Scott at the Live Your Legend blog offers 32 lessons learned
from 2011. I suspect some of these lessons have taken me more
than one year to learn, and some haven't quite been internalized
yet. Still, its a good list worth keeping handy. A sampling:
27. FOCUS is the most powerful skill in the world. Stop
distracting yourself. Know the top 1-3 most important things
to you and put everything else on a list for later.
28. Preparation trumps everything. There is no excuse to
show up and not be ready for something. That’s in your
control and it’s often the easiest way to beat an opponent.
We used to run stairs for hours on end in the weeks leading
up to Jiu-Jitsu tournaments. Then we’d get on the mat and
often be able to beat our opponent on endurance alone. It
takes massive discipline to be truly prepared.
29. Preparation creates confidence! That is priceless.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Now that's entertainment.............
Michael Wade reminds us of the glories of William Powell and
Myrna Loy and the Thin Man series - here.
If you liked that, don't forget this, this, or this highlight reel.
Myrna Loy and the Thin Man series - here.
If you liked that, don't forget this, this, or this highlight reel.
syncretists..................
This word for the day is brought to us by Mr. Webster and the
Third Edition of his New World College Dictionary. Actually,
to give credit where credit is due, the word for today comes from
the reigning wordsmith par excellence at Sippican Cottage who
used it recently in a post and made me go look it up.
syncretism n. a combination, reconciliation, or coalescence
of varying, often mutually opposed, beliefs
principles, or practices, etc., etc., etc.
syncretist n, adj.
as in:
"Visionaries deserve credit. I hope I just gave Harry J. some. But practical syncretists are just as important. They generally don't require any extra credit, as they are sitting on piles of money and hate to reach down to receive their praise."
Third Edition of his New World College Dictionary. Actually,
to give credit where credit is due, the word for today comes from
the reigning wordsmith par excellence at Sippican Cottage who
used it recently in a post and made me go look it up.
syncretism n. a combination, reconciliation, or coalescence
of varying, often mutually opposed, beliefs
principles, or practices, etc., etc., etc.
syncretist n, adj.
as in:
"Visionaries deserve credit. I hope I just gave Harry J. some. But practical syncretists are just as important. They generally don't require any extra credit, as they are sitting on piles of money and hate to reach down to receive their praise."
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Some advice from Dad.............
Randy Travis..........................Don't Ever Sell Your Saddle
Daddy should'a been a preacher man
'Cause everybody loved to hear him speak
He didn't always follow his own advice
But we got a sermon every week
He'd say trouble always starts as fun
And broken hearts will always mend
Tough times don't last, tough people do
And nothing breaks if it can bend.
Don't ever sell your saddle
Never owe another man
Watch where you spit on a windy day
Don't use words you don't understand
Find the Lord before you need him
And never lose your pride
Don't ever sell your saddle
'Cause life's a long, long ride.
Daddy never ran from anything
Always took his share of the blame
Had a heart big enough to fill a valley up
But hard enough to stop a train
He said only fight when you have to
'Cause there's always a faster gun
And you'll know a hero from a coward
When you see which way they run.
Don't ever sell your saddle
Never owe another man
Watch where you spit on a windy day
Don't use words you don't understand
Find the Lord before you need him
And never lose your pride
Don't ever sell your saddle
'Cause life's a long, long ride.
Daddy left me his old saddle
The day that he passed on
And these words are etched into my mind
Just like they were in stone.
Don't ever sell your saddle
Never owe another man
Watch where you spit on a windy day
Don't use words you don't understand
Find the Lord before you need him
And never lose your pride
Don't ever sell your saddle
'Cause life's a long, long ride.
Don't ever sell your saddle
'Cause life's a long, long ride...
Daddy should'a been a preacher man
'Cause everybody loved to hear him speak
He didn't always follow his own advice
But we got a sermon every week
He'd say trouble always starts as fun
And broken hearts will always mend
Tough times don't last, tough people do
And nothing breaks if it can bend.
