Tui xin một cái topic nhé....

HOW TO GIVE YOUR CAT A PILL
1) Grasp cat firmly in your arms. Cradle its head on your elbow, just as
if you were giving baby a bottle. Coo confidently, "That''s a nice kitty".
Drop pill into its mouth.
2) Retrieve cat from top of lamp and pill from under sofa.
3) Follow same procedure as in 1, but hold cat''s front paws down with left
hand and back paws down with elbow of right arm. Poke pill into its mouth
with right forefinger.
4) Retrieve cat from under bed. Get new pill from bottle. Resist impulse
to get a new cat.
5) Again proceed as in 1, except when you have cat firmly cradled in
bottle feeding position, sit down on edge of chair, fold your torso over
cat, bring your right hand over your right elbow, open cat''s mouth by
lifting upper jaw, and pop the pill in -- quickly. Since your head is down
by your knees, you won''t be able to see what you''re doing. That''s just as
well.
6) Leave cat hanging on curtains. Leave pill in your hair.
7) Now pull yourself together. Who''s the boss here anyway? Retrieve cat
and pill. Assuming the "who''s the boss here anyway" attitude, open cat''s
mouth, take pill and... ooops!
8) Crawl to the linen cupboard. Drag back on large beach towel. Spread
towel on floor.
9) Retrieve cat from kitchen counter and pill from plant pot.
10) Spread cat on towel near one end with its head over long edge.
11) Flatten cat''s front and back legs over its stomach. Resist impulse to
flatten the cat.
12) Roll cat in towel. Work fast. Time and tabbies wait for no one.
13) Resume position 1. Rotate your left hand to cat''s head. Press its
mouth at the jaw hinges like opening the petals of a snapdragon.
14) Drop pill into cat''s mouth and poke gently. Voila! It''s done.
15) Vacuum up loose fur (cat''s) and apply bandages to wounds (yours).
16) Take 2 aspirins. Lie down.
17) Cat walks past, gives you "that" look, and spits out pill while
disappearing through the catflap.

-- author unknown​

Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

MAKING A DIFFERENCE
by Janet Seever
It was very late in the summer of 1970.
I was a new teacher with a secondary science degree, desperate for a
job. I finally found one in a parochial school in a small town of 1,300
people teaching elementary geography, math and some science.
I didn''t fit in with the other young lay teachers who were into the
party scene. My closest friend during those school days was a
sixty-year-old nun who taught remedial reading, which tells you what my
social life was like.
In the days before school started, I put potted plants on the
windowsills. On my first day of teaching, Leslie, a fourth grader who was
sitting near the window, pulled plants out of the pots. After I moved him
to a different seat, he proceeded to spread his entire bottle of glue over
his desk and then spread chalk dust on it.
And that was just the first morning! It was an ominous sign of things
to come.
I found that I spent eighty-five per cent of my energy disciplining
and fifteen per cent imparting knowledge. Of course there were serious
students who did well, but others worked hard to push the limits.
At night I went home exhausted, often near tears. I felt lonely,
missing my friends back in the city. Whatever gave me the idea I wanted to
teach?
And then there was Matthew.
A fourth grader, Matthew had terrible spelling and almost illegible
handwriting. He was getting poor grades in most of his classes. The other
teachers labeled him "low ability." But in my geography class he always
got A''s. He studied hard, and always raised his hand in class.
After school Matthew would come into my classroom to dust erasers or
empty the wastepaper basket, while I was correcting papers and
straightening the classroom for the next day.
"Why do you come in to visit me?" I asked him one night.
"Because at home there are too many kids, and no one listens to me,"
was his reply. As I got to know him, I understood his situation. His
father had four or five children and then was widowed. He remarried and
now had a second family of six, with Matthew near the middle.
At times, Matthew talked about his philosophy of life, his family, and
his view of God and the world. His chatter was like sunshine on a cloudy
day.
One time when he came to see me, he said, "Miss Ausmus, the kids are
saying that you and Mr. D. like each other."
"Matthew, Mr. D. is a nice man and we both teach some of the same
students. We talk to each other about teaching. He is not my boyfriend,
and it''s not something the children should be talking about anyway."
