OK, so that's probably not true; things like this happen to other people, I'm sure.
Short story long, we ordered some sheet vinyl flooring for one of our master bathroom. Well, let's rewind a bit.
Why? Because I know there's a difference between tolerance and acceptance. On the surface, it's just semantics. Both have similar definitions, but each has its own accompanying attitude.
Many politicians preach tolerance, that we should just be OK with whatever goes on. This makes it difficult to stick to your beliefs, though, because it forces you to float on the sea of cultural tolerance. Does anyone truly believe the world is becoming a better place overall (yes, some things are better) with each passing year? However, we can be tolerant without compassion because we are not seeking to share our knowledge or even pure opinions if we see someone doing something we know in our hearts is just plain wrong. On the outside, tolerance seems to be the most civil. Deep down, it's the coldest and cruelest way to treat others.
Acceptance is different. It means we can accept people for who they are, but not necessarily while tolerating what they do. We must have a measure of compassion and forgiveness to accept someone. Do we sit idly by under an umbrella of tolerance while someone self-destructs? No! Caring is sharing. Does anyone have all the answers? No man does, but we all have access to those answers. But there is a distinct right and wrong (yes, there is) that does not change no matter who or what or where you are or have been.
None of us are perfect, we all do dumb things and sin and fall short of who we know we could be. We are also not alone; we've got each other and God. A tolerant person would tell you that God is whoever you want him to be. An accepting person would tell you there's only one, and he won't tolerate everything you do but he will accept you unconditionally no matter who or what or where you are or have been. He's perfect when his earthly disciples are far from it.
I will tolerate and accept differing opinions, but you can't make me believe them. And I'll share more of my beliefs with you if you like.
God bless, and have a good weekend.
Are you organized? I don't mean Martha-Stewart-doilies-go-in-this-drawer organized. I just mean, can you find what you want when you want it?
Yeah, me neither. And it drives me batty. Having grown up in a house with two packrat parents – who still have unopened boxes from when they last moved 20 years ago – I'm trying to fight it.
It's too late for spring cleaning, but with school starting up for the kiddos and a new season a couple of months away, now's a good time. Try these tips:
Fellow parents will know this one: once you've got a kiddo, time is no longer measured merely by clock and calendar. It turns into watching your wee one become larger, achieve various milestones associated with growing girth and maturity, and then standing back amazed at how fast the time has flown.
This is the Cutlet's second summer, and like all other seasons a lot is going on in the world. He won't remember the celebrities who died, blockbuster sequels that came out in movie theaters, the news of wars and political mumble jumble, the tragedies, the strange (albeit strangely normal) weather, the episodes of Sesame Street and the songs on the radio.
I hope he remembers – and continues to feel – that his parents love him very much. That while we strive to protect him, we strive to let him make his own mistakes and fall down once in awhile. A few cuts and scrapes build character when earned honestly. We hope he'll not forget all the piggy-back rides up and down the hall, but he might. We hope he won't forget the times we read stories to him, but he probably will. We hope he will always have his natural curiosity and sense of wonder, but most of us eventually lose that, too.
In the end, the only true legacy – as if legacies amount to any more than a hill of beans – is how we shape the future through our children, or other people's children. Love, support, attitude are much more permanent than the stuff we buy that can rot, rust and erode. But only if we continue to practice them, and instill those values into the young ones. And then they can give seemingly endless piggy back rides, read stories aloud about fuzzy red monsters, and give more love to their children than they ever thought existed.
What's stranger than this 1960s-era Amphicar simply driving down the boat ramp into the lake? The fact that I took this photo while riding in a nearly identical Amphicar already in the water. Pretty surreal to see road traffic through the windshield, and then less than 10 minutes later see boat traffic. Too bad these little cars didn't catch on like the Ford Mustang – then there'd be plenty of classic boat-cars for the taking!
Also strange is the fact that the ladies are wearing mermaid costumes. On that note, I'm fin-ished for now!
So far this week, I've covered a school board meeting (snoresville usa), covered a city council meeting (snoresville, the sister city), talked with a recovering alcoholic, gotten a call from some lady who doesn't want her name to appear in the police report we publish, interviewed four people to fill a reporting job and met the Texas state champion (HP class) lawnmower racer.
Tonight? I get to ride in a restored 1965 boat car at one of our nearby lakes for a feature story. The newspaper life is so glamorous!
What's up with you?
A lot is going on. Can I hear a resounding "duh" from the peanut gallery? While that's nothing new, there are some bloggable things I'd not had time to write about. So here's a random roundup:
We'd leave the light on for you, but it attracts bugs.
