Sponsors: www.cailorfleming.com/ hbkcpa.com/consultants/melissa-crowley/ Jn 6: Your words, Lord, are Spirit and life; you have the words of everlasting life.
There's a reason people like their pets more than they like the other humans.
Um, have you met the other humans?
Surely you've met your pet. Or as we call her in our house, our canine kid: beloved Boxer Monica Arleen Kimerer.
Ain't she cute?
Don't you dare say no...I'll have her bite your bum. Except for that, she won't.
Monnie doesn't have a mean bone in her almost nine-year-old (that's nearly 60 to you and me) body. In fact, although she's a solid 87 pounds, my fur daughter thinks she's a lap dog.
Yep, she tries to climb right up on my thighs every night when I sit on the couch. Every night I tell her NO and she responds by dragging her left (always the left?) paw slowly up from the floor and gently placing it on my knee.
It's such a cute little maneuver that I always relent to permitting her to sit in Kerry's chair; a fact that he always creams us girls about...but a practice that Kyle Kimerer whole-heartedly encourages. Just one of the things he gets from his Madre. I digress.
Ah, Monnie. Sweet, snaggle-toothed, halitosis-heaving, drool-encrusted, grass and dirt eating, slobber mouthed, adorable, loyal and lovable Monnie. She's about as sweet as winters are long in NE Ohio, you dig? She's the cutest hot mess you ever did see on four legs.
She's also proof positive why, although 4 out of 5 dentists might recommend Trident, 5 out of 5 dog, cat, guinea or pot-bellied pig, rabbit, ferret, hamster (and so on and so forth) lovers recommend pets over people eight days a week. So, I love The Beatles. Sue me.
Either way, give your fur or scale or other exterior-layer laden bonus kid something very special later on because it's #NationalPetDay today. Or as we call it a Casa Kimerer, every day.
Pets are very special family members gifted from a much better place than the third rock. Remember, DOG ins't GOD spelled backward accidentally, capisce?
#HugYourPet #DogsRule #LoveYourAnimals #ProtectYourPets #Pray #Peace
Sponsors: www.cailorfleming.com/ hbkcpa.com/consultants/melissa-crowley/ Jn 14:23 Whoever loves me will keep my word, says the Lord; and my Father will love him and we will come to him
It’s actually one of my all-time favorite words.
Do we really need the “all-time” preceding favorite? I mean, aren’t we strongly implying, by showing overt preference for a thing, that it became such as a conscious decision made over, you know, time?
Anyway, it’s not really a word, to be technical.
It’s a more of a mini-phrase. An abbreviated statement. An exclamation. It’s a minstation.
The expression in question? Aack.
Or Aaaack! Or AAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!
It’s versatile and can convey a myriad of emotions. The number of As (or letters, in general) and the decision of whether or not to capitalize them, coupled with the amount of exclamation points tacked onto the end of this little gem are indicative of the situational narrative. Capisce?
I first became acutely aware of the proclamation as a young girl when reading my then-favorite (and still an “all-timer,“ BT dubs) comic strip “Cathy”. You remember her, right?
She was the modern-day single gal beginning back in the late 1970s and right up through 2010 when the comic strip ended syndication.
Think of her as the funny papers’ version of “Mary Tyler Moore,“ “Alice,“ any/all the “Sex & the City“ girls —at least in the early seasons— or any other independent, unmarried female TV character. Ooh, I’m pretty sure “Caroline in the City” was loosely based on her, also. Either way.
“Cathy“ was an insecure, self-depreciating, nervous wreck of a lovable hot mess whose life experiences and innate self-doubt would always be chock-filled with irony and humor. Hey…a lot of those descriptors sound eerily familiar to me. More digressing.
About that ack ...
Whenever “Cathy“ was elated, perturbed, afraid of, offended by, amazed with or pretty much had any feeling whatsoever about a person, place or thing, she’d always respond with a corresponding Ack! The bigger the sentiment, the more letters, etc.
But the whole ack flack brought more than just memories back. It got me to wondering: Is anything ending in ACK kind of —-you know, whack?