Thinking a minute, he said, "How do people keep from having babies?"
I was tacking Christmas decorations up on a corkboard and almost fell off
my chair.
"Uh... Matthew, I think the wastebasket needs to be emptied. Could
you do that for me please?"
Another time he said, "Will you wait for me so I can marry you when I
grow up?"
"Sorry, Matthew, but that won''t work," I responded sympathetically.
"I''m fourteen years older than you are now, and I will still be fourteen
years older when you are grown." Oh, the logic of a nine year old.
When my birthday arrived, his mother made me a cake and delivered it
after school. As Matthew was carrying it up the steps, he tripped,
dropping the cake. I found him in tears, covered with white fluffy
frosting.
I assured him that bringing me a cake was very, very special, whether
I was able to eat it or not. So instead of making another cake, his mother
invited me to their home for a meal and I got to know his delightful
family.
After my second year of teaching, it was time to move on. I said
"goodbye" to Matthew and his family.
Years passed and in 1992, I went back to the little town to visit.
Not much had changed in the twenty years I had been gone. Matthew''s
parents still lived in the same house.
His mother told me that Matthew had graduated from college, married
and was working at a good job.
"Janet," she said, "Thanks for all the time you took encouraging
Matthew. You taught him to believe in himself. You are the reason he went
to college."
Those words both surprised and gratified me.
I had made a difference in the life of a young boy.
But I wonder... did Matthew ever know the difference he made in mine?
-- Janet Seever <jseever1 @ shaw.ca>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

GRACIE''S CRITTER CONNECTION
by Kathy Whirity
Gracie was a friend of mine, whom I met under unusual circumstances.
At the time, Gracie lived in the small town of Buffalo, Wyoming, while
I called Chicago my home.
While the reason for our initial contact was due to a crisis, our
ensuing friendship had been anything but.
Soon, letters were emailed as we, newly acquainted pen-pals, began to
learn that for every interest we shared there was a revelation of opposite
lifestyles, as in city slicker meets country girl.
Take for instance her overwhelming love for animals. My animal loving
instincts are pretty much confined to doting on my two pampered pooches,
Holly and Hannah. They are about as close to the animal kingdom as I care
to get.
Gracie, on the other hand, is a modern day Dr. Doolittle. When a
pregnant doe wandered onto her property she did what any animal loving
advocate would do -- she fed her. It wasn''t long before the grateful mama
to be was eating right out of her hand.
One night, to Gracie''s horror, she found the helpless doe lying in the
middle of the road, a victim of a hit and run. Gracie and her husband
nursed the Bambi look alike back to health. When the need is there, they
always respond with love and concern. A picture of Gracie and the doe sits
on my shelf for all to see. The doe is at her side along with the doe''s
triplets, nestled like puppies, safe and secure in her company.
Her endless enthusiasm for God''s defenseless creatures convinced me
that her gift was heaven sent. Gracie thought nothing of getting up at the
crack of dawn to bury peanuts in the hollow of an old oak tree -- just
making sure the squirrels had enough to eat.
Being from Chicago, I had no idea what she was talking about one day
when she talked of grackles infiltrating her front yard. Not knowing a
grackle from a chimpanzee, I squeamishly asked if a grackle was another
name for rodent. I swear I heard her laughing all the way from Wyoming!
There were times I accused her of having a death wish, for she would
literally put herself in harm''s way for her beloved animals. How many
people do you know who would stop to free a full grown buck whose antlers
were stuck in tree limbs? She not only dared to approach him, she
untangled him while soothing him with her calm and steady voice. The
amazing account of that experience was documented in Mature Living
magazine, a forever reminder, in print, of her undaunting pledge to protect
animals in need.
Of course there were times I thought she was absolutely crazy. Once,
a trapper had been setting traps near the creek not far from Gracie''s
property. It happened to be around Easter time, and she emailed me with a
plan to stop him dead in his tracks. After dark, she was going to sneak
down to the creek and place a stuffed Easter bunny in his trap. My reply?
