SPONSORS: www.linkedin.com/in/jimdascenzo/ www.companycasuals.com/stitchart/start.jsp/ Jn 15:16 I chose you from the world, to go and bear fruit that will last, says the Lord.
It seems to me there are roughly two types of folks on planet earth:
1. Pot-Stirrers and 2. Um, Pot Non-Stirrers.
I guess the latter would be more like Pot-Passer-Over-ers, Pot Pacifists, Please-Quit-Bugging-Me-about-the-Potters, or, something like that.
Either way; I prefer to leave the pot alone, you dig?
It's like the Beatles sang in some of their most famous hits:
'Live and Let the Pot Die"
"Get the Pot Back (to Where It Once Belonged)"
"Let the Pot Be"
Okay fine; maybe the Beatles never sang about the pot. Well, not the kind that cooks sauce on the stove top, anyway, a'ight?
But the point is this:
Whether you haven't got a pot, are bogged down with pots and pans, or simply are too pooped to care about the pot, just stop all the stirrin, y'all. Life on the third rock is already chock full of commotion and controversy and crud like that.
So why not just let the pot settle?
Then we can all have a nice big bowl of Minestrone together once it simmers in the pot -- quietly, slowly, on low heat and with no significant stirring required, Capisce?
#BeKind #DontStirThePot #Pray #Peace
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/jimdascenzo/ Jn 8:12 I am the light of the world, says the Lord; whoever follows me will have the light of life.
If I live to be 100, I'll never understand us. The humans, I mean.
We do these ridiculous things all the time like focusing on stuff that doesn't matter, such as (but not necessarily limited to) things like: the outcomes of professional football games ... or Hollywood acting awards ... or even the answer to that super-important question: "Who Killed JR Ewing?"
Duh; who cares?
Or what about the manner in which we despise one another simply for not thinking exactly as we do? Zeroing in on all the ways we are different from one another instead of seeing that we are more united and alike than not. Or, heaven forbid, celebrating individuality and respecting opposing points of view. Nah, we'd rather cut each other off at the knees (even though we've all got two) just for having independent thoughts.
Then there's our silly penchant for wishing life away. Sure, you know the drill. We can't wait to be old enough to: ride the big rides, drive, vote, drink alcohol, get married ... the list goes on and on. We hurry through the week just to get to the weekend, which is quick as a blink.
Before you know it, 50 years of weekends have gone by. Laugh now, young ones, but it happens when you aren't looking.
And suddenly, all those nights spent awake with the fussy baby or awaiting the teenager's safe return home after curfew or even getting lost en route to the annual family vacation spot...well, you really wish you had those times back, believe it or not.
And when you're finally able to retire and travel the world...you're just too tired or weak or otherwise unable to do so.
Deep, heaving sigh.
But the neatest thing about humanity? We had a pretty cool Architect. So, it's never REALLY too late to go to Him for help fixing a design flaw...as long as we really want to remedy things and we try our best to straighten that foundation out just in time to save the house from collapsing, Capisce?
Just put good stuff out there, yo. Comes back in droves.
It's so simple, really, life on the third rock. Here's the secret:
Be as nice as you can ... to as many as possible ... for as long as you're able & s'all good, y'all. #Love #BeKind #Coexist #Pray #Peace
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/jimdascenzo/ Ps 98: The Lord comes to rule the earth with justice.
An Open Letter to My Family Members & Friends Who Live in Snow-Free Locations:
Hello! I hope this note finds you well and happy.
Gosh, who can believe we're almost done with 2019; it's been another whirlwind year at Casa Kimerer!
Say, as a special favor in the spirit of the impending holiday season, I was wondering if I could bother you to please not speak to me until mid-May of 2020? That'd be so great, thanks.
For real, though.
Those of you who hang your hats in Tennessee --or any other warm-climate locale- may have missed it but your frozen friends up north? Yeah, we got a blast this week. And not from the past.
Forget the fake news you read in the Farmer's Almanac or via seasonal calendar dictates. It is flipping winter around these parts, you dig? 'Cause we were; as in from out underneath Mother Nature's premature punishment of the white stuff…and some seriously frigid temps to go along with it.
Oh, I can hear you California girls (and boys), Floridians, Kentucky born-and-bredders, sweet Carolinians and random OKC'ers laughing at us from here, especially you turncoat transplants and YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
I'm going to tell you what my then-toddler son used to say as I shoved strained broccoli his way: "Yook, I sorry but I just don't yike it."
