So, myopia isn't just mis-seeing things, even though it pertains to the ocular. I think there is myopia in the brain as well. All the information is there, the brain just doesn't "see" it correctly.
One of my best examples is a tank farm in Northeast Minneapolis. I grew up not far from there and only ever saw it from County Road C. Oh, for those of you who don't know what a tank farm is; it is a collection of tanks housing oil.
Dave and I had been married at least 6 or 7 years when I looked at the same tank farm from 35W. Naively, I said, "Hey, there are 2 tank farms in the same area!" Dave looked at me to see if I was kidding. I was not. I could not connect in my brain that we were seeing the same site from a different angle. OK, that is way cool. I now knew through Dave's laughing response I had sounded incredibly unsmart!
Keep in mind I am nearing the experienced and learned age of 73. This winter we happened to take the road that runs on the south side of the same tank farm. Before I could recall the humor that went with the former puzzlement, I blurted out, "There's ANOTHER tank farm!" It's too painful to relate here the look of utter shock and the laughter that followed. He purposely took me on the road that runs to the west of the place so I wouldn't have to have a future revelation.
Now that would be the end of it if there weren't all the wounded animals I have nearly had a heart attack over. While driving by myself one day, I saw this ghastly, maimed animal rolling and creeping across the road ahead of me. I couldn't slam on the brakes because of traffic behind me and there wasn't much room to maneuver nor to avoid hitting this pitiful creature. My heart was beating wildly and I know my eyes were bulging from my face like a cartoon character. It slithered and prediction indicated it would be under my left wheels in no time. All that adrenalin and extreme oxygen pumping through my system was over a piece of rug that was blowing and rolling on the road. There have been countless plastic bags that were perceived geese, ducks, birds, and puppies impaled on roadside fences.
I have ducked to avoid being attacked by deadly leaves thinking they were bugs. I nearly killed myself when I was standing at the top of a stairwell when my senses picked up the sound and vibration of the June Bug that was on my hip just under my right elbow. I screeched, started batting at my side while rapidly approaching the top stair of the well. Then, to my embarrassment discovered I was trying to kill the pager I was wearing. Yeah. I left the office with hoots of laughter ringing in my ears.
This morning I headed for the kitchen for my first cup of coffee. Tentatively I asked Dave to come look at something. I was trying to not sound as panicky as I felt. He came to my side and I pointed at the Dragonfly resting in the sun on our carpet. Dave looked at it and then picked it up. It was a piece of mulch the dog had brought in on her still winter-long coat. I said, "It did look like a Dragonfly, didn't it?" He agreed, then turned it end up and said, "And, now it looks like a tiny tree."
Don't get me started on the dyslexic turn I give words when I am reading fast. I stop a page or two later and think to myself, "That just did not make sense". Of course it didn't; it wasn't the word I had inserted into the text. Also, we will leave for another blog the strange looks I have received while wholeheartedly singing the words to a hymn in church all the while belting out strange things in my own personal mis-speak. Would you believe I have actually suffered my daughter and daughter-in-law pulling a hymnal from my hands and telling me to stop? Would you just believe that?
A basket of gloves for the family. Notification of new blogs obtained when you sign up at the right.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Capricious Weather We Are Having
In the almost 73 years I have spent in Minnesota, there has been lots of weather to marvel. So hot sometimes the brain fries, tempers flare, and murders happen. So cold one cannot even contemplate being angry or harming another because the body is too busy putting all its effort into shivering to generate heat. Of course there are all the in-betweens the extremes that can be pleasant and memorable.
Spring:
As a child I only thought of spring as the nearing end of another school year. I liked the still frosty mornings and walking on ice that crackled sharply in the morning silence. I liked the sun on my back but cool in the air. I liked wearing lighter clothes. I hated the wasps. Schools had windows that opened, no A/C, and no screens. The wasps were everywhere! I liked splashing in snow-melt puddles. I liked the buds. I didn't care about the lengthening days and since we didn't use DST much no one was messing with my body clock twice a year so as the days lengthened, I got used to it. I was terrified of the snakes, frogs, and other slimy creatures that came out to enjoy the warming sun. June Bugs! Oh, how I hated the June Bugs. Still do. Can't abide them (picture a large uncontrolled shiver here). My gardening was inhibited by June Bugs. Since most plants can't be put in until June, it was hard to garden and get all done BEFORE the June Bugs emerged. Nasty things. To end on a pleasant thought, lilacs, lily of the valley, tulips, daffodils, peony blossoms, and wood violets.
