, or that I like vintage accessories, or that I’m thrifty, or maybe not. I think it says that I got really lucky and stumbled upon a neat clock for my kitchen and had sense enough to buy it. And, by the way, my kitchen clock doesn’t make even the slightest peep.

The clock in my bedroom, though is a whole other ballgame. It was a gift from Mom about twenty-five years ago. It’s a big mantle clock but, in my opinion, not too terribly over the top. (I’d have a pic but I’m too pooped to climb the stairs.) It does, however, chime every 15 minutes and strikes the hour much like a grandfather clock. (It even sort of looks like the top of a grandfather clock.) So, why do I keep it (in my bedroom no less) even though it makes noise? What does it say about me?

Hmmm, I think it says that I like knowing what time it is in the middle of the night but don’t want to have to turn on the light and/or dig in the drawer of my bedside table to find my glasses so I can see the alarm clock next to my bed. Besides, waking up in the middle of the night and hearing that soft chime makes me feel secure … that all’s right with the world and that I can go back to sleep.

Silly?

Probably, but that’s okay, Mom gave it to me.

Try as I might, I just don’t get it!


There are some things in this world that just confound me. You know the kind of things I mean, for example:

Why is it that you always have a great hair day the day you have an appointment to get it cut?

Why does a neighbor always drop in on days when you really just want to be alone?

Why is it raining when you come out of the movie theater even though it was sunny when you went in and no rain was predicted?

Why do you always get stuck behind somebody going 10-15 miles under the speed limit only on the days when you’re late for work?

Why is there no such thing as a perfectly made new car, or new appliance, or new electronic device, or new anything for that matter?

Why does my cat Emmie always (and yes, I mean always) toss her cookies on my bed’s newly washed coverlet?

And why, for the love of all God‘s creatures, is it that March 2012 is the warmest March on record but April 2012 is as chilly and dreary as it can get?

Done with the whyning.

Bye.

… thanks for listening!

A bookie’s life calendar.


When I was a kid, my life calendar was all about the next holiday and not having to go to school.

It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to go to school but that I didn’t want to have to get up so dang early. (They could have made school start at ten instead of eight and I’d’ve been a happy camper.) The getting up early, though, wouldn’t have been such a problem except that it interfered with staying up late the night before. So why does a kid need to stay up so late — it’s all about the books.

Yep, this girl’s a reader. My life calendar these days is measured in books instead of days and weeks.

And holidays? They’re just one more opportunity for a family squabble, so who needs ’em!

I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t holed up somewhere reading a book. It drove my grandmother bonkers. She hated to see me inside reading when my brother and sisters and cousins were out playing. She used to make me watch afternoon soap operas with her to keep me from reading but I’d have an open book across my lap, sneaking peeks and distracting her when I needed to turn the page. (I’m pretty sure she knew I was doing it but, as long as I kept up with the soaps’ story lines, she let me get a way with it.) Granny loved her soaps. Wonder what she’d have thought about blogging.

Back to topic …

I read while waiting in the drive-up line and I read while waiting at red lights, too. (I get a lot of beeps from the cars behind me.)

I read while I should be watching what I’m cooking on the stove. (I’ve developed a real affinity for charred food.)

I read while I’m watching TV and, yes, I’ve even been known to read while I’m blogging.

It’s a sickness, this book thing, and there is no cure.

Yikes!

What is your passion? What keeps you going day after day, year in and year out? What’s the big thing on your life calendar?