Of Mice and Men

The best laid schemes of mice and men Go often awry, And leave us nothing but grief and pain, for promised joy!
An excerpt from the poem "To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough" by Robert Burns.

Well this week had my best laid plans that went awry, which has left me in need of a little retrospect. Do to scheduled appointments and a couple of late days at the office I've only managed to make my pot of soup on Monday, which was my saving grace for leftovers on Wednesday. Last night I had not planned to stay late at the office, but ended up there anyway, eating family meal at work (which didn't fall in line with no potatoes/corn/starch plan) and my poor husband fending for himself at home.

So getting back on track tonight will be Spinach Salad with warm bacon dressing and a fried egg, which works well since I will be home early. We've had nasty stormy nights the last few days which I must say is very unusual for September, but it is what it is, so I can huddle in my cozy kitchen and make yummy food that warms my soul and lift my spirits even when it's dreary outside.

When we plan out our week, we always have to remember that life will happen and we need to be willing to adapt, get back on the horse and try again. For me I have to remember that God has it, and always has a plan beyond what I can see and control, and I can trust that there is a greater purpose. 

We live in a world that seams to be running at full speed most of the time, and we sometimes forget that in our rushing around we find ourselves upset that we have had our plans disrupted, but sometimes we are the cause of displacing the plans of other too, not necessarily on purpose, but even our own speed can derail others. So watch you speed, take care of yourself and your loved ones.

I knew the little quote posted above from lines in movies and things I read back in school, but I can't say that I had ever read the poem that it came from, which drew me to seek out the complete poem and read it fully. I discovered that even though this was written in 1785, when life was different, farming was the primary career, we can still see how others can force change upon us, or we upon others. According to legend that it was his discovery of a mouse nest that prompted him to write this little thought to a mouse, and he knew that he would be changing the life of this little mouse. 

I've already got a few ideas in the hopper for nest weeks meals and keeping my eyes focused on the future cause I can't change the past. I try to remember to not become discouraged, learn to roll with it, I will be all the happier for it. 

Here is the complete poem if you are interested.

To A Mouse by Robert Burns

Small, crafty, cowering, timorous little beast,
O, what a panic is in your little breast!
You need not start away so hasty
With argumentative chatter!
I would be loath to run and chase you,
With murdering plough-staff.

I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes you startle
At me, your poor, earth born companion
And fellow mortal!

I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;
What then? Poor little beast, you must live!
An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves
Is a small request;
I will get a blessing with what is left,
And never miss it.

Your small house, too, in ruin!
Its feeble walls the winds are scattering!
And nothing now, to build a new one,
Of coarse grass green!
And bleak December's winds coming,
Both bitter and keen!

You saw the fields laid bare and wasted,
And weary winter coming fast,
And cozy here, beneath the blast,
You thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel plough passed
Out through your cell.

That small bit heap of leaves and stubble,
Has cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,
Without house or holding,
To endure the winter's sleety dribble,
And hoar-frost cold.

But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

Still you are blessed, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!