"Don''t egg him on!"
Through our friendship, Gracie taught me not to be so cautious. From
her I learned a new respect for God''s furry friends, though I''m sure a
smile crossed her lips a few times over some of my pet phobias.
Somewhere along the line, Gracie and I lost touch with one another.
But, when I think of her, as I often do, I picture her living in the
country somewhere, nursing helpless animals back to health while nurturing
any and all of nature''s offspring that find their way into her heart.
In Gracie''s world, there''s no deer too big, or no bird too small to
garner Gracie''s attention. Gracie will always stand out in my memory as a
faithful guardian to all our feathered and furry voiceless victims.
Wild or tame, big or small, I remember a woman who loves them all.
-- Kathy Whirity <kathywhirity @ yahoo.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE FAMILY DOG
Author unknown
The family''s dog was bought to guard,
Chained to a post in a chilly backyard,
House in a shed that was airless and dark,
And every few weeks had a run in the park.
When boredom set in with no fun and no work,
One day it broke loose and went quietly berserk,
Pa couldn''t fathom just why it went wild,
As it flattened his wife and then bit his child.
The police were called in to sort out the mess,
And the whole sorry tale was revealed in the press,
The Rescue Society was really annoyed,
So, the dog was re-homed, and the owners destroyed.
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

ORPHAN TRAINS
by Colin McLaughlin-Al****
When Arthur Smith was 71 years old, he found out why he had been
unable to trace his family tree and find his birth certificate.
Arthur wasn''t his real name.
Smith, now 86, an orphan, learned that his name and supposed birthday
had been given to him by a social worker when Smith was just an infant.
Smith had been found abandoned in a New York City department store, and
there were no traceable records of his heritage.
When Smith was 5 years old, he was dressed up in a nice set of clothes
and put on a train to Iowa where, he was told, he would meet a mommy and
daddy. Smith was ultimately adopted by a family he charmed on the train
platform in Clarinda, Iowa.
According to published reports, Smith approached a man on the
platform, sat on his lap, and asked, "Are you going to be my daddy?"
This April, Smith and his wife will travel from their present home in
New Jersey to the small town of Medina, New York, to participate in the
April 17th Orphan Train educational event at the Railroad Museum.
From the mid-1850''s until 1929, the trains transported as many as
400,000 orphans from New York City out to the rural areas where, according
to the Children''s Aid Society, "they may enjoy a happy and wholesome family
life, where kind care, good example and moral training will fit them for a
life of usefulness."
It was the largest mass migration of children in recorded history.
Smith found out he was part of a major movement fairly recently, while
looking into his adoption records to try to find out about his past.
"Many of us don''t know we were part of a major migration," he said.
Smith remembers the train ride fondly, although he really didn''t know what
was going on.
"We all vied for places by the window," he said. "There was so much
that we had never seen."
Because many people don''t know about the orphan trains, and because
many of those trains came to upstate New York, the Orleans County
Genealogical Society has been planning an educational event/re-enactment to
salute the orphan train riders.
Smith thinks it''s about time and says the orphan trains were a good
idea that never got the cre*** they were due.
"Some people thought it was shameful to put into the history books,"
he said, "but the majority of us have lived very good lives since then."
Since learning of the orphan trains, Smith has been actively working
to preserve that history. He is on the board of the Orphan Train Heritage
Society and he has attended several orphan train re-enactments. Smith
seemed particularly excited about coming to Western New York for the Medina
event.
"New York State is sort of unusual," he said. "Most orphan trains
came to upstate New York earlier than the other parts of the country, so
it''s harder to find survivors. *****ddenly have a strong interest is a
wonderful thing."
Smith cre***s the orphan trains with starting his own life out in a
good direction. He went on to be a lieutenant in World War II and
participated in the allied conquest of Rome. Once home, he started his own
business building trailers and stencils. He has been married for almost 62
years and continues to be active in the community.
"I wasn''t growing like a normal child before my adoption," he said.
"I was a lonely little boy."
Smith wants to help perpetuate this history and see Charles Loring
Brace, founder of the orphan train movement, get the cre*** he deserves as
an innovator.