Summer:
School was out and that was all that mattered. I was usually not a stay-a-bed as our family had work and things to get done. Mom liked being up early to sit quietly after everyone left for the day with the morning paper crossword puzzle, me, and watching the sun rise over the neighbor's tall cottonwood. She also liked getting things done before the day got too hot. She pulled thick dark-green shades to keep the house cool. Windows were open for a cross breeze (until the breeze, too, became hot). The shades were drawn following the sun. Laundry was out on Monday mornings before the heat, and then left to soak up the scent of sun and breeze until the sun was going down and there was shade to take them in. Not being a heat and sun lover, I followed the shades around the house to stay cool. I mostly played paper dolls or read books on the front porch which faced east after the sun passed there. The only reason I cherished summer was to enjoy not having school.
Autumn:
The very first frosty morning, I would be up, digging for my flannel shirts and cord slacks. I would have them on in spite of Mom's protests. By 10:00 AM, I definitely was dressed too warm and begging to change into something cooler. Mom would be adamant. You chose it; you wear it. I loved the disappearance of bugs, frogs, snakes and other slithery things. I liked sitting with Dad burning the day's garbage at the fire pit (no it wasn't taboo in those days). I loved the drifting leaves with all the bright colors. I loved the frost on the grass. My dad took pictures once of snow falling late August or early September as it settled on the dahlias of the lady next door. I was ecstatic. Mom was not. As I look back, I think autumn and winter made her sad. Oh, yeah, the school year was in full sway. The wasps were even worse than spring because they were slow and lazy. Being lazy didn't stop them from stinging, though.
Winter:
Delightful snow. I played in it, I built snow men and women, I gave my interpretation of ice skating (all the while singing the Skater's Waltz at the top of my lungs.) I would hide in a neighbor's pine trees and watch the snow come down. I lived with the thought that winter meant things slowed down and war couldn't happen in winter. Dad and Mom let me believe that as long as I could. I remember a news report of Korean fighting in the midst of the worst snow storm that season and refused to believe it. The reporter must have been wrong! It was my peace time of year. Even after the excitement of Christmas passing, I didn't mind the cold nor the snow (sometimes way above a little girl's head). If it snowed in April, I was OK with that. I wasn't looking forward to summer as others were.
So yesterday was April 22 and we were treated to some of the wildest snow flurries ever! It would snow hard, the wind would howl, and then the sun would come out. It blew and it blustered and the topic of conversation no matter where you were was the odd weather. I thought about the August snow on the dahlias and laughed. We have had a past few months of weather in the wrong month. November 2014 was cold, unseasonably cold, and it snowed. December gave us a warm spell that caused most of the snow to disappear before Christmas. January warmed up and February was cold. What's up with this? March was warm, unseasonably warm, and April has been like a roller coaster of temperature swings.
It's Minnesota. It becomes a well planned, flexible strategy, game of what to pack away, what to keep handy in case of change, and what to leave out all year because you will need it no matter what the season. This is one of the few areas where one day you can be beaten up with ice crystals hitting you in the face and get a sunburn the next day because the temperature had climbed to Tee and cut-off weather. There is nothing to do but laugh. Gather in groups at church, the store, or local sports area or watering hole and discuss the weather. We Minnesotans are rarely without a conversation topic because there is always the weather!
Spring:
As a child I only thought of spring as the nearing end of another school year. I liked the still frosty mornings and walking on ice that crackled sharply in the morning silence. I liked the sun on my back but cool in the air. I liked wearing lighter clothes. I hated the wasps. Schools had windows that opened, no A/C, and no screens. The wasps were everywhere! I liked splashing in snow-melt puddles. I liked the buds. I didn't care about the lengthening days and since we didn't use DST much no one was messing with my body clock twice a year so as the days lengthened, I got used to it. I was terrified of the snakes, frogs, and other slimy creatures that came out to enjoy the warming sun. June Bugs! Oh, how I hated the June Bugs. Still do. Can't abide them (picture a large uncontrolled shiver here). My gardening was inhibited by June Bugs. Since most plants can't be put in until June, it was hard to garden and get all done BEFORE the June Bugs emerged. Nasty things. To end on a pleasant thought, lilacs, lily of the valley, tulips, daffodils, peony blossoms, and wood violets.
Summer:
School was out and that was all that mattered. I was usually not a stay-a-bed as our family had work and things to get done. Mom liked being up early to sit quietly after everyone left for the day with the morning paper crossword puzzle, me, and watching the sun rise over the neighbor's tall cottonwood. She also liked getting things done before the day got too hot. She pulled thick dark-green shades to keep the house cool. Windows were open for a cross breeze (until the breeze, too, became hot). The shades were drawn following the sun. Laundry was out on Monday mornings before the heat, and then left to soak up the scent of sun and breeze until the sun was going down and there was shade to take them in. Not being a heat and sun lover, I followed the shades around the house to stay cool. I mostly played paper dolls or read books on the front porch which faced east after the sun passed there. The only reason I cherished summer was to enjoy not having school.
