WHERE DID YOU HEAR THAT?

I grew up with a lot of what I'll call "canned wisdom"--old sayings and maxims and proverbs intended to improve me. We're not talking about eating your spinach here, or sitting up straight, or stop making that face because what if your face freezes like that. No-no. We're talking about well-known (and well-worn) phrases we heard all our lives and took for granted they were, well, practically gospel truth. Until we discovered they were something else entirely.

Today we'll look at seven phrases and their origins--not my Great Aunt Fanny's or Grandpa Joe's--the real origins.

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1. "Eyes bigger than your stomach." The original reads "bigger than your belly." Found a reference to the poet George Herbert (1593-1633) but nothing about where in his work it's to be found.

2. "Bite off more than you can chew."  Found no references, sad to say. But I think it's safe to assume we're not talking food here--I know it was used in my youth as a warning not to be too ambitious because I'd not likely succeed. (I still think that's bad advice--what about our reach exceeding our grasp?--Robert Browning)

3. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you."  First seen in print in about the early 1800s; political writer Edmund Burke said “having looked to government for bread, on the first scarcity they will turn and bite the hand that fed them.” The term is believed to be hundreds of years old.

[So far we seem to be inundated with advice on our feeding and eating habits. But once we get into the origins, we learn something else.]

4. "Give him an inch and he'll take a mile." Already a proverb in John Heywood's 1546 collection, "Give him an inch and he'll take an ell." [An ell is a former English unit of length, about 45 inches.] The change to mile happened in about 1900.

5. "Walk a mile in my shoes."  Original said "in my moccasins." Same difference. Possibly from an 1895 poem by Mary T. Lathrap called “Judge Softly.”

6. "A penny saved is a penny earned." Attributed to Ben Franklin, but I couldn't substantiate that. Anyway--it's bum advice--100% earnings? No way!

7. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."Probable that John Heywood (see #4 above) obtained the phrase from a Latin text of St. Jerome, The Letter to the Ephesians, circa AD 400."

[NOTE: Sources were: Bartlett's Familiar Quotations and Webster's Tenth Edition dictionary.]

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There you have them--seven pieces of advice/wisdom/opinion/or (if you're one of the skeptics in this life) so much codswollop.

But now that it's spring in the northern hemisphere, and especially up north in the U.S., we will have rain-rain-rain. So I leave you with this wisdom: "Always save something for a rainy day." Heaven knows, you're gonna need it.

Blessings from

Thursday's Child

TIME--A CLICHE FESTIVAL 

Last week when we met, we examined Time as a part of our lives.

Aside: Did you know it's extremely difficult to write about Time as a subject without using the word over and over? True.

This week I want to look at phrases and sayings that have grown up around the word Time and the concept of time passing. F'rinstance:

--Time will tell - something will be made clear in the future.

--It's high time . . . - suggesting
some urgency to the subject being discussed.

--For the time being - at present; now; perhaps only for a short period in the future.

--In a timely manner - being on time, action occurring when it's supposed to, or when it's most needed.

--No time like the present - meant, I suspect, to move a reluctant person on toward an action.

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Other usages seem to be meant to reassure the listener, such as these:

--Take your time - no hurry, no worry, relax . . . .

--Time-worn - used to suggest the age of something, such as a written work, or the physical condition of a book, or music; or, perhaps, the lesser value of a phrase or philosophy; perhaps something not to be taken seriously.

--It's all in the timing - I don't know about you, but when I hear something is all in the timing, I tense up; timing isn't an attitude or a way of thinking that one adopts--it's earned, by practice. By hitting a ball, fielding a fly, swimming laps, learning how to run a half-marathon, speaking in front of an audience, training or teaching someone how to do something, leading.

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Then there are a few that fall between the cracks, such as:

--It's about time you ___ - this one seems to be a favorite of parents who want to shove the kid on toward some goal, but know there's not much they can do (legally) to make it happen. Can also be heard between spouses, sad to say.

