Travis riding the ponies.
Going up...
Coming down.
Riding the train...he's all into trains now.
Visiting the animal zoo.
Petting the Llamas.
A contortionist
The clowns..
...she is hanging by his feet..Today’s tip is about the many uses of vinegar in the laundry room!
Prevent lint from clinging to clothes by adding 1/2 cup white distilled vinegar to the wash cycle.
To remove soap residue that makes black clothes look dull use white distilled vinegar in your final rinse.
Get stained white socks and dingy dishcloths white again. Add 1 cup white distilled vinegar to a large pot of water, bring it to a rolling boil and drop in the articles. Let soak overnight.
Some stains on clothing and linens can be soaked out using equal parts milk and white distilled vinegar.
Before washing a mustard stain, dab with white distilled vinegar.
Attack spaghetti, barbecue, or ketchup stains with a white distilled vinegar and water solution.
Remove perspiration odor and stains on clothing, as well as those left by deodorants, by spraying full-strength white distilled vinegar on underarm and collar areas before tossing them into the washing machine.
Forgot that you left wet laundry in the machine and it now smells moldy? Pour a few cups of white distilled vinegar in the machine and wash the clothes in hot water. Then run a normal cycle with detergent.
Remove smoky odors from clothes by filling the bathtub with very hot water and 1 cup white distilled vinegar. Hang the garments above the steaming water and shut the door so the steam can penetrate the fibers.
Keep the steam iron clean and in good working order by getting rid of mineral deposits in steam vents and spray nozzles. Fill the water chamber with a solution of equal parts white distilled vinegar and distilled water. Set it in an upright position and let it steam for about 5 minutes. When the iron is cool, rinse the tank with water, refill and shake water through the vents onto an old cloth. Test before using.
Remove scorch marks from an iron by rubbing it with a warmed-up solution of equal parts white distilled vinegar and salt. If that doesn’t work, use a cloth dampened with full-strength white distilled vinegar.
Remove musky smells from cotton clothes by sprinkling them lightly with white distilled vinegar and then pressing them.
Get water and salt stains off shoes and boots by wiping them down with a solution of equal parts white distilled vinegar and water.
Give patent leather shoes and bags a better shine by wiping them down with white distilled vinegar.
Get cleaner laundry! Add about 1/4 cup white distilled vinegar to the last rinse. The acid in white distilled vinegar is too mild to harm fabrics, yet strong enough to dissolve the alkalies in soaps and detergents. Besides removing soap, white distilled vinegar prevents yellowing, acts as a fabric softener and static cling reducer, and attacks mold and mildew.
Eliminate manufacturing chemicals from new clothes by adding 1/2 cup white distilled vinegar to the water.
Remove soap scum and clean the hoses of your washing machine with white distilled vinegar. Periodically run the machine with only a cup of white distilled vinegar in it—nothing else added to the wash cycle.
Bring out bright colors by adding 1/2 cup white distilled vinegar to the rinse cycle.
Fluff up wool or acrylic sweaters (hand- or machine-washed) and rid them of soap smell with 1/2 cup white distilled vinegar in the last rinse water.
Get rid of the tiny holes left along the hemline when you take out the hem of any garment by moistening a cloth with white distilled vinegar, placing it under the fabric and ironing.
Thank you to VinegarTips.com!
It’s Almost Fall…Those lazy days of summer are over. The kids are back to school. The weather is changing from hot to crisp and cool! The leaves are starting to change to those bright orange and yellow hues!! Ahh… Fall is almost officially here!!
Art
By Nafeez Mosaddeq Ahmed, England.
What is “art”?
At its most deep and basic level, art is expression.
Everything is art.
We are surrounded by art:
the way we talk; the way we eat; the way we smile;
The way we hate; the way we love; the way we work; the way we dream.
The way we act is simply an expression of what we are, or what we have let ourselves become. And in this sense, life is art.
Art, as a creative process, is often a
Conscious expression of an idea, a theme, an emotion, a perception.
Every move we make is art,
Conscious or unconscious.
The world we have all contributed to sculpting,
Which, in turn, sculpts us,
Is art, a reflection of the collective labyrinth of our hearts.
Art is about bringing out what is within,
A process of manifestation,
Since manifestation is the primary essence of expression.
Art is therefore the endeavour to know oneself,
To bring out what lies within, and to perceive it, to understand it.
In expressing a perception, a feeling, an idea,
One is portraying what is within oneself,
What one grasps with one’s consciousness,
To what is without oneself and within the “other”;
One is communicating, bridging the gap between hearts,
Dissolving separation.
Art is a striving towards a certain harmony between all beings, towards unity.
Art is the endeavour to become one with oneself,
To understand oneself,
By contemplating what is brought forth out of oneself in the creative process;
It is the endeavour to become one with others,
In the act of conveying to the heart of others,
What one’s own heart comprehends;
It is the endeavour for self-realisation,
And realisation of the unity of all hearts.