Don't ever sell your saddle
Never owe another man
Watch where you spit on a windy day
Don't use words you don't understand
Find the Lord before you need him
And never lose your pride
Don't ever sell your saddle
'Cause life's a long, long ride.
Daddy never ran from anything
Always took his share of the blame
Had a heart big enough to fill a valley up
But hard enough to stop a train
He said only fight when you have to
'Cause there's always a faster gun
And you'll know a hero from a coward
When you see which way they run.
Don't ever sell your saddle
Never owe another man
Watch where you spit on a windy day
Don't use words you don't understand
Find the Lord before you need him
And never lose your pride
Don't ever sell your saddle
'Cause life's a long, long ride.
Daddy left me his old saddle
The day that he passed on
And these words are etched into my mind
Just like they were in stone.
Don't ever sell your saddle
Never owe another man
Watch where you spit on a windy day
Don't use words you don't understand
Find the Lord before you need him
And never lose your pride
Don't ever sell your saddle
'Cause life's a long, long ride.
Don't ever sell your saddle
'Cause life's a long, long ride...
'Cause there is always a faster gun....
Ben Casnocha on feeling intellectually outmatched, full post here.
Excerpt here:
"Feeling intellectually outmached also forces me to think harder about my unique combination of abilities--where I have a comparative advantage in the specific situation. No one is smarter than you in every possible way. Smart is very context specific."
Excerpt here:
"Feeling intellectually outmached also forces me to think harder about my unique combination of abilities--where I have a comparative advantage in the specific situation. No one is smarter than you in every possible way. Smart is very context specific."
Stuck in a time warp.............
Any Major Dude with Half a Heart is a very cool blog
dedicated to music and musicians. Do go visit. He recently
posted his top 21 songs from 2011. This will come as no
surprise to my kids, but I recognized only three of the artists
and was familiar with only one. I'm sure I would do better is
the list was from, say, 1963-1979.
dedicated to music and musicians. Do go visit. He recently
posted his top 21 songs from 2011. This will come as no
surprise to my kids, but I recognized only three of the artists
and was familiar with only one. I'm sure I would do better is
the list was from, say, 1963-1979.
Opening paragraphs............
One of the good things about being a woman in my profession
is that there's not many of us, so there's a lot of work avail-
able. One of the bad things is figuring out where to carry the
gun. When I started as a cop I simply carried the department
issued 9-mm on my gun belt like everyone else. But when I
was promoted to detective second grade and was working
plain clothes, my problems began. The guys wore their guns
on their belts under a jacket, or they hung their shirt over it.
I didn' own a belt that would support the weight of a handgun.
Some of them wore a small piece in an ankle holster. But, I'm
5'6" and 115 pounds, and anything bigger than an ankle
bracelet makes me walk as though I were injured. I also like
to wear skirts sometimes and skirt-with-ankle-holster is just
not a good look, however carefully coordinated. Carrying
the thing in my purse meant that it would take me fifteen
minutes to find it, and unless I was facing a really slow
assailant, I would need to get it out quicker than that. My
sister Elizabeth suggested that I had plenty of room to
carry a gun in my bra. I have never much liked Elizabeth.
Robert Parker, Family Honor
is that there's not many of us, so there's a lot of work avail-
able. One of the bad things is figuring out where to carry the
gun. When I started as a cop I simply carried the department
issued 9-mm on my gun belt like everyone else. But when I
was promoted to detective second grade and was working
plain clothes, my problems began. The guys wore their guns
on their belts under a jacket, or they hung their shirt over it.
I didn' own a belt that would support the weight of a handgun.
