Just tired. . .

...just tired.  Even so, here comes another day.

When the storms of life are raging. . .

So...what was my priority first thing this morning in preparation for the oncoming storm?  Why, cutting back the black-eyed-Susans, of course.  Maybe my kids are right--there's something wrong with me.  In my defense, however, I will add that my little generator is primed and on stand-by to plug the freezer in, I have filled jugs with water, the coffeemaker is brewing a surplus pot of coffee for a thermos, and there is a filled pail of water in the bathtub.  With a fresh charge, my iPod should be good for at least one audible book for nighttime.  Candles?  Batteries?  I always have those.  Kerosene lamps, too.  As much as I dislike being left in the dark with no power, I guess I'm as ready as I can be.  What I'm not ready for are the high winds.  I hate wind.  It scares me.  So...I may station myself in a corner of the basement for the next day or two where I can't hear the wind and I'll sing, "When the storms of life are raging, stand by me."  (Which is what I played for a postlude yesterday, but I'm not sure if anyone picked up on that.)    Or...maybe I'll hide out, out in the Hobbit Hole!

      

Contentment is. . .

It's a "ho-hum" day......so I am sipping Plantation Mint Tea and making little tiny boxes out of old Christmas cards......and lasagna and apple pie.  I might do some knitting or crocheting later.  I rather like setting my own pace and having the time to do the things I was always going to do "if I ever had time."

More rural living. . .

Sharing my journey with the wildlife of French Woods is an ongoing daily adventure.  When I pause long enough to notice, I can see how the seemingly quiet, ever-changing outdoor scene is always bustling.

 

The same several deer who visit the misty apple orchard each dawn, parade single file past my front door on their way back to the woods at dusk.   I sometimes wonder where they spend the rest of their days.  I believe we have come to know each other, those few deer and I.  I think so because they hardly flinch when I am out and about near them.  They raise their heads briefly, take a look at me and then resume their chewing as if to say, "Oh, it's just that peculiar human." 

 

I was about to thank the deer for sparing me the chore of cutting back my day lilies and hosta that grow along my front sidewalk until I saw the tell-tale "cow flop" and upon closer scrutiny, imprints in the mulch that revealed the size of the hoof prints.  I should take a look out my windows a little more often.  I have a feeling that I'm missing a lot of what goes on.  I guess I'm too busy standing guard over the bird feeder on the back porch, batting the chipmunk off it with the broom.  Have you ever noticed that chipmunks are very brazen little creatures who tend to remain undaunted by any obstacles they encounter?  They can also be quite feisty when provoked by a mad woman wielding a broom.  They usually soar through the air and land safely in the forsythia bush when I whack them but, once, one retaliated by leaping, instead, right at me.  While still in mid-air, "Chip" and I met face to face and those little beady, black eyes were full of anger, let me tell you!  For future encounters, my plan is to arm myself with a chair as a shield as well as the broom. 

 

I do hope the wandering cow found its way home but before it did, I must say that I wish it had noticed the black-eyed Susans along the side of the house that need trimming back, too.

 

   

October's bright blue weather. . .

When I woke up early this morning and tipped the blinds to take a peek out the window, my senses tingled with the eager anticipation of settling into the coziness of fall.  Why the seasons excite me so, I don't know.  My guess is that it has something to do with the gift of new beginnings along my journey and how that gift refreshes my soul.  I slipped on my bathrobe and even before I made coffee (!), I took the indoor walking tour to look out every window.  Patches of frost glistened here and there and I could see that some of the perennials had assumed the position of dormancy.  The birds were swarming at the birdfeeder in frenzied motion, their feathers slightly more ruffled.  It amazes me how the instincts of all of God's creatures are so intricately programmed.  For the past couple of weeks, I have noticed the squirrels racing continuously up and down the apple trees and wondered if their little muscles ever ache at the end of the day.

 

I couldn't help myself; I had to step outside and breathe it in!  Yes, it was quite nippy but oh, so invigorating!  I stood on the back porch wrapped in my robe, my bare feet in my slippers, taking it all in until I was sure the moment was completely and forever absorbed within me -- all the sights, the familiar smells and sounds that confirm the arrival of fall.  Dried leaves.  Woodsmoke.  Chainsaws.  Woodsplitters.  Geese.  Once back inside, there was the hum of the furnace.   Instinctively, my thoughts are turning to things like knitting and homemade soup in the crockpot.  That is, once the leaves have been mulched, the birdhouses cleaned out, and the gardens trimmed back.  There's always some chore that gets left by the wayside but I don't worry much about that.  I do the best I can and have learned to simply say, "It is what it is," and let it go at that.

 

On this bright blue day in October, thankfulness overflows! 

 

"Lord, for tomorrow and its needs, I do not want......" 

     

An autumn thought. . .

As I look out my window this morning and see evidence of yet another birth of autumn here in French Woods, once again, I cannot fathom the intricacies of this world that God has created!  

Music of my heart. . .

...listening to Kevin Kern piano on Pandora radio along with a little James Todd cello, while noticing how quiet and still the Hobbit Hole is there beside the orchard, just outside my window. Suddenly, I am missing Bob with brand new disbelief and my heart has become sodden with the heaviness of grief. The music probes until it finds my soul, then wraps around the intimacies of my heart, lifting them out from where they are hidden.  "Why do I do this to myself?" I have to wonder. Surely, if not for the music I have chosen, I would be distracted by the day’s tasks at hand and perhaps preoccupied with thoughts less intense.  My spirit would be ‘safe.’  To answer my own question, I think it’s a good idea, and a healthy one, to venture away from those emotional ‘safety zones,’ occasionally.  I’m not saying I intend to ‘wear my heart on my sleeve,’ constantly or that I expect my heartaches to prevent my journey from moving forward.  I’m saying that there are times (and I know there will always be) when I need to ‘visit’ that hiding place, briefly…but it is not where I will choose to ‘live.’

 By the grace of God, I have learned to choose joy, not just in the ‘peaks’ of my life when it is easy to do so, but in the ‘valleys,’ too!

……thankful

It was no Wonderland. . .

I had a rather disturbing dream last night.  Lately, I seem to be having them most nights, one right after the other.  This one woke me quite abruptly and I found myself deeply enmeshed in a grief-stricken panic attack.  I may have been shouting out loud, I don’t know.  The cat merely glared at me and didn’t say.   In the dream, it was night time and I was aboard one of two school buses that were getting ready to pull away from the front of a school in a neighboring town; which in this case, was an exact replica of HCS.  (It was Walton, specifically, although I can’t fathom why or how I know this since there were no other landmarks in my dream.)  The time period was the present.  The bus was full of people but I presume their presence was unrelated to my dream since they were silent and motionless and their identities were blotted into obscurity by the darkness.  I, on the other hand, was a ranting, raving, screaming lunatic!  (Why does that remind me of a Billy Joel song?  “…it just may be a lunatic you’re lookin’ for…”   No matter!  Billy Joel was not in my dream.)  Without warning, the bus revved its motor and began pulling away from the school.  “Wait!” I said to the driver.  “I have to get my things!”  He just kept driving.  “Please!” I pleaded, but there was still no response.  I began to panic.  I could see my personal items on the outside front steps…my purse, my music, my open violin case…and it was beginning to rain!  I could feel my heart filling with anguish as I sobbed and, once again, I begged the driver to stop.  His featureless, robotic response was, “Once the bus is moving, I’m not allowed to stop,” and he drove on.   My ‘poor spell’ escalated to a magnitude of new height……and that’s when I woke up.