So, I began to ponder words spelled, sounding like or ending in those three magic little letters ACK — and I was rather taken aback!
I mean, there’s attack, plaque, smack, hack (debatable in the today’s vernacular), sad sack, cutback, bushwhack, setback, backtrack, ransack, drawback, sidetrack, wisecrack, amnesiac, megalomaniac and of course, insomniac.
Whew. Hey, did I mention writing this at 3AM? Fine, so I have a little trouble sleeping and am taking it out on the ACK. Cut me some slack.
It’s just that when I hit the sack my mind begins to unpack all the day’s heaviest crap and I’m subjected to a mental soundtrack of negative feedback. Anxiety attacks and the brain just keeps talking back.
Maybe I just need a little snack or some soothing lilac?
Perhaps then I could lie back — and take a little nap — on my gunnysack — and get on the right track.
I’m making a self-pact: I’ll try to relax and just like Stella; get my groove back.
Kimerer is a columnist, blogger and one sad sack of an insomniac. Follow her mental track — it’s filled with ack: www.patriciakimerer.com
SPONSORS: www.hbkcpa.com/consultants/melissa-crowley/ www.cailorfleming.com Ps 84: How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord, mighty God!
Sometimes even Chatty Patty struggles to find the words.
Say, for instance, when she's in the midst of changing day jobs and has to bid her work family members of the past 7.5 years farewell.
HARD, HARD GULP. Followed by awkward silence then HEAVY SIGH.
Now, there are those who might weep a bit at the thought of saying SO LONG to such dear, beloved friends.
Not because there will be a lack of effort to continue to connect with them but because --and anyone who's switched jobs after a respectable amount of time will attest to this: it's just never QUITE the same when you're not together in the office anymore. But I'm not going to cry. Awkward silence.
There are humans who might sniffle about the loss of the special bond that comes from sharing work space --one that is unable to duplicate. It is, after all, living together for all intents and purposes, no? YES.
And shared life experiences simply cannot be recreated or phoned in, no matter the type. It's a "You just had to be there" type of situation. But I'm not going to cry. Awkward silence.
Yep; it might get some blubbering, the realization of no long daily seeing the same smiling faces...or receiving the same warm camaraderie and good-natured teasing they've grown accustomed to since November 2012.
Or maybe some tear up at the thought that they won't get the same support in the hard times as was shared joy in the happy times from that inner circle of peeps consistently. But I'm not going to cry. Awkward silence.
Yup. I'm a tough guy. So, even though they just gifted me with the loveliest party, kindest, most heartfelt wishes, thoughtful words and actions and basically SHOWERED me with absolute love, I'm not going to - aw crud. I'm bawling like a baby, a'ight?
Don't judge. This is a really wicked cool group of homosapiens; it's not easy walking away from them ...I'm just saying. MASSIVE, HEAVING UGLY CRYING.
Let's not cry because a door is closing; shoot we can peer back through the windows of memory in that house whenever we wish and we'll SMILE because we lived there together for a bit. And it was good.
Besides, moving to a new place will hopefully mean making some terrific new flat-mates? I mean I doubted it when arrived at THIS doorstep and that turned out pretty well?
And I promise I will revisit the old neighborhood often; I know where y'all live, capisce?
#THANKSFOREVERYTHINGWORKFAM #IMNOTCRYINGYOURECRYING #LOVEYOUHBKPEEPS #HAPPYBIRTHDAYJODI #PRAY #PEACE
SPONSORS: www.hbkcpa.com/consultants/melissa-crowley/ www.cailorfleming.com Jn 8:12 I am the light of the world, says the Lord; whoever follows me will have the light of life.
I have to say that I've felt this way for quite some time now.
It's just that I'm always hesitant to broach a topic that could be easily construed as controversial.
Especially in the current political climate, I am reticent to even mention the subject.
But, no. You know what? This country was founded on certain indisputable rights (I never spell inalienable correctly, so I cheated there). Anyway, freedom of speech is a biggie, ding dang it. So, I will state my piece.