Some of them wore a small piece in an ankle holster. But, I'm
5'6" and 115 pounds, and anything bigger than an ankle
bracelet makes me walk as though I were injured. I also like
to wear skirts sometimes and skirt-with-ankle-holster is just
not a good look, however carefully coordinated. Carrying
the thing in my purse meant that it would take me fifteen
minutes to find it, and unless I was facing a really slow
assailant, I would need to get it out quicker than that. My
sister Elizabeth suggested that I had plenty of room to
carry a gun in my bra. I have never much liked Elizabeth.
Robert Parker, Family Honor
vespertine................
This word for the day is brought to us by Mr. Webster and the
Third Edition of his New World College Dictionary:
vespertine adj. of or occurring in the evening
as in:
Watching our parents share one cocktail when Dad got home
from work was a vespertine ritual my sister and I enjoyed
while growing up.
Third Edition of his New World College Dictionary:
vespertine adj. of or occurring in the evening
as in:
Watching our parents share one cocktail when Dad got home
from work was a vespertine ritual my sister and I enjoyed
while growing up.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Jehovah, a wrathful god....?
For those of us who like to think that History, while maybe not
exactly repeating itself, does have a certain sense of rhythm,
comes this beauty from Fred Schwed's 1940 classic, Where Are
the Customer's Yachts?
The good old days of the twenties are gone, no doubt
forever. If this conclusion sees too tragic, ask yourself a
couple of questions:
1. Are you quite sure that you would care to see all
those people who had big money have it again?
2. Just how grand was the grandeur that was Rome,
at its grandest?
In the later twenties there was very little poverty, at least
among the white collar and stiff-collar classes, and that was
dandy. There was also very little grace, taste, or humility.
We had practically achieved the goal of a chicken in every
pot, and were well launched toward a loftier cultural
achievement. This was a hangover every Sunday morning for
everyone, obtained at the country-club dance the evening
before. Then, after a brisk Bromo-Seltzer, out into the great
outdoors to play golf (originally a Scotch game), for fifty
dollars a hole, with carryovers.
In 1929, there was a luxurious club car which ran each
week-day morning into the Pennsylvania Station.....Near the
door there was placed a silver bowl with a quantity of nickels
in it. Those who needed a nickel in change for the subway
ride downtown took one. They were not expected to put
anything back in exchange; this was not money - it was one
of those minor conveniences like a quill toothpick for which
nothing is charged. It was only five cents.
There have been many explanations of the sudden debacle
of October, 1929. The explanation I prefer is that the eye of
Jehovah, a wrathful god, happened to chance in October
upon that bowl. In sudden understandable annoyance,
Jehovah kicked over the financial structure of the United
States, and thus saw to it that the bowl of free nickels
disappeared forever.
exactly repeating itself, does have a certain sense of rhythm,
comes this beauty from Fred Schwed's 1940 classic, Where Are
the Customer's Yachts?
The good old days of the twenties are gone, no doubt
forever. If this conclusion sees too tragic, ask yourself a
couple of questions:
1. Are you quite sure that you would care to see all
those people who had big money have it again?
2. Just how grand was the grandeur that was Rome,
at its grandest?
In the later twenties there was very little poverty, at least
among the white collar and stiff-collar classes, and that was
dandy. There was also very little grace, taste, or humility.
We had practically achieved the goal of a chicken in every
pot, and were well launched toward a loftier cultural
achievement. This was a hangover every Sunday morning for
everyone, obtained at the country-club dance the evening
before. Then, after a brisk Bromo-Seltzer, out into the great
outdoors to play golf (originally a Scotch game), for fifty
dollars a hole, with carryovers.
In 1929, there was a luxurious club car which ran each
week-day morning into the Pennsylvania Station.....Near the
door there was placed a silver bowl with a quantity of nickels
in it. Those who needed a nickel in change for the subway
ride downtown took one. They were not expected to put
anything back in exchange; this was not money - it was one
of those minor conveniences like a quill toothpick for which
nothing is charged. It was only five cents.
