Author: D. L. Keur

Some People Are Exciting; Some Art Not.

Posted on by D. L. Keur

I’ve been dealing, one on one and many on one, with people my whole life.  Some, I always enjoy engaging; others, well, two minutes into becoming acquainted with them, and I’m yawning already.

Self-infatuation and a penchant for caring more about the surface than about the depths, along with shallow thinking are the main culprits that bring me the “yawn reflex.”  Give me someone who isn’t seeking flattery and adulation, give me someone who doesn’t give a damn about what color lipstick they put on this morning…or even if they are wearing any, give me someone whose entire mental repertoire consists of more than parroting the latest ad, fad, and fatuous flatulence as fed them from the boob tube, church, government, or the gossip queens, and, maybe, just maybe, I’ll not dismiss them out of hand.

I like someone who can think for themselves.  (The churches, governments and the mega-corps do not.)

I like anyone who doesn’t swallow, hook, line, and stinker, the “truths” convenient for getting along and going along with status quo.

I like anyone who knows how to substantiate their position, and who, if they discover that maybe their position might be wrong, can admit it and take another look.

I like anyone who challenges opinion and accepted circumstance.

Polly Parrot, Missy Aren’t I Pretty, and Mister Dodges Anything Which Pins Him Down is not for me.

I might argue with you, and we might disagree, but that’s how we learn and grow and explore perspectives, isn’t it?  If I lend an ear, if I speak, and, if you, in turn, respond and listen, too, isn’t that the highest honor you and I can pay each other? 

Yes.

Whelp, Yup, He Done Did Break It!

Posted on by D. L. Keur

So Friday…hubby broke his pedal.  No, not the guitar pedal, not the car pedal, not the bicycle pedal.  His foot — he broke his foot. 

Now, after x rays, after doctors conferring, he’s literally “on ice and immobilized” until the swelling reduces enough that the orthopedist feels confident that it can be cast. 

I’ve got a feeling that this isn’t going to be any of those nice take-it-off/put-it-on casts, either.  I’m betting they do one of those fiberglass numbers — rigid and lots of fun in the shower.  Hubs is a big man, and the joint got shattered into itty  bitty pieces. 

Needless to say, I’m not getting much work done.  I’m not getting much of anything done.  He needs lots of TLC and tending.

“Honey, can you get me a soda?   …Can you get me a sandwich?  Can you get my painkillers?  Can you….”

So now I’m gonna be even further behind on my various need-tos/have-tos.  Hubs comes first.  Always.  Don’t you wish every “other half” felt that way?  Well, don’t marry until you and your choice are both over thirty, and then work at it.  Remember, all that matters is the love, and also, when it comes to differences of perspective, is your point and your stance in the conflict worth more than your relationship?  Probably not, so don’t fuss the small stuff, okay?

Good.

Several things, though:  Don’t marry someone who prefers alcohol, drugs, or sports, never marry anyone who “gets physical,” and definitely do NOT marry anyone just because the sex is good.  Really.

My life at the moment…

Posted on by D. L. Keur

Well, the good news is that my eyes are getting better…as long as I don’t look at a computer screen too much, and especially if I don’t read work that uses movable type…which means stay away from blogs, online newspapers, most forums….  If it is static type, it doesn’t bother me, go figure.  So that’s the good and bad of it.

Gripes:  Writers.  Too much to go into at the moment.  My decision?  I’m cutting them loose. They can make it or break it on their own.  I don’t need the abuse.  I don’t need the headaches.  I don’t need the financial drain.

More gripes: Sandpoint, Idaho.  Oh, can we see the mayor sign the green bill?  And then what?  Cut more big trees down to make way for yet more development — non-green development.

And last but not least: Petulant men and women whose only goal in life is to get their way — men and women driven only by selfish desire. 

The Power to Help.

Posted on by D. L. Keur

I have two ants safely harbored in a peanut butter jar, a piece of screen keeping them inside.  They came here inside my husband’s lunchbox from the construction site.  Of course, they didn’t come on purpose.  They weren’t particularly interested in visiting places far, far away.  They were after goodies and got hijacked by the lid being closed and zippered shut.  So home they came…surviving what had to be a very dangerous and uncomfortable trip, jostled between empty lunch containers, locked inside a plastic and nylon environment in 100 degree heat. 

So hubs opens lunch box to dump his containers into the sink and does the old, “Ants! Oh, great.”

Now, I have a “thing” about ants.  It’s the one creature…en masse…which will send me screaming off in a frothing panic. (I was bitten by red ants when I was a child and have never quite recovered from the experience.)  But I also have a “thing” about life and its being precious.  I have a “thing” which demands me respect all life…and non-life.  And, me, a human, has the power to help.  And that’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it?  If I have the power to help, doesn’t that obligate me to help where I can, when I can?  I think so.  Caring matters.  If one doesn’t care, if things don’t matter, what’s the point?

So back to the story.

So, lid open, one of the two ants trapped inside started perambulating around in a bit of a frenzy.  One got outside the box and disappeared.  The other was just doing laps inside. 

I see all manner of containers, but everything is plastic or styrofoam — death to insects put inside because they are saturated with things like pesticides or made using formaldehyde. (Nice to think that our food comes in these things, right?) Quickly, I grab the clean, empty, glass peanut butter jar, wondering where the “outside” ant went off to, and how I would be able to find her to get her safely inside the jar for the return trip home tomorrow.  Ah!  There she is!  I manage to get her to walk inside the jar.  Now for the other one.  She’s not so easy, but, with the help of a piece of paper towel, she’s induced to take a ride inside safety.

Screen lid anchored in place, and they are ready to roll, no longer “lost ants,” but simply on an adventure and ready for the return trip home.

I used my power to help. 

BELATED ANT UPDATE:

Yes, they made it safely back to their ant homes.  Hubs was very conscientious about getting them back to exactly where he ate lunch the day before.  And he watched them as they made tracks out of the jar and onto “familiar ground.”  They immediately ran into more ants, did the “feeler thing,” as he called it, then made tracks, following other ants headed to a “known ant home.” 

I really like the construction crew.  They are very conscientious.  All of them.  And that’s as it should be since the two owners, Hubs and partner, are both eco-minded.  If the crew wasn’t, I guess they wouldn’t be crew very long, right?

Oh, and, I failed to mention, I put a bit of water on aforementioned paper towel the morning of transport back home, and both ants made quite an elaborate show of drinking.  Those were some thirsty ants.  They must have snacked on some of hubby’s favorite Triscuits!