the History of Famous Inventions

Do you ever wonder who first discovered popcorn? I think about it all the time. In fact, I'm convinced it happened when a dirty, naked man in a bat cave threw his cob of corn into a fire and...POP! was followed by SCREAM! ...then...ahhhhh...melted butter and salt.

Just yesterday my daughter proudly proclaimed that I was an Inventor because I had just baked muffins out of nothing. While every mother longs to hear that she has been endowed with the honor of just having invented something profitable to the human race, it left no smirk of pride on my face. While it is true that a "Muffin Recipe" is merely a formality to which I owe no debt, I did not feel the same sense of accomplishment that she did. Where has my sense of awe gone?

So today, my friends, with a fresh squeeze of lime in my eye, I am taking back my awe.

Join me in support of a freshly composted Campaign for Apprehending your Imagination to Recognize the Inventor you have Wrongfully Brushed Aside.

I...Am an Inventor. Yesterday, I took some flour and agave syrup and berries, and made magic with them.

My daughter is an Inventor. Within hours proceeding my invention, she invented the first hand-stitched, twist-tie purse made of rags, string, and colored with markers. Brown on one side, yellow on the other...so that you can change it depending on your mood. (There is even a hole for getting rid of those pesky pennies nobody wants.)

My son is an Inventor. As I write this, he is in the midst of inventing another language. It doesn't matter if you are a pirate or knight or princess; you can understand this language. But if you're regular, plain, and boring as white bread...you will be stung with the blank stare of disbelief.

I have a Friend who is an Inventor. He sees me as I am, but also as I should be. With Him I am encouraged to be myself without being afraid of what that looks like and whether it fits in or not...He invented
Love
Fire
Mercy
Flying
Rain
...and popcorn kinda pales in comparison.

A little tweet

As I go out in the evenings to water my garden, I can almost taste the bitter dust of drought as I see the birds sitting on my fence posts, pining...
wishing they were brave enough to
drink.
shower.
swim.
If they had tongues, I'm sure they would pant.

I don't have a bird bath
but I have pity
And with this pity
and my hose
I have chased away
many birds

But tonight was different
...I wasn't thinking about birds as I watered.
Nor was I thinking about my garden.
Nor water
nor wind
nor evaporation
I wasn't even moving back and forth to cover the ground evenly.
I was just standing there.

Briefly I saw something out of the corner of my eye, and then there suddenly was a hummingbird bathing in the spray of my dormant hose

This time I held still
on Purpose.

I felt honored that the little dude picked my hose to have a shower under. But it didn't last long.

This reminds me of a dream I had about an orange bird that came to visit me on the patio one night.
We became friends.
It was not afraid of me, and I was not cautious.
As the night wore on, I became very aware that I could not keep this little orange bird.
It did not belong to me
and the moment was brief.
It was a temporary blessing,
a fleeting glimpse of the colliding of two very different worlds ...one in which I knew little about.

The hummingbird
is a symbol for accomplishing that which seems impossible.

Connected

There is an unexplainable
connection
when someone just
gets "it"
with little explanation

sees the picture
understands the concept
feels the emotion

like-minded
close-hearted
familiar-spirited

friend.

Then there are the times
and places
and situations
and people
in which
you need to
explain
strain
exclaim
retain
ascertain
and
sustain
the connection

It is not always easy
You are not always understood
Not always pure
Not always sure

But the lesson
is always
valuable.