There have been many explanations of the sudden debacle
of October, 1929. The explanation I prefer is that the eye of
Jehovah, a wrathful god, happened to chance in October
upon that bowl. In sudden understandable annoyance,
Jehovah kicked over the financial structure of the United
States, and thus saw to it that the bowl of free nickels
disappeared forever.
Similes for life.........
In case you want to know what life is like, Nicholas Bate has
dipped into his archives and shares his wisdom. here. Enjoy.
dipped into his archives and shares his wisdom. here. Enjoy.
On the difference one man can make......
Watched the movie Braveheart with my young son the other day.
While the true story of what exactly happened more than 700
years ago is illusive, I was curious enough to search the book
shelves to find D. J. Gray's William Wallace: The King's Enemy.
An excerpt:
Among the entertainers in the market-place was a local champion, offering to let anyone give him a blow from a bucket-pole on payment of a groat - a painful way, one would have said, of earning a living. Wallace handed him three groats, gave the fellow a tremendous wallop and sent him, sprawling. A number of soldiers on duty, delegated to keep order on market day, on hearing the uproar at once made for Wallace, and in the ensuing fight several were killed.
The excitement of seeing a lone Scotsman taking on a troop of English soldiers must have set the rooftops of Ayr ringing. Heads would appear at windows, catcalls and cheers resound, the braver would take the opportunity of pelting the English with refuse, and in the midst of it, Wallace would be dashing for the edge of the wood where he had left his horse, and vanishing before a pursuit could be organized.
The exploit had been witnessed in a crowded market-place and carried by word of mouth before the day was over. The talk of the alehouses, the gossip conveyed by peddlers and carters to the next town, must soon have identified the tall, good-looking young man as William Wallace of Elderslie. The realization that a flame of rebellion still burned in a people bullied into submission by Edward of England must have spread with joyous rapidity.
While the true story of what exactly happened more than 700
years ago is illusive, I was curious enough to search the book
shelves to find D. J. Gray's William Wallace: The King's Enemy.
An excerpt:
Among the entertainers in the market-place was a local champion, offering to let anyone give him a blow from a bucket-pole on payment of a groat - a painful way, one would have said, of earning a living. Wallace handed him three groats, gave the fellow a tremendous wallop and sent him, sprawling. A number of soldiers on duty, delegated to keep order on market day, on hearing the uproar at once made for Wallace, and in the ensuing fight several were killed.
The excitement of seeing a lone Scotsman taking on a troop of English soldiers must have set the rooftops of Ayr ringing. Heads would appear at windows, catcalls and cheers resound, the braver would take the opportunity of pelting the English with refuse, and in the midst of it, Wallace would be dashing for the edge of the wood where he had left his horse, and vanishing before a pursuit could be organized.
The exploit had been witnessed in a crowded market-place and carried by word of mouth before the day was over. The talk of the alehouses, the gossip conveyed by peddlers and carters to the next town, must soon have identified the tall, good-looking young man as William Wallace of Elderslie. The realization that a flame of rebellion still burned in a people bullied into submission by Edward of England must have spread with joyous rapidity.
syndesis............
This word for the day is brought to us by Mr. Webster and the
third edition of his New World College Dictionary.
syndesis n. the state of being bound, linked, or
connected together
as in:
With the ratification of the Constitution, the 13 separate
colonies achieved the illusive syndesis the Founding Fathers
had long sought.
third edition of his New World College Dictionary.
syndesis n. the state of being bound, linked, or
connected together
as in:
With the ratification of the Constitution, the 13 separate
colonies achieved the illusive syndesis the Founding Fathers
had long sought.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Worried about Asia overtaking the U. S. of A.?
 |
| What, Me Worry? |
WRM says fear not...................
"But this latest news from New York Times makes it official: Asia’s decline has begun. Asia’s biggest companies are sending their brightest executives to American style MBA programs."
Full fun mini-essay is here. Clincher is here:
"The next step? We need to sell them on the need to build law schools. Lots of them."
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