Category Archives: Blog Repost – Wonderful Posts

Repost of a Story by Georgea Thomas

 

 

Our 14-year-old dog Abbey died last month. The day after she passed away my 4-year-old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so, and she dictated these words:

Dear God,

Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick.

I hope you will play with her. She likes to swim and play with balls. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her you will know that she is my dog. I really miss her.

Love, Meredith

We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into the letterbox at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought He had.

Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front porch addressed, ‘To Meredith’ in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, ‘When a Pet Dies.’ Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page were the picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:

Dear Meredith,

Abbey arrived safely in heaven. Having the picture was a big help and I recognized her right away.

Abbey isn’t sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog. Since we don’t need our bodies in heaven, I don’t have any pockets to keep your picture in so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by.

Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you. I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you very much. By the way, I’m easy to find. I am wherever there is love.

Love, God

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Shay Day

Email forwarded to me by my good friend, Marsha Koenig. I wanted to share it with you.

Hagi Kids Batting Cage-YouTube

Email forwarded to me by my good friend, Marsha Koenig. I wanted to share it with you.

 

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.   After extolling the school and its Dedicated staff, he offered a question:

‘When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection.   Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do.  He cannot understand things as other children do.    Where is the natural order of things in my son?’

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. ‘I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.’

Then he told the following story:

Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball.  Shay asked, ‘Do you think they’ll let me play?’  I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play.  The boy looked around for guidance and said, ‘We’re losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we’ll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning..’

Shay struggled over to the team’s bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt.. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart.  The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay’s team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.

In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field.  Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands

In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay’s team scored again.

Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.    At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat.  Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. 

However, as Shay stepped up to the Plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay’s life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.

The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.

The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.    As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over.

The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman.     Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.  Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman’s head, out of reach of all team mates.

Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, ‘Shay, run to first! Run to first!’

Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.    He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, ‘Run to second, run to second!’

Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.

By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball.  The smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.

He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher’s intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman’s head.

Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.   All were screaming, ‘Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay’

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, ‘Run to third!    Shay, run to third!’

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, ‘Shay, run home!  Run home!’

Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team

‘That day’, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, ‘the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world’.

Shay didn’t make it to another summer.  He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY:

We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate.

The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.

If you’re thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you’re probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren’t the ‘appropriate’ ones to receive this type of message.  Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference.

We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the ‘natural order of things.’

So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:

Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said “Every society is judged by how it treats it’s least fortunate amongst them.

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Filed under Attitude, Blog Repost - Wonderful Posts, Encouragement, kindness

Wise Words

Advice from An Old Farmer

  • Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.
  • Keep skunks and bankers at a distance.
  • Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.
  • A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.
  • Words that soak into your ears are whispered… not yelled.
  • Meanness don’t jes’ happen overnight.
  • Forgive your enemies; it messes up their heads.
  • Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.
  • It don’t take a very big person to carry a grudge.
  • You cannot unsay a cruel word.
  • Every path has a few puddles.
  • When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.
  • The best sermons are lived, not preached.
  • Most of the stuff people worry about ain’t never gonna happen anyway.
  • Don’t judge folks by their relatives.
  • Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
  • Live a good, honorable life… Then when you get older and think back, you’ll enjoy it a second time.
  • Don ‘t interfere with somethin’ that ain’t bothering you none.
  • Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a Rain dance.
  • If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.
  • Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.
  • The biggest troublemaker you’ll probably ever have to deal with, watches you from the mirror every mornin’.
  • Always drink upstream from the herd.

*Posted by Rick Ferran (Tank) on LinkedIn

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Just Don’t Quit

“Just don’t quit all the way. You might have to quit a little bit. Just until you can breathe and find some space to move. This is not giving up. This is strategic self-care. Realizing you can stop when you want and start when you want builds trust with yourself. Also, try long walks, good books, and maybe chocolate. Or punching pillows. Whatever you need.” ~ Nanea Hoffman – Sweatpants & Coffee

 

Magdalena Korzeniewska – via Kathleen McGreal – LinkedIn

*Thanks to Kathleen McGreal who posted this on LinkedIn

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Really Listening

Deidre’ Wallace – LinkedIn

This is an ongoing challenge for me. I recognized that my mother was challenged, too, but it was SO much easier to recognize it in someone else.