Art is a striving against that which separates and deludes,
A movement towards the attainment of the knowledge
That division and conflict are the overflow of illusion.
The perfection of art is the erosion of illusion
And the evolution of a pristine, unitary vision of life and reality.
The true artist is one who,
Perhaps unwittingly,
Is attempting to grind away the barriers of self-deceit within the soul,
To topple the walls of misunderstanding that divide all souls.
The true artist is one who,
Whether they know it or not,
Aims to dissolve all such fragmentation,
To heal the wounds scattered within and without,
To bring us to an unadulterated clarity,
A pristine awareness of the deep relationship
Which is the Root and Sky of all things.
The true artist is not merely one who paints,
Who composes songs,
Who sculpts,
Who writes poetry or prose,
But is someone who starkly perceives the fragmentation of their own being,
Of society,
And who, through art,
Seeks to draw their being - and all beings - together,
In the name of achieving the vision of Truth.
The true artist is one
Who carries the endeavour for the perfection of art
Into all spheres of life,
For it is only upon the vast canvas of Life Itself
That art can reach its fullest possible perfection,
That unity can have its fullest possible expression.
The perfection of the art of living,
Which embraces, transcends and includes all modes of art,
Is the goal of the true artist.
Real art lies not in painting,
Not in writing,
Not in singing,
But in living,
For it is only in living that life has its purest and most meaningful expression.
Thus, the deepest and most crucial question
The artist must constantly seek insight into
Is that which asks,
“What is the meaning, the purpose, the reality,
That life itself is supposed to express,
What is the supreme ineffable mystery that alone is worthy of expression?”
It is a meaning that overflows from the Supreme Unity
Which embraces all things,
That the true artist intuitively seeks to unveil.
The artist is contantly searching for insight into this,
Not merely in the various modes of art recognised by a culture,
But in life itself,
For it is the perfection of living that is true art.
Art is the endeavour for love:
For in striving to know oneself, to know the other,
To reveal oneself to oneself, to reveal oneself to the other,
In striving to unite all
In the apprehension of what is within and without,
One is striving to give expression to the relationship,
The Compassion, the Majesty, the Beauty,
Which is the Root and Sky of all things.
A work of art reflects,
In some way,
The artist who worked it.
In any creative act there is a symbol of some dimension of the artist’s being.
Any expression is a manifestation of a living depth that yearns to be known.
Art is an expression of the yearning to be known and to know.
Art is the recognition that only in relationship are we real as individuals.
Art is the realisation that reality is perfect relationship, endless compassion, all-embracing Unity.
We are all unconscious artists,
Carving our lives brutally in the sensitive flesh of Nature.
We should learn not to carve, but to flow with the secret song of Truth
That guides the Universe we are so divorced from.
We wonder why life can be so brutal,
But is it not sheer ignorance of the sovereignty of harmony,
That guides our driven fingers to contruct this wasteland of egoism we call “life”?
Reality repays humanity with what humanity itself strives to be.
Who is to blame for unnoticed injustice and corruption,
Except the lame artist
Who paints, who sings, who writes,
Who works, rests and plays
Without knowing why?
Who is to blame for ignorance, suffering and disharmony,
Except the divided humanity that knows not what it means to be human?
Who would deny the reality of the pain of those without shelter?
Those whose stomachs bulge in malnutrition?
Those whose hearts ache in hopelessness?
Those who are poverty-stricken?
Starving?
Thirsty?
Bereaved?
Orphaned?
Oppressed?
Those who are the victims of a sick system?
Those who surround us, yet remain invisible?
Is it not the blind artist of humanity, that maims its Mother,
That maims itself, in the name of fun, pleasure and power,
That cuts at its own body,
Deaf to its own howls of torment, horror and despair?
Blind to the blood that streams down our stricken cheeks,
Deaf to our cries that yearn for mercy and hope,
Dumb because the intoxicated drug-soaked sponge of our consciousness
Keeps us ignorant of the truth,
Drunk, uncoordinated, incoherent.
And when Truth chooses to awaken this “artist”,
And surely It shall,
What will stop us from beholding the Beauty, the Majesty, of Truth Itself,
What will prevent us from trembling in terror
At the realisation of our pettiness, our blindness,
What will halt us on our reckoning with Justice,
With our own wounds, our own scars, our own insanity?
For life is but a dream on the way to death,
And death, an awakening unto the reality of life.
Nature is the work of the
Ultimate Artist,
All things dance to Its secret melody
Of harmony, wisdom and peace.
And we are Its vicegerents,
Come to paint the only picture worth painting.
But so far have we fallen
From Truth’s sweet embrace,
So low have we become
Compared to the height of love’s glory.
Die before ye die:
Awaken to reality from the dream of your life,
Before death rips open your eyelids
And you can do nothing but behold the Truth
Of Love and Justice
That shows you what you are
And what you have become.