Dreams, and the (debatable) significance they hold, have always captivated me.  Even more so due to the fact that I seem to remember mine more often than not and carry them with me for a time.  I used to simply enjoy the challenge of making the obvious connections between their nonsensical surface and reality.  For instance:  school bus = school is starting; Walton = I’ve recently been to the Fair; purse = I walked out of church without it on Sunday and had to go back to retrieve it; and, of course, violin = heart, which has been broken.  Now, although I do not claim to understand the process, I’ve come to appreciate the infinite depth of dreams and their considerably significant role in the well being of our emotional mentality.

From a bit of a more pragmatic side:  Why did I leave my most precious possessions unattended…outside…on a set of stone steps…at night…in the rain?  Why was my violin case open? Where had I been?  Why was I on the bus without them?  What the heck was I thinking?!    

It was no Wonderland, there was no Cheshire Cat (just Clementi), and I am not Alice.  However, I do  admire Alice's assertive "POOH!" when she let those cards have it with a good swift kick.

Thoughts on a Saturday morning. . .

Saturday, 10:30 AM. . .

What a pleasure it was to "sleep in" this morning until eight o'clock! I look forward to Tuesday and Saturday mornings for that reason.  After yesterday’s dealings with a sputtering, engine-light-flashing car, while out of town, the extra rest was blissfully welcome.  It was brief bliss however, since I quickly remembered the dismal status of my car and that I am presently without a vehicle.  Not that I had any plans to go anywhere today, mind you.  But what if the need arises? What about tomorrow?  I placate myself by opting to delay thinking about those questions until later, when and if the need arises.  Right now, I’m quite content with being “stuck” here.  It’s a beautiful, sunshiny day! The fragrance in the air is heavenly!  The warmth of the sun is like summer, yet the air is sprinkled with leaves floating aimlessly to the ground. There is a subtle difference in the ‘look’ of things and a keen ear will notice the changes in the outdoor sounds – the bird noises, for one thing, the rustling of the small animals in the woods, for another.   Their chattering noises tell me they are very busy preparing their winter ‘stash.’   Ah, yes, the long-awaited transitions from summer into fall have begun, and, try as I might to hold onto one season, the next will always scoop me up and carry me joyfully to the next.

 

I am remembering a past September day, the 18th, as a matter of fact, but I don't know the year.  It was when some or all of my kids were still in school.  It was a day much like this one but further into fall and the trees were just about to reach their peak of colorful brilliance.  It was so hot, that when the kids got off the school bus, I took them to the river to go swimming; a rare occasion for mid-September.  It was a favorite place to us for many reasons, but  I, particularly, was amazed by the fact that when I stood in a certain spot there in the river, I could look around me in every direction and all signs of civilization were hidden from view -- no roads, houses, wires -- not even in the distance.  [I always thought it was an awsome sight to behold and I found it thrilling to feel like I was catching glimpses of 'untouched' landscape similar to what our former inhabitants, the Delaware Indians, had seen.  The reason for their reverence of the land is, indeed, apparant to me.]  What a memorable day that turned out to be!  As we waded out into the river, we were treated to a grand display of brightly colored leaves floating all around us and the reflection of the vibrant mountains, flawlessly mirrored in the quiet sheen of the crystal clear water was an absolutely breathtaking spiritual experience!  I thought about how I had almost resisted the spontaneity of the idea to drop everything and go to the river.  (There were too many things we should be doing, like homework, making dinner, etc., to be so impulsive.)  "I made the right choice," I decided, once there, and it gave me a chill to think how close I had come to missing out on those treasured moments.  I had taken the time to carefully watch a red leaf as it approached me.  It brushed up against my arm as it floated by and I watched it drift downstream until it was out of sight.  "I'm going to tuck this away forever," I thought, and that is what I have done.  I call them "mental pictures," absorbing a moment in time and filing it away in one of the private 'albumns' of my mind, where I can view it at will, anytime, anywhere.  Around this time of year, I have always recalled that long ago day.  I can 'see' every detail of that red leaf, still, and sometimes I wonder about the rest of its sojourn on the Delaware.  Do you suppose it sailed all the way to Philadelphia, carrying the DNA from my arm with it?  If so, does that mean that I, in a sense, made that journey, too?  Who's to say where reality and essence divide?  Or if the division is complete or intertwined?

 

Today's reality is that I am leaving my car cares behind me and that the endeavor I am most eager for is to roll some big stumps around and arrange them in a circle around the fire pit.  This, most definitely, is of highest priority on my ‘fall readiness’ list – even above having the heating system checked.  I’m looking forward to bonfires on crisp, autumn evenings!  Sometimes I wonder what the little woodland critters think of me.  They don’t seem to pause what they’re doing when I invade their world.  Maybe they’re so busy, they don’t notice me at all.  Maybe they think I’m merely one of them, however oddly so.  If that’s the case, I feel honored to be welcome in their wholesome, unassuming, busy world!
 

I wonder if they “sleep in” on Saturday’s, too……………………………..?     

Blessings enough. . .

 7:00 PM......

Whew!  Lawn's mowed.  Or should I say "field."  It was so high, there were daisies blooming in it!  First, I had to pump up a tire, using a bicycle pump (because I'm afraid of the air compressor...one of these days I'll tackle that.)  The oil in the mower was very low so I made a dash to town to buy some...but only after verifying with one of my sons-in-law the online research I had done so I wouldn't feel like an idiot when I made the purchase.  That may sound odd, but I've never had reason to buy motor oil; I guess I thought all home garages and workshops came automatically stocked with endless supplies of all that kind of stuff!  At the auto parts store, still in my grungy apple-picking clothes, work boots & gloves, and sun visor, I saunter up to the counter and say, confidently, "I'd like some 30-weight motor oil."  I had no idea what that meant; I was just repeating the words my son-in-law told me to say.  "Do you want it with detergent or without?" the nice gentleman asks.  ... Huh?!  Since my ignorant self had already been outed, there was no point in my trying to save face.  "I have no idea," I admitted, still puzzled.  I can't say I understand all of what followed, but I did come home with motor oil and I have learned two things: 1.) I do NOT need the kind with detergent and 2.) you should always use the same kind, whether with detergent or without, and you should never mix them.  

The mowing process was going smoothly until a tree root that I didn't see in the high grass got wedged between my front tire and the wheel on the mower deck.  I was stuck; unable to go forward or in reverse.  Now what?!  "Where there's a will, there's a way," I decided,  and by golly, after a few tries I was able to lift that mower up enough to get the little wheel to set on top of the root and that was all that was needed.  I hopped on and finished the job.