--For old time's sake - I think of this one as a way to lay on the guilt. Or maybe it depends on how long ago the "old time" was.

--Time after time - another one that can fall off on the negative side; yet it can be used positively, such as "I could never get the hang of long division, but time after time my dad showed me how it was done."

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Recently I participated in a study of St. John's gospel--and on different occasions, Jesus says to his disciples, or to others, "My time has not yet come." Later, he says, "The time has come for me to glorify my father." 

Maybe there is something to getting the timing right. And, using the Christian example, it may not all be up to me.

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Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 GETTING A HANDLE ON TIME

Is it possible to actually "get a handle" on Time?

Ever since I've been able to tell time, to have to plan my time, to fit myself into somebody else's concept of how time is supposed to be used--so, clearly, most of my long life--I've never been able to figure out time, or get hold of it in any way. Time remains as elusive to me as it did when I was five years old and wasn't time-bound for much of anything. Mom called me to come in for meals. She said when it was time to put on pajamas, say my prayers, get into bed. (My memory is that Cultural Wisdom in the late '40s decreed children of school age should get 12 hours of sleep. Honest! Not a joke! Not an exaggeration.)

Until I went to school, I had little concept of "time passing." I certainly didn't have to keep track of what the clock said or how many more minutes till something else happened.

Then--School. That place I adored, where I'd have lived if they'd let me. From the moment I went in the door each day, I knew I was Home. Not the house my dad built for us. Not the apartment my mom and I lived in later on. No, School was my true Home--spiritual, intellectual. 

The only fly in the soothing ointment of School was the keeping of Time. Fortunately for me, I had no need to mark the hours; I was prompted by my teacher to put away my arithmetic book and take out social studies. When a bell rang out in the hall, something more important was going to happen--usually, leave the school building and go home for lunch. Sometimes it was a fire drill--and to this day my adrenaline roars into life at the sound of an alarm (any kind: alarm clock, smoke alarm, car alarm; plus sirens on any and all emergency vehicles). The only bell that didn't start my fight-or-flight system was the one at the end of the day when I could put away my books (and pencil and anything else I had taken out of my desk) and go home. That bell was a sad bell. I had to leave School, my true Home.

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As years passed, I learned more about Time. Such as:

--time spent in a classroom passes faster than time spent outside School. (I wanted to be there, remember.)

--time spent in a dentist's waiting room is even faster; it should have gone slower, I think, because then the torture of imagination would be more effective. But five minutes in the waiting room took no time at all, and then my name was called, and it was my turn.

--time during a school exam is never long enough, no matter how much time is allowed.

--time waiting for a baby to develop and finally be born is interminable.

--time waiting for that teenager to come home (wee small hours) causes ulcers.

(You can compile your own list . . . .)

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At present, I'm not bound by time as I was when I worked. Retirement didn't completely obliterate the need for calendars, lists, and clocks. But it did give me a healthier perspective about how Time works--and if I don't want to go completely round the bend or drop out of society (sometimes appealing, but not just now), I have come to terms with Time.

I use the tools at hand, the calendar, list, and clock.

The calendar records appointments of all kinds, but in my case, mostly medical.

The list details each day's expectations, obligations, and information. What doesn't get done on any particular day may migrate to the next day's list. Or, it may not.

The clock is there for me to keep track of appointments or to let me know when it's time to take my blood pressure, call somebody I need to speak with, or to determine if I can work in a ride on my exercise bike or do some yoga before supper is on the table.

One great benefit of keeping track of Time is finding I have leisure to pursue things I enjoy: writing, watercolor painting, occasional quilt-making, letter writing, knitting. I may have to juggle some of my commitments in order to have that leisure, but I'll do that because the end result is worth it.