Yeah, that's right. You live in the warm sunshine; accidentally tanning in January or having to switch on the A/C in late February. And here am I, shriveling and turning blue whilst I kick off eight months of winter in the Buckeye state…and I just don't yike it.
Is it your fault I live here instead of there? No. Could I find a way to relocate to a warmer environment? Well, that is definitely the long-term plan, but the short answer is: Yes. Am I being an unreasonable baby by holding your bright, beautiful environments against you? Unquestionably.
Then again, I'm not entirely different from Ronny Cammareri -a main character in one of my all-time favorite flicks, "Moonstruck" and played to absolute perfection by Nicholas Cage. He tells future sister-in-law Loretta (sent to him to broker peace), why there is bad blood between him and her fiancé, his brother, Johnny. Ronny explains that he hates Johnny for still having his hand and his bride-to-be even though Ronny lost both of his due to the bakery accident that maimed him.
Loretta (portrayed by Cher in an Academy Award-winning performance) hints at how unfair Ronny's being and tells him: "But that's not Johnny's fault." Ronny rages: "I don't care! I ain't no freaking monument to justice! You want me to put my heartbreak away and forget?"
I feel you, Ronny; my fair-weather fam has waved me off, too. And they didn't even need gloves to do it!
Listen up, hotties: until the temperature won't morph a cup of water into a cinder ice block in 18 seconds, the wind doesn't turn my blowing hair into face-slicing razors, and the circulation returns in at least some of my extremities #RaynaudsIsReal - do NOT Instagram your short-shorts shots holding an umbrella drink while standing beneath a palm tree at Beach Fabulosity, understand?
Or as soon as my fingers thaw, you'll be getting a snarky Snapchat reply revealing only one of them, Capisce?
Yook, I sorry.
Yours Truly Frozen,
Kimerer is a columnist who's dreaming of a white Christmas…and a green every other day of the year. Check out her warm vibes at www.patriciakimerer.com
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/jimdascenzo/ Jn 14:23 Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him.
The thing about Veteran's Day is: it should be celebrated ALL. THE. TIME. Why? Oh, I don't know, maybe because these people did it all for us, you dig?
They fought on front lines -- they flew reconnaissance missions -- they protected Americans at home and abroad -- they kept allies safe the world over.
They stood on walls...secured posts or borders...kept the peace during violent clashes...aided fellow military personnel (healthcare, safety patrols, food service, etc.)...deciphered encrypted codes...translated important communications.
They manned phones or ran offices or performed and flied paperwork. Maybe they played in a military band that lifted spirits or honored the fallen.
Perhaps they cleaned the latrines or paper-clipped applications.
Maybe they served on weekends only; or for two years; or three or four decades. From lowest to highest rank; from all branches of service and in whatever capacity they fulfilled their duty: veterans are heroes. Period. All of them.
If they didn't do what they did, you couldn't be doing what you're doing, Capisce?
So, even if it's November 12th ... or a random Tuesday in January or April; please thank a veteran.
They certainly deserve it, yesterday, today and always.
#ThankYouVeterans #GodBlessTheUSA #Pray #Peace
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/jimdascenzo/ Lk 17: Jesus said: "If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you."
It’s such a huge adjustment, really; going from high school to college.
I mean, the move alone is a major modification to life as you know it. Everything you knew before of regular old existence at the homestead is turned completely upside down, physically and, you know, in the feels.
Some take to it more quickly than others. For example, I’ve heard of certain contingents of humans who make the transition early in year one, or, if not, certainly by the time the first semester of sophomore year begins the next autumn.
Stupid well-adjusted, overachieving mutants. Whatever.
Any who, as I was explaining, while there are those who slide into this deal smoother than Rickey Henderson used to steal bases, there are some other earth-dwellers for whom that hill of a challenge seems more like Mt. Everest.
Say, student athletes, for instance.
I think it stands to reason that this climb up the higher educational plane can be even more demanding on them.
I mean, not only is the season longer, the training more intense, the competition fiercer and the coursework tougher, but also, many of the previous rules simply don’t apply anymore.
Such as: I can’t serve as a timer from the pool deck and have the best vantage point in the house like I did for four years of high school … not to mention an additional decade of club and summer swimming.
Wait, what? You thought I was talking about my kid having a hard time adapting to college life? Um, no. That guy’s a rock.