Autumn:
The very first frosty morning, I would be up, digging for my flannel shirts and cord slacks. I would have them on in spite of Mom's protests. By 10:00 AM, I definitely was dressed too warm and begging to change into something cooler. Mom would be adamant. You chose it; you wear it. I loved the disappearance of bugs, frogs, snakes and other slithery things. I liked sitting with Dad burning the day's garbage at the fire pit (no it wasn't taboo in those days). I loved the drifting leaves with all the bright colors. I loved the frost on the grass. My dad took pictures once of snow falling late August or early September as it settled on the dahlias of the lady next door. I was ecstatic. Mom was not. As I look back, I think autumn and winter made her sad. Oh, yeah, the school year was in full sway. The wasps were even worse than spring because they were slow and lazy. Being lazy didn't stop them from stinging, though.
Winter:
Delightful snow. I played in it, I built snow men and women, I gave my interpretation of ice skating (all the while singing the Skater's Waltz at the top of my lungs.) I would hide in a neighbor's pine trees and watch the snow come down. I lived with the thought that winter meant things slowed down and war couldn't happen in winter. Dad and Mom let me believe that as long as I could. I remember a news report of Korean fighting in the midst of the worst snow storm that season and refused to believe it. The reporter must have been wrong! It was my peace time of year. Even after the excitement of Christmas passing, I didn't mind the cold nor the snow (sometimes way above a little girl's head). If it snowed in April, I was OK with that. I wasn't looking forward to summer as others were.
So yesterday was April 22 and we were treated to some of the wildest snow flurries ever! It would snow hard, the wind would howl, and then the sun would come out. It blew and it blustered and the topic of conversation no matter where you were was the odd weather. I thought about the August snow on the dahlias and laughed. We have had a past few months of weather in the wrong month. November 2014 was cold, unseasonably cold, and it snowed. December gave us a warm spell that caused most of the snow to disappear before Christmas. January warmed up and February was cold. What's up with this? March was warm, unseasonably warm, and April has been like a roller coaster of temperature swings.
It's Minnesota. It becomes a well planned, flexible strategy, game of what to pack away, what to keep handy in case of change, and what to leave out all year because you will need it no matter what the season. This is one of the few areas where one day you can be beaten up with ice crystals hitting you in the face and get a sunburn the next day because the temperature had climbed to Tee and cut-off weather. There is nothing to do but laugh. Gather in groups at church, the store, or local sports area or watering hole and discuss the weather. We Minnesotans are rarely without a conversation topic because there is always the weather!
Monday, April 20, 2015
Who You Calling Old?
Mostly I don't feel old. Yes I tire more easily and running is not in my vocabulary. I wake feeling and thinking pretty much like I always have. I go to sleep easily when it is time to retire. But there are those startling, somewhat shocking moments when I face reality.
One of those moments is when I have been sitting a while and try to stand up. I stand up immediately; my knees not so immediately. They don't creak or snap often nor do they make grating noises. But something makes them hurt when I want to straighten them and I have to be patient while I get them to be fully straight before I take a step. Of course, the reverse is true when I want to bend them.
My hearing is fine, but my cognitive translation of what I hear is off. If you have recently said something to me and received my wise-old-owl expression, it is because I heard the words but they didn't hang together in a way that makes sense. My loving spouse sees that expression and begins shouting, "Earth to Judy!" Well, at least the planet I'm on can still hear even if we can't string the pearls of wisdom together in the correct order. On his planet, they walk around with a blank expression followed by a smile and a nod which indicates "I heard something, but I'm just not interested enough to ask what you said!" (That is not strictly fair -- sometimes the hard of hearing receive that impatient look with eyes rolled because we have to repeat. We force them to pretend rather than ask and receive that look again.)
Another shock to the system is a look in the mirror. Sometimes I look and I see what I want to see: hair 6, eyes 8, make-up 9 on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being really very good. Sometimes I wonder who that old woman is. I would like to ask her to get out of my mirror; but no reflection at all would be terrifying!
Having been underweight for most of my life and spending my middle years with a good amount of weight, I am shocked now to note I am more than pleasingly plump. Add to that my 5' 4" frame has dwindled to 5' 3.5" and plump doesn't describe it. I have several outfits that I call my "very tall and slender" outfits. When I have them on I feel, elegant bordering on regal, charming, graceful. There are several things that destroy my self-image. One would be a quick glance in the mirror. Another would be when I stick the toe of one foot inside the pant-leg of the other and trip myself. There is always the chance that the odd shaped decorative something on my bosom is just my luncheon spill.
When I last saw my doctor, the nurse informed me I had lost stature. I said, "I could have told you that because much of what I used to be able to reach in my cupboards is now out of reach; and I was the one who put them there several months ago!" She didn't know what to do so she smiled and nodded. Hrumph! If I can't laugh at what's happening to me, what will be the fun of aging? After all it is not like looking forward to 16 and being able to drive, 21 and being able to drink, 55 and your first seniors meal. At 73, you just don't get excited about the color of your upcoming wheel chair, or the people who will write on your hip cast when you fall, or the make and model of your casket. There has to be laughter and fun and love.
