It’s a dangerous world outside our front door…

Buzz

We’re living in dangerous times, my friends.

It’s getting quite scary to open the front door.

We have eight–I repeat, eight–ruby-throated hummingbirds buzzing and squawking and hollering and dive-bombing anything that walks, flies or carries a camera.

The myth of 1,000 blog followers

Rome wasn’t built in a day

Yes, dear readers, it’s been an auspicious day.  This very blog–Lake Superior Spirit–hath reached the lofty goal of 1,000 followers!  Why, this  happened just after lunch.  I’ve been watching with one lazy eye as the numbers soared during recent weeks.

You’d think this would be a cause to celebrate, to dance merrily, to shout to the treetops, to delight in 1,000 avid readers coming to your blog in eager anticipation of your treasured words and photos.

But, no, my friends, this is not a cause celebre.  It’s hardly even worth more than a raised eyebrow.  In fact, don’t you dare even offer congratulations!  I beg of thee!  You want to know why?

Every which way the blogging heart goes next…

Follow your heart, my dear.

OK, it’s time for another blogging blog.  You know, the kind of blog where you blog about blogging.  (We do this when blogging becomes more important in our lives than, say, thinking about doing dishes.)

There is SO much to blog about blogging!  One could blog from now until death-day and never adequately cover the extensive possibilities.

I always advise—quit thinking, and follow what your heart has to say about blogging.

Of course, like all Life advice, this is harder to DO than to type.

Therefore, I listen to all my thoughts and sometimes get confused, just like 99% of the rest of the confused planet.

Miracle

Here’s what just happened.

I was out reading your blogs, buzzing here and there in the blogosphere for the past hour or so, when suddenly a Fierce Desire struck.  I’m never sure what to do about these Fierce Desires to write blogs, tell stories.  Do you simply allow your typing fingers to have their way?  Or do you attempt to discipline your Fierce Desires into some semblance of order, telling them that they must incubate until morning’s light, or perhaps stay silent until next Tuesday?

I try asking my Heart (which is always the best thing to do) but the Heart feels divided. Or perhaps it’s impossible to hear the heart because too many thoughts are adding their opinions.  So to heck with it, you’ll have to bear with another essay, or perhaps you’ll wander away to look elsewhere on your computer at Tonight’s News or maybe your friend’s latest posting on Facebook.

There’s a story I’ve been wanting to tell you, but haven’t figured out how or where to fit it in.  It has to do with glasses.  Barry’s glasses, to be exact.  I suppose you’re thinking this might be a boring story, but it isn’t.  It’s high excitement!  (At least it was to us.)

View One. The Infamous Glasses.

View Two. The Infamous Glasses

Easter on ice, 2013

Hello world!

Picture this. Ice fishing over 280 feet of water on Lake Superior. Floating on 18 inches of ice.  Convinced by husband to leave warm house on Easter morning. No one else on ice, except one lone snowmobiler. Everyone else at church.

We celebrated Easter Services in tent.

Husband snapped this picture.

Coffee was enjoyed in the fellowship hall.

The fish have not risen. Yet.

“Twizzle twazzle twozzle twome”

Our woodpile

How many of you know the incantation “Twizzle twazzle twozzle twome”?

Think carefully before you answer this rather innocent question.

If you know the answer, it may date you.

The crazy purple exploding mess…

I have a story to tell you.  (Do not raise those eyebrows to the sky.  I caught you!  Of course she’s going to tell a story.)

Worst of all, I’m going to tell you a story without photos.  This is a test to see if the story is interesting enough to capture your attention to the messy end where we add the spiritual philosophy to the mix and stir well.

Today’s story deals with making homemade sauerkraut.

I was pondering the different ways we storytellers can tell stories.  Some storytellers tell thus:  I made homemade sauerkraut.  {Here’s how you make it.}  It was good!

Other storytellers share their sauerkraut stories differently.

Some concentrate on details.  Others share the Larger Picture of health benefits.  Still others won’t even tell sauerkraut stories at all, claiming they’re boring.  Still others will ask, “What is sauerkraut?”

But never you mind.  My storytelling mind always goes to the drama.  Was there any drama involved in the creation of homemade sauerkraut?

YES!  *shouts Memory.  THERE WAS DRAMA!  There was high tension.  I kid you not.

 

Advice to a young blogger

Grandma Blogger in cool hat

Dear Blogging Tyke, come and sit on Grandma’s knees and I will tell you the Blogging Secrets of Life.

(What? you gasp.  I’m no tyke! And you’re no grandma!  And your knees certainly don’t look sturdy enough to sit upon!)

Yes, child, you are a blogging tyke.  You are a wee one in the world of on-line blogging depending on how the experts determine your age.  There is a complicated formula utilized by the Powers that Be which figures your blogging age.  I’m not 100% certain, but mathematically it goes something like this:  number of posts published multiplied by commenters multiplied by hits divided by years plus 6% if the search engines love ya.

Have you figured out your blogging age yet?  OK, get on my knee and we’ll get started.  (You get off my knee.  You’re too heavy.  We’re taking that elderly gentleman first.)

Why to try the orange toothpaste on your next dental visit.

Earlier this month I had to cancel a dentist appointment.  One of those six month cleanings that we all love.

It was snowing sideways and seemed too daunting to drive twelve miles into town.

“Don’t worry,” said the kind receptionist.  ”It’s been a strange day.  Half the people are cancelling their appointments and half are calling wanting appointments.  We’ll be able to fill your slot.”

Phew…  It’s hard to cancel appointments even when it’s snowing because one is expected to drive valiantly in snow here in the Upper Peninsula.  It’s what hardy Yoopers do.  We gun up our four-wheel drives and barrel through snowbanks, no matter how deep.  (I am not a bona fide Yooper.  Have only lived here 34 years.  Was not born and bred with that much sisu. *Sisu is what the local Finns call courage.*  Would prefer to cancel dental appointments.)

And the Oscar winner is… what are the Oscars anyway?

All those Famous People.

OK, must admit.

We don’t have a TV.

We don’t know that tonight is Oscar Night.  (Well, we didn’t know that tonight was Oscar Night until five minutes ago when I Googled with the wide-eyed innocent question, “When is Oscar Night?”)