This I should’ve known when, after crying for three hours straight during his first session of three-year-old pre-school, I happily returned to reclaim him, Kyle deadpanned (quite disgustedly, in fact): “You’re back already?” Foreshadowing of ferocious independence.
Indeed, friends, separation anxiety is a one-way street in my casa –and I’m the only one driving down that deserted highway, you dig? I digress.
It’s not easy going from “Swim Mom 2018” to “And You Are?” in one fell swoop.
Then again, friends, always be careful what you wish for.
Last week, I found myself back on deck---and it was no Bueno, yo.
Having been dumped out of the car by my husband, I wandered into an open natatorium door only to find out I WAS STANDING BEHIND THE OPPOSING TEAM of divers, who were warming up.
As was I.
Because, as I slip-slid my way across the tile in my boots and goose-down parka, I decided very quickly that I didn’t much care for the college deck. I began melting (it’s like 947 degrees F in there) as I stammered, “Forgive me; I beg your pardon; I apologize; Please excuse me; I AM SO VERY SORRY…” about 47 billion times.
Covered in sweat, mortification, and the sheer dread that my son might catch glimpse of me, I considered dropping to the ground and sliding across my belly the rest of the way; you know, all stealth and what not.
And just when I thought I was in the clear at pool’s edge, Kyle’s coach yelled, “Well, if it isn’t our #1 fan!”
Humiliated, I apologized again and slunk into a chair …. four counties over. I watched the meet through binoculars. Did I mention I’ve had a complete face transplant so no one will ever recognize me again?
No worries, though; I’m totally getting the hang of college life. By the time Kyle gets his PhD; I should be completely transitioned.
Kimerer is a Trib/Vindy columnist who’s now in the swim witness protection program but you can still reach her via www.patriciakimerer.com
SPONS: www.linkedin.com/in/jimdascenzo/ 'Whoever keeps the word of Christ, the love of God is truly perfected in him.]
I'm not particularly fond of the way the day's been shaking out to this point. Tsk.
And, at the risk of being one of those annoying "I'm-telling-you-everything-I-see-hear-feel-and-think-every-second-of-every-day-of-my-life" social media posters ... I just thought I'd share that it's been a poopy one. This is why:
I've been thinking about "THEM" a lot today. Surely you know to whom I refer.
THEM of THEY fame. Quoted so often by so many for having said---well, everything. You know the group. As in, "It's like they always say..."
"THEY" are routinely credited with spouting ever logical, sensible things such as:
"Now, you wouldn't want it to be Christmas every single day. Then it wouldn't be special."
All due respect, I think "THEY" are evil cyborgs from the planet StupidHeadFace. What? They just discovered it; it's like a mini-sphere. Meh, either way.
I, for one, wouldn't mind Christmas every day; not at all. What's the down side? Too much joy? Too much good will toward men? Too many cookies?
Well, maybe too many cookies. We might all gain about 98 gazillion pounds a year if Christmas was EVERY day. Hmpf.
Then again, there'd be no summer sunshine. No spring buds bursting open. No amazing scents and colors of autumn.
There'd be no Easter...which is the whole reason Christmas came to be in the first place. Hmm.
Okay, okay. Maybe it shouldn't be Christmas like EVERY SINGLE CONSECUTIVE DAY. But I wouldn't mind giving it a nice, three to four year trial run?
Happy run-of-the-mill-but-still-a-gift November day, all.
Signed, Your Pal,
The Big Old Stupid Head Face
#LifeIsPrecious #EveryDayIsAGift #HangInThere #Pray #Peace
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/jimdascenzo/ Mt 11:28 Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest, says the Lord.
It was six years ago today we lost my mother-in-law, Evon Kimerer.
She was a mother, a grandmother, a great grandmother, a Christian, a teacher, a sister, an aunt, etc. etc. ... and one very tough cookie. She was a no-nonsense gal who was an incredibly independent spirit and was a definite leader, not follower. She was a strong woman, yo.
And even when she was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease many years ago, she was unflappable. She hit it head-on with purpose, moxie, and grace. Evon was one special lady.
Thanks for all you did for so many, Grandma K. I know you're proud of your family members left down here missing you very much.
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/jimdascenzo/ Jn 8:31 If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth, says the Lord.
The irony is not lost on me, November. You erratic, inconsistent, tricky, slippery little bugger, you.
There is hardly a more contrary, divergent month than the 11th, my friends.
If November was a comedian, he'd be Don Rickles.