Another odd thing about the doctor visit was testing my reflexes. He tapped lightly on each knee in slightly the wrong place. He asked if I had knee replacements as there wasn't much reflex action. I said, you tapped a little off site. He said, "Hmmmm", but didn't repeat the test. I came home, sat on a chair, crossed my legs and tapped. Almost put my own eye out with the leg jerk I got. Next time I'll teach him how to do that test!
Anyway, in celebration of the birthday I have coming in a few days when I will officially be 73, here's to me! I still love lilacs and lily of the valley. I spin yarn and knit. I clean my own home (when I feel like it). I cook my husband's meals (when I feel like it; heh, heh). I come truly alive and awake when the first cool days of autumn arrive, watch the leaves turn, decorate with delight, and savor the autumn bounty of harvest. I can hardly get a coat on fast enough to be out in the first snow flakes tumbling from the sky and I shovel walks for the fun of being out there. Just watch my dust when my new Mint Green tricycle arrives! I show you who is old! I'll ride the rubber off those tires (well, that is, until the summer temperatures make it too hot to be out there). You can bet though that when that first fall leaf is yellowing or reddening, I'll ride again until snowfall!
One of those moments is when I have been sitting a while and try to stand up. I stand up immediately; my knees not so immediately. They don't creak or snap often nor do they make grating noises. But something makes them hurt when I want to straighten them and I have to be patient while I get them to be fully straight before I take a step. Of course, the reverse is true when I want to bend them.
My hearing is fine, but my cognitive translation of what I hear is off. If you have recently said something to me and received my wise-old-owl expression, it is because I heard the words but they didn't hang together in a way that makes sense. My loving spouse sees that expression and begins shouting, "Earth to Judy!" Well, at least the planet I'm on can still hear even if we can't string the pearls of wisdom together in the correct order. On his planet, they walk around with a blank expression followed by a smile and a nod which indicates "I heard something, but I'm just not interested enough to ask what you said!" (That is not strictly fair -- sometimes the hard of hearing receive that impatient look with eyes rolled because we have to repeat. We force them to pretend rather than ask and receive that look again.)
Another shock to the system is a look in the mirror. Sometimes I look and I see what I want to see: hair 6, eyes 8, make-up 9 on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being really very good. Sometimes I wonder who that old woman is. I would like to ask her to get out of my mirror; but no reflection at all would be terrifying!
Having been underweight for most of my life and spending my middle years with a good amount of weight, I am shocked now to note I am more than pleasingly plump. Add to that my 5' 4" frame has dwindled to 5' 3.5" and plump doesn't describe it. I have several outfits that I call my "very tall and slender" outfits. When I have them on I feel, elegant bordering on regal, charming, graceful. There are several things that destroy my self-image. One would be a quick glance in the mirror. Another would be when I stick the toe of one foot inside the pant-leg of the other and trip myself. There is always the chance that the odd shaped decorative something on my bosom is just my luncheon spill.
When I last saw my doctor, the nurse informed me I had lost stature. I said, "I could have told you that because much of what I used to be able to reach in my cupboards is now out of reach; and I was the one who put them there several months ago!" She didn't know what to do so she smiled and nodded. Hrumph! If I can't laugh at what's happening to me, what will be the fun of aging? After all it is not like looking forward to 16 and being able to drive, 21 and being able to drink, 55 and your first seniors meal. At 73, you just don't get excited about the color of your upcoming wheel chair, or the people who will write on your hip cast when you fall, or the make and model of your casket. There has to be laughter and fun and love.
Another odd thing about the doctor visit was testing my reflexes. He tapped lightly on each knee in slightly the wrong place. He asked if I had knee replacements as there wasn't much reflex action. I said, you tapped a little off site. He said, "Hmmmm", but didn't repeat the test. I came home, sat on a chair, crossed my legs and tapped. Almost put my own eye out with the leg jerk I got. Next time I'll teach him how to do that test!
Anyway, in celebration of the birthday I have coming in a few days when I will officially be 73, here's to me! I still love lilacs and lily of the valley. I spin yarn and knit. I clean my own home (when I feel like it). I cook my husband's meals (when I feel like it; heh, heh). I come truly alive and awake when the first cool days of autumn arrive, watch the leaves turn, decorate with delight, and savor the autumn bounty of harvest. I can hardly get a coat on fast enough to be out in the first snow flakes tumbling from the sky and I shovel walks for the fun of being out there. Just watch my dust when my new Mint Green tricycle arrives! I show you who is old! I'll ride the rubber off those tires (well, that is, until the summer temperatures make it too hot to be out there). You can bet though that when that first fall leaf is yellowing or reddening, I'll ride again until snowfall!
