O What a Beautiful Morning

This is what I see when I leave my driveway for a morning run in late summer--truly a joy-filled moment for me. I love to run toward the sun, whether it's rising or setting. I never grow tired of looking at that big ol' ball of fire hanging in the sky. It is always spectacular.

When I was a little girl, before I knew that I wasn't that coordinated or athletic, I used to run all over my backyard like a Banshee. I set up hurdles before I knew what hurdles were or that there were school teams who ran and jumped hurdles. I used my old kindergarten rest-time mat, picnic table benches, boxes, peony bushes--whatever I could to leap over. I would just run and jump, run and jump. I crashed into fences serving as finishing lines. I ran for the love of it.

I wish that someone had noticed this penchant and encouraged me to keep moving when I hit middle school and fell into that phase of inactivity and passivity to which so many teenage girls succumb. I wish someone at home or at school would have said, "Why don't you try this?" (Any sport).

To be fair, once I made the cheerleading squad, I was all about that. All other interests besides boys paled in comparison.

Still, I wish someone had talked to me about taking care of my body and appreciating what it could do when put to the test, and how good I'd feel when I accomplished a run.

I wish someone had said, "Cheerleading is great, but you can't do that the rest of your life. Tennis, swimming, running or golf, yes."

But that didn't happen, and I didn't discover again that I loved to run until I was about 32. Still, even at that "advanced" age, I was blown away by what my body would do when I asked it to "go to the next mailbox, next stoplight." Simply amazing.

Here I am at 49, still going, albeit slow and plodding. But I never feel more alive than when I'm running.

And there are two things in this life I NEVER grow tired of looking at: the faces of my children, and beautiful Indiana skies. I have so much to be thankful for!

The chase continues.

Things seem to intensify during the holiday season. People's emotions tend to get the better of them, and their true feelings always comes out. It's why my man racism works in overdrive around this time. But I have no problem with chasing his ass around the room and shining a light on him when he stops. The trick is to find the real Mr. R, and not fall for the fake ones like this author did.

Dateline Indiana:

"A business owner in Nobesville, Inidana has been selling soap with racist slogans. Residents of his town have come to support him after he was criticized for the racist soap. Fox 59 Reports:

The controversy over soap with racist labels being sold at a Noblesville store continues. In addition to those who are offended by the store selling these items, there is also growing support for the vendor who has been ordered to take the soaps off the shelves or face eviction.

After hearing about the soap, Carolyn Gentner bought two bars including one labeled “Kolored Kids.”

“I don’t think they’re offensive, I think they’re nostalgic,” she told Fox59 News. “I believe if this is going to be an issue, we should be in Kroger for selling Aunt Jemima syrup. " [Story]

"Growing support", indeed. Oh for those good ole days.

Dateline Illinois:

"CHICAGO-Chicago Sun-Times) A 4-year-old boy was Duct-Taped at the Pui Tak Christian School, in Chicago Illinois and the boy’s parents, Harold and Cara Irving, who are African-American, are claiming that race was a factor. The Chicago Sun-Times reports:

“I received a call from the school informing me that my son was in the principal’s office because he refused to take a nap, and he didn’t want to wash his hands,” Irving told me.

“I told them that I would come and pick him up. I arrived shortly after that and found him standing there with his hands duct-taped together.”

“She told me that I have to tell my son that it is not acceptable not to listen, and this is how it ends up with kids getting guns,” Irving said.

“My reaction was: ‘Are you kidding me. Is this what you think of little black kids?’ ”

Irving said he’s also concerned that school administrators treated his son like a criminal, thus reinforcing the stereotype that young black males are dangerous.

“I can’t think of any other race that they would have done this to,” Irving said. “If we don’t stop stereotyping and demoralizing black boys, we will precipitate the stereotype. We have to send a message that this is unacceptable for anyone’s child.” [Story]

Momma don't let your sons grow up to be Negroes.

Still, I don't know; it doesn't seem that anybody is safe in A-merry-ca these days.

Indiana: Home of the Donut Crime Sprees

New Castle, IN, is just up the road a-ways from me. You're going to be amazed at the crime in this story, but even more shocked and awed by people's unique enunciation, the moustaches and the clamoring to "say sumthin'" from the back seat of a car. The special effects in this video underscore the gravitas of this crime. This is the world in which I must live, people.







Also this month:



A man who worked at an Indiana Dunkin' Donuts asked his boss to loan him some money, or he might do something "stupid."



It was a no-go.



So the man crawled through the drive-through window and stole $2,342 while on video surveillance.



Following that stellar act, he was sentenced to three years in prison.



Hey. It's Indiana. It's deep fried. It's our kinda crime.