But You Ain't No Fly

My oldest granddaughter's birthday was yesterday ... her fifth birthday. How can it even be possible that she's five years old already? They say the older you get, the faster times goes by and I've decided that's especially true when it comes to how quickly my two little grandgals are growing up. It seems like it was only yesterday that my little Boo was just a newborn ... I barely blinked and now she's five years old ... five years old ... seriously, how did those five years go by so quickly? She went from not even being able to hold her head up to crawling to walking to running to ... riding a horse. A big horse ... a really, really, really big horse, not a pony. Yep, my little Boo rides on a gigantic beast of a horse named Kota. In fact, in the last two videos my sweet daughter-in-law sent me, my itsy-bitsy little Boo baby looked like a natural sitting in the saddle atop that beast horse as he trotted ... yes, I said trotted ... around the rink.

I'm not sure who was more excited yesterday about what was in the mysterious package that arrived in Canada exactly on the day of Coraline's fifth birthday ... me or my little my little horse-loving granddaughter. I had begged Becca to message me when the gift arrived so that I could Skype with Coraline and watch her open it. The look on her precious little face when she saw the adorable cowboy boots ... or in Coraline's words "real equestwian boots" ... the smile on her face and the way her eyes lit up was nothing less than priceless. We only Skyped for a few minutes because I had to get back to work, but it only takes a few minutes for a sweet little Canadian girl to know how very much this old Ghee loves her.

One of my co-workers in our Wichita office messaged me a little after 11 a.m. today to tell me there were several proofing projects coming my way. As we chatted back and forth about when the work needed to be returned, she mentioned that she figures in enough time for proofing so that I don't have to work through lunch and I commented on how much I appreciate her doing so and thanked her for always being so kind and considerate to me and that I'll always bust my butt for someone who's nice. Then I told her something my dad used to tell me over and over and over again.

"You catch a lot more flies with honey than you do with vinegar, Sam. Don't forget that."

Now if you've been reading along with me for a while, you know that my dad was pretty much the wisest and most profound man who ever lived and he had a heart for others like no one I've ever known. Something tells me that had my sweet old Daddy been able to do so, he would have given my co-worker a high-five and a gigantic hug when he read her reply. And I also think he would have thunked me on the head and told me I needed to listen to people like her and ignore the ones who ... well ... let's just say those who think otherwise of me.

"Aww - you're the sweetest! But you're no fly!"

My kind friend in Wichita had no way of knowing how very deeply her words would touch me today, nor did she have any idea of how very much I needed to be reminded that not everyone has the old song "Shoo fly, don't bother me" playing in their head every time they interact with me. Why is that, do you think? Why is it so much easier to believe the ones who think you're nothing more than a bothersome fly that they wish they could shoo away than it is to believe the ones who think you're a majestic eagle that they wish they could keep forever? Why is that, do you think? Why indeed, friends ... why  indeed?

Lest I be inundated with emails asking why I began this evening's post with the story of my granddaughter's birthday and her love of horses, I shall leave you with this glimpse into the caverns of my terrifically jumbled brain. I pretty much always think of my dad's admonition to always use honey rather than vinegar when attempting to catch flies whenever the concept of treating one another with kindness is discussed. And when I think of Daddy's quite wise and profound words concerning honey, vinegar and fly-catching, I, quite naturally, think of flies. And when I think of flies, I think of horses and the way they swish their tails and do that thing with their ears to get the flies off of themselves. And when I think of horses, I think of a sweet little blonde-haired Canadian gal ... a sweet little blonde-haired Canadian gal who just so happened to have a birthday yesterday ... her fifth birthday.

Time flies, friends ... use lots and lots and lots of honey and pitch your bottle of vinegar in the trash. And remember ... you ain't no fly ... you surely ain't no fly to me.