Now I am hungry and, realizing that for the past day or so I have only eaten apples, applesauce, apple crisp, and apple pie - spaghetti is really hitting the spot.  The way I am wolfing it down will probably result in some serious indigestion in the middle of the night but right now, I don't care.

The grass has been mown, the kitchen sink is full of clean, fresh apples, and the deer are contentedly munching the peelings I left for them out under the apple trees. 

Blessings enough for one day, I'd say......

Pendulum ride. . .

I seem to be struggling these days to find the stamina to keep abreast of this summer's emotional roller coaster.  I call it "keeping my head above water."  I have felt my vitality ebb and flow as if it were riding on a pendulum in full swing.  The 'highs' have been oh, so exhilaratingly thrilling and the 'lows' have been oh, so anxiously stressful, and full of sadness!  But then, that's the reality of life and its parallels, isn't it?  And I don't recall a guarantee anywhere in any of God's promises that would indicate that those parallels would be doled out in equal increments in accordance with what we might deem 'fair.'   Then, what would we learn?  How would we grow?  And what would be the point? 

Thankfully, for the most part, I have learned to be tuned in to the warning signs that occur whenever I am about to hop on that 'pendulum.'  Most of the time, that is.  Sometimes (like now) I have been so immersed in my own busyness that the ride had already begun before I realized I am a passenger!  When that happens, I know it's time to practice what I preach, so to speak, and to start using the 'tools' that have been so carefully honed; the ones that will rebuild the power of positive thinking tower.  So...lately, even though it may appear that I have been functioning in business-as-usual mode, I have actually been "holed up" inside (literally as well as metaphorically) using my 'tools' and reminding myself that I am responsible for my own choices.  When in doubt, I simply choose thankfulness because there is always, always something to be thankful for.  

There is no doubt in my mind that I will emerge at some point with a reasonable facsimile of my usual energy intact.  I do hope it's soon, though, because this 'swim' is taking too long and my head is getting tired! 

Maybe the turning point is here; I did shove myself outside to wrestle with an overgrown barberry bush today......and judging by the heap of prunings I had, I think I won!  That's always a good sign.  

       

Dawn patrol. . .

Cloudy mornings confuse me by suspending my psyche within the early morning hours while the day dances merrily along its way. I think the same must be true of "Neighbor Cat" who is making his dawn patrol now, during late morning.



"Neighbor Cat" pauses his chipmunk hunt long enough to peer at the frog who has taken up residence in my little garden pond.

A morning's glimpses. . .

...back home from Chapel.  What a beautiful summer morning!  My front sidewalk was crawling with activity when I went out to get in the car.  There were twenty-one brown, slimy slugs, one bright orange lizard, thousands of little tiny ants and a pattern of muddy paw prints.  Since mine are indoor cats, I assume the paw prints came from my buddy, Neighbor Cat, checking out my bird situation.  I wish he would zero in on the pesky chipmunk that has taken up residence on my back porch and gets continually more destructive and brazen with each passing day! 

I learned my lesson many years ago where "cute rodents" are concerned when I began feeding a couple of 'sweet' gray squirrels with strikingly sad eyes and magnificent fluffy tails.  Bob said, "You better not do that...you'll be sorry."  But...it was so much fun and they were so cute, I just couldn't resist.  "Besides," I thought, "he's probably just saying that."  (I had visions of Snow White illustrations.  You know...she's lost in the woods...surrounded by a menagerie of compassionate forest creatures.)  Well, I should have listened because Bob was right and I became very sorry, indeed.   My compassionate squirrels managed to send word out to all their relatives that a gullible food supplier now resided in French Woods.  In a mere matter of days my few fluffy friends with the sad eyes multiplied many-fold.  They came by the dozens every morning, from all directions.  Droves of them would scratch on my front door, scraping at the paint and if I ignored them, they would divide the troops into platoons that would target a window or two.  There they would run back and forth, pausing occasionally to peek in at me while smearing the panes with mud and scratches.  One of them didn't even have a tail!  A squirrel without a tail is nothing to look at, believe me.  Without their 'plume,' they are really nothing at all. I don't know how or when it happened but they also somehow managed to transform themselves into scruffy looking demons with greedy, beady eyes and, remembering having seen the (then less than ten year old) movie, "The Birds,"  I actually began to feel afraid of my former squirrel pets.  My fear was compounded, of course, when Bob assured me that it was highly likely that they would chew their way inside if I did not feed them.  I was being held captive.  It was a nightmare!  As I recall, Bob may have also said, "I told you so."  He wanted to shoot them.  I wouldn't hear of it.  How would I live with my guilt?  I didn't care if they "tasted like chicken."  A short time later, however, the little vermin crossed a line...literally -- my clothesline.  In search of nesting material, I suppose, they chewed up T-shirts and the kids' pajamas but the last straw for me was the big hole they chewed in my child's (hand made by her great-grandmother) crib quilt!!  I was angry! War was declared.

I never was entirely comfortable with the stiff little skinned carcasses in our freezer but I do rightfully demand some credit for my attempts to adapt.  I did taste some of the squirrel meat once and although it actually did taste like chicken, it was a little hard for me to get past the fact that I knew it was NOT.  Shortly after that I had my next squirrel cooking experience that turned out to be my last.  After I thawed it out, I made the mistake of picking the little bugger up by the armpits as you would a child.  I had such a strong involuntary emotional response that it has never left me.  To this day, I still avoid lifting a whole chicken or turkey that way.  It's a wonder that I didn't become a vegetarian after the experience but I didn't.  However, neither does it daunt me to sic the cats on uninvited varmints.

...so what's the lesson here?  How do I come full circle with a beautiful summer morning and siccing cats on rodents?  A grandfather once taught me, Biblically, how to find the placement for animals in the world God has made and although I cannot remember his words, the lesson learned is still with me and has often been a valuable resource to call upon.  Maybe someday I'll write about that.

For now, once again, I find myself thankful......for summer days, for memories, for laughter, for lessons learned and those yet to be learned, for the gift of faith that does not waver...no matter what. 

Summer. . .

I thought I would take a leisurely stroll around outside before calling it a day but I have found that I am incapable of doing so without resorting to pruning, weeding, rearranging rocks, or the like.  I used to think that all the time I spent doing yardwork was in an effort to create a soothing setting in which to relax.  Now I have begun to realize that it's the peaceful therapeutic puttering that I crave; not the relaxation.

This has been an idyllic summer day -- sunny, hot, hazy and humid.  I love summer -- the way it sounds, smells and looks.  Especially when it has been just a tad bit too dry, the dirt roads are dusty and the hay fields have been cut.  It is, to me, as magical as crisp, fresh fallen snow in winter.  

Just a few minutes ago, even though I couldn't see through the trees, I'm sure there must have been one glorious rainbow!  Without any warning, the sky opened up and gave way to a downpour while the sun never even "blinked."  It was so unexpected that at first I wasn't sure what I was hearing.  It didn't last long though.  If not for a leftover droplet here and there and the excitement of the birds, it would be as if it never happened.