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No doubt you've caught on--we're talking about Time because on Sunday you and I will have to adjust our clocks to conform to Daylight Savings Time. Or maybe you also have one of those atomic clocks (weird name) that uses GPS to change itself around 2 AM. My cell phone, my computer, and my car clock also do that for me. That leaves me two clocks to change--the one on the microwave, and a wind-up clock in the bathroom. Oh, and a couple of little old-fashioned battery-operated clocks I've had for ages--they're invaluable when the power goes out.

No rant this time--DST is just a fact of life, like weather, and tax time (also coming soon to a place near you). 

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Until next time--there's that word again--enjoy the Days Before Spring Arrives.

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 MARCH!

[This was first published in 2018--I wanted to repeat it because I don't want to forget how we thought and spoke in those pre-pandemic days. March ought to be a time of looking forward--to the season's change to Spring, colorful beauty in Nature, growth. For me, despite seasonal allergies, a happy time.]

New month . . . new expectations . . . .

On March 20th, we'll celebrate the first day of spring, 2018. A one-time thing--there won't be another first day of spring this year. Make the most of it.

Before that, though, we live with all the old sayings:

If March comes in like a lion, it'll go out like a lamb.

Or, if March comes in like a lamb . . . you got it, out like a lion.

In my neck of the woods, there's a little of both--the lion roaring around, trees swaying, rain pelting down, temp dropping. Then the little lamb gambols across the landscape bringing sunshine, a soft breeze, the illusion of a warm spring day. What's up with that?

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This year, March is the last gasp of Lent--Easter Sunday is April 1st. And if the weather doesn't show up dressed in sunshine and fluffy clouds--if we get a freezing rain before the sunrise service (happened to us about 40 years ago here in my neighborhood)--well, that's what we get that day. It'll still be Easter Sunday.

In Anne Hillerman's book Rock with Wings, police officer Jim Chee reflects on weather:

He never minded summer, even at its peak. What was the point of calling anything in nature “bad”? Weather was weather, hot was hot, cold was cold. He didn’t see the need to attach judgment.

But Chee is a native of the desert Southwest, and he's a traditional Navajo, which means he's close to nature, and the above attitude is just right for his character.

I won't say I'll be nonchalant about the weather on Easter Sunday. If it's a cold, rainy day, I'll feel cold, and I'll wear a raincoat and hope my fingers don't freeze while I drive to church.

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What do you look forward to in March? Gardening? Working outside? Building a gazebo? Taking the dog for longer walks? Not shoveling snow? 

We had an almost-spring day or two this week. My job was to clear the fallen limbs, branches, and sticks that wind had torn from my four big old trees. There's a good-sized pile at the curb for the City trucks to pick up later on. And the trash bin is filling up nicely with the small stuff--it's naturally biodegradable so it's okay for the landfill.

When we get a warmish day without wind, my patio will get some attention--last year's leaves got tangled up in some of the bushes nearby, so that'll require a rake and a bushel basket for hauling debris to the bin out front. Best of all, I may get to see some buds on flowering bushes. If not, I'll keep checking.

Last night, my Ohio daughter told me her daffodils and tulips are already about three inches out of the ground. Go Spring!

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March is a month that wears many hats--a sunbonnet for the bright days--a poplin rainhat for the precursor to April showers--a tied-on scarf to keep hair out of our eyes when we walk or run on the snow-free walks and streets.

It's a month of green beer and wild weather, sunshine and rain. Whatever--celebrate March!

  CERTAINTIES

[Life being what it is, I sometimes get caught up in a tangle of  appointments and obligations that siphon off my energy or steal my time. So, herewith a rerun of "Certainties," a form of self-care that I need right now. Still timely. Sad to say. But maybe that's also a good thing. Hope it helps you, too.]

Unless you've been out of touch with the world for the past seven months, you know that practically every other article/broadcast/podcast mentions our current time as one of Uncertainty.

All right, I've heard it, you've heard it, probably we've even said it. So why am I writing today about Certainty? Well, why not? It's much more positive than UN
-certainty.

And yet--speaking or writing about Certainties always contains the opposite, or, if not opposite, then at least some of the "dark side." For example, one of our certainties is that change is upon us, and in us, and around us; the un-certain part is not knowing what our world, our individual lives, will look like when we get out on the "other side."

Do we ever know the outcome? Did we ever know--for certain--that choices/decisions we made would turn out as they have?

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Let's look at some Certainties:

--seasons changing--with their temperature changes--amount of daylight waxing/waning

--time passing--people aging, kids growing up--buildings being demolished, new homes being built

--societal definitions shifting--what is a family, for example

Can you do anything about any of those? Can I?

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Here are some other Certainties:

--loyalty

--friendship

--compassion

--love

--honor

--integrity

What changes is perspective--how each of us interprets these qualities, based on our upbringing, our experiences in later life.

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For some folks, God is a Certainty. Some people say "Supreme Being" or "Higher Power"--but I'm comfortable talking about God. For me, God is a Certainty. Never mind unanswered prayers, or injuries to my ego; or the times I walked away from God. Nothing, and no one, can convince me that God abandoned me, or punished me, or deliberately injured me or allowed something dire to happen in my life. God is love. For me, that's certain. Call it faith, if you prefer. For me--it's a Certainty.

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We live in "uncertain times"--ask anybody. We're surrounded by disappointment and sadness, by lack of supplies and by disturbing news; we work at jobs we'd never consider if life was "normal" and we take wages we know will barely cover what we owe. We watch people die because they're old, or young, or vulnerable, or because they're compassionate and work in the very midst of a medical calamity.

The only way to cope, it seems to me, is to find some Certainty in our lives--then hold onto that as our life raft while we're tossed in the strong current of Un-certainty. Then we can give thanks that there is one thing we can cling to, one thing we can count on.

For some people that one thing is music--or art--or poetry--or woodworking, sewing, knitting, cooking--reading to a beloved child or a blind person who loves to hear a story.

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When you find your Certainty, share it with someone else. You never know who needs a good word.

Blessings!

LET'S HEAR IT FOR FOOD!

One of the downsides of illness--and there are many--is, or can be, loss of appetite.

I've always tended to retain excess poundage--we always called it our family heritage. Along the way, I heard it's not the tendency to gain weight that we inherit--it's the cookbook! I could relate to that!

In all my decades on this planet, I've seen diets and eating programs come and go. We've had expensive programs, free programs, doctor-sanctioned programs; we've had the diet-of-the-moment explained to us on every TV talk show; we now have dozens, scores (maybe hundreds?) of "diet" items available at every venue from the dollar store to the high-end food provider. Can't get out to shop? No problem! Just order it up and have it delivered. Or, if it's locally sold, drive by and have it loaded into your cargo area.

So, after all the above palaver about food and diets, here I am talking about loss of appetite.

I still had the sense of smell and sense of taste that I've relied on for my whole life. What I didn't have was the little voice in my head that said, "You know, that new can of soup you bought looks really delicious. Why not open it up and try a serving?"

I didn't bother. My daughter continued to roast chickens and root vegetables--when I thought I might be having hunger pangs (hard to tell when the appetite packs up and leaves town), I'd heat up a small bowl full of those offerings. They always tasted good, but a few bites were all I could manage.

Okay, enough about my eating problem.

We'll fast forward to this week. Food looks good, smells good, tastes good again. I've started eating the way I used to. Energy started to return (well, duh) with enough fuel on board.

Not everything is on my menu, but I've found several possible solutions to the great Loss of Appetite Dilemma. Such as:

--PBJ on toast. Not a new discovery by any means, but peanut butter on toast with a topping of some great jam/jelly/preserves has become a standard lunchtime treat for me. Not low cal, but satisfying. If I think I need more, I had some fresh fruit.

--Chicken salad on toast. We had a small amount of shredded white meat of chicken left from the most recent roasted bird. You want to make the World's Easiest Chicken Salad? Add a small spoonful of pickle relish and a little more than a spoonful of mayo; stir into the shredded or cut-up chicken. If you can manage to wait, let the flavors blend. If not, whip up the toast and pile on the salad.

--Soup--canned, when I don't have the energy to make my own. For those who need it, there are gluten-free varieties.

--Cheese and crackers--great snack. Protein, carbs, a little salt if you need it.

--Cheese and fruit--for those who are trying to avoid salt.

--Fruit in yogurt--I've been a fan of single-serving fruit cups for some time; no waste, no leftovers to store. A little more expensive than canned fruit, but for the live-alone crowd, worth it. And a fruit cup mixed with plain yogurt is cheaper than any combo I can buy at the store.

--My current favorite treat is a panini. I've never had one in a restaurant, but I remember making my own grilled cheese decades ago--this is the same thing with the addition of a slice or two of chicken (or your choice). And I can make it gluten-free. It's also filling, making it a perfect meal-in-one.

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Probably my greatest thrill was enjoying the taste of coffee again. I make my own--since I don't get out in the world much, I can't depend on the local coffee shops to provide my daily brew. And I like it a little less bold that the baristas pour.

All this discussion of food has me salivating. And it's nearly lunch time, so I'll sign off and see what's new in the refrigerator. A panini sounds wonderful. Or maybe a PBJ on toast. 

Ahh! Lovely to have an appetite again . . . all those choices!

 HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

[Changes in our lives during a time of pandemic have nudged me to think about home. Many people who formerly left home to go to work no longer have to do so. Those of us who are retired spend, I suspect, a large amount of time in the place where we live. So--what makes a home? Where is home? Here are my thoughts from a few years back.]

"Home is where the heart is."

Know who said that?

Pliny the Elder, Roman author, naturalist, and natural philosopher. Born 1st Century AD.

I don't know the occasion of his pronouncement, but it's become a cliché in our time. Like most clichés, it's true.

Consider the following:

• In my first 20 years on Earth, I moved from one abode to another 17 times.
• During those moves, I lived in houses, apartments, and one time a remodeled gas station.
• Our moves took us from small town to country, to larger town, to city, to country again, and back to small town.
• I lived in five different states of the Union, all of them in the Midwest

For a number of years, during these moves, my home was where my mother was. When I was 15, my mother died--so that anchor was gone from my life.

After that my sense of home--not as a place but as an attachment--underwent several incarnations. I married, had children, and began making a home for them. (In those days, wives/moms were able to stay home and be with the children, being homemakers in the literal sense of the word.) Like many new parents, I tried to give my children what I didn't have as a kid--a house they could call home, freedom to explore, and permission to keep every blessed thing they wanted to. It helped that the first house we bought was a four-bedroom, two-story square frame house, with large rooms, a basement, and an airing porch on the back. Plus a big yard, fenced in, and room for a dog and a cat (or two--they don't seem to come in singles for this family), plus a neighborhood full of friends to play with, go to school with, and get in trouble with.

When the children were in school and I had free time during the day, I went back to college to finish my degree. I made friends there who have lasted through the years into retirement. They've become part of my family--and though we aren't close geographically, we are close in the best way of all--we're at home with each other whenever we meet.

I love grocery shopping when I'm home. That's what makes me feel totally normal. I love both the idea of home as in being with my family and friends, and also the idea of exploration. I think those two are probably my great interests.
Yo-Yo Ma

I can't show you pictures of my homes--there were too many down through the years. The one I live in now is a three-bedroom ranch, like the houses my father built most of his life. My town's population is around 12,000, and it's the county seat.

For a number of years my oldest daughter and I went back to our hometown to visit my aunt and several first cousins. One year we attended a family reunion, on the 100th anniversary of my maternal grandparents' wedding. After a life of nearly perpetual moving around, I felt quite grounded in the park that day--I was related to all these people, and so was my daughter. We belonged.

Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

The most important thing is this: I've been in this house, in my small city, over 30 years. I've found a physical place to call home. But if I had to leave, I could. Home is a concept--and I carry its picture in my heart.