What have we made of life?
For us, life is a dream that we weave for ourselves
In a haze of ignorant assumption.
Life is a labyrinth of need and desire,
Of pain and pleasure,
Of work and play,
So predictable in its small pointless surprises.
So many things have we invented to pass the time,
So many goals, so many amusements, so many tasks,
On the foundations of some ineffable drive to be.
(To be what? What does it mean to be?)
We know not the Aim
So we invent our own ones.
We know not the Path
So we tread where we like.
We are scattered about in our isolated dreams,
Tossed to and fro by tides of our own making.
The world we have sculpted is a manifestation of what we have become.
We are surrounded by a symbol of ourselves.
These ugly cities and trash-ridden slums,
These wasted villages and smoke-filled skies,
These heart-hungry bullets and blood-thirsty bombs,
These money-craving business men and war-torn nations,
These luxurious decadent elites and oppressed poverty-stricken masses,
Are but facets of the world
That is but a reflection of the hearts which sustain it.
We are swamped in the pointlessness of our own art,
Immersed in the relativity of our own values,
Caught in the web of our own confusion.
We are so ignorant and yet we do not even acknowledge
Our own ignorance.
The drug that soaks the sponge of our minds
Is our own global self-portrait, self-deceit.
We are blinded by our own reflection,
Bombarded by the emergent insanity of our collective vanity.
Our language, our culture, our politics, our economics, our ideals, our norms,
Express the fragmentation at the very core of our being.
Art without the spirit of its own nature -
To become awake -
Is but perversion and blindness.
True art,
Art that is true to itself
Is meditation,
Its goal being insight into oneself,
And mutual compassion.
A work of art is a window into the soul of the artist.
True art is a bridge between hearts,
A purging of the impurity of illusions that divide people.
Art is a resurrection of inner depth,
Inward plenitude,
An eruption of emotion,
Of intense tranquility,
A flower plucked from a land of forgotten dreams.
What is this land of forgotten dreams?
It is but the reality of our relationship,
Our unity as brothers, as sisters,
Our oneness
Through the Unity that embraces all things.
Art is remembrance.
Our art reflects what we become, and what we are devoted to.
But we are artists, who know not why.
We paint our history a schizophrenic portrait
Because we know not why, we know not how
And we do not care.
"Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" Hebrews 11:1
So very true :)
Mark and Perrish
Amanda and Perrish
The quote, in itself, is simple. The true wisdom to be found in its meaning is revealed in the story from which the quote originates. I have no idea if you know where this quote came from, but I shall tell the story here. I think you will find it incredibly wise, whether it serves as a reminder or this is the first time you hear it....
King Solomon, feeling blue, asked his advisers to find him a ring he had once seen in a dream.
"When I feel satisfied I’m afraid that it won’t last. And when I don’t, I am afraid my sorrow will go on forever. Find me the ring that will ease my suffering." he demanded.
Solomon sent out all of his advisers, and eventually one of them met an old jeweler who carved into a simple gold band the inscription, "this too shall pass." When the king received his ring and read the inscription, his sorrows turned to joy and his joy to sorrows, and then both gave way to equanimity.
You see, the great King found himself unable to be content. He felt sorrow when he was happy, and sorrow when he was not, because he was unable to see his way forward. The ring served to cancel out his sorrow. By constantly having something to look forward to, he found himself content. What he previously thought was satisfaction was only a superficial feeling that was brought on by his great wealth, which was only temporary, thus his satisfaction could not last forever. True satisfaction could only be found when he recognized his wealth for what it was.
Had a nice little rain this morning...
Talked to the ex, he wants me to come down next week to help him get the house ready to put on the rental market for this summer. Need to clean, do some yard work and take pictures of the house.
Now I lay me
Down to sleep.
I pray the Lord
My shape to keep.
Please no wrinkles
Please no bags
And please lift my butt
Before it sags.
Please no age spots
Please no gray
And as for my belly,
Please take it away.
Please keep me healthy
Please keep me young,
And thank you Dear Lord
For all that you've done.
Wow, do you not just love Mondays~! lol......We should just do away with them. Start the week on Tuesday.....Mondays always end up to be so busy.
It's raining here again ( in Eufaula). I love the rain. It is food for the flowers and trees.... And a steady gentle rain at night on your roof truly is a lullaby. The best way to sleep in...
Good morning. Are you ready for Monday? Haven't they made weekends three days yet? I had a very relaxing weekend, I hope you got some relax time in also.
Good Morning and Happy Saturday. It is a dry one for us today. It's still really cold here lol.....So I'm thinkin this is a good movie day. It's been a while since we rented movies so surely we can find something to watch.
Whoops, lost our shoe! One of many times...
Throwing snowballs at grandma....
Sitting on the snow drift...
Grandma's gloves were just a little too big...
Got to wear our shades when the sun is so bright...
Making snowballs...so much fun!Later peeps....