Maybe tomorrow I'll take another leisurely stroll and finish pulling those weeds that are invading my current bush and choking out the myrtle!

Day off. . .

Amazing!  The world is still intact...even though here it is 3:45pm now and I have not raised one finger to do a lick of work so far today.  No pruning, no weeding, no mowing.  My yard cart is right where I left it yesterday full of barberry and forsythia branches.  Nothing has been accomplished inside, either.  Even more amazing is the fact that I actually stretched out in my hammock on a Wednesday afternoon to listen to an audio book and then took a nap!  I've never been in the habit of napping so I felt a little disoriented waking up from one.  My first instinct was to feel quite guilty as I thought of how differently I had intended to use this day but it didn't take long at all for the guilt to subside and for some self-indulgent permissiveness to take its place.         

I have been off the premises, though.  Earlier, I gave John a lift to town on my way to Curves.  Afterward, I sat at the little bluestone table in the library lawn to wait for him, sipping a cup of coffee and eating a bagel.  I took advantage of the time to familiarize myself more with my new phone by reading the manual.  I also had a nice impromptu visit with some of my family who noticed me there and stopped to say hello.  I enjoyed imagining how nice it will be when the new Village Square is ready for use like that.  Who knows, I might even take another day off and go take a nap there!

I could get used to this relaxation......

Digging for contentment. . .

Friday, 9:30 AM. . .

Well, so far I've played for Chapel, had a good Curves workout, then I came home and made a bacon/egg/cheese wrap to chow down while pondering some written excerpts by Rick Warren, Joyce Meyer and Father John Doe.  Now to get down to the business of choosing a target spot to work on in the yard.  Neither Rick, Joyce nor Father John were very helpful with that decision even though their words were otherwise spiritually nourishing.  Rick tells me that the best intentions are not enough; Joyce wants me to enjoy my life; Father John advises tolerance of circumstances both external and internal.  I think I'll scratch around in the mulch around the Hobbit Hole to freshen it up a bit and get rid of the weeds that are poking through.  Rick, that's the best intention I can come up with at the moment.  Joyce, I am certainly going to enjoy myself scritching and scratching in the dirt!  Father John, for the most part I'm okay with tolerating the external circumstances, however, the laws of charity you mention in regard to internal circumstances are (for me) a little more complex.  I find it difficult to recognize the nervous tension and sleeplessness you mention as avenues to contentment.  I'm not saying you're wrong, mind you...simply that I'm not "there yet."

But I'll give it some thought as I'm digging around the Hobbit Hole.       

One of "those" days. . .

This seems to have been one of "those" days so far and since it's now quarter after three in the afternoon, I'm not anticipating that it's going to change.  As I've been telling myself for the past several days like this one, tomorrow might bring the invigorating change I'm looking for.  Why can't I find it?  Why can't I make it happen, mind over matter -- just like that?!  I am tired and cranky.  (Whine...whine.  Pity Party!)  Good thing this is an "alone" day so others don't have to be subjected to me.  I'm glad it's Tuesday, the one day of the week when I can usually "hole up" and do whatever I want.  Ordinarily I have a list of projects I'm excited about tackling.  The list is there but the excitement -- not so much.  Oh, there sure is plenty that needs doing and I have to give myself credit for at least making the effort.  As I said before, however, it's one of "those" days. It seems like I have started many things but finished very little, resulting in my being surrounded by clutter that is neither clean nor where it belongs.

I had plans to work outside this morning but that idea was short lived due to the weather so I looked around to see what needed doing on the inside.  I saw plenty.  But where to start was the question.  I set the ironing board up to do some ironing but got distracted by stains on the bedroom carpet.  That was it, I'd clean the carpets!  So I picked up all the easily movable items from the floor and sprayed the stains to pre-treat them.  While waiting for the spray to soak in, I noticed the window drape in the living room was badly in need of cleaning so I moved some of the furniture away from the window so I could stand on the step stool to take the drape down.  I eyed the useless brackets in the window that used to hold blinds and toyed with the idea of removing them, too.  However, I dismissed that idea for the time being because I usually end up getting frustrated when I have to hold the power screw driver over my head to work with it.  Logically, that seemed like a job for another day...or better yet, for John.  Standing at the window gave me the idea that this would be a good day to get some of the windows washed.  That was something I've been wanting to do and it would feel great to have it accomplished. Getting down from the stool to get the window cleaner, I noticed two places on the floor where one of the cats had thrown up...just to brighten my day.  I threw the dusty window drape in a bag and got the carpet spray back out.  On my way through the kitchen, there were those rotting bananas I was going to use to make banana bread a few days ago!  Another day and I would have to throw them away.  But I wanted to take a shower.  However, it seemed like it would be more efficient to mix up the bread, then take a shower while it was baking.  After I peeled and mashed the bananas I began to assemble the other ingredients.  No sugar?!  I always have a spare bag!  I dug around in the pantry looking for what I finally had to admit wasn't there.  As long as I had so many things off the pantry shelves, I figured I may as well do some inventory and reorganize a little bit.  Leaving the mashed bananas waiting on the counter, I hauled everything off every shelf, poked around down in the basement in the storage room until I found exactly what I needed to assemble an additional shelf for even better organization.  I rearranged the whole pantry and by the time there was a place for everything and everything was in its place, I was starting to feel pretty good about this day...until I remembered the mashed bananas.  I was filthy.  You can't bake when you're filthy.  So I set the bananas in the refrigerator (where the latest army of ants couldn't get in them) and took a shower. 

The rest of the day has been likewise.  I did finish baking the banana bread (using what was in the sugar bowl and adding a little Splenda) and am enjoying the aroma throughout the house as it cools.  The carpets are not clean.  My bed is full of things I put there to clear the floor.  The ironing board, unused, is in the way.  The Windex is out but the windows haven't been touched.  But, by golly, I am showered, I have banana bread...and the pantry is organized!

Oh...did I mention that three of my left fingertips have blisters on them from when I tried to wipe droplets up from the hot plate part of the coffee pot?

I can hardly wait until tomorrow......    

Do unto others. . .

"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you"  This is the Golden Rule we have all learned as we were growing up.  You may prefer, as I do, this version:  "In everything, do unto others what you would have them do to you" Matthew 7:12.  The meaning is the same regardless of the source.  I try to live by this rule and have found that for the most part, it's not all that difficult once you've experienced the benefits enough to realize that God wasn't/isn't/won't be kidding -- it really is how we're supposed to be with one another.  That said, let me confess a few of my (many) shortcomings that took place today.  The only thing that saved me from letting my impatience get the better of me was a sense of humor that allowed me to step "out of myself" and view the situation as an onlooker rather than a participant.     