You remember Don Rickles; he was a pioneer in the realm of sarcastic comedy. Many of his insults were and remain legendary. Rickles was so funny and you'd invariably find yourself cracking up at his jokes…even though they always came at the expense of someone's feelings. So, while you were amused and entertained, you also didn't necessarily feel good about it; know what I mean?
Yeah, that's November, all right. I like to think of it as the Sour Patch Kids of the calendar year, yo.
I'm sure you've seen the commercials where the candies come to life and do some horrible, awful thing then redeem themselves through an act of kindness.
For instance, in one spot, they tie a tuxedo-clad boy holding a corsage to a bus stop bench by his pony tail so he'll miss his ride to the big dance. But then they send him a limo so he can make it to the prom, after all…even though he must take the bench with him, you dig? Half good; sorta nice; kinda swell. But not quite.
Indeed, those "first they're sour, then they're sweet" little critters are evocative of rotten, unpredictable, beautiful, heart-warming, all-over-the-place November. I mean, is it friend or foe?
Who can deny its cold, stinging rain and those nearly barren trees that have long since shed their brilliant orange, red and yellow foliage. In fact, all that remains of the once dazzling colors are crispy brown leaves which either litter your yard or trip you like a banana peel as they scatter the wet pavement. They get me EVERY year. #ImAKlutz
Grrr. And brrrr. And Hmpf.
Dumb old November with its ridiculous, dirty end-of Daylight Savings Time trick that makes sunrise so late and sunset so early. Ugh. It's like giving your circadian rhythm a hangover for four months. Blech.
And just when you're ready to write November off as second worst after drear-filled January; it shows its softer side.
Like a random sun-soaked day perfect for decorating the outside of the house for you-know-what next month.#MostWonderfulTimeOfTheYear
Or the 547 new scents of candles Bath & Body Works unveils every November. Mmmmm.
Let's not forget it's Prostate Cancer Awareness Month. I'm all for anything that brings research, attention, and money to the cause of ending that nasty disease. Besides, I love me some scruffy facial hair on the gentlemen. #Movember
Then there's the big November Daddy of 'em all: Thanksgiving…and with all that good, gourmet grub comes the official holidays kickoff. NO, HALLOWEEN IS NOT AN OFFICIAL HOLIDAY IMHO … Sorry to my pals Ashlea and Jodi. Wink and hugs.
There's that extended Thanksgiving break when I get to see Kyle Kimerer for about seven extra minutes; the annual running of all my favorite Thanksgiving episodes of "Friends" and of course the online shopping deals on Black Friday/Cyber Monday (I refuse to shop on Thanksgiving or the day after in actual stores--terrifying), not to mention the community vibe of Small Business Saturday. Support your own, a'ight?
All that, plus listening to Christmas music and watching the Hallmark channel's "Countdown to Christmas" with far less judgement? Okay, November, we cool.
Besides, at least you ain't January.
Kimerer is a Trib/Vindy columnist who's thankful for so much…especially her Pop. Check out all the other peeps and stuff that make her "One Grateful Girl" at www.patriciakimerer.com
SPONSOR: www.linkedin.com/in/jimdascenzo/ Romans 8-Brothers and sisters: If God is for us, who can be against us? He did not spare his own Son but handed him over for us all...
At the risk of hurting my friends who love it (especially my sweet Ashlea and my new pal Jodi), I don't like Halloween.
That is to say, I don't like being creeped out or having the bejeepers scared out of me ... on Halloween or any other day, by the by. I like my bejeepers where they are, thanks just the same.
I mean, I DO like seeing all the little ghouls and goblins come up to the door in their adorable costumes. Adorbs.
And, yes, it's sorta cool listening to scary music for a day ... or laughing hysterically when I catch a random showing of "Friday the 13th Part 495: Jason Takes the Bronx Zoo" or whatever.
And, okay, fine...jack-o-lantern carving and pumpkin seed roasting ARE really fun...and yummy.
Sure, sure, EVERYONE likes candy; DUH!
But invariably, some idiot uses the day as an excuse to do some horrid thing to an animal or another human...and I hate that about Halloween. Although, I guess that's more about the idiot than the day itself.
Oh, fine; maybe I like Halloween a smidge...are ya happy? Now, scram, I gotta turn on my porch light and pull out the 24 bags of candy I've been hoarding for the little sweetie pies tonight!
#HappyHalloween #BeSafe #HaveFun #Pray #Peace