A friend of mine has been going through some pretty rough times. I wanted to do something to help keep her spirits and her determination up, so I found this poem and recorded it. It occurred that others might find some inspiration from it, too. So I share it with you.
Let me know what you think. If you like it, maybe I’ll record some more. The title of it is Anything Is Possible. The author is anonymous.
Okay, during the process of writing and creating links, I gave you a bad link to my brother Terry’s blog, Cooking Bachelor Style. I went back and corrected it but I know a lot of folks read my latest post and wait for the next. So, once more, check out his site
Lots of food, lots of fun.
I finally pulled my brother Terry into the blogosphere. He’s been writing a useful and humorous column on bachelor cooking for years for a couple publications with limited circulation. Now he has a blog that every hapless, cooking-impaired guy in the universe can benefit from.
Yes, most women are going to be puzzled by the recipes Terry creates or discovers, but men are going to love him. He does things to an egg that God never intended but the meals are quick, tasty and, mmm, unique.
Here. I’ll let him describe it.
Cooking Bachelor Style is for men.
Single men.
Men who don’t know much about cooking but find themselves cooking by necessity.
Over the years I’ve experimented with dozens of simple, tasty recipes from combinations of things right there in your kitchen.
This is a simple site I think you’ll enjoy. The “Food Stuff” page will guide you to items that you can turn into great meals every time.
The “Utensil Help” will help you identify the right cooking utensils to whip up your culinary masterpieces.
Browse around “The Vault” where you’ll find all the recipes on this site.
Breakfast, lunch, dinner or an appetizer, they’re all here.
The primary goal is to help you cook for yourself.
But you’ll also discover that women find a man who can cook is pretty sexy.
From the kitchen to the bedroom? It’s as easy as soufflé!
Check out Cooking Bachelor Style
Thought I’d share my weekend with you because I imagine it’s not much different than yours and it’s comforting to know we’re all in this together.
Leigh’s mother has a habit of getting up at 5:30 a.m. This wakes the dogs. Tristan the puppy whines in his kennel. Zeus the German Shepherd paces and wags his tail nervously. As he passes the dresser his tail, which is like a fur-covered sledge hammer, hits it, sounding like a gun shot.
I get up and take them downstairs. Leigh’s mom is up and wide awake.
“Good morning,” I said. “It’s pretty early.
“Oh, is it?”
“It’s only 5:30.”
She looks surprised. “Well, I’m going back to bed.” She returns to the bedroom. The dogs go outside, do their business and return. We all parde downstairs and I sleep on the couch.
I get back up at 9:30, grab a coffee, make breakfast of sausage, eggs and home made bread.
Load the dogs into the Jeep and rush to the hair dresser for a haircut, and exchange news with Karen as she snips away.
Back home, gather the garbage and recyclable stuff and head to the transfer station where I always talk a minute with the pleasant, big-jawed, elderly gent who is always chewing gum and smoking a cigarette. His new pacemaker, he says, is working great. “Can’t wait for spring and plant those tomatoes,” he says.
Drive the overpass and run to Wal Mart to buy shampoo and a toothbrush. For the first time in years I find an associate with no customers. Since I hate waiting, this is a major bonus.
Back home. Take the dogs down the steep bank through the woods to the creek where Zeus chases stones I throw and always amazes me how fast he is even running through knee deep water. He leaps over a log with the effortless grace that is acquired only by genetics and practice.
Hike back to the house. Leigh’s mom is watching Batman. I ask her if she wants to go for a ride which she loves to do. Load the dogs and her in the Jeep and drive to Corning. We tool down Market Street and I finally find the little deli that specializes in Texas Hots. Somehow there is a parking space right in front of the place which is a bonus since Leigh’s Mom walks very slowly and unsteadily.
The deli is one of those great “hole-in-the-wall” places run by a short, fat, bald man who looks like he was born to cook and serve Texas Hots. The place is long and narrow with just enough room for the little tables for two.
The Texas Hots are perfect.
Back out onto Market St. We leave the city and head back east on I-86. “Want a donut?” I ask.
“Sure!”
I pull off on Exit 51, and pull into Dunkin Donuts across from the mall. I buy her favorite donut, an éclair with chocolate icing and vanilla pudding filling. I park the Jeep so it faces the highway and we watch traffic passing by and the hundreds of wrens that light on the lettering of the Firestone garage across the street.
She loves to watch birds. I sip coffee and appreciate for the millionth time that it’s the simple things that are important.
We head home taking the back road past the airport, the Fed Ex building and the horses in the pasture owned by a multi millionaire software developer who has a mansion on the hill to the right, along with his own helicopter and landing pad.
I unfreeze some beef bones that are a weekend treat for “the boys” and dole them out.
Leigh has just finished a TV commercial and asks me to run it to Fed Ex. Load the dogs back in the Jeep and head to Fed Ex tape in hand.
Inside I wait while I young couple ask the teller how much it will cost to send a box of tubes of toothpaste. They want to send it economy. The teller says Fed Ex can only ship priority on Saturdays. They discuss it and ask what the price is. After several minutes the woman waiting on them says, “I don’t even want to tell you the price.” There is a pause. “It will be $188.”
The couple looks shocked. I’m pretty sure I looked shocked. If the dogs were in here with me, I’m sure they would looked shocked. That’s a lot of money to FedEx toothpaste. The couple decides to come back on Monday when the price is more reasonable.
I mail the commercial . By now it’s 4 p.m. I carry seven 40 pound bags of wood pellets to our basement living room to feed the stove for a week. The pellets for the upstairs one will have to wait.
Run upstairs to mix and edit a podcast for Mansfield University.
Kim calls to tell us about her week in Mexico.
Supper.
My cousin Jim, who I haven’t heard from in years and who’s a little crazy but a great musician, calls and we talk for a half hour.
Take the dogs outside to play ball.
Back in to work on a second podcast.
Nathan drops in. We talk about the stupidity of the Don Imus controversy, the therapy of writing music. We listen to Dale Watson’s heart-wrenching number, “Every Song I Wrote is for You, which is a subject for another blog.
9:15 p.m. quit for the day, have a drink, watch an episode of Numbers that I recorded last week.
Shower.
Bed.
That’s my day.
And yours?
Okay, I haven’t been around here much. It’s been pretty busy.
We inaugurated our 26th president, Dr. Maravene Loeschke, at Mansfield University last week.
I moved my office from Beecher House, at the south end of the campus, to North Hall, on the (yes!) North end of the campus. I’m now in a fifth floor office with views overlooking the Appalachian foothills to the south and west. I also noticed today when the wind blows, sitting at my desk, the floor vibrates like we’re having an earthquake. Unnerving feeling.
And I’ve had some night meetings.
There’s my list of excuses for being lax here.
I do want to thank you again for letting others know about the blog and for being so faithful yourself. I’m now up to more than 2,000 page views a week from folks in 24 countries around the world.
Amazing.
As I sit here at home with our German Shepherd and two Australian cattle dogs, I still can’t get over the power and reach of this new media.
I’ll be back with more.
Promise!
Oh, and spread the word about my novel, The Perfect Song. You can buy it at amazon.com, read it on my web site or listen to an audio version.