Yesterday, I picked up a prescription for my grandson and was a little surprised when the pharmacist said rather assertively, "That'll be sixty-three dollars and nineteen cents," when I knew there was insurance involved.  I just thought, "Whoa...if it's that much with coverage, imagine what it must be without" and paid for it using my debit card.  It didn't occur to me to question the matter since the folks at a different pharmacy that I use always take the initiative in being helpful in these matters.  Today I found out that the entire amount was in fact covered by insurance and that I should go in and have the charge refunded to my debit card.  "Sounds good to me," I thought, so off I went.  When I got there I picked up two items I needed and proceeded to the back of the store to the pharmacy where I stood in line and read labels on things until all the side effect warnings started giving me anxiety.  I wondered when it would be my turn to step into the 'zone of privacy' beyond the magic sign that (I suppose) has powers to create an invisible wall that prevents others from seeing or hearing about any personal business or ailments.  (I guess I should probably let the store know that the sign wasn't working today since I couldn't help but hear everything, even with my hearing loss.  As far as seeing, that was easy to prevent -- I just didn't look.) 

Finally, I was next.  I offered to let a man go ahead of me, thinking my business might take longer than his but he was quite insistent that we go in order so I stepped up to plead my case, so to speak, only to be told that I needed to go over to another person's line because she takes care of billing.  So...I get in that line for a slightly shorter wait, carefully avoiding reading any posters or labels on things.  I noticed there was no 'zone of privacy' there.  I stand on my tiptoes to speak over the counter and again, plead my case.  "He takes care of that," she says, indicating the man I had just spoken with.  "He told me to come over here," I said.  "That's because he doesn't know everything is all set," she says.  By now the first line had grown longer.  "You mean I have to wait in that line again?" I ask.  She nods.  So...I get in that line for a slightly longer wait than I had the first time, examined all the magnifying sunglasses on the rack, counted all the brands of diet pills, spoke to a relative, listened to an entire phone conversation the woman behind me was having (about some kind of red rash, oozing with puss and is getting worse...) and had a brief conversation with a man who was leaving who had been two people behind me the first time.  "Are you in line again?" he asked.  "Yes," I said.  "I liked it so much the first time I decided to go around again."  For the third time, I approached the counter.  This time, a girl is at the register.  The man steps over and confides that, technically, this type of transaction should take place at the front register but "they won't know what you're talking about," he says. Then, Man One, Lady Two and Girl Three all confer.  Man One is cordial but clearly feeling slightly defiant.  So am I.  Girl Three is a little flustered.  I am not.  Lady Two is efficiently expediting the process.  I like her! 

Meanwhile, Girl Three: Do you have a Wellness Card?   Me: No. 

Girl Three: Was this a debit?  Me: Yes. 

Girl Three: What's your telephone number?  I tell her.

Girl: For some reason, it's not taking this number.  Do you have a different number?  Me: No.

She tries again.  No luck.  I give her my phone number from a long time ago, just in case.  No luck with that either.  So I ask her, "Are you talking about the phone number associated with my debit card?"  "No," she says, "the one for your Wellness Card."  "I don't have a Wellness Card," I tell her...again.  "That explains it!" we both agree.

The line behind me is growing......

She proceeds with further steps.  I swipe my card.  I "agree" to this and that by checking boxes and sign my name in the blue space in the little window, using the plastic "pen" with no point.  "For some reason I can't get this to go back on your card," she says..."do you mind if I give you cash?"  "That's fine!" I say before she put the "sh" on the word "cash."  "Would you like to have these receipts to show that we paid you the refund?" she wants to know.  "Yes, please!" I answered, distinctly.  Quickly, I asked, "Now, can I pay for these two items at this register......or do I have to go up front and wait in line again?"  She said I could pay for them there.  =^)  So I do pay (in cash), thank her kindly, gather up my stuff and turn toward the door.  When I'm halfway up an aisle, Man One calls out, "it helps if your insurance information is in order," putting me in mind of when my children were little and would defend their individual righteousness with, "You started it!"  I just shrugged and said, "It's not even mine."  His response was, "I know."  I suspect it was not so much that he was agreeing with me as it was his way to have the last word.

I hope I don't sound like I'm angry or harboring any ill will.  Quite the contrary, the humor in all this has lightened my load, you might say, and has resulted in this being a rejuvenating day.  I dearly love people with all their little quirks just as I hope they will love me with mine.   

Life is like. . .

While driving home from Curves this morning, listening to Mendelssohn on the radio, I drew the conclusion that life is not so much like a box of chocolates (sorry, Forrest Gump) as it is like a concerto.  The introduction peaks your interest and after that, just like life, the pace varies with tempo intervals ranging from adagio to presto.  Sometimes the anticipation can be intense, leaving us anxiously wondering what will happen next.  Here, however, the parallel ends since unlike a recorded concerto that we can replay whenever we want, life is a live performance and cannot be rewound.  For sure, though, what you can always count on with both Mendelssohn and life are those few spectacular measures (moments) of things beautiful beyond description -- like the sunbeams that came bursting through the fog laden leafy trees this morning as I reached the top of the hill.  Radio or not, I still would have heard a symphony!   

She comes sailing on the wind. . .

I am so in love with French Woods community, friends and neighbors! God bless the Boy Scouts and all who gathered for the raising of the flag at the church cemetery yesterday in memory of soldiers no longer with us. There were prayers to open and close, there were readings and meaningful words and there was singing. There were tear-filled eyes and comforting hugs. There were smiles. From my vantage point I noticed that I could see flag bearing graves from several generations and I marveled at the wondrousness that, in death, there are no generational divisions. I thought about another warm day, before we knew Bob was ill, when a young soldier on leave came to see Bob and they talked John Deere tractors. I hugged that young man that day and said, "Thank you"...all of us innocent of what would unfold in just a few short months and how our journeys would intermingle once again. I thought about how meaningful these ceremonies would be to Bob and how, in a way, he is part of them having selected his spot near the flagpole. And...in my human-ness, something else dawned on me. As my eyes happened upon my own name and birth year, I couldn't help but realize, "Oh, my gosh! Now everybody knows how old I am!" With that, I had to smile, giving thanks once again that not only God has a sense of humor but He has graced us with one, also.

It was a hot and humid bright sunny day with the sweet smell of open fields lingering in the soft breeze. Regardless of season or weather, that breeze is always there surrounding this little country church, easing its way through cracks in the walls and whispering echoes of lifetimes through the evergreens in the cemetery outside. I believe there is a powerful dwelling of the Holy Spirit in that place. These song lyrics come to mind: "...after dawn returned in flame of rising sun, the Spirit touched the earth again, again her wings unfurled, bringing life in wind and fire as she flew on. She comes sailing on the wind, her wings flashing in the sun; on a journey just begun, she flies on."

Looking up. . .

Pentecost Sunday...Fire...Wind...Spirit.  The choir will be in red today.

Things are looking up.  Mechanically, electronically and appliance-wise, that is.  A new battery seems to have solved all the problems with the car.  The GPS (independant from the car) seems to have resolved its own problems and is reliably guiding me around once again.  The lawn mower is 'purring like a kitten.'  The furnace factor turned out to be just my own stupidity.  (Please don't ask.)  After my doing some random tapping and shoving, the dehumidifier is again sucking up moisture like nobody's business!  I'm really enjoying the new microwave which is smaller.  A new dryer will be delivered on Wednesday. 