Because there is a certain faction of the populous in these United States that I feel is treated poorly. In a place where we claim to celebrate diversity and individualism, how can this injustice persist in 2020?
Look, It's just one group's preferred way of being … and yes, fine, okay, perhaps what some might refer to as peculiar. Whatever, we're not hurting anybody?
I've been silent too long, friends; I am crying out in defense of the solitary.
For generations now, the word hermit has carried on its well-hidden back the shame of stigma and I, for one, feel it's high time for the bigotry and intolerance to end!
There, I said it.
On behalf of semi-recluses everywhere, I must beseech you: LEAVE US ALONE ALREADY! But like, literally.
I'm not sure exactly how everyone arrives at this life-choice. I assume it's transition that typically occurs slowly over a period of several years; maybe decades? Sort of the same way a hairline recedes, or a beach erodes, or Pamela Anderson embraces middle age --- or marriage ---- or clothing, you dig? Girl, you're 52, come on now.
But for me, at least, the change was abrupt and absolute. KABLAM! Mommyhood = homebodi-ness.
Sure, I used to be THAT person. You know her; she's fairly annoying.
"Come on, guys, it's almost Friday; what are our weekend plans?" I'd say like clockwork weekly from about age 16 to 30.
Back in the day, I'd toss out suggestions like Elizabeth Taylor did husbands:
Today, however, I'm so much happier sitting on the couch; preferably with my boys and our Monnie girl seated nearby … munching snacks and watching a new Netflix release. #MyHappyPlace
Leaving the house at 10PM, staying out until closing time and grabbing breakfast with the girls at Perkin's afterward? Yeah, those nights are completely gone --like Lori Loughlin's Hallmark channel contract .
Look, it's not that I NEVER wanted to leave my cave, er, house after becoming a Mom; I still loved getting together with my pals … always for kid-friendly food and fun, fer sure.
But the older I've become, the more I find myself drawn within … la casa, capisce?
And why not? We eremites have everything we need at home; especially now that Amazon delivers everything, and I mean EVERYTHING to your doorstep by the time you finish paying for your online purchase, a'ight?
So what if I don't like clubbing or concert-going or, you know, like, staying up past 9:30PM anymore?
I can see the stage WAY better from my TV. Besides, I can watch in my sweats, without judgement --- and my ears won't be ringing in the morning. So there! #IAMSOOLD #HELPME
Kimerer is a columnist, blogger and semi-loner. Contact her in her underground bunker via www.patriciakimerer.com
SPONSORS: www.hbkcpa.com/consultants/melissa-crowley/ www.cailorfleming.com Ps 18 Blessed be God my salvation!
Sometimes I just don't know about me.
I mean, other than my kid, that dude I've been hitched to for almost 25 years and my Mum and Pop, no one knows me better than I do.
And still, some days, I'm just like:
"PK! That was NOT a very nice thought trucking across our brain just then!"
And then I'm all mad at her, um, us, er, me for the rest of the day; because NOT NICE is never a destination on my journey, you dig?
So, when I get triggered by:
-My 79th teacher friend to tell me how badly this snow day was needed (sorry!!),
-Being on the receiving end of insincere adulation (don't do the air kisses and fake amore---blech!),
-Witnessing someone just being plain old lazy (I know it's a chilly February Friday but focus, just a little!),
...and I think, ever so fleetingly, that I'd like to low-key throat punch them; MAN, I AM SO DISAPPOINTED IN MYSELF!
First of all, if I could enjoy a free day (even courtesy of the God-forsaken white stuff), I certainly would.
Secondly, just because someone is disingenuous doesn't mean I need to be unladylike.
Lastly, my hard-core work ethic isn't everyone's; reacting poorly to a different level of effort? Well, that's MY issue to reconcile.
DEEP CLEANSING BREATH.
So, the Grumpy Cat and I are going to count to 10 and hit reset. Unless it snows all weekend; then we may have to count to 487,932,865, a'ight? JK!
Life's way too short to waste on silly irritations or self-shaming. BLESSINGS are what deserve attention. That other noise? Let it fall away like snowflakes.