I used to make excuses for myself – that if I didn’t blurt out what I was thinking at the first breath the other person took, I would forget what it was I wanted to say. Now I realize that if I can’t remember it, it wasn’t that important to share in the first place. Besides that, it’s rude, and that really has NEVER been my intention.

My goal now is to leave knowing a LOT more about what’s happening with the other person, and what they think about things. If they want to know something, they’ll ASK.

I really want the other person to know that I care – that I want to be with them – HEAR them. An ongoing challenge, but I think a very worthy one.

 

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A Candle

“A Candle”*

Poem and Photo by Kelly Mizell – LinkedIn

 

A candle is but a simple thing,

It starts with just a bit of string,

Yet dipped and dipped with a patient hand,

It gathers wax upon its strand,

Until it’s complete in colors and white

At last it gives a lovely light.

 

Life is so like that bit of string,

Each deed we do is a simple thing,

Yet day by day if on life’s strand,

We work with patient heart and hand

It gathers joy and makes dark times bright,

Giving at last a loving light.

Kelly Mizell

 

*Kelly published this on LinkedIn this morning. I was blown away and asked her for her permission to repost it here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

 

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Filed under Blog Repost - Wonderful Posts, Encouragement, Favorite Pictures, favorite poems, giving, Good Thoughts

I’m Still Laughing

My friend, Marsha Koenig, sent this email to me this morning. It brought back so many good memories of some really talented, funny people. I hope this makes you smile and laugh, too.

Hollywood Squares Game Show

These great questions and answers are from the days when Hollywood Squares’ game show responses were spontaneous, not scripted, as they are now!

 

Q . Paul, what is a good reason for pounding meat? 

A.  Paul Lynde: Loneliness!

(The audience laughed so long and so hard it took up almost 15 minutes of the show!)  

_____

Q. Do female frogs croak?

A. Paul Lynde: If you hold their little heads under water long enough.

_____

Q. If you’re going to make a parachute jump, at least how high should you be

A. Charley Weaver: Three days of steady drinking should do it.

_____

Q. True or False, a pea can last as long as 5,000 years…

A. George Gobel: Boy, it sure seems that way sometimes.

_____

Q. You’ve been having trouble going to sleep. Are you probably a man or a woman?

A. Don Knotts: That’s what’s been keeping me awake.

_____

Q. According to Cosmopolitan, if you meet a stranger at a party and you  think that he is attractive, is it okay to come out and ask him if he’s married?  

A. Rose Marie: No wait until morning.  

_____
Q. Which of your five senses tends to diminish as you get older?

A. Charley Weaver: My sense of decency.

_____

Q. What are ‘Do It,’ ‘I Can Help,’ and ‘I Can’t Get Enough’?

A. George Gobel: I don’t know, but it’s coming from the next apartment.

_____
Q. As you grow older, do you tend to gesture more or less with your hands while talking?

A. Rose Marie: You ask me one more growing old question Peter, and I’ll give you a gesture you’ll never forget.

_____
Q. Paul, why do Hell’s Angels wear leather?

A. Paul Lynde: Because chiffon wrinkles too easily.

_____

Q. Charley, you’ve just decided to grow strawberries. Are you going to get any during the first year?

A. Charley Weaver: Of course not, I’m too busy growing strawberries.

_____
Q. In bowling, what’s a perfect score?

A. Rose Marie: Ralph, the pin boy.

_____

Q. During a tornado, are you safer in the bedroom or in the closet? A. Rose Marie: Unfortunately Peter, I’m always safe in the bedroom.

_____

Q. Can boys join the Camp Fire Girls?

A. Marty Allen: Only after lights out.

_____

Q. When you pat a dog on its head he will wag his tail. What will a goose do?

A. Paul Lynde: Make him bark?

_____

Q. If you were pregnant for two years, what would you give birth to?

A. Paul Lynde: Whatever it is, it would never be afraid of the dark.

_____

Q. According to Ann Landers, is there anything wrong with getting into the habit of kissing a lot of people?

A. Charley Weaver: It got me out of the army.

_____

Q. Back in the old days, when Great Grandpa put horseradish on his head, what was he trying to do?

A. George Gobel: Get it in his mouth.

_____

Q. Who stays pregnant for a longer period of time, your wife or your elephant?

A. Paul Lynde: Who told you about my elephant?

_____

Q. Jackie Gleason recently revealed that he firmly believes in them and has actually seen them on at least two occasions. What are they?