"This, too, shall pass" is really true!  Aren't I glad I didn't have a "poor spell" over all this small stuff?

Until the next batch......  

It's always an adventure. . .

I've just come in from outside where I have been gazing at the last embers of my first bonfire of the season, although I did get a head start one night last week at Dan's. I like to have a fire going while I'm working in the yard so I can sit by it to wind down after the work is finished. The quiet time is restful and pensive.  I am always amazed by the free flowing thoughts that cavort in and out of my mind and how they reflect my journey.  Of course, the memory floodgates are wide open and that is always bittersweet but for the most part, what I feel is gratitude. Time was when I never could have imagined such quiet; our house and yard so still.  How glad I am that 'something' told me to cherish all that long-ago family noise even when it seemed hectic to the point of exhaustion and my patience wore thin.

Tonight, sitting by the fire, I was comparing today with last Saturday and remembering some of the thoughts I was having then. It was a similarly beautiful warm and sunny day and I was pitifully lost in some of North Carolina's rolling, rural country roads...alone, with a malfunctioning GPS and a phone that was about to lose power.  No maps...just the printed directions I kept on my lap while I was driving. I was doing fine until the route numbers merged, then the one I was following divided into two directions, or so it seemed. To make a long story short, let me just say that what was to be a three hour trip took six hours because of all the back tracking I had to do!  I was so exasperated and tired that, after while, I almost lost my composure.  I knew it was time to pull over, take a deep breath and say a prayer.  With that, familiar coping mechanisms began to reveal themselves and I began to focus less on the fact that I had a problem and more on what my options were to find a solution.  The first option, of course, was attitude since that is something I could control immediately.  A positive attitude really does lighten any burden.  I thought about all the beautiful countryside I had seen so far that I might have otherwise missed.  I remembered that God doesn’t make mistakes – that we are always exactly where we are supposed to be even when we don’t think so.  I even smiled as I remembered; too, how one of my kids used to say, “Whenever we go with you, Mom, it’s always an adventure.”  I thought, “Yes, that’s it, I’m having an adventure.”   Aside from the fact that the extra legs of this journey were cutting into time with my family,  why shouldn’t I have an adventure, I wondered?  What difference did it make whether I was here or there?  If I were home, I’d be happily working in the yard but why not have an adventure instead?  I can always do yardwork.  Looking at my predicament in this way helped me relax and even chuckle at myself a little bit. 

Today, I smiled a lot as I worked happily in the yard with visions of last Saturday’s adventure now added to my journey’s memories.         

       

 

When it rains, it pours. . .

Great...
raining + wet laundry = need new dryer
Wish I had known that yesterday when I was in Binghamton.  I guess this is more of the "small stuff" ... like the lawn mower (running again), the microwave (replaced) and the car (still getting repairs). 

All will be well......putting all that aside and heading out to chapel.

God is good.

Later...
Okay, now the furnace isn't working.  I think I'm out of fuel.  =^(
I guess I'll deal with that *after* I take my wet laundry to Cindy's to borrow her dryer, using her car that I'm borrowing because mine won't start.
And...after that, I need to figure out why my dehumidifier won't work.

But...I am still smiling as I repeat, "this is just more small stuff" and "God is good."

NC Thursday May 17th. . .

12:15pm. . .

Ever so slowly I am beginning to be able to navigate around the Hope Mills area without getting lost.  (Thanks to Google Maps, my GPS, Allen's hand drawn diagrams, and my personal guides - Ian and Daniel.)  Fine timing...now that it's just about time to head back to Kannapolis.  That's okay.  I'll consider it a head start for the next time.  When I was in the grocery store earlier, I got so engrossed with the familiar activity of filling my cart with items on my list that I forgot, momentarily, where I was and that I still had to find my way back home...using a different route than the way I got there.  Here I am, however, all tucked back in and overly full of the leftover spaghetti I ate for lunch. 

I enjoy the scenic rural atmosphere of the immediate areas where both Jenn & Allen and Dan & Michelle live.  Except for lack of mountains, it reminds me a lot of home with all the farm equipment and fields.  In the Food Lion parking lot this morning, I even saw an open trailer with two calves in it, munching on their hay.  I'm not sure if I've ever even seen that in Hancock.  Or maybe they use trailers there that are enclosed and I just don't notice what's in them.  Either way, the visual gives me a tendency to avoid veal.   

NC Monday May 14th. . .

7:30am. . .Oh, ye of little sleep -- that's me.  I don't know why.  It's certainly not for lack of being comfortable on the brand new bed.  Nor do I have any of the particular sort of worries that tend to interfere with sleep.  I guess my mind is just working overtime about too many different things, as seems to happen quite often, regardless of where I am. 

The week end was enjoyably memorable with part of it very relaxed and low key and part of it not so much.  There was shopping and Daniel's indoor soccer game on Saturday, and church and Cracker Barrel on Sunday.  Then, perhaps not as enjoyable but no less memorable, there were the various incidences that took place involving lost (and eventually found) items...then, keys and phone getting locked inside a car at a gas station...as well as being locked outside the house -- a very tense situation which required climbing a ladder to a second story window that was (thankfully) unlocked.  I always wonder, when the obstacles are that obvious, what the lesson is and why the answers aren't equally obvious.  Even when I can't figure out the answer, I never doubt but what there is one and I am inspired more than ever to pursue my ongoing conversation with God.  Quite often, when I am further down the road in my journey, the answers are revealed...and I am all the wiser for having encountered the bumps along the way.  Tonight, I look forward to Ian's orchestra concert and I'm pretty sure we will all be double checking the keys in our hands as we leave the house.

NC Friday May 11th. . .

11:30am. . .wondering why I haven't been taking any pictures on this trip. 

Usually, I would be trying to take snapshots of everything and everybody just so I can have each day in pictures to re-live when I get back home.  This time - not so much and, of course, I'm spending way too much time trying to analyze why.  Could the reason be as simple as the fact that I don't need the photos; that my mind's eye is absorbing all that is close to my heart in a way that I will be able to conjure it up on demand later on?  It's possible that I might have regrets later but I don't think so.  I believe these are some of those moments in time when it is enough to be thankful for each day, live it fully and well, and to focus more on the journey ahead than that which has already been traveled.  It's possible, too, that there is an underlying denial on my part that is causing me to resist  the documentation of evidence that the grand-kids are growing up!  There are many reasons I can think of why that might be the case.  One reason would be a very normal reaction to the passage of time, one I think we all have now and then as we get older.  The other reason is more personal and challenges me in various ways on a daily basis.  It is the 'chasm' separating Bob from me that widens with the ticking of the clock. Things change.  A new front sidewalk, the "Hobbit Hole,"  the color of the kitchen, the pear trees, but most importantly (to me) - the grand-kids.  I am not really reluctant to face all these alterations of life (as we knew it) but I will always observe them as measurements of our personal timeline and will continually tend to view the world around me through dual sets of eyes...if that makes sense.  I know what I mean but it's hard to put into words.