"This was just ignored and sort of forgotten about," Smith said. "It
was an excellent idea."
Hollis Canham, founding president of the Orleans County Geneaological
Society, says Smith has been very helpful in planning and preparing for the
event.
The event is scheduled for April 17th at the Medina Railroad Museum.
-- Colin McLaughlin-Al****, Medina, NY, Journal Register
<cma @ gnnewspaper.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

A POEM FOR COMPUTER USERS OVER 50
Author Unknown
A Computer was something on TV
From a science fiction show of note
A Window was something you hated to clean
And Ram was the father of a goat.
Meg was the name of my girlfriend
And Gig was a job for the nights
Now they all mean different things
And that really Mega Bytes.
An Application was for employment
A Program was a TV show
A Cursor used profanity
A Keyboard was a piano.
A Memory was something that you lost with age
A CD was a bank account
And if you had a 3-inch floppy
You hoped nobody found out.
Compress was something you did to the garbage
Not something you did to a file
And if you Unzipped anything in public
You''d be in jail for a while.
Log On was adding wood to the fire
Hard Drive was a long trip on the road
A Mouse pad was where a mouse lived
And a Backup happened to your commode.
Cut is what you did with a pocket knife
Paste you did with glue
A Web was a spider''s home
And a Virus was the flu.
I guess I''ll stick to my pad and paper
And the Memory in my head.
I hear nobody''s been killed in a computer crash
But when it happens, they wish they were dead.
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
When Jessica''s brother Andrew was 4 he was talking to new neighbors.
The people next door asked him what he liked to do for fun. Andrew told
them about all the outdoor activities he enjoyed. Then Andrew asked the
man, "What do you like to do?" The man replied, "I like to sleep." Andrew
replied, "Oh really? My sister sleeps all the time. You should come over
and sleep with her!" (Andrew''s sister was 21 at the time and the man was
28.) -- Jessica Thomas of Cleveland, Tennessee
A few weeks ago Mitch, 9, was sick with the flu at Grammie Penny''s
house. He was starting to feel a little better and that evening after
supper he was sitting in an easy chair with Grandpy Paul. Grammie Penny
said, "Mitch, I thought you and Grandpy were going downstairs to play a
game of pool?" Mitch said, "Grammie, I''m tired... you know I''m pushing
10!" (His birthday is in early March.) -- Penny Lippiatt of Salem, Ohio
When Kayleigh''s grandparents would go in to eat at McDonald''s,
Kayleigh''s grandfather would always get a toothpick on the way out to clean
his teeth. One day Kayleigh''s mom was in a hurry as they went through
McDonald''s drive through to pick Kayleigh up something to eat. Kayleigh
started crying, saying she wanted to go inside so that she could "get her
''poohtick'' at ''Old McDummy''s.''" -- Tina Williamson (mother of Kayleigh) of
Vicksburg, Mississippi
Paul, 9, had been outside playing for a while. His parents were
getting concerned and wanted to go look for him. His sister commented,
"Don''t worry, Mom. He''s got a built-in homing device called hunger!" --
Annie O (mother of Paul) of Cornwall, Great Britain
When Zach was 3, his mother had taken off his clothes and he was to go
put them in the hamper. When he got back from his room his mother asked
him if he put them in the hamper and he said, "No, I put them in the trash
can for clothes." -- Cathy Chastain-Gragg (mother of Zach) of Dillard,
Georgia
Casey, 6, made a Valentine''s card for his dad a couple of nights
before Valentine''s Day. His mom, Traci, gave him a card and told him that
they would go later that evening and let him pick out a toy. Casey asked
his mom to wait while he went into the other room. He came back smiling,
handed Traci the Valentine card he had made for his dad and said, "Mom, I
made this card just for you. It says Dad because I couldn''t remember how
to spell Mom." -- Traci Walker of Lebanon, Tennessee
Deb loves to listen to children sing, especially when they create
their own lyrics. Her 2 and 3-year-old students had been learning the song
"A peanut sat on a railroad track, his heart was all a flutter. Train came
chugging down the track... Oops peanut butter!" A few days passed and one
of the mothers asked Deb about the words to the peanut song. Kayla, 3, was
singing the song at home this way: "Peanut sat on the railroad track, his