This weekend we'll be hosting my sister, her son and husband for the weekend while at least two of them attend a wedding for one of my sister's longtime friends. The wedding's at an old Catholic church in downtown Fort Worth, so our home offers fast, easy access compared to their northeast-of-Dallas abode. So we'll be stocking up on snacks and foodstuffs (there's that word again, what are "foodstuffs" and why are they different from "food"??). We'll also have to entertain our 5-year-old nephew for part of the time, but he's a barrel of laughs in pajamas.
Next weekend, we'll be hosting my mother-in-law and one of the Petite Filet's sisters, who has an aerobics-instructor-training course to take in Dallas. They live near Tulsa, Oklahoma, so shortening that commute to Dallas only makes sense. Fortunately, the Petite Filet's mom usually visits the store and loads up on her own foodstuffs, as well as funding a foodstuff-gathering mission to a place that prepares foodstuffs for you (aka "restaurant." I'm such a dork!).
In preparation for this motelization of our home, we had to do a few things:
My birthday's in a few months. I'll be the big 3-1. Those of you anxious about losing your 20s need to know that for many of us, life actually began at 30. Of course, so did having a slower metabolism (I swear there's something magical about the number itself). And then there's the fact that the phrase "young man" or "young woman" can only apply to you when said by someone over 60. I've been called a "young woman" by an octagenarian with bad eyesight and poor judgment.
I'm not a thrill seeker. Or at least much of one. Take one look at my garage, and the most exciting thing in there is the bitchin' washer and dryer we bought a few years ago. And my mountain bike. My chainsaw is pretty cool, but using it resembles work rather than pleasure. My boat needs a lot of work before it sees water. And we don't have the resources to get that canoe or kayak I've been wanting to buy (or build). The Petite Filet refuses to go camping after our last disaster. We haven't been to an actual adults-only party in years. You won't find me bungee jumping or skydiving anytime soon.
Still, there are some things I tell myself I'd like to do before my next birthday. Will I do them? Probably not. Would you do any of these?
I'm off Mondays, and that let me be an all-day babysitter while the Petite Filet worked her (possibly) temporary job. Thanks to everyone who's weighed in on the job issue(s) – feel free to do so if you haven't yet and have some words de wisdom to share with the class.
Me and the Cutlet didn't go anywhere all day long. I'd planned to, but by the time he woke up from his nap, it was after 4 and just too hot. Plus, where would we go?
Here's our day by the numbers:
The search continues for a new reporter in our newsroom. So far, I've interviewed a few people, talked on the phone to some others, and chuckled aloud at the crap others sent me as part of their applications. Yes, folks, those of you who've had to hire someone before know that some cover letters, resumes and work samples offer more comic relief than hope for a productive workplace.
In a business such as a newspaper, creativity comes in to play as well. It's an intangible, as is personality (or lack thereof), that cannot be fully measured on paper. Of course, there are some who look good on paper and can't back up their alleged skills in the three-dimensional world. Then there are those who can't convey on paper how wonderful they are in real life. I'd love to see some of the latter, 'cause I really need help.
Here's some ways to guarantee you're not right for the job.
"More clutch!"
"What?"
"Use more clutch when you shift!"
"Oh," I said, as the car lurched suddenly and the engine died. Really, my mom should not have been the one to teach me how to drive a manual transmission. But it was her '85 Nissan Sentra station wagon – blue mist – and my dad was at work. That was 15 years ago, and that car is long gone. She and I are too much alike when it comes to stuff like that.
I eventually got the hang of it, but ended up buying a car with automatic transmission. And now my mom doesn't have to ride with me (a real plus for a 30-year-old).
Austin isn't really my kind of town, but if I was there, it would mean I wasn't here working my fingers to the t-bone. Calgon, take me away!
This would have been a more realistic photo had I left the keys in the ignition!
Photos to come this weekend.
"Keep Ausin Weird" is an alternative chamber of commerce slogan that aims to elevate local businesses (selling crazy furniture, "herb" stores, new-age gifts and art) beyond the mere carbon-copy retail boxes that crowd in and around large cities. The Texas state capital is an outdoorsy, laid-back, live-music sort of place. It's also home (apparently) to a large university and bordered by the Colorado River (which makes it more outdoorsy). This almost stereotypical attitude of leaving Austin out of the ubiquitousness that surrounds it is true. I saw it spray-painted beneath a bridge: "Homogenize milk, not Austin."
If Austin has stayed Austin this long, it's not likely to change too much. Here's what we did in the Lone Star State's star city:
