Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are?

One of my all-time favorite books is "Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are" By: Dr. Seuss. Seriously, all-time!

I was introduced to it when my niece was little and I would listen with her as her mom read it aloud.

It's pages are filled with examples and reasons, in true Seuss fashion, why we are so lucky. The message is clear whether your 7 or 27. And sometimes, probably more often than when I was 7, I need to be reminded just how fortunate I am.

"Thank goodness for all of the things you are not! Thank goodness you're not something someone forgot, and left all alone in some punkerish place like a rusty tin coat hanger hanging in space.

That's why I say "Duckie! Don't grumble! Don't stew! Some critters are much-much, oh, ever so much-much, so muchly much-much more unlucky than you!"

Sometimes you need a gentle, albeit silly reminder of just how very lucky you are to be you. Pick up this book, find it at the library or buy it at a children's bookstore. Trust me, you won't be disappointed.


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Did anyone see that?

Tonight I was headed down my parent's sidewalk on my way to work when I tripped, over... my own two feet, a crack in the pavement, nothing? I had to catch myself on my mom's chain link fence that started out two feet away and got closer and closer, faster and faster. I rolled my ankle, scraped/bloodied my wrist and took a big chunk of flesh out of my palm. I said naughty words, quite loudly. When the falling was over and I'd taken inventory of my bleeding hand and aching ankle, what was I worried about? I looked around to see if anyone else had seen. I was already terribly embarrassed because there were 3 men paying soccer across the street.

When I walked back in through my mom's front door I left my pride outside. My nephew took one look at me and knew something was wrong. I sat on the antique chest just inside the front room while he ran for the kitchen and my sweet husband. Heavenly dropped everything and came to find out what was wrong. My pride was hurt, but in this instance so was I. Heavenly patched me up with antibiotic ointment and bandaids and a kiss. (Yes, kisses make you feel better, even when you're 27!)

It happens all the time. Walking down the stairs you miss the last step and stumble. While riding your new bike the chain falls off as you hop a curb and your face is introduced violently to the asphalt. (It happened to me, I admit it.) But before I even took the time to worry about my own injuries, I surveyed my surroundings to see if anyone had seen the stunning show as I launched over the handlebars.

So, why is it that when we fall we're less concerned about our physical well-being than we are about what others might think of us? Is it pride? I'm sure it is, I've found in my experience that pride frequently results in acts of stupidity.

Is there such a thing as a Happy Groundhog Day?

I don't think there is such a thing. I can't remember a single one where that dang groundhog hasn't seen his shadow. Six more weeks of winter? Bah!

I've said it before and I'll say it again, that Punxsutawney Phil is a real bastard!

Really, Phil's just a tool... his handlers are the real bastards. Bastards I say!