heart was made of water..." -- Deb Nelson of LaCrosse, Wisconsin
Diane was talking to her son Blake, who was going to turn 3 in a few
days. She asked what kind of cake he wanted for his birthday; he answered
with chocolate. Then Diane asked who they should invite to his party and
he yelled, "Santa Claus!" -- Diane Scott of Davenport, Iowa
Courtney, 7, was in the car with her family when her father had to
stop for a red light. When the green arrow came on, indicating he could
now turn, she said in sheer amazement, "Daddy, how did the light know we
wanted to go that way?" -- Sue Dancosse (Courtney''s aunt) of Columbia,
Connecticut
Lynelle was serving breakfast and gave her son Matthew, 3, a fried egg
rather than a scrambled one. He poked his toast into the yolk and when it
broke he called, "Mommy, do I have to eat this egg juice?" -- Rosemary
Homung (grandmother of Matthew) of Walhalla, North Dakota
Michele was 6 when her mother was pregant with Brandon. Michele knew
they were having a boy, but at the time they had not yet picked out a name
for him so they called him "bj." One day, when her mother was about 8
months pregant, Michele was resting her head on her mother''s tummy. She
suddenly looked up and asked, "Mommy, do you think baby ''bj'' minds having
to wear girl clothes?" -- Bobi Johnson (mother of Michele) of Boise, Idaho
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
Dillon, 5, was very excited to see his grandparents and to ask his
grandma for one of her homemade snacks. Dillon asked, "Can I have some of
that stuff that you chew and chew and chew and tastes good?" They had to
ask Dillon several times what he meant before they realized "beef jerky!"
-- David Sims (uncle of Dillon) of Carson, California
Alex, 9, had a friend over to play. During one of their games, the
friend said they were about to lose and the game was over. Alex piped up
with, "It''s not over until the fat lady sings." His mother was proud that
he wasn''t giving up. Then Alex looked at his mother (who is currently on a
weight-loss diet) and with a gleam in his eye said, "Hey Mom, will you sing
something for us?" -- Sandi (mother of Alex) of Florida
Mikala, 8, enjoys helping her mother with chores. She asked if her
mother would start the laundry and then she would put the clothes in the
dryer. Mikala''s mother asked her if she could reach the bottom of the
washer. She said she could as long as she sat on the dryer and held onto
the alligator. "What alligator?" asked her mother. Mikala said, "You
know, the one that sticks up in the middle of the washer." She meant the
agitator! -- Terri (mother of Mikala) in Wisconsin
VCR''s are changing our vocabularly. Sherri was reading a bedtime
story to Ellie, 7, and Matt, 3, when Ellie stopped Sherri and asked, "Can
you pause the story. I have to go to the bathroom." -- Sherri Winther
(babysitter) of Huntington, New York
Annette had just remarked how good dinner smelled when Kaitlyn, 7,
said, "I know. I can taste it through my nose!" -- Annette (mother of
Kaitlyn) of Kalispell, Montana
We all have been guilty of trying to get good behavior from children
through promises of a desired "reward." Jonathon, 5, put a new spin on the
situation when he spoke on behalf of his brother Andrew, 3, and himself by
saying, "Mommy, PRETEND Andrew and I have been good and take us to Chuckie
Cheese!" -- John and Kay Wehner of Fort Wayne, Indiana
Chaz, 13, announced to his mother: "Everything in this world makes
sense... except for the stuff that doesn''t!" -- Lea Mabra (mother of Chaz)
of Blue Springs, Missouri
A few years ago Logan, 2, was learning the names of the different
parts of his body. When his mother told him about his "shin," Logan asked,
"Momma, is my shin and my chin related?" -- Debbie P. (mother of Logan) of
Michigan
Several years ago when Shelly was about 5 they were traveling along
the Arkansas River in Colorado when her father noticed that there were a
lot of boulders in the river and mentioned that one in particular looked a
lot like a hippopotamus. As they watched the boulders go by Shelly spotted
one and exclaimed, "Look Dad, there''s another one of those rocks that look
like a hippypottymoose!" -- Jay Miller of Slaterville, Utah
Just the other day Jay was trying to find a jig saw puzzle for his
granddaughter Bailey, 6. He told her, "I just can''t remember where I put
it." With a concerned but understanding look she said, "Papa, it''s O.K., I
know that sometimes you just lose your mind!"