Forgive little irritants. And while you're at it, cut yourself some slack for being human.
Maybe even forgive the Grumpy Cat -- unless he slices your leather recliner to shreds, Capisce?
#Patience #Kindness #Tolerance #SelfLove #Pray #Peace
SPONSORS: www.hbkcpa.com/consultants/melissa-crowley/ www.cailorfleming.com Mk 1:15 The Kingdom of God is at hand; repent & believe in the Gospel.
I'm not cool like George Lucas.
I mean, I'd like to have you believe that I'm discerning and astute enough to have devised it in advance.
I wish I could honestly say that, in the spirit of contemplative planning, I had a prequel in mind when I wrote this coming's Sunday column about being a hermit.
Hermitess, if I'm being anatomically accurate. Either way.
Point is, I'm not that pensive, sadly.
I thought of this blog topic AFTER THE FACT, though it could correspond to my unwillingness to be as social as I was in my youth. And here's one of the main reasons: the latrine.
That's right, people. As I was standing in line, waiting to use a public toilet last weekend, I had a moment of absolute clarity...
THIS IS A STRONG ARGUMENT FOR NOT WANTING TO GO OUT OF THE HOUSE.
In fact, once I finally got into the stinky little box; it was all down the drain from there, my friends.
Not only was there NO PAPER left in the roll ... but when I tried to affix the spare resting on the germ-infested tank behind me, it slipped right through my fingers.
Yep, zipped lickety-split out of my stall and directly into one across the way where someone snapped it up without so much as a "Thanks!" or "Do you need a square or two?"
By some stroke of luck, there was a spare spare which, as I tried for about 9 solid minutes to adjust, prompted my empty bowl to flush about 14,726 times.
Finally, finally, I was ready to roll myself when suddenly, my flush-happy bowl all but dried up.
No matter what I did, I couldn't get it to recycle, Capisce?
Two days later when it flushed, I had another marathon wait...for the motion-sensored paper towel machine to function. This only after the touchless soap dispenser dissed me about 871 times.
Defeated, I walked out the door only to have Kerry yell "WHAT THE HECK TOOK YOU SO LONG?" He's still looking for a ride home.
Ah, home. That wonderful place I'm never leaving again. #RECLUSELIVING #HERMITATHEART #LIVE #LAUGH #LOVE #PRAY #PEACE
SPONSORS: www.hbkcpa.com/consultants/melissa-crowley/ www.cailorfleming.com Mt 8:17 Christ took away our infirmities and bore our diseases.
If I've said it once, I've said it 1,497 times (maybe more, I'm kinda old):
It's the humans that make life on Planet Earth so hard.
Just when you think you have one of 'em figured it; they hit you with a curve ball...make that a fast ball ---better still, a line drive; RIGHT IN YOUR TEMPLE and then KABLAM!
Talk about taking one for the team. Yikers.
There you are, sprawled across home plate, completely bleary-eyed. You've been blindsided by something so hurtful or insulting or thoughtlessly (or, worse, maliciously) insensitive that you want to just crawl up into the fetal position and hide under the dugout benches.
It could be with words or actions or the absence of one... or both.
It could be a physical, emotional or spiritual wound or one that impacts you on every level imaginable.
It could even be something so seemingly slight as a disapproving tongue cluck or stink-eye glance.
And just like that, your confidence and feelings of self-worth are blown to smithereens.
And, as much as you know in your heart of hearts that no one can make you feel LESS THAN without your permission; you sorta do--even if only for a moment.
Suddenly, just as quickly as you got pummeled upside the head; BAM! A little relief in the form of a heartfelt message from ONE GRATEFUL GIRL:
YOU ARE ENOUGH. In fact, you are so much more than that.
You are good and kind and worthy and valuable and capable and strong and smart and giving and compassionate.
And if you aren't one or some of these things, that's okay because it's not too late to start being any and all of 'em, Capisce? Just the fact that you want to start means you are a decent being, yo. And ol' PK's here to remind you of what the Big Guy wants us ALL to remember:
He HIMSELF made sure you came to be, get it? Therefore, you're awesome. So go ... BE! 'Cause you are a grand slam at the bottom of the 9th, baby.