Meanwhile, as I struggle with the meaning of life and its depths, I have learned that a flip-flop is not a suitable substitute for a fly swatter!  I have tried out two different styles, thinking the flatter one of the two would work better...but it didn't.  Now, I have a rolled up brochure (couldn't find a newspaper) hidden between my knee and the chair in readiness for the two annoying, fuzzy-legged, winged creatures.  So far, they are avoiding me...probably hatching a new scheme for their plan of attack!

Yes, this must be a vacation.  So far today, besides 'blogging' and swatting flies, I have talked on the phone, gotten dressed and played the piano.  The most pressing activity that is yet on my agenda is to give myself a pedicure.  I doubt it's necessary to document that in pictures, either. 

NC Thursday May 10th. . .

10:00am. . .Outside...sunshine...birds...breeze...lots of sky...watching Jerry, the dog, explore the fenced in perimeter of the backyard.  It feels a little like a typical spring day in upstate NY so there is no sensation of being 'away from home.'  I hear the droning sound of airplanes in the distance and the sound of an occasional vehicle beyond the fence and pecan trees on Roslin Farm Road.  Other than that, the neighborhood is very quiet.  

I can't help but notice how family patterns have changed in the years since our children were young.  (I'm not about to debate the pros and cons of which way is better; my only comment on that topic is to say that nothing stays the same and that the 'old' way is not necessarily the 'best' way.)  Differences, however, are apparent to me.  During week days, particularly, I find myself wondering where all the people are who belong to all these houses?  Late in the afternoon it begins to bustle with the neighborly comraderie of smiles and waves as well as a 'mixed chorus' of  barking dogs and happy children playing.  Well...maybe some not so happy.  =^) 

It was a nice surprise yesterday to have some close family from 'up home' drop by as they were passing through.  I'm sorry for the circumstances that brought them to NC but it was oh, so good to see them.  Later, there was the Wednesday night dinner at church which happened to be lasagna night -- one of my favorites!  Afterward, some time to relax and visit before turning in for the night.  I slept really well, so soundly that when I woke up this morning, it took me a few minutes to get oriented and unlike the night before when a series of quite disturbing dreams (nightmares?) kept waking me up.  I don't like it when my dreams are so vivid that I remember them because I spend way too much time trying to analyze them. 

Let's see...it has been over a week now since I left French Woods behind me, temporarily, and I'm settled in for the time being.  I wouldn't really call this a 'vacation,'  though, since there is nothing back home that I feel the need to get away from.  What would I call it?  That's a good question.  I guess I could call it a 'temporary relocation' to be 'home' with the rest of my family.  

NC Tuesday May 8th. . .

9:30am...alone...quiet...coffee...bagel with cream cheese...the rhythm of life keeping time all around me -- at least I assume so; I can't see or hear much of it from here.

Today, I woke up feeling twinges of compassion that branch out in many directions.  If I were to try to illustrate them, my drawing would resemble a road map.  There would be 'Interstates' of prayer in the direction of those who are fearfully facing a life-threatening time to their physical bodies.  There would be soft  wooded paths with shimmering sunlight to lovingly guide precious ones who have encountered the darkness of depression that only those who have 'been there' can fully understand.  There would be highways to healing,  trails toward peace of mind, and bridges to symbolize the crossing from one to the other.  My road map would be unique in that all the crooked journey lines would share a common destination -- love of God and submission that makes room for thankfulness, always, and when we think we've been given more than we can handle, faith in God's promise to help us handle what we are given.  

NC Monday May 7th. . .

7:00am Monday, May 7th. . .

All packed......having coffee......house is still quiet but not for long, I suspect.  I'm not sure exactly what time I will head out this morning.  Hopefully, after I do, I will end up in Hope Mills.  'Garmin' is all programmed to guide me there -- on MY terms rather than its own.  That took some doing but thanks to Dan's help, it has been accomplished.  As a back-up, I also have a printed copy of the same directions.  Boy, do I love modern technology!  I am so 'converted' that it would be hard for me to function without it.  I think I've mentioned before that I am not adventurous so I'm having some anxiety about today.  I'm not sure why; probably just because, given certain sets of circumstances, I am conditioned to feel a certain way.  Over the years, I've learned to deal with that on most levels and to accept the part that simply is not going to change.  Nor would I want it to since I believe it would change who God intended for me to be and, therefore, any gifts He has provided for me to offer. 

So......this morning I am giving thanks for anxiety!  How crazy is that?! 

9:45pm. . .

Well, 'Garmin' didn't let me down.  What a beautiful drive it was from Kannapolis to Hope Mills.  I'm all settled in and have made myself at home here at Jenn's and Allen's for the next week or so. 

NC Sunday May 6th. . .

Going on 10:00am. . .looking a little cloudy this morning.

What I'm thinking right now is that I applaud parents of babies and toddlers who, despite a hectic work week, find value in all the effort it takes to get a family ready and out the door to worship on a Sunday morning.  It would be so convenient to say things like "...the only day to get things done at home,"  "...the only day to sleep in" or "...when the kids are older," etc., when the truth is that all of the choices we make are based on priorities we make for ourselves and how we are willing to budget our time. 

May God bless young parents everywhere and speak to their hearts today! 

NC May 5th 2012. . .

Saturday, May 5th. . .

Early morning...patio...coffee...birds...never-ending traffic.  The house is quiet.  Dan has gone to work and no one else is up yet.  The only obstacle to this otherwise peaceful moment is the fact that I am having a 'doozey' of an allergy attack that is not only leaving my nose raw but is sending piercing jolts of pain behind my left eye and throughout my sinuses.  My traveling in spring and fall, as a rule, means that I get to experience these symptoms four times a year instead of just two.  So be it...minor inconvenience...small stuff...all that.

I'm watching a female cardinal flitting between the Rose of Sharon bush and the roof top, and I'm wondering if there is a nest nearby.  Now and then, she flies down into the woods.  I wonder where she goes in there and if she is on a mission or if it is her safety zone that she retreats to while she plans her next move.  Aha!  I do see a nest in the Rose of Sharon bush.  It's pretty well hidden.  So well, in fact, that if I didn't happen to see the bird, I never would have noticed the nest.  Maybe it's not even hers.  I'm not as familiar with the nesting habits of cardinals as I am with the robins and little house wrens back home.  Cardinals are not quite as common there.  Occasionally they come to my feeder but they seem to appear mysteriously from the woods.  The house wrens, on the other hand, are very brazen about setting up housekeeping right under my nose...and sometimes in the oddest places.  The robins are very predictable, returning to the same nests year after year.  I've always envied their long distance directional sense since (as Bob often took delight in saying) if 'they' put me in a room, turned me around three times, I wouldn't be able to find my way out.  (It's true...I have said good-bye, then walked into many a closet when leaving someone's home I wasn't familiar with.)  The GPS for my car has become one of my best friends.  How nice for birds, that they have all that built in.