The family was on their way to a lake in Wisconsin. Lane, 7, asked if
they were there yet because he had to use the bathroom. Brandi told him
they had 10 minutes left. Lane replied, "Well, I can only hold it for
nine!" -- Brandi Scheider (mother of Lane) of Freeport, Illinois
Jodi''s grandma used to sing "You are my sunshine" to her when she was
young. Now Jodi''s 2-year-old granddaughter Sylvia loves to have Jodi sing
it to her. Jodi was buckling Sylvia into her car seat and she asked, "Do
you know how much I love you?" Sylvia replied, "Yes, I''m your only
sunshine!" -- Jodi Villarreal of St. Paul, Minnesota
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

A PIG''S EAR
by Leigh Singh
"Oh come on!" I hissed, struggling to lift my foot.
I had been perched on a physical therapy bench for what felt like an
eternity, trying to raise my right leg and cross it over my left one. How
many times had I tried? I''d lost count.
I only knew I was exhausted, my muscles were throbbing, and I just
couldn''t do it. After thirty years with cerebral palsy, I was
well-acquainted with pain and fatigue, especially during physical therapy
sessions.
Still, on this particular day, I felt overwhelmed. Why did something
that looked so easy have to be so hard?
When my session finally drew to a close, I let out a long sigh. At last!
"All done for today?" my therapist asked.
"Thank goodness!" I replied. "But I still can''t lift my right leg
very far. It seems impossible in this body."
After my grueling session, I hoped my physical therapist might offer
encouragement. But instead, he said, "Well you can''t make a silk purse out
of a sow''s ear!" He laughed heartily.
I couldn''t find the humor in his words. My lips curled into a snarl
that barely suppressed a heated reply.
When I reached home, my snarl had disappeared, but my therapist''s
words still haunted me. I shoved my door open and fumed, "That was just
plain rude. I can''t believe he called me a sow''s ear!"
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
My ranting was cut short as my one-dog welcoming committee wagged a
greeting against my knees.
"Well hello, Slugger! It''s good to see you, too!" I crooned,
scratching my Labrador''s ear. As I stroked the softness there, my heart
recognized the incomparable joy that comes from simply being with someone
who cares.
Slugger often brought me this joy and he sensed that I needed it today
more than usual. As soon as I had into my favorite loveseat, I found
myself tucked beneath a Labrador blanket.
My dog draped himself across me and rested his head in my lap. He
gazed at me intently. Looking into his soft brown eyes, I knew. Sometimes
the purest devotion passes from one heart to another without a sound.
The warmth of that devotion began to melt the bitterness inside me. I
sighed. My intuitive dog perked his ears as if asking, "Want to tell me
about it?" I did.
"I don''t like struggling just to try and do simple things," I
whispered. "I don''t like to fail. And I really don''t like being compared
to any part of a pig!"
My Labrador nuzzled my hand. He flicked his tail against my foot.
His answer was clear -- I love you!
I hugged my canine confidant tightly. "You love me no matter what,
don''t you?"
Thwack, Thwack, Thwack, came the uncon***ional affirmation. I kissed
Slugger''s head as my anger and frustration disappeared. "Well, if I am a
pig''s ear, then I am one very blessed pig''s ear!" I proclaimed.
Suddenly my dog began to wiggle. Excitement danced across his body
and fueled his now frantically-wagging tail. Slugger ****ed his head at
me. His face defined anticipation. The question was unmistakable, "Pig''s
Ear? Did you say pig''s ear!?" Drool slipped from my Labrador''s mouth.
"Ok, Boy, I''d better get your treat before you drown us in an ocean of
slobber!" I teased.