A. Charley Weaver: His feet.

_____

Q. According to Ann Landers, what are two things you should never do in bed?

A. Paul Lynde: Point and laugh.

_____


WE DON’T STOP LAUGHING BECAUSE WE GROW OLD,
 
WE GROW OLD BECAUSE WE STOP LAUGHING  

Enjoy and pass on to your friends.

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“Happy”

Sean Dietrich writes a blog post called “Sean of the South.” I’ve told you about it before, and I can’t say enough about his writing. I can’t just read his thoughts. I FEEL them. I react. I laugh, sometimes out loud. I tear up. Sometimes the tears spill out. He tells us about life. He reminds us of the good in the world – many times when we might feel it’s mostly gone. I’m reposting today’s blog post, called, “Happy.” You’ll see what I mean.

________________

HAPPY

“The happiest day in eleven-year-old Aaron’s life was when he went hunting for the first time.

“All he ever wanted to do was go hunting,” says Aaron’s mother. “His daddy was a big hunter and fisherman.”

Was.

But Aaron’s daddy died in a car accident many years ago. He never got a chance to go.

Enter Joe Seuferer, neighbor and avid hunter, who just moved in next door with his girlfriend.

The first things little Aaron noticed were the Browning stickers on Joseph’s truck. One thing led to another.

Aaron’s first buck was a six-pointer.

The best moment in eighteen-year-old Erica’s natural life was her first guitar recital—which happened last week.

As a girl, Erica lost two fingers in a ski-lift accident. She’s been wearing her sleeves long ever since.

A year ago, she she saw a YouTube video of a man with no arms, playing guitar with his feet.

“When I saw that guy,” said Erica. “I was like, ‘I got no excuses.’”

Erica claims that after learning guitar, she feels she can do anything.

Forty-three-year-old Danny just experienced his happiest earthly day acting in a Hollywood Western.

The lucky dog.

Producers put him on a horse and dressed him in full cowboy regalia.

“I was an extra,” said Danny. “It was like living a childhood dream.”

Danny started riding horses during childhood. He wanted to be in rodeos, but it was not to be. His family went bankrupt when he was a teenager, they sold the farm.

“Losing everything at that young age was traumatic,” he said. “I quit riding altogether.”

Today, Danny makes good money pushing a pencil. He has a wife. Two kids. He pays the bills.

He started riding again last February.

When a friend arranged for Danny to be in a movie, he nearly had a heart attack.

“I got to ride with the outlaws. I know it sounds silly, but I was REALLY happy.”

Seventy-four-year-old Mary Lee’s happiest minutes were seeing her grandbaby, Grace, for the first time. Grace was born with Down’s syndrome. Her birth mother put her up for adoption—post-birth.

Mary Lee heard about the child and suggested her daughter apply to adopt.

“My daughter can’t have kids,” said Mary Lee. “But we knew she was meant to be a mom.”

So, Mary Lee and her daughter spent the first eight months in a hospital, watching Grace undergo heart operations, surgeries, and illnesses.

Bringing her home was a victory.

On Grace’s first overnight stay at Grandmama’s house, Mary Lee didn’t sleep a wink.

“That’s the most beautiful child I ever saw. She makes me so happy.”

Happy.

I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but I’m going say it: you’re not going to live forever. Neither am I.

I don’t know what makes you smile, laugh, or feel good, but you deserve to be doing more of it. A lot more. In fact, you deserve to be so giddy your cheeks hurt.

And if for some reason, you aren’t happy today, then find someone to make happy.

And you will be.”

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“Heroes”

This is a reblog of today’s post from Sean of the South.

Sean’s full name is Sean Dietrich. He writes a blog post daily and has written several books. I’ve read one of them and am eager to get another one. He never fails to reach me in his posts. They’re about down-to-the-ground real people you’ll remember. He writes the way we all wish we could. He’s really special. I’m so glad I signed up for his blog.

_____________________

“Heroes”

God put me together funny. My arms are too long. My legs come to my neck. My feet are the size of waterskis. This makes it hard to shop for things like, say, clothes.

I’m getting a sport jacket for a wedding. The man taking my measurements is named Moe. I know this because it’s on his nametag. He is sturdy-built, caramel skin, middle-aged.

He tells me to hold my arms outward while he pays close attention to how uniquely disproportionate I am.

I’ve met Moe once before. He remembers me.

He recalls that I am an Alabama football fan. He remembers that the last time I visited this store, I was buying clothes for a funeral in South Georgia. He remembers that I always have dog hair on me.

“I got a good memory,” he says. “I was a fire-medic. We had to remember everything ‘cause we couldn’t take notes.”

A fireman-paramedic. A soul who is as equally at home in a yellow NOMEX suit as he is EMT work blues. A man who has removed nine-year-olds from burning mobile homes. Who has resuscitated ninety-year-olds.

A cotton-picking hero.

“I worked in Grant County, Georgia,” he says. “I’d still be doing it if my family hadn’t needed me here. I miss it.”

Georgia credentials don’t count within Florida state lines. The state won’t let him work without a brand new certificate—which requires more schooling. Florida wants its pound of cash.

“Costs ten grand to get certified,” he said. “I can’t afford to start school all over again. Gotta earn a living.”

So he’s fitting people for suits. The same hands that once saved a drowning girl, or a boy with a gut-shot, are now patting my shoulders to make sure I have enough room.

“Can still remember the first time someone died in my arms,” he tells me. “I remember the smells, my surroundings, the way I felt… It never leaves you.”

It was December. A kid rode a motorcycle through traffic. He sped between two delivery vans. He lost control. The boy bounced between the vehicles and got crushed by interstate traffic.

“I held him,” he said. “I was like, ‘Oh man, this is someone my age. This guy could be ME, you know?”

He says the victim took his last breath while he cradled him. And even though Moe has seen a lot of death, it’s taken years to get over that kid.

“But that’s when the lightbulb went off,” he goes on. “Just knew I’s meant to help people. Every day.

“My life just don’t feel right until I’ve done good. No matter where I am, I keep my eye out for one person who needs something. Anything. Even if just to say, ‘Hey man, I’m here for you.’”

I know we’re strangers, Moe.

But today that person was me.

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“Dear Sean” Reblog

Parenting

Parenting

As always, I look forward to an email from Sean of the South  each morning.  He received a special request from Kaylie, and boy – did he deliver! Here is Sean’s post –

________________

“DEAR SEAN:

We just moved to Clovis, New Mexico. I really miss home and all my family are in Florida. I am nine years old… My parents are divorced. And I am a very good artist.

I was wondering if you could tell a story about our situation. …If you don’t mind, I would like you to use words kids understand (but still a make it funny and emotional).

Your friend, KAYLIE

DEAR KAYLIE:

I have a story.

Long, long ago, in a land far away, there was a chubby little first-baseman who enjoyed sourdough biscuits and fried fish. Like you, his family changed. His daddy disappeared. And when that happened, the first-baseman’s world turned black.

One day, this boy went walking in the woods—for it is well-known that first-basemen love forests—and he found a creek near the river.

It was filled with magic catfish who talked to him in small voices, saying:

“No fishing poles you use,
Nor trotlines will ever work,
You will never catch us,
You chubby little jerk.”

This made the boy angry. For who were catfish to talk this way? The first-baseman had been fishing since before he played first base.

So, the next day he visited with a fishing rod. But as it happened, the boy had lost all faith in himself after his daddy died. Because of this, he caught no fish.

The catfish teased:

“Try and try,
You dumb pup,
You’ll catch us never,
You’ve already given up.”

Their singing displeased the first-baseman, for he knew the mystical scum-suckers were wrong about him.

So, the next day he fished again. Nothing.

And the whisker-fish sang:

“Fish, ye, at sundown,
Fish, ye, at sunup,
It won’t work, ye young fool,
Because you’ve given up.”


Now the boy KNEW the fish were mistaken. Mainly, because poets quit using words like “ye” after the invention of the monofilament lightbulb.

Thus, the little boy shouted, “You’re wrong about me! I won’t stop trying!”

Then, he remembered a song his daddy once sang. And so he recited in cut time:

“I will work all day,
I will work all night,
And though I may fail,
I will try and try,

“For I am strong,
Though humble I may be,
To give up is wrong,
For someone believes in me.

Then, magic.

The first-baseman felt his pole bend. And I am pleased to report that he caught a catfish the size of an NFL player’s torso.

He carried the creature home where his mama made fried catfish and sourdough biscuits. And they ate saturated trans fats happily ever after.

Kaylie.

I know life is tough. I know you miss your home, your friends, and your daddy. I know how hard it is to keep going. But don’t give up, sweetie.

Don’t ever.

Because I know a first-baseman who believes in you.”

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Sean of the South

123RF.com

123RF.com

 

One of my friends gave me the URL to a blog post she liked.

I read it and cried. I bookmarked the site and subscribed because the post was so well-written and down-to-earth about things and people in the south. (This is amazing because I’m a Northerner.) Every day I have one post in my inbox. And every day the post grabs me. I can’t help but react. I smile, relating to something he says. I tear up because he tells me about good things people do. I laugh out loud because he’s a real story-teller and I can SEE the funny situation and relate because it’s so true.

I suggest that you go to Sean of the South.

If you like what you read, sign up and you’ll receive a gift every morning from Sean Dietrich. :0)

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“Advice on Cooking Your Thanksgiving Bird”

This is a repost of a blog by Pobept of Town & Country Gardening. I laughed out loud several times, and thought you might enjoy it, too. If you’re interested in wise words about gardening, food, DIY, Health, homemade, and more, please check out and follow this website.

Advice on Cooking Your Thanksgiving Bird

If the link above doesn’t work, here is the URL to paste into your browser –

https://survivalfarm.wordpress.com/2016/11/20/advice-on-cooking-your-thanksgiving-bird/#comment-8710

ENJOY!

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FBI Issues Dihydrogen Monoxide (DHMO) Alert

Photo found on FaceBook and found it to good not to pass on.

DHMO-duffelblog.com

 

Dihydrogen Monoxide (DHMO) is dangerous a chemical that will cause steel corrosion(rust), in large volumes can damage soils, homes and businesses(flooding). When exposed to heat it can cause skin burns. If inhaled it can cause death(drowning).
It is an industrial solvent used in fire retardant materials and can be found in the waste from nuclear power plants.
DHMO contributes to the greenhouse effect. May cause severe burns. Contributes to the erosion of our natural landscape. Accelerates corrosion and rusting of many metals. May cause electrical failures and decreased effectiveness of automobile brakes.

Grin…. It is simply unbelievable the number of people that have swallowed this long time hoax.

Dihydrogen monoxide hoax involves calling water by the unfamiliar chemical name “dihydrogen monoxide” (DHMO), and listing some of water’s effects in an alarming manner, such as the fact that it accelerates corrosion and can cause severe burns. The hoax often calls for dihydrogen monoxide to be regulated, labeled as hazardous, or banned. It illustrates how the lack of scientific literacy and an exaggerated analysis can lead to misplaced fears.
dihydrogen monoxide(DHMO) = H2O = water

The hoax gained renewed popularity in the late 1990s when a 14-year-old student collected anti-DHMO petitions for a science project about gullibility.

Thank You Wikipedia.
Snopes.com DHMO hoax

Put on a smile.
Happy Gardening

*This is a reblog of the Town & Country Gardening Post August 26, 2016.  I subscribed to the Town and Country Gardening blog several years ago and have found is to contain wonderful information and a healthy sense of humor.

______________

This is SUCH a good reminder to read with a skeptical mind, PLUS check our sources. I love the idea of the 14-year-old’s science project – kind of a spin-off of the old game, ‘gossip,’ in a way. There are far too many people who read quickly, hit a like or share button and perpetuate falsehoods. Figuring out what a good source is on the net is a challenging prospect. What I now try to do – unless I’m being lazy – is check several different sources before I believe something.

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