In our house there is a morning ritual that consist of blending a delectable mix of fruits that taste so good it would make your tongue rise up and do jumping jacks. We put our own little touch of flavor to make the perfect smoothie for our palate. My son calls them juicy’s and if you ask him he could tell you what goes in them. We add a pinch of cinnamon, vanilla flavoring, honey and goat’s milk yogurt. Blending is a spirit thing in our house and it takes special ingredients to make it happen.
Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? I think we all are. People deal with fear everyday and it comes in different forms. Here is the short list. We experience fear of failure, fear of dying, fear of flying, fear of water, fear of heights, fear of the dark and the fear of being alone. It is often the most primary emotion of all. It’s like a dart gun that hits the victim with one deep paralyzing shot of fear. How about the familiar phrase that has struck fear into the heart of every misbehaving son? My mama would yell, “just wait till your daddy comes home.” My dad laid down the law in our house and often I would find myself on the wrong side of it. With fear and anxiety I found a safe corner and didn’t move until the sheriff of the house got home. I knew my booty would soon be burning from the well placed licks of an old leather strap. One summer I got a visit from the big bad wolf of fear and I will never forget it. In the distance I can still hear the pounding of my beating heart as a menacing snake-like hiss penetrated the quiet night of our small town. The bug machine was huffing and puffing and it was closing in fast to blow me down.
Have you ever tasted bits of rock during your chow down of those farm fresh veggies? When garden food comes from the dusty ground it’s bound to happen. I had that happen with my beets one time. It doesn’t feel good to the teeth. Which leads me to how this post was born. During one of my morning feedings for my Mastiff puppy I made the wrong decision to take the entire five gallon bucket of food out with me. So I walk to the backyard and put the bucket down on the patio. In an instant this lip smacking, tongue wagging brute knocks over the blasted bucket with his big nose and all the kibble lands in the rocks. I thought of the most colorful curse words that would rival the brightest rainbow you ever saw. So I went with the one word that rhymes with spit. For fifteen minutes I was like a cave man ravaging through the rocks trying to separate the puppy food. This puppy on the patio revelation would hit me like a rock.
Kyndlsoul 