Pulling myself up from the loveseat, I went to the pantry and
retrieved a pig''s ear. I admit I didn''t find the smelly slab of smoked
pork even remotely appealing, but to Slugger it was exquisite. In my dog''s
world, a pig''s ear was a treat above all others. It was worthy of
complete, if short-lived, adoration.
As I watched Slugger relishing his pork-flavored bliss, I gained a new
perspective.
I realized that maybe it wasn''t so bad to be likened to a pig''s ear
after all. I realized something else, too -- that life isn''t really about
silk purses and sows'' ears. It isn''t about the things we can or cannot do.
Life blooms fully when we find goodness inside ourselves, when we
choose to love and be loved, and when we embrace the blessings we have.
-- Leigh Singh <Leigh @ Leighsingh.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

EGG DAY
By Joan Dineen
"My poor daughter has earned her teaching degree but she can''t boil an
egg," I overheard mom complaining to the neighbors.
Though not bothered by my failures in mom''s scrambling, poaching, and
omelet making classes, for some reason known only to God, the art of
boiling and shelling eggs became a mission of mine.
It was easier said than done. First, correct timing eluded me. Then
boiling water levels alternated between overflowing and leaving raw egg
areas exposed. While my blistered fingers fought for a clean peel, the
shells grabbed white chunks on their way off, leaving a mutilated version
of the egg''s former shape. However, my experimentation continued until a
consistently smooth baby bottom oval emerged intact. Victory was mine at
last!
Little did I know that mastering egg shelling could be used as a gift
for God''s purpose. I was surprised to find that out when I joined the
Sydenstricter United Methodist Church in Springfield, Virginia. The church
supported Martha''s Table -- an interdenominational movement to feed the
homeless in D.C.
Was it a coincidence that this church contributed egg salad sandwiches
on the first Wednesday of each month?
My confidence level soared as I prepared a donation. However, my sink
filled with discarded shells until I exceeded both my own expectations and
those of my garbage disposal. One flick of the switch and a $75 plumbing
bill later, I knew there was always more to learn.
For years, I contributed several dozen eggs per month for Martha''s
Table but left the job of turning peeled eggs into egg salad sandwiches to
others.
One day, I was unable to use the regular drop-off location to deliver
my eggs. I had to walk my donation into the church kitchen.
As I entered, the sound of joking and laughter competed with the
whirling of commercial size mixers. Other chatting helpers placed dish pan
size containers filled with the egg salad on long tables in preparation for
the volunteer army that would spread the mixture onto bread donated by
local grocery stores. Wanting to be a part of this operation, I asked for
direction.
"You are welcome to make sandwiches and I will bag," offered
89-year-old Dorothy. She would have kept going non-stop had we not been
forced to take small breaks.
Several times we paused to help Emily, an afternoon Kindergarten
student, collect broken bread bits for the birds in her backyard. Then
there were time outs when a loader, who used personal leave to help out
that day, exchanged our fully packed boxes for empty ones.
Half way through the morning, the whole community of workers stopped
and bowed heads as a young priest led us in prayer. By 11am, almost four
thousand sandwiches were being loaded into a truck that would take them to
Washington and I was invited to join the gang for lunch.
Since my retirement, Egg Day is a fixed priority on my calendar. As I
began exchanging temperature and timing hints my efficiency and production
have increased. And in the rhythm of those movements, I have felt the
serenity others experience in the clicking of knitting needles or sawing of
wood.
I have added dozens of eggs to my monthly count as a memorial gift in
honor of fellow contributor, Grant Wright, who died unexpectedly. And I
also put in a few dozen to help fill voids left by volunteers moving out of
the area.
Soon it will be my time to ride with the McKenna''s wagon that passes
out a variety of sandwiches, including our egg salad, along with soup to
the homeless waiting at designated locations. How will it feel to make
these handouts?
On a recent visit, Mom watched my routine preparation for the first time.
"You would never know there was a time when she couldn''t even boil an
egg," she told my neighbors.
I agreed.
-- Joandi Dineen <Joanwrites @ earthlink.net
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .