Saturday, July 31, 2010


I don't have permission to put this here so don't rat me out, okay?

The Law of Retaliation
by Dr. Napoleon Hill

Every person with whom you come in contact is a mental mirror in which you may see a perfect reflection of your own mental attitude. I recently had an experience with my two small boys, Blair and James, which illustrated this point.

We were on our way to the park to feed the birds and squirrels. Blair had bought a bag of peanuts and James had popcorn. James took a notion to sample the peanuts. Without asking permission, he reached over and made a grab for the bag. He missed and Blair retaliated with a left jab.

I said to James: “Now, see here, son, you didn’t go about getting those peanuts in the right manner. Let me show you how to get them.” When I spoke, I hadn’t the slightest idea what I was going to do, I only hoped that stalling would allow me time to analyze the occurrence and work out a better way than his.

Then I recalled the law of retaliation that says people will always respond in kind, even in greater measure that which is deliver to them, so I said to James: “Open you box of popcorn and offer your little brother some and see what happens.”

After considerable coaxing, I persuaded him to do this. Then a remarkable thing happened, out of which I learned my greatest lesson in salesmanship. Before Blair would touch the popcorn, he insisted on pouring some of his peanuts in James’s overcoat pocket. He retaliated in kind!

Out of this simple experiment with two small boys, I learned more about the art of managing than I could have learned in any other manner. None of us have advanced far beyond Blair and James as far as the operation and influence of the Law of Retaliation is concerned. We are all just grown-up children and easily influenced by this principle.

The habit of “retaliating in kind” is so universally practiced that we can properly call this habit the Law of Retaliation. If a person presents us with a gift, we never feel satisfied until we have “retaliated” with something as good or better than that which we received. If a person speaks well of us, we increase our admiration for that person, and we “retaliate” in return!

Through the principle of retaliation, we can actually convert our enemies into loyal friends. If you have an enemy whom you wish to convert into a friend, you can prove the truth of this statement if you will forget that dangerous millstone handing around your neck which we call pride.

Make a habit of speaking to this enemy with unusual cordiality. Go out of your way to favor him in every manner possible. He may seem immovable at first, but gradually he will give way to your influence and “retaliate in kind!”

The hottest coals of fire ever heaped upon the head of one who has wronged you are the coals of human kindness.

Source: Source: The following is adapted from the March 1919 issue of Napoleon Hill’s Golden Rule magazine. Printed in the above version March, 1994, Volume 6, Number 3, Page 4 in the Think and Grow Rich Newsletter.

Friday, July 30, 2010


I went to The Ultimate Productivity Blog tonight so I could start being productive. It had exactly one post, on September 17, 2009. It read: "You should be working. " Which I cannot do because it's 1:00 am and I'm going to bed. Pretty soon, I'm going to bed. So I guess I fail.

If the owners of the Ultimate Productivity Blog took their own advice that is why he/she hasn't blogged since. Their bony little fingers cannot type because they've been worked every minute since, and are either the ultimate of successes or they they just have bony fingers. How's you like a massage from bony fingered person? Me neither.

Monday, July 26, 2010


This is Mrs. Bird and her husband, Guy Smiley, sitting on the lawn swings, telling us funny stories.
Mrs Bird and Guy Smiley are night owls. Perhaps Mrs. Bird is more of an owl than Guy Smiley because the other night, at 1:30 am, she had to wake him up so they could go to bed. (They watch TV late, catching up on the news and Dr. Oz and other things Mrs Bird records.) So, she woke him up and they got ready for bed. It was Guy Smile's turn to say the family prayer because it was an odd day. (I pray on the odd days too. It's not because I'm odd or anything, it's because my birthday is on an odd day.) Anyway, Guy Smiley prays for everyone (just like me--it must be an odd-day-phenomenon) so his prayers are long. Right in the middle of it he says, "Bless Mrs. Bird that she will come to accept Daphne."

Mrs Bird wanted to poke him right then and there and say, "Who's Daphne?" but since he was praying she waited. The second he said "Amen" she did poke him.

"Who's Daphne?" she said.

"Daphne who?" he said,

"That's what I'd like to know," she said.

"I don't know any Daphne's," he said.

"Yes you do. You prayed that I would accept her." she said. And now she was getting a little peeved. After all Daphne was in his prayer and she was supposed to accept her. Was this some kind of mind game he was playing?

Guy Smiley started to laugh. He's had conversations like this before with Mrs Bird.

"Stop laughing and tell me who Daphne is." Mrs Bird was now glaring at him.

"I don't know, honest I don't." he said throwing his hands in the air while trying to quit laughing. The more he tried the harder it was. There was a good snort building up and it was going to come out any minute.

"Guy Smiley!" she said, "You tell me this instant who Daphne is!"

"Okay," he said, "What exactly did I say?"

"You said, 'Bless Mrs. Bird to accept Daphne."

This sent Guy Smiley into a fit of laughter. "I said, 'Bless Mrs. Bird to accept her bad knee."

This sent Mrs. Bird into a fit of laughter and she couldn't stop. Guy Smiley decided to sleep downstairs because her giggling showed no sign of stopping.

She laughed and laughed and finally at 2:30 she took a sleeping pill and could hardly wake up the next morning.

The moral of this story is: Don't pray for your partner's body parts if they sound like a woman's name. You will have to sleep downstairs and your wife will be so groggy in the morning that you will have to fix breakfast.


Here are photos to go with yesterday's post.

MomaCat, under the loveseat.
MomaCat letting me get close.
She lets me scratch her under the chin.

Purr, purr, purr. A little to the left, that's it, right there! Purr, purr, purr.

Buttermilk Rhubarb Pie. Recipe on The Snyder Family Cookbook in a day or two.

Saturday, July 24, 2010


One of my friends is out of town and I am tending her kitties for a week. Two are outside cats and one is a three legged tortoise shell cat--she lost her leg after being hit by a car--and is now an inside cat. I have only seen her a few times as she is very shy and afraid of strangers. (Not that I'm strange, mind you.)

Today I found her under the love seat in the family room. I lay on the floor and reached as far as I could. I could just barely touch her. I scratched her under her chin and behind her ears. Pretty soon she began to purr and we were there for a long time--me scratching, her purring. I tried to coax her out. "Come out, MomaCat," I said and every time she said, "purr-meow--purr." We had a fifteen minute conversation but she wouldn't budge.

Tonight I can't get her out of my mind. She had fifteen minutes of human contact today. What would I be like if I only had fifteen minutes of human contact?

I recently read a Young Adult book called Skin Hunger by Kathleen Duey. It made me realize that touch is so important. That having someone to talk to is important, having someone listen to you is improtant.

Tonight we sat on the lawn swings with neighbors. I had made an impossible rhubarb pie--it's a very old Bisquick recipe--no crust--and I served it with ice cream. When the neighbors went home one of them shook my hand, and told me thank you. I thought that was sweet.

Some of my friends are huggers. Some are not. Some are good with words of love. Some love me just as much but don't express it. I have one friend who says it all, "Lynne Snyder, I love you." It makes me feel good. If I were feeling like the worst crumb-bum in the world I could find Faye and she'd soon have me feeling pretty good--maybe even terrific.

How often do we hesitate before saying loving words? How often do we give a hug and how often do we hold back? I think we need a certain amount of strokes. I'm not sure I would want to scratch you behind the ears but I can say something nice and tell you how wonderful you are. Maybe I could hold your hand for five seconds and you'd know I loved you.

I am on the last few cards of a one hundred card box. It's taken me quite a while to get through it. There are a bunch of cards that never got written. It would have taken me fifteen minutes to tell someone they were appreciated, to tell them I loved them or that I think they are terrific.

Skin hunger and compliment hunger and tell-me-I-make-a-difference-in-your-life hunger are real.

Let's put an end to all these hungers. You could even bake an impossible rhubarb pie and share it with the neighbors. One of them might even shake your hand.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010


Men, Money,

A tale about pursuing love, success,
and pleasure, and how to be happy
before you have it all . . .

Menna Van Praag
Published by Hay House

Go to that place of silence within'
You'll feel the vastness of the world
And it's limitless possibilities.
You'll know you can do anything,
and have everything.
You will see that right now
You are perfect, exactly as you are.
I have not read this book. I'm reading a selected bit online here. As I was reading I was also listening to a bit of a video from Dr. Bradley Nelson here. They were saying almost the same thing about silence. Then I was looking for an image for this post, for we all know a post naked of photos is dull and crunchy, like carrots* and I came upon an author I am reading at the moment, although a different book--Stillness Speaks by Eckhart Tolle (I am reading The Power of Now.)

Maybe all this coincidence this means something.

A neighbor did some energy work on me today from Dr. Nelson's book, THE EMOTION CODE, releasing trapped emotions.

I guess I'll investigate further, the books and stillness, too. Want to join me?

*I have/had this book somewhere/at one time--Skinny People are Dull and Crunchy Like Carrots. So funny. I must look for it/mourn because I no longer have it.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Monday, July 19, 2010


I lost a pound today. I gave blood. I usually do that at the Red Cross blood drive and every time I do the technician says my hemocrit numbers are high. I knew that wasn't a good thing because I "Googled" it. So I asked my doctor if I could have a letter to give to the Red Cross so I could donate blood every month, instead of every other month. Instead of a letter he ran blood tests and then he made an appointment for me with another doctor--an ONCOLOGY doctor. Only he didn't say "Oncology." He said "hematologist." If he had said Oncology I would have freaked right out. Everybody knows that means cancer, right? I don't "do" cancer.

So I went to that Hematologist/Oncologist today and was told I have a blood disease called Polycythemia Vera. It seems my bone marrow produces way to many red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets. In other words, my blood is thick with the stuff. Thick. Viscous. Meaning a possibility of stroke. Or, Central Retinal Artery Occlusion, which I have had and now am blind in my left eye because of. (Don't end the sentence with a preposition, Lynne.) So, now we probably know why that occurred. Blood thick as Aunt Jemima's syrup. Maybe even as thick as molasses. Or mud. No, probably not mud. Everyone knows mud is for pies.

I am now being bled--not kidding--they removed the first pint today and will do it again Thursday and then several more times. It seems besides having all those extra blood cells in the blood I am making extra pints of the stuff.

I have a mutated gene (JAK2) that thinks production should be ramped up, maybe like chocolates on the assembly line in that "I Love Lucy" episode that I love so much.
It's not hereditary, so don't panic, my children. That gene is a mutant fellow with a mission. I am taking medication to retard the production of all of these renegade blood partners.

Blood is made in the bone marrow and in the Word of Wisdom it says, "Health in the navel and marrow to their bones." We have studied the Word of Wisdom (Doctrine and Covenants 89) and we were vegan for almost seven years because of our interpretation to the teachings there. Too bad we didn't stay vegan but maybe mutant genes don't read the D&C.

It's funny, I have always told Hillary that--in the last days--I will be on the porch, rocking the babies and reading to their little ones while they (my children) were out fighting the mutants . Now I have a mutant, living inside. It's enough to hark a dog.

So, if ever you give blood and the technician says, "Hummm, these numbers are a little high," go to the doctor and get a test so you won't loose vision like I did. You might even lose a few pounds--"a pint's a pound, the world around." (Every Weight Watcher steps on the scale hungry and thirsty.) Today, it was a pretty tough way to lose weight. I recommend diet and exercise.

"There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will."-- Epictetus

Sunday, July 18, 2010


Last week our Bishop and his two counselors were released and our neighbor was made the new Bishop and two new counselors were called. In the Mormon church every position is staffed by ward members. No one is paid. Our missionaries serve for two years--eighteen months for girls--at their own expense.

Anyway, I loved our last Bishopric. They served for five years, which is pretty much standard for a Bishopric. This week, as our new bishop was conducting, I realized that I already loved all of them. I have always heard that you love those you serve, and I know that is true. But, it seems, you also love those who serve you.

Unless it's a crabby waiter, then all the love can be cancelled. Unless he brings you a free dessert or a complimentary spinach artichoke dip, and then you might reconsider.

Or, if one member of the bishopric doesn't blog--he knows who he is--then I might have to threaten and threatening one of the Lord's anointed is never a good idea. So, I might be in trouble. If you never hear from me again my name will be listed in the obituaries. Cause of death: struck by lightening.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


My sister and her husband have been married for fifty years. Last night her kids and grandkids threw them a surprise party. They have flown in from Virginia to Hawaii and everywhere in between. It was very nice. I took a few photos and now it has been confirmed. My photography skills are ZERO. There isn't one photo that I am proud of. I'm sorry to post all these lousy ones but it's all I have.

Coming in the door at the church
cultural center. Surprise! Their oldest
son, Jordan, ushered them in,
telling them that the grandkids were
playing indoorsoccer in the cultural hall.
The daughter-in-law who didn't go to dinner
with everyone so she could co-ordinate all
the decorations and food. How the whole
group kept this party a secret is beyond
my understanding.They will kill me when they see this.
None of them look like this. They are
pleasant looking in real life.
I promise they are. Aubrey, a granddaughter.
I didn't have the red-eye flash on.

The newest granddaughter.

Obviously the next set of photo are of
nothing. Real photographers don't take
pictures of nothing. And not that any
of these people are nothing--
the pictures are just bad.

Gordon and Julie looking at the book the
kids/grandkids made. Photos of their life
together. It was wonderful.
Son, Chris with his daughter. She has been
eating all kinds of things dipped in chocolate.Lizzie, Julie and Gordon's great-grandchild
with her Grandma, Lezlie their daughter.This is Lezlie's daughter-in-law. There
are three generations here. You'd think
I'd have added Julie and Gordon and made
it four, wouldn't you? Not so. Why? Because
I only think of the right thing to do a day late.
Today I thought of it. A day late.

This is one of Julie's best friends, JoAnne.
They met when they were all going to college
and lived in the same married housing.
Again, obviously. I think I can take photos
in the dark. Sorry, JoAnne.This was my favorite part of the whole
evening. Lezlie and Brennan did a skit of
their parents, going out to eat. It was
hilarious! Really nailed those two, from Julie
bringing her own water to finding a bargain
meal to taking bunches ofvitamins and quoting
how wonderful they were.
I didn't even get a photo of all the grown
children. I feel bad about that but I know
other people were taking photos too,
surely they were better than I at this.
Mormon's all over the world will recognize
this photo of the basketball floor. It is a
multi purpose room used for playing basketball,
wedding reception, overflow for Sacrament Meeting,
activities for the Scouts, Young
Men's and Young Women's organizations,
Relief Society, Primary, luncheons
after funerals, etc.
They had a slide show of photos of the time
they met and were dating to marriage,
children,the three missions they
served for the church, trips, pictures
of all the grandkids, etc.

Happy Anniversary to my sis and her hubby. What a great life you have had together and what a fine posterity you have. You have both enriched our lives and the lives of our children by the way you live, the commitments you keep and your great faith in the Savior.

We love you.

Friday, July 9, 2010


Liza and Kate came to play today. We had a treasure hunt--I'm getting ever so clever at hiding clues--they had to have "hot" and "cold" hints a couple of times. They laid on a blanket and ate popcorn and watched a movie. And...they made buttermilk pie! The recipe is here. They made two so they could take one home. Taylor called tonight to report. It was a success and the girls each had one and a half pieces. I don't blame them. Buttermilk pie is really good.
While they were making pie they each had to crack three eggs.After Liza cracked her second egg she told me what eggs really are. I must confess I have been ignorant of the true facts all these years.

Eggs are liquid chickens.

There! Aren't you glad you have someone like me to pass on valuable information? You now have a superior brain, just like Liza.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010


Sunday night, a cute, brand new mother came by for a chat on the lawn swings. At one point there were several women present when Brand New Mom cupped her "one things" and said, "Why would a woman want enlargements? This is awful! My husband likes them but he is banned--only the baby is allowed!"

We burst into laughter.

I told a friend of mine what Brand New Mom had said and she said, "Oh, just wait. Once that baby is finished nursing she'll know why woman have that particular surgery. Those thing are going to be flat!"

I didn't tell Brand New Mom. She'll find out soon enough.

Monday, July 5, 2010


Friday night I went to Justin Hackworth's photography show called "Thirty Strangers." He took photos of mothers and daughters--people he had never met--for thirty consecutive days. The show was held in downtown Provo in a lovely historic building.
Here are some of my favorites. My photographs of the photographs are awful, grainy and with reflections off the glass. Justin's were perfect, sharp focused and beautifully framed.
I love this one. Mom, by the door, daughter, on the steps, suggesting maybe she's thinking about moving on one day, just not yet.
I'm sorry this one didn't show up better. The love the nifty old wall behind them. I hope its in downtown Provo somewhere.
This is a very poor photo of Justin but I wanted you to see how unique he is. See the cool shoes with the suit? He is a talented man with innovative ideas. I love talking to him, he is charismatic. He makes me think of new possibilities, new things to try, perhaps even adopting a different attitude. (And he knows all about my camera. I wonder what I can trade for a couple of lessons since I still haven't read the manual.)

Justin and Amy, his very cute wife. She is also a great photographer, writer and quilt maker. They have two boys that I adore. Here is Amy with another talented artist, Lance Turner. Lance Turner took up pastel painting seven years ago at age 77, after a brilliant career in architectural design and advertising. He now wins awards for his pastel paintings. I would love to own one but they are out of my price range. I would have to trade one thousand pounds of caramels for one. That would kill Lance right off, and I'd be up for manslaughter.Justin's show was a great success. He is a unique man, one I am proud to call friend and his wife is one of my favorites for probably a hundred different reasons.

Here is his website. Go there. This is his blog. You should visit his blog. It's a bit sassy and funny. And this is his 30 Strangers project. If you are getting married he would be a great photographer. If you are a stranger, he is doing Thirty Strangers next year and you too could be hanging on a wall. Now that's a real conversation starter.

PS If you missed his opening you can still go. It will be open July 6-9 2pm – 5pm at 26 West Center Street – Provo Utah. It's worth the visit, really it is.

PPS One last photo. This door has the words "War Room" painted on it in white paint--the words don't show up in the photo. What do you suppose that means? Velly Intelesting.