herbiehancock

I thought the view of the sunset from my back door was pretty last night... and then I saw the sunrise out my front door this morning, and I couldn't decide which one I liked better. I am glad I was up early enough today to see the sunrise. I wouldn't have wanted to miss it. Lord, for the beauty in the rising and the setting sun, let me be truly grateful.

Cassie from the blog, In Amazing Graceland has very kindly honored me by passing on to me the Honest Scrap award which is to go to blogs she thinks are brilliant in either content or design. Thank you, Cassie! You make me smile. There are rules that go along with this award which you can read at Cassie's blog if you like, but anyone who knows me knows that I don't always follow the rules. One rule is that I am to write ten honest things about myself. I can tell you that I honestly am NOT fond of winter (as most of you probably already know). So this is my own personal twist on some honest scrap. Here are ten reasons why winter is my least favorite season. 1. The cold, dry air of winter makes my hair and clothes full of static electricity. I have long hair and when it is full of static, it flies all about making it stand on end, stick to my face and clothes, and just in general be a nuisance to deal with. The static actually is everywhere this time of year. Just walki...

I heard from my older son today. He is away at college as many of you know. He sent a photo a friend took of him pole vaulting at a recent indoor track meet. When he vaulted last week, he cleared twelve feet and just missed making it over twelve feet six inches. At that meet he placed seventh place out of fourteen vaulters. As a freshman in a college-level competition, he was pleased about that. I'm pleased that he is pleased, of course. What I am even happier to report is that the cut above his eye has healed up nicely now. He was left with a scar, but he is doing fine. Mostly, it made me smile to get to hear his voice. Lord, for healing, for communication, for reassurance, and for the joy felt at hearing the voice of a loved one, let me be truly grateful.

Many of the patrons that visit the library where I work are regulars. They are people who come in frequently, and I have gotten to know them through chatting with them. They strike up conversations with me as they check out books and movies and such. Others I do not know and am not familiar with, but they also sometimes strike up a conversation with me. Maybe librarians are looked upon the way bartenders are, as someone to whom people can tell their stories. Occasionally, a patron will stand out to me as being particularly memorable. The other day a tiny, elderly lady came to the circulation desk at the library where I work carrying a huge book. I was busy checking out an item to the person ahead of her in line, so she slid the over-sized book up onto the counter to wait her turn. While she was waiting, she began to leaf through the pages of the book she had chosen. Her face took on a look of total joy. She was enthralled with what she had found. It was a colorful, photo-satur...