Fall Is Here

Fall is here. In Denver at least. The weather has cooled and the Denver Broncos are playing inspired football. Some trees are even beginning to change. Up in the beautiful Colorado Rocky Mountains the trees are slow to change because of the torrential rains we had a couple of weeks ago. Experts say that in the next week or two fall colors will begin to blaze across the mountains. I also know it’s fall because I caught a cold. I’m thankful it isn’t the flu, but this still sucks. For days now, I’ve had no energy at all. I hope that you, wonderful readers, are able to avoid getting sick this fall.

I found a wonderfully funny Ellen DeGeneres video for you. At the 2:25 mark I cried from laughing so hard.

So in closing for this week, how about sharing some of your favorite things about fall?

A Funny Situation by Jim Schaeffing
photo credit: Tom Simpson A Funny Situation by Jim Schaeffing, circa 1950 via photopin (license)

Words Need Warning Labels

Words are small things, yet they surround us every moment of our life. They beg for our attention. TV, internet, and radio stations spew words endlessly. At the office, school, and home words swirl around us. They leap across the pages of magazines, newspapers, books, and blogs. We can’t escape words. Even if you go deep into the woods, where no cell signal is brave enough to travel, you still have words. The phone sends the message ‘no signal.’ And admit it—you talk to yourself, I know I do.

Words Have Power

In all that incessant noise have you ever paused to consider how much power all those words have? Words are small packages with the power of a stick of dynamite. (Tweet That) Just like a box of dynamite has a warning label, handle with care, words should come with a warning label. Words are a sword that destroys or they can push someone to do amazing things. The words we speak affect whoever hears them. (Tweet That) Continue reading “Words Need Warning Labels”

Seasons Of Change

A few weeks ago,
on a Monday morning . . .

I stood at the window, a coffee cup cradled in my hands, staring at the neighborhood. Things were abnormally quiet for a sunny summer day. The birds chirped happily from the branches of the tree in my front yard and squirrels chased each other around its trunk. Both oblivious to the tension. The neighborhood dogs were silent, a relief from their mournful howling that began last Thursday evening and didn’t stop until 1 a.m. Sunday morning. All the other houses up and down the street felt subdued, only the occasional dark shape of someone looking out a window showed there was life inside the homes.

That Fateful Sunday . . .

The neighborhood woke and discovered it wasn’t a normal lazy weekend morning. I was making a pot of coffee when my mom anxiously called to come look out the window. When I peered out the basement window there were three sheriffs cars, two unmarked cars, a Crime Scene Unit truck, and three Animal Control Vehicles. It wasn’t long before the cops noticed the neighborhood stirring. They strung crime scene tape from the blue house, across the road, up the hill past two houses, back across the street, around a neighbor’s mailbox and then diagonally across their yard back to the blue house. A few minutes after that a fire truck and an ambulance arrived adding to the chaos. A detective went door to door asking if we’d heard or seen anything unusual. He wouldn’t tell us what had happened except to say they had arrested the man who owned the home early Sunday morning. Continue reading “Seasons Of Change”

Change is Good

I wiped my sweaty palms on my purple corduroy pants. The clock read 9:45. A perky pop song filled the car. From the moment I parked, I’d been unsuccessfully talking myself into opening the door and walking to the large old building. In fifteen minutes, the snow had covered the windows and the temperature inside the car had dropped. I shivered. Now or never, I thought.

Grabbing my messenger bag I hurried across the parking lot through the deepening snow. My hand shook as I punched the extension number into the phone hanging on the wall in the otherwise empty vestibule. The phone rang and rang and rang. My stomach cramped; had I written the number down wrong? Why did I make such stupid mistakes? The door opened and closed behind me, I turned, hoping whoever it was could help me.

“Are you Jill?” the snow-covered woman asked me. Continue reading “Change is Good”