Just wonderin’…Paul Bunyan edition

I live in Oregon.  Tree heaven.  The home of  majestic towering timbers that provide shelter for woodland animals and safe haven for endangered species like the northern spotted owl.  I honestly believe the term “tree huggers” was coined here.  You know, those people who chain themselves to beautiful evergreens hoping to save the green giant from the big bad antagonist of this story, the logging industry.  Very rarely do the tree huggers win.  Logging is just too important to the livelihood of Oregonians.  I’ve come to accept this.  I mean, afterall, trees are a renewable resource. 

 The problem I have is with clear cutting.  It just plain ruins the view.  I’ll be driving along, enjoying a gorgeous Oregon day, staring out my window and then it happens.  Before me, I see an entire side of a mountain where the trees are mowed down and lay like scattered toothpicks on the ground.  Save one.  They leave one lone tree standing tall at the top of the mountain.  Why do they do that?  Was that tree the lucky winner in  the “Save a Tree Today”  lotto?”  Is it some sort of marker for the loggers to find their way back so they can come and pick up their toothpicks?”  Or maybe they think that one lone timber will repopulate the whole side of the mountain by its lonely little self.  Maybe they’re just giving the beavers something to do.

  I don’t know, and I suppose in the “things that really matter in life” category, it’s a non-issue.  But I was just wonderin’…

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472

 
 

In the process of getting ready to sell my house, the stager lady, that’s how I like to refer to her, made me put away all of my family photos, extra unused furniture, delightful little knickknacks and, oh be still my heart, my books.  Okay, to be fair, she’s letting me keep three of my six bookshelves and she’s instructed me on how to stage them properly.  Staging a bookshelf really doesn’t have anything to do with keeping books on it.  It’s more about filling it with plants and said mentioned knickknacks, and maybe just a few books standing upright, or even better, lain on their side, so we have to crane our neck to read the titles.

See the number above?  After weeding through all my books a month ago, and donating or selling over 200, I still own 472 books.  Twenty-nine categories.  Hardcover, softcover, leather-bound, big, little, fiction, non-fiction.  Well, you get the idea, the list goes on.  I was amazed at the compilation of books I’d amassed.

Ninety-seven softcover fiction.  Forty hard bound.  Thirty-six cooking books.  Eighteen tennis books, twelve golf books.  Twenty-four books on massage.  Forty books on energy, visualization and psychicness.  Is that a word?  Spell check apparently thinks not.  Forty? Seriously.  I may not know how to snowboard, only one of those books, but I can sure tell you what you had for breakfast and read your palm.  I have seven logic and gambling books.  Why I paired these together, who knows?  Seems like an oxymoron to me.  Sixteen relationship books.  I want my money back on those.  Oh, and my favorite, I own seventeen blank books, some with pages torn out where I attempted journaling.  Maybe if I’d actually read the one book I own on, “How to write a Journal,”  I wouldn’t have had to rip the pages out.

I have books that me happy,  “I love you, Mom.”  Thanks kids.  Books that make me cry, any of those “Chicken Soup for the Soul” books.  Especially, the dog lover’s soul.  Thanks Poul.  Books that make me laugh, Bill Bryson and my favorite humorist, Erma Bombeck.  Books that tell me what to do, “Take Charge of Your Life NOW.”  Books that help me de-clutter, I obviously haven’t read those, but the stager lady apparently has.

When it’s all said and done, my books are now organized and boxed away, waiting for  their new home, where ever that may be.  And when I finally unpack them, it will be like greeting old friends.  In the mean time, if you want to borrow a book, let’s talk.

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Hello world!

Alrighty then, here goes.  It took me zero time to find my site, thanks Sean, and a full five minutes or so to figure out how to edit the first post, “Hello World!” and I’m still not sure I’m doing it correctly.  I guess we will find out. 

 Observation of the day:  I find it wonderful when I write a long email or essay and I hit the spell check button and it comes up with zero errors.  Wow, think about it.  How often are we ever perfect?  For one gloriously shining moment, I am perfect.  I like to think of it as a little game.  It’s also a good barometer as to how well my brain is working and how much I remember from my childhood spelling bees.  Ever watch the National Spelling Bee?  Those kids are amazing.  Ten to thirteen year olds spelling random gigantic words like, vespertilionid.  Take a guess at what that word means, and no cheating with the dictionary.  Okay cheat.  Personally, I thought it had something to do with little motorcycles… but then, I’d be wrong. 

 Okay, I’m off to mow the lawn, but first, drumroll please… I’m ready to hit spellcheck….  Hmmm.. apparently spellcheck doesn’t know what vespertilionid is either.  I guess that means that “perfect” can be very subjective.

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