Friday Tidings

Harvest will always depend on what we plant and how well we care for our crop.    Looking over my seed packets, I notice they’re different than the ones I planted before. One package is called Word seeds. The directions say that each of my words is a seed, so it cautions me to think before I speak. Harsh words don’t produce sweet, nourishing fruit. These seeds will require thoughtful care in the garden. I see some Volunteer seeds. Those extra hours I tend to fritter away are going to be planted in a useful project.   It looks like time isn’t wasted in this garden plot. Next are some Love seeds—the directions are interesting: get up each day and love others. No specifics are given—just do something for someone every day. The seed package shows pictures of smiling faces. I smile back. As I’m ready to head to the garden with my seeds, a package falls to the ground. I open it. Inside are the tiniest seeds I’ve ever seen—but the directions say these have

Being an opinionated blogger makes me thankful for my First Amendment rights. With the Internet it’s easier than ever to post all my random thoughts while also reading what people all over the world are thinking. My readers wouldn’t label me a “hate-monger” or an anti-government radical. And even though I  occasionally rant about the government, I’m no Glenn Beck. Yet, something interesting happens every time I post a blog containing certain key words—I’ll get a Google alert notifying me that “someone” has checked me out. Subject: Google Alert - Karen Farris  Date:  January 24, 2013 8:12:18 AM PST                                                                  I’m wondering who’s keeping track of my opinions.   At first I didn’t pay much attention to those alerts, but then I noticed that if I talked about the president or other world leaders, like Iran’s Ahmadinejad, I’d get Googled. Talk about politically sensitive subjects—and I get Googled. I’ve been Googl

Just for fun while walking in Seattle, I tried to spot the surveillance cameras watching me. As a foot passenger on the ferry heading to Seattle, there was a large one watching me step aboard. I smiled at the one watching me as I departed. Stopping by the ATM for some lunchtime cash, I looked into the mono lens watching me from behind its cold, metal frame. Walking past Macy’s I could see small cameras pointed downward at the double entryway. I decided against dashing across the street when I noticed a camera fixed to the pole designed to catch red-light runners—and probably jaywalkers like me. As I waited for the streetcar, I saw its little camera hovering above the pay-kiosk.   Once inside, dual cameras followed me to my seat. Wherever I went so did the surveillance. It was all in the name of security—and accountability. There’s another surveillance that happens without my seeing it. But these cameras record the scenes behind the doors of my home and insid

Parenting isn’t about being your child’s friend. It's giving them the tools they’ll need to survive in the world they will face. Our grandson has a 2-hour video game limit on weekends—and no games during the week. We listened as he explained the specific guidelines. Yes, we'd been told AND we knew better. But since we were taking care of him for the day we broke the rule anyway. Besides, Papa was having just as much fun playing video games as our grandson. Then came the dessert rule. Only one popsicle-per-week. Broke that rule too. Then the bedtime rule was broken. We were not obedient grandparents. Rule breakers make it harder for those who obey — and  for parents trying to set good boundaries. I should respect their rules. They're not easy to make nor easy to enforce and maintain. It comes with grief too. Especially after one of our visits. Which is why I'm probably feeling guilty. Parenting is tough in this world of gadgets, gore-