My grandson is in his baby bed as I work on my computer.  He is singing.  I always heard that a singing child is a happy one.  Why wouldn't he be?  Before he went to bed (at 10 o'clock), he had a bowl of grapes and a peanut butter sandwich (I'm hungry, CiCi.) Then he ran up and down the hall just enough to get a spurt of new energy.  Finally, I put him to bed with the agreement that I would sit with him until he went to sleep (at my computer!).  Wouldn't life be grand if we could all be treated and treat each other the way we do three-year-olds.  Cater to them, make sure they are safe, fed, clothed, and happy.  What happens to parents when a child grows older?  Evidently the cute wears off and so does the catering.  Doesn't make sense to me.  I hope I will always cater to my grandchildren and my children.  Maybe I could use a little catering to myself.  Couldn't we all?

I want a stimulus package.  Give me some money and I'll show the world how to use it.  Why not give every person a check and forget all these other handouts.  Give us $200,000 each and we'll get the economy going.  We'll pay for homes, buy cars, pay off debts, send kids to college, eat out, buy clothes, go to movies, buy more food at the grocery store, more CD's, go to concerts, trade old computers for new ones, redecorate a room, buy new furniture, hire people to do yard work, house cleaning, baby-sit, increase insurance, buy a dog and dog food, donate old items to charity, and have our teeth fixed.  The point is that the only way to truly help jump start the economy is to jump start individual families.  We know what we need and we need the money in our hands, not in the hands of Washington.  Here we go again.

This day reminds me of the storm we had years ago that crippled our community.  Guy and I actually played cards in front of the fireplace for days.  Finally, we slid out to a friend's house who had water so we could take a bath because she had electricity for a minute or two.  It was a terrible time, but one I actually remember fondly.

I believe in giving every man the benefit of a doubt, but I am not sure if I can do that concerning the PRP football coach whose player died from over-exposure to the heat during practice.  I have been in situations or known of situations when athletes practiced with high fevers, ran so much they threw up, practiced in extreme heat, and the list goes on.  If parents put their feet down and say, "You're not going to practice", the players fear punishment.  Sit out a game or run laps.  Is there ever a time when a kid should participate in any activity with a heat index 107?  

Coaches are like gods to players and what they say is the supreme word.  Go against that word and they may pay the price.  In this case, the price was the boy's death.  Maybe other coaches who make poor judgments will learn from this.  

I'm sorry for all involved.  I'm sure the coach is a fine man, but the situation is not judging his personality, but his judgment.  All parents of athletes have been faced with keeping their child at home when he shouldn't practice or sending him on.  Most of the time, the coach has more authority than the parents.  It is a tough job that requires more than the knowledge of a sport. 

We Kentuckians have our own way of speaking, don't we?  The buzz today was about the Kentuckian on American Idol whose last words were, "You all be careful."  One of the judges asked him if he was threatening them.  Obviously, they were clueless to our way to responding.  How many times have you visited people and left and someone said, "Be careful"  The judges thought he was threatening them?  Get real.  I'm sure that was staged.

I like our expressions.  "Ya'll come back"  "Be see'n you."  "Don't stay away so long."  "Good to see ya."  "Where you been forever? " Hurry back."  "Don't make yourself so scarce."  If those judges would hang out with us for a "spell" we might teach them how to talk.  "You reckon?"  Dialect is interesting; bad grammar is not.  There is a difference.

I am a sucker for the Oscars and Golden Globes.  Secretly, I wish I were one of those in the audience, waiting for my name to be called so I could wear a long gown and jewels.  There is a little of Cinderella in most of us women.  Unfortunately, some can't seem to find the right shoe.  

(If you read the useless information, realize I didn't write that!)

I envy Michelle Obama.  Not because she is married to the president.  Not because she can live in the White House.  Not because of her clothes, her confidence, her height compared to mine.  I envy her because she won't have to cook or clean for four years.  Now that is living well!

"I do believe I have been changed for the better.

I have been changed for good."  (lyrics from "For Good"

There is a song in the play Wicked, "For Good" when the good witch and the bad witch are parting.  These lines hit a chord in me.  I thought about those who have been in life, whether for a lifetime or a short while, who have changed the way I think about things or changed me for good.  As children, the list is long who help change us, but when we become adults, the list gets shorter because we are less receptive to change.

Who has changed you for the good?  Made you laugh more?  Caused you to see something in a different light.  My friend Becky Bell told about a group of people (I think it was in a Sunday School class) who were told to visualize a horse. (To make a point to go along with their lesson) After some discussion about the fact everyone could visualize a horse, etc. she said, "But we all see a different horse. A horse is a horse, but I saw a black one. What color did you see?  The person near her said, "Mine was a gray one." 

I like to see the horse someone else sees, not just my own.  My friends and acquaintances have changed me for the better and in some cases, changed me for good. I took a look at their horses and understood there are many ways of looking at things...not just my way.  

Think about those who have changed you for the better...changed you for good.  That play did something to me...

Where is the country?  My city relatives refer to where I live as the country as in, "We my come to the country this weekend."  What country would that be?  When I go to the city to visit them, I don't say, "I'm going to the city to visit my cousins."  I say, "I'm going to Louisville or Lexington or wherever they may be. When you live in the country, where exactly do you live? Does that mean wide open spaces? Small population?  Why does this annoy me so much?  Does anyone else feel this way?

Edmonton, Kentucky is a hidden treasure in south central Kentucky. It is hidden because of the Cumberland Parkway passing on its outskirts and 1-65 taking travelers through Bowling Green, north and south.  I never thought about my hometown being a treasure until I aged.  Isn't that the way we all are?  Can't wait to get away and then can't wait to get back.  So many who left straight out of high school can't wait to retire "back home".  

Back home is where we know each other.  An emergency brings out the neighbors to help; not to galk.  A birth is noticed and announced in church.  A death, the same.  A trip to the "store" means going to one of the only grocery stores in town and if you are in a hurry, don't go.  You will run into someone you know and stand in a row of canned goods with your buggy and talk.

Back home is where your relatives stayed when you left.  They live in the same houses as they did when you visited them as a child.  They have added a porch, perhaps, or a bathroom, if they lived in the country, but nothing else has changed much.  The house smells of fried bacon or country ham.

Back home is the place you want to be when you are lonely because someone always knows you...back home.

Carol Perkins Talks About...

Carol Perkins Talks About....
In this blog, I will talk about life in general and life specific to myself and those who find themselves in my words.