#WEGOTTHIS #BELIEVEINYOURSELF #YOUAREWORTHY #YOUAREENOUGH #LOVE #GIVE #PRAY #PEACE
SPONSORS: www.hbkcpa.com/consultants/melissa-crowley/ www.cailorfleming.com Jn 3:16 God so loved the world He gave his only-begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him might have eternal life.
The thing about Groundhog Day and the Super Bowl being on the same day is (other than the fact that it's only happened once before) -- it's just double the depression for old PK. Here's why:
#1: There'll never NOT be more winter after Groundhog Day.
Look, I'm sorry to toss such shade his way but PA's Punxsutawney Phil always burns me; and not with UV rays, you dig? Dude always sees his dumb shadow -- like it matters since it is clearly cast by the brilliance of eight bazillion mega-watt bulbs from 5,000 TV cameras blaring on him; not sunlight. They can call him PUNK-atawney Phil, as far as I'm concerned. He really puts the GRRRRR in groundhog for we winter loathers.
His identical Ohio cousin Buckeye Chuck is no pal 'o mine, either. Rotten little buggers. Just once I'd like to see them emerge from their respective caverns wearing Hawaiian shirts and sporting Ray Bans while sipping little umbrella drinks and chattering: "THE END IS NEAR! Summer starts in two weeks, people…get your beach bodies ready!"
But NOOOOOOOOOO. It's always "six more weeks of winter" --and then four after that. And usually another two added on to ensure that spring blizzard, natch. Blech.
#2: Whoever I root for in the Super Bowl will lose.
Even though I'm never heavily invested, it's always a bit of a letdown when my backing is the kiss of death for a team. Sorry in advance, 49ers.
Invariably the real team I would've liked to see never makes it there: the Miami Dolphins. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. I should be a Steelers or Browns fan. But I can't, okay? I just can't, so back off!
SHUDDER. Sorry; flashbacks from my childhood trauma.
Oh, I know it's not politically correct to discuss and in certain circles, you really can't even broach the subject … but I grew up as the offspring of what some might refer to as a "mixed marriage." Yep, I said it. Because my Pop is a Steelers fan while me Mum is Browns girl.
I mean, uber-conservative Mary Matalin and liberal leaning James Carville's daughters probably had less conflict in their Republican versus Democrat household than the frenzy that was MY upbringing.
You must remember that, during my formative years, we went straight from the Steel Curtain era of Pittsburgh's NFL dominance into the hopeful-yet-always-falling-short age when the Kardiac Kids were continually kind of a contender.
Although my siblings picked sides (Danny followed Dad down the yellow and black brick road while Gina made her stake up on the lake like Mom), I didn't want to make anyone upset by selecting one team over the other.
So, I looked around for the team with the coolest colors (turquoise and orange rocks!), nicest coach (then Don Shula), cutest QB (hello, Dan Marino!) and absolute best helmet emblem. BAM: Dolphins.
Sadly, there hasn't been much to "high five" about on the Dolphins since Dan made glove commercials.
Oh well, I've always been an NBA girl, anyway. #Mamba4Ever #RIPKobe
And, like two trillion other humans, I'm really only interested in seeing the commercials this evening. Oh! And the half time show.
Come on now, J-Lo AND Shakira? Yasssssss! This is really just a fabulous GIRL POWER concert with some boys playing block and tackle around it, Capisce?
Kimerer is a huge J-Lo fan rooting for the Niners and no more winter. Spring on over to her blog www.patriciakimerer.com
SPONSORS: hbkcpa.com/consultants/richard-c-morrow/ www.cailorfleming.com/ Ps 51: Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned.
It always amuses me, how much so many of the humans care about, you know, the stuff.
Expensive dwellings with great rooms as big as the Sydney Opera House. Cars with fancier emblems and more horsepower than the 1st Cavalry Brigade.
Summer homes "at the point" or "up the coast" or "on the water". Winter condos in "the mountains" or adjacent to "the slopes".
The penthouse suite. The Tiffany's diamond ring or cuff-links. The first class seats on the plane. Okay, I wouldn't mind that last one. Either way.
Designer labels, expensive vehicles, mammoth mansions; I mean, they're great. Really, they are! Shoot, I don't mind having a mountain or oceanfront view when I'm on vacation AT ALL.
But here's the skinny: I'm super happy with just regular old things. I mean, I'm pretty sure my middle-of-the-road lifestyle choices such as:
-Buying generic meds and most grocery brands
-Clearance rack shopping at Penney's and Target
-Grabbing to-go's at Wal-Mart or Gordon Foods or Marc's
-Residing in a modest, adorbs saltbox colonial
-Driving a mini SUV, etc.
Well, these options still afford me an existence akin to ROYALTY compared with most other homosapiens roaming the globe. #FirstWorldLiving
So, when somebody tells me how much their new <FILL IN THE BLANK> cost, I'm always happy for them. And why not? I love to see folks smile and do well and find joy. I begrudge no one wealth or provisions they've worked to achieve. "Good for you!" I always think --and sometimes say-- when learning of someone's prosperity. And I mean it. But, I'm also always a little sad for them, too.
Because stuff is just well, fluff ... and for some, there's just never enough. So; are they REALLY happy, after all? Hmm.
I'm just a simple gal. I don't need a whole heck of a lot. In fact, my faith, my fam, my friends, my jobs ... my sweet little casa and my Wal-Mart boots are doing just fine, Capisce? We don't need no bazillions, yo.
Honestly, I think the Beatles got it right: all ya need is love. Okay fine, I DO have car seat warmers. But pk's pretty low maintenance; just ask my boys.
BOTTOM LINE: I have all I need and so much more than I deserve. And that's why I'm just PLAIN old pk who's one GRATEFUL girl. For real, tho.
#Blessed #Loved #Grateful #Pray #Peace
SPONSOR: hbkcpa.com/consultants/richard-c-morrow/ Mt 11: 25 Blessed are you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth; you have revealed to little ones the mysteries of the Kingdom. Mk 4: The seed is the word of God, Christ is the sower; all who come to him will live for ever.
It's weird how life on this big round ball bounces sometimes. Like, how, occasionally, the more you look forward to something, the less fulfilling it is. Or the opposite.
Take a holiday, for instance. Maybe you really dread its annual arrival? Perhaps that time of year reminds you of something sad. Or it could be that you anticipate unpleasant conversation with one of the humans who'll be attending...and with whom you share DNA?
Then again, maybe you're just not digging the kind of food served at that particular type of celebration?
For whatever reason; you're just anxious about it. Scared, shaky hmpf.
Then, lo and behold, the feared day rears itself and somehow, some way ... IT --- DOESN'T --- SUCK. Smile.
Unfortunately, the reverse is a very real scenario, too.
All year long, all you can think about, focus on, and basically live and breathe for, is your annual vacation, let's say. And no sooner do you get through security and board the plane ... or finish stuffing the car to its gills and hit the open road when...the kids start fighting.
Or you get lost. Or your luggage does.
Or your reservation accidentally gets deleted from the hotel computer.
Or there's a monsoon. AND --- IT --- SUCKS. Deep, heaving sigh.
It's the same way with the homosapiens, you know? Sometimes, it's the peeps we least expect it --the ones we adore more than chocolate itself-- who let us down or wound us deeper than the Danube. It typically comes right out of left field AND --- IT, well, you know. Sniff.
Then again, sometimes when the chips are down, lower than a Kardashian's neckline ... it's the folks we'd never in a million years would have guessed it who end up having our backs. More smiling.
Here's what: just know that at the end of it all, there's someone out there (at least one and probs more) who will hold you forever and ever and ever and two days. And better still, someone UP THERE does, too. And IT -- DOESN'T -- well, you know.
Look I have it on good authority that no matter what, the sun will be shining in the morning, Capisce? So, keep on smilin' -- we got this.
#HangInThere #Breathe #BelieveInYourself #YouAreLoved #Pray #Peace