I Believe…

I believe…

…that itches should be scratched.

…money is made to be spent on those you love and doing things you love.

…that days should not pass without a kind word.

…that blogging is climbing on the roof and shouting really loud.  You’d like to think someone is listening, but no one usually is.

…that work is the opposite of leisure, but should not be the opposite of pleasure.

…that a stick, a rock, and an imagination can take children much further than all the plastic in China.

…that love is as hard to hold as a moonbeam, and that you have to recapture it every day of your life.

…that laughter and smiles are the only remedy for sadness and stress.

…that this is my 500th post on WhiteEyebrows.com

Let the celebration begin!

WhiteEyebrows vs. Women’s Liberation

Last night, as we were settling into bed for the night, my wife informed me that I would sleeping on the north side of the bed. (to be specific, she didn’t say “north”, she said “that” side… mostly because women don’t have any sense of direction… BAM… it’s on!)

We’ve talked and teased about not having assigned sides of the bed quite often.  It’s one of our favorite running jokes.  But last night it particularly struck my funny bone.  So in the heat of the tease, I then assigned her the task of going to turn off the bathroom light, checking all the doors, and making sure the garage door was closed if she was going to be sleeping on the man’s side of the bed.  She responded by turning on the patented female pouty face and started carrying on about being scared of the dark and scared to lock things and shut things.

Baloney.

Continue reading WhiteEyebrows vs. Women’s Liberation

A Garbage Truck and a Sense of Wonder

I woke up this morning to the sound of the garbage truck collecting my neighbor’s trash – but not mine.  I missed trash day, again.

garbage-truck

A few weeks ago, though, I did not miss trash day, and I watched the giant garbage truck lumber up the street, stopping at each home and picking up the trash.  Watching the large arm grab the plastic bins at our curb sent me back many years to a visit I had at Grandma’s house.

Continue reading A Garbage Truck and a Sense of Wonder