On Monday, I'll be leaving here and driving to Jenn and Allen's which is a three-hour drive that includes a series of many different routes and turn-offs.  It will be interesting to see how that goes.  It will be an adventure, that's for sure.  My kids used to say, "wherever we go with you, Mom, it's always an adventure" and I would say, "just think, if I had gone the right way, we never would have gotten to see this!"  When in doubt, my instinct is always to turn right...so I suppose I could end up driving in a big circle.

Such is life -- a big circle.  Sooner or later, all things overlap and come together in a most adventurous way.  How we are affected by the adventures; the circles, in our journey all has to do with our own perspective.  Life is what happens; not what happens 'to' us.

 

The sun is peeking through the Rose of Sharon bush now, proof that the earth has made another of its own circles.  (How many is that now?)  Mrs. Cardinal has circled around again, swooping over the bush with the nest. 

I'm thinking of a song......"Round and round goes the circle of life; jump right in to the circle of life......" 

NC May 4th 2012. . .

Friday, May 4th. . .

Let's see, I think this is Friday.   It's a little past 6:30am and I'm sitting out on the screened in patio, listening to the early morning birds.  Judging by the sounds, I'd say the dense wooded area at the foot of the back yard must be full of them.  If it weren't for the competitive drone of the traffic on nearby Tukaseegee Road, I might think I was back home in French Woods.  If I lived here, I suppose I would get used to it afterwhile but I have a tendancy to "look up" when I hear a car, wondering "who's coming?"

Once again, I spent yesterday in the world of Kaitlyn and Matthew and will do so again today.  Since we live so far apart, how I cherish these special days of bonding even though by this point in my "life's journey,"  my stamina for keeping pace with a three year old and an almost one year old is not quite what it used to be.  I'm so used to such a different kind of busyness that at the end of the day, I feel (in a way) as though I've "done nothing" and wonder why I am exhausted.  It reminds me of when Bob and I would travel all day in the car and kid one another about being so tired out when all we did was "sit all day."

Later......

Among other things, I have managed to get dressed and even comb my hair.  We have had a pretend picnic on a hooded bath towel in the middle of the living room floor, with one plastic spoon and one plastic cup packed in a trick-or-treat bucket "picnic basket."  The picnic ended abruptly when Kaitlyn decided the bucket bore a better likeness to a helmet and she went bouncing away on her Moon Bounce ball with the Halloween bucket on her head. 

I miss Bob so much when I am with these children that he never knew and my heart melts a little every time I see little glimpses of him in them.  He would have enjoyed them so.     

NC May 2nd 2012. . .

Wednesday, May 2nd...

Well...I made it!  Here I am, settling into Day One in NC at Dan and Michelle's.  As reluctant as I am to leave the hills of French Woods, I do look forward to being "home" with the rest of my family in this "neck of the woods."  How heartwarming it is to hear "Gramma!  Gramma!  Gramma!" before my feet are even out of the car and to be greeted by little outstretched arms and bright, smiling eyes.  To me, this is what "it" is all about.

Getting here had its ups and downs...literally, since I flew.  The flight was delayed to the extent that my departure time from Scranton was nearly what my scheduled arrival time in Charlotte had been.  Since I didn't need to make a connecting flight, that was of little concern, though.  I just pulled a crochet project out of my bag and worked on that while I waited.  The flight itself had a magnificent view and was smooth and relaxing...to begin with.  Just as I closed my eyes to settle in for a little cat nap, the turbulance started and when I opened my eyes, the view had dissolved into gray cloud cover.  I was relieved when the flight attendant announced that the captain had said it would only be bumpy like that for about ten minutes.  That is, until she added, "and then it will get worse."  That it did, but the important thing is that we landed safely, I collected my baggage without mishap, was met by Dan and we proceeded to inch along through the bumper to bumper commuter traffic toward Kannapolis.

Today, I'm reconnecting with parenting skills as I spend the day with Kaitlyn and Matthew.  The pure pleasure Matthew takes in tipping his head back and viewing the world upside down reminds me that it is a good thing to pause now and then and take time to see through the eyes of a child.

No such place as far away. . .

Loving my family...holding closely the ones who are miles away by touching those who are nearby.  The essence of each is in the other and in that way we are connected.  It's an elusive sort of thing that flits in and out of my comprehension...but I know it's there.  I feel it.  There's no such place a far away. 

Permanent. . .

Well, I'm on the home stretch with my 'temporary crown.' My appointment for my 'permanent' one is tomorrow. I'm trying to remember how many 'permanent' crowns I've had replaced by now. Obviously, I have misunderstood the definition of the word 'permanent.' I thought it meant 'everlasting' - period. Here too, however, lurks the ever present loophole. The dictionary adds "without significant change;" in other words, with change. Another definition is "intended to exist for a long, indefinite period." The word 'intended' suggests the likelihood that 'it's' existence may not last long at all. With all that in mind I am convinced that the most distinct difference between a temporary crown and a permanent crown is the cost. The durability of either one is pure speculation.

But...isn't that true of everything? Why then is there even such a word as 'permanent?' Nothing (that we have) lasts forever and nothing (that we know) is ever sure. How audacious...to presume comprehension of that which is not meant for us but for God.

Peeps and chickens better scurry. . .

Lunch: instant coffee w/ French vanilla creamer, topped with three of last summer's marshmallows, and a this-year's marshmallow Easter peep on the side.  Mmm...so pleasing that I may decide to have seconds.

I have just come from my daughter's where I am helping to oversee the animal menagerie while the family is away on vacation.  The thought of doing a little writing appealed to me as a good way to spend some "quality time" with the dogs so I brought along my netbook.  For some reason, though, an Internet connection was unavailable.  I'm not sure why.  There had been no problem a couple of days ago.  Although I was mildly disappointed, I didn't really care.  It only meant that I had to resort to Plan B, whatever that was.  I didn't have one in mind. 

I had already showered the dogs with the affection they are so greedy for, as much as they are their food and then they were off exploring their perimeter, dashing back every now and then to give me adoring, yet inquisitive looks and to make sure I was still there.  The cat is equally communicative but I suspect the motivation behind his affectionate gestures toward me is something more self-centered.  The chickens had also been tended to.  Chickens are not greedy for affection like dogs and neither are they manipulative like cats.  They just...well, they just are.  While they were busy plucking at their feed, I made my way to the hen house to gather the eggs I anticipated finding.  What I found instead were tell-tale signs that there had been a scuffle in the hen house the night before, which explained all the fluffy white feathers scattered on the grass and billowing in the breeze.  In the nests, all that was left of the eggs were a few shells.  The two "fake" eggs were still there but they had been rolled out of the nests.  "I don't think I'm cut out for this," I thought, knowing full well that I will be having a little heartache for the next few days as I imagine the tragic scenario that took place in the hen house.

I know...balance of nature...food chain...natural order of things...all that stuff.  Rationally, I really don't have a problem with the laws of nature.  However, I would prefer not to be a witnessing bystander. 

Although, now that I think of it, I had absolutely no qualms about tossing the cat in the bathtub to catch the mouse the time that one dropped into the water with me, while I stood on top of the toilet, peering over the shower door to watch!  So I guess I'm a willing bystander afterall.

 

And...I did eat a "peep" for lunch.....................