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Time Capsules
Somewhere around 1987, I worked at Norwest Bank (now Wells Fargo). The building you see standing proudly as WF now was a replacement building for Northwestern Bank of Minneapolis which burned in the late 1982 (Thanksgiving evening). The new building was nearing completion and all who worked there were invited to enter an essay contest. I entered. I was one of 10 chosen to have my essay put into a time capsule to be opened in 50 years. A minor achievement, but nice.
At the time, I think I was approximately age 47. Our son, Marc, said, "When they open the capsule, I'll bring it to your grave and read the article to you." I yelped, "Marc!" He shrugged and said, "Think of it, 97 isn't exactly a common longevity!" Yes, in our family we actually do speak that way to each other!
Recently a time capsule was found in Boston, when repairs were being made to Boston State House. The items were buried by Paul Revere and Samuel Adams. Ancient things (more ancient than me) were pulled forth to examine. Yet not so ancient were these things as those uncovered in major tombs in Egypt -- those wondrous pyramids. Each time a capsule is discovered, secrets from the past are brought into new light in view of hindsight over foresight.
Who will care that my essay relates a tale of a little girl who stood with her father in their front yard and foretold the weather by studying the weather ball atop the Northwestern National Bank Building in downtown Minneapolis? Not many. Maybe not even me should I attain that age of 97! In case you do, the code was red for warm, green for no change, and white for no change. Blinking in any of the colors indicated precipitation!
But there is another time capsule. It is mentioned in Hebrews 9:1-10. There the prolific writer Paul speaks of the Ark of the Covenant. In it? A golden jar of manna! The staff of Aaron which miraculously budded (and is copied in the opera Tanhauser by Wagner). Also the stone tablets that Moses received from God to show us how impossible is righteousness without God's specific help and intervention on our behalf.
Jesus made the Law, the stone tables with the 10 troubling simple but impossible things for humans to accomplish, obsolete. He came, he entered into a new covenant with all of us. He made the law a possibility through His sacrifice which is God's merciful redemption of all of us who cannot keep the 10 Commandments by ourselves. Love your God first before anyone or anything and love your neighbor as yourself -- no less simple nor any easier to follow. But Jesus is there, walking at my side every day. He shows me when I am ignorantly or willingly disregarding such caution. He waits patiently for me to be sorry I was uncaring for God or harsh toward another. I can feel His sustaining presence when I confess, know I am forgiven, and step forward to not repeat the same sin. With Him I can do all things -- even love my God first and foremost, and love others better than myself. Philippians 4:13 tells me that.
Come to think of it, I am a walking time capsule in the building of Christ's living Church. Inside me are things that reveal the messy chaos when I didn't show my God's glory to others. There are also helpful hints for living a life guided surely and righteously by the Holy Spirit of God. There are things I don't even know are placed there that others will read and walk a better life because God placed them there for others to see.
So I wonder what will happen when the 50 years rolls by and my essay comes to light. I wonder what other buildings in America or in more ancient places in the world will reveal of their eras. I wonder if the Ark of the Lord will ever be found and what those relics will look like if it is. I wonder what it will be like when God reveals the contents of my time capsule and shows me just what my life here on earth produced for Him.
At the time, I think I was approximately age 47. Our son, Marc, said, "When they open the capsule, I'll bring it to your grave and read the article to you." I yelped, "Marc!" He shrugged and said, "Think of it, 97 isn't exactly a common longevity!" Yes, in our family we actually do speak that way to each other!
Recently a time capsule was found in Boston, when repairs were being made to Boston State House. The items were buried by Paul Revere and Samuel Adams. Ancient things (more ancient than me) were pulled forth to examine. Yet not so ancient were these things as those uncovered in major tombs in Egypt -- those wondrous pyramids. Each time a capsule is discovered, secrets from the past are brought into new light in view of hindsight over foresight.
Who will care that my essay relates a tale of a little girl who stood with her father in their front yard and foretold the weather by studying the weather ball atop the Northwestern National Bank Building in downtown Minneapolis? Not many. Maybe not even me should I attain that age of 97! In case you do, the code was red for warm, green for no change, and white for no change. Blinking in any of the colors indicated precipitation!
But there is another time capsule. It is mentioned in Hebrews 9:1-10. There the prolific writer Paul speaks of the Ark of the Covenant. In it? A golden jar of manna! The staff of Aaron which miraculously budded (and is copied in the opera Tanhauser by Wagner). Also the stone tablets that Moses received from God to show us how impossible is righteousness without God's specific help and intervention on our behalf.
Jesus made the Law, the stone tables with the 10 troubling simple but impossible things for humans to accomplish, obsolete. He came, he entered into a new covenant with all of us. He made the law a possibility through His sacrifice which is God's merciful redemption of all of us who cannot keep the 10 Commandments by ourselves. Love your God first before anyone or anything and love your neighbor as yourself -- no less simple nor any easier to follow. But Jesus is there, walking at my side every day. He shows me when I am ignorantly or willingly disregarding such caution. He waits patiently for me to be sorry I was uncaring for God or harsh toward another. I can feel His sustaining presence when I confess, know I am forgiven, and step forward to not repeat the same sin. With Him I can do all things -- even love my God first and foremost, and love others better than myself. Philippians 4:13 tells me that.
Come to think of it, I am a walking time capsule in the building of Christ's living Church. Inside me are things that reveal the messy chaos when I didn't show my God's glory to others. There are also helpful hints for living a life guided surely and righteously by the Holy Spirit of God. There are things I don't even know are placed there that others will read and walk a better life because God placed them there for others to see.
So I wonder what will happen when the 50 years rolls by and my essay comes to light. I wonder what other buildings in America or in more ancient places in the world will reveal of their eras. I wonder if the Ark of the Lord will ever be found and what those relics will look like if it is. I wonder what it will be like when God reveals the contents of my time capsule and shows me just what my life here on earth produced for Him.
Friday, April 17, 2015
Who Needs A Gymn (Maybe the Jacuzzi??)
One, two, tie a shoe! (Crumb I've got 2 feet!)
One, two, tie second shoe! Dang! Forgot to put slacks on.
Bend and stretch, ugh! Shoes are untied.
Put on slacks. Repeat original exercise one more time.
Bend and stretch, reach for the stars (more like reach for the cereal).
There goes Jupiter, there goes Mars! (Cereal just fell off shelf and hit my head.)
One, two, cha, cha, cha -- avoid falling over the dog.
Oops! Dog miscued and went the other way, jog, jog, jog to keep from falling.
Vacuum and reach to dust (not too high, because what I can't see probably isn't dusty).
Use the broom and get the cobwebs. Not that broom, the one marked "ceilings only".
Use the vacuum to pick up the pieces of stuff you knocked over while using the broom.
Empty the dishwasher for maximum bending and stretching.
Fill the dishwasher for more of same.
Seven trips from island to pantry (good for 1/4 mile, but doesn't get what you need from pantry).
Keep a-truckin' you'll remember the baking soda yet.
Stir and blend and round the end you'll have something tasty for dinner.
Upper arm both front and back? Make bread the old way. Knead and roll, knead and roll.
Feel the burn! (oh, that was from the hot oven). Just realized all that bread dough helped work out the aggression I was feeling.
Pick up socks, pick up shorts. Pick up slacks, and pick up shirts. Yup, get those core muscles working taking the laundry to the machine. More bending and stretching. Upper body flexibility while snapping and folding sheets. (Ever wonder why the person with the shortest wing span is the one who can fold the Queen-sized sheets without letting them touch the floor?)
When the day is done, the evening meal is over (healthy all the way), you wonder why there's no weight loss. Could it be because the half loaf of bread with real butter consumed was not the best choice for a snack?
That's OK it's all there to do again tomorrow. And not once did I have some trim little creature telling me to peddle faster or add more weight to the pulleys. No hunks in muscle shirts offering to help me weigh in so they could see I probably weigh more than they do! Life is pretty good. Think I'll have that Jacuzzi installed tomorrow.
One, two, tie second shoe! Dang! Forgot to put slacks on.
Bend and stretch, ugh! Shoes are untied.
Put on slacks. Repeat original exercise one more time.
Bend and stretch, reach for the stars (more like reach for the cereal).
There goes Jupiter, there goes Mars! (Cereal just fell off shelf and hit my head.)
One, two, cha, cha, cha -- avoid falling over the dog.
Oops! Dog miscued and went the other way, jog, jog, jog to keep from falling.
Vacuum and reach to dust (not too high, because what I can't see probably isn't dusty).
Use the broom and get the cobwebs. Not that broom, the one marked "ceilings only".
Use the vacuum to pick up the pieces of stuff you knocked over while using the broom.
Empty the dishwasher for maximum bending and stretching.
Fill the dishwasher for more of same.
Seven trips from island to pantry (good for 1/4 mile, but doesn't get what you need from pantry).
Keep a-truckin' you'll remember the baking soda yet.
Stir and blend and round the end you'll have something tasty for dinner.
Upper arm both front and back? Make bread the old way. Knead and roll, knead and roll.
Feel the burn! (oh, that was from the hot oven). Just realized all that bread dough helped work out the aggression I was feeling.
Pick up socks, pick up shorts. Pick up slacks, and pick up shirts. Yup, get those core muscles working taking the laundry to the machine. More bending and stretching. Upper body flexibility while snapping and folding sheets. (Ever wonder why the person with the shortest wing span is the one who can fold the Queen-sized sheets without letting them touch the floor?)
When the day is done, the evening meal is over (healthy all the way), you wonder why there's no weight loss. Could it be because the half loaf of bread with real butter consumed was not the best choice for a snack?
That's OK it's all there to do again tomorrow. And not once did I have some trim little creature telling me to peddle faster or add more weight to the pulleys. No hunks in muscle shirts offering to help me weigh in so they could see I probably weigh more than they do! Life is pretty good. Think I'll have that Jacuzzi installed tomorrow.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
My Deep-Thinking Best Friend
Today the world got a little dark as one of God's points of light went home to be with his Heavenly Father. Bob Johnson passed away this morning after almost a ...8 month battle with Leukemia.
Bob had hoped to be with his friend, soul mate, love of his life and wife Penny somewhere in the warm southland of the United States. However God had a different plan.
Bob and Penny accepted God's plan, not with out some fear and trepidation, but also with tremendous faith in what God had in store for them. Bob and Penny are such an example of people who faced the frailty of human mortality and are a shining example to us all.
Bob lived a life of walking daily with the Lord so he never had to ask the question. What would Jesus do? Bob knew from his work.
Bob you are in a better place you are whole and physically healthy again. Your wonderful smile is back as well as your wonderful wit and sense of humor. Your are missed by all who knew you and especially by those who loved you.
Bob you were a great inspiration to me and when my time comes to go home to our Heavenly Father I hope I can do so with the same dignity that you did.
God bless you and your family.
The above words were penned (well, computered) by my husband Dave. I mentioned them in an earlier blog. My hubby is gifted with great thoughts. He keeps these nuggets inside most of the time and breaks them free in surprising ways.
Once when I was struggling with some relationship issues in a community of Christ followers, I felt isolated, ignored, discounted, and unappreciated. I would attend each meeting faithfully, give extra, go the farther mile, and come home feeling exhausted and unwanted. When I had just about decided I had ignored God's timing, I came home from a meeting ready to announce I was dropping from the team. I decided I was "from that no longer needed prior generation" and the younger people did not need me. Dave greeted me with a hug then a card. Inside the card was a rainbow of colors, a verse that said he couldn't know what I was feeling but he knew I was hurting and was there for me. There was also a necklace with a little white dove.
I have the card still. I never keep track of where it is because I like that it pops out when I least expect to see it. I find it most often when there is a heaviness in my heart. It makes me smile. It makes me acknowledge Dave has always been there when I need a buddy. God gave us deep relationships so we have His presence through their love.
The team I was on? Well, as so often happens, I was encouraged to stay. When the program we were planning came to pass, I was the mighty mouse who saved the day. Not alone, but when the church basement flooded, during the weekend-long retreat, I was the one who organized the team in two groups so one could sleep and be ready for the morning and the others could clean up the water and get their rest during the next day. Another woman on the team took charge of organizing the "cleaning crew" into groups to accomplish the work with the least noise and most efficiency. I might have missed the experience had I quit.
Dave encourages our granddaughters who are experiencing teen angst. He reaches out to countless men who are trying to recover from spending their lives in criminal pursuits. He has a somewhat, no he has an actual sarcastic wit that often covers up the intense feelings underneath. He is my God given gift and soul mate (as most wives I have to remind myself from time to time I chose to spend my life with Dave). Dave reminds me often I once prayed specifically for someone and Dave meets all the specifications. Therefore, he reminds me he is an answer to prayer. Yes, that he is!
So, if you know him, if you count him as your friend, if you seek his wisdom and his wit, then be on your toes. Stay tuned in and alert to hear or read his tokens like the one above. It's worth the wait.
Bob had hoped to be with his friend, soul mate, love of his life and wife Penny somewhere in the warm southland of the United States. However God had a different plan.
Bob and Penny accepted God's plan, not with out some fear and trepidation, but also with tremendous faith in what God had in store for them. Bob and Penny are such an example of people who faced the frailty of human mortality and are a shining example to us all.
Bob lived a life of walking daily with the Lord so he never had to ask the question. What would Jesus do? Bob knew from his work.
Bob you are in a better place you are whole and physically healthy again. Your wonderful smile is back as well as your wonderful wit and sense of humor. Your are missed by all who knew you and especially by those who loved you.
Bob you were a great inspiration to me and when my time comes to go home to our Heavenly Father I hope I can do so with the same dignity that you did.
God bless you and your family.
The above words were penned (well, computered) by my husband Dave. I mentioned them in an earlier blog. My hubby is gifted with great thoughts. He keeps these nuggets inside most of the time and breaks them free in surprising ways.
Once when I was struggling with some relationship issues in a community of Christ followers, I felt isolated, ignored, discounted, and unappreciated. I would attend each meeting faithfully, give extra, go the farther mile, and come home feeling exhausted and unwanted. When I had just about decided I had ignored God's timing, I came home from a meeting ready to announce I was dropping from the team. I decided I was "from that no longer needed prior generation" and the younger people did not need me. Dave greeted me with a hug then a card. Inside the card was a rainbow of colors, a verse that said he couldn't know what I was feeling but he knew I was hurting and was there for me. There was also a necklace with a little white dove.
I have the card still. I never keep track of where it is because I like that it pops out when I least expect to see it. I find it most often when there is a heaviness in my heart. It makes me smile. It makes me acknowledge Dave has always been there when I need a buddy. God gave us deep relationships so we have His presence through their love.
The team I was on? Well, as so often happens, I was encouraged to stay. When the program we were planning came to pass, I was the mighty mouse who saved the day. Not alone, but when the church basement flooded, during the weekend-long retreat, I was the one who organized the team in two groups so one could sleep and be ready for the morning and the others could clean up the water and get their rest during the next day. Another woman on the team took charge of organizing the "cleaning crew" into groups to accomplish the work with the least noise and most efficiency. I might have missed the experience had I quit.
Dave encourages our granddaughters who are experiencing teen angst. He reaches out to countless men who are trying to recover from spending their lives in criminal pursuits. He has a somewhat, no he has an actual sarcastic wit that often covers up the intense feelings underneath. He is my God given gift and soul mate (as most wives I have to remind myself from time to time I chose to spend my life with Dave). Dave reminds me often I once prayed specifically for someone and Dave meets all the specifications. Therefore, he reminds me he is an answer to prayer. Yes, that he is!
So, if you know him, if you count him as your friend, if you seek his wisdom and his wit, then be on your toes. Stay tuned in and alert to hear or read his tokens like the one above. It's worth the wait.
Monday, April 13, 2015
When Friends Pass
We have seen 4 friends say their farewells to this earth in the past month. John, Ron, Peggy, and today Bob. Some were long ago friends we haven't seen for a long time. Still their passing brought them to mind as though we had chatted only yesterday. Bob was a new friend not yet well known but definitely fun to be around.
I have been searching for ways to connect with their going home to Jesus and the grief that stays behind even though we who hope in the Lord know we will see them again. There is the grief of knowing this time the business trip, the job move, the long-term vacation is extended and we do not know when we will see them again; we can't pick up a phone just to hear their voice.
Each in their way showed us a glimpse of their strong faith, their peace with being called home, and their surety they will be waiting to welcome us when we join them. Talk about a "come as you are party". In addition, there will be that first glimpse of Jesus that no painting has truly captured.
The news has been sad -- a 10 year old boy found in the river not because he fell or slipped or was playing where he shouldn't be. He was in the river because some adult was feeling mean. Terrorists think they can stop people from living just because they want to. Alcohol and drugs take minds and lives, and ruin families. Something is going all awry between perpetrators who think they can do what they want. Several police officers who should be symbols of safety to children and victims have turned and become their own kind of goon misusing power.
While all this was hurting and churning inside, I came home from an outing and discovered my husband had taken the time to post of Facebook a picture of what it is all about. He asked me to read for spelling or grammar issues. He had no idea he was an instrument of God to give me some peace.
The issue is not the death, nor meanness, nor pain of it all. The issue is God. We are not puppets, we choose to do hurtful things and death exists until Christ's return. But there is always God to ease the pain, comfort the grieving, and counsel us to know, to wait, He will come soon.
I have been searching for ways to connect with their going home to Jesus and the grief that stays behind even though we who hope in the Lord know we will see them again. There is the grief of knowing this time the business trip, the job move, the long-term vacation is extended and we do not know when we will see them again; we can't pick up a phone just to hear their voice.
Each in their way showed us a glimpse of their strong faith, their peace with being called home, and their surety they will be waiting to welcome us when we join them. Talk about a "come as you are party". In addition, there will be that first glimpse of Jesus that no painting has truly captured.
The news has been sad -- a 10 year old boy found in the river not because he fell or slipped or was playing where he shouldn't be. He was in the river because some adult was feeling mean. Terrorists think they can stop people from living just because they want to. Alcohol and drugs take minds and lives, and ruin families. Something is going all awry between perpetrators who think they can do what they want. Several police officers who should be symbols of safety to children and victims have turned and become their own kind of goon misusing power.
While all this was hurting and churning inside, I came home from an outing and discovered my husband had taken the time to post of Facebook a picture of what it is all about. He asked me to read for spelling or grammar issues. He had no idea he was an instrument of God to give me some peace.
The issue is not the death, nor meanness, nor pain of it all. The issue is God. We are not puppets, we choose to do hurtful things and death exists until Christ's return. But there is always God to ease the pain, comfort the grieving, and counsel us to know, to wait, He will come soon.
Saturday, April 4, 2015
He Is Risen; He Is Risen Indeed
This. is Saturday of Easter week. Maundy Thursday thoughts turned to Jesus giving last instructions to his 12 as time was growing short. He was nearing the end of His life on earth.
Good Friday. Our Lord was crucified and died on the cross. This only after he had been betrayed, mocked, tried, beaten, scorned, and dragged through the streets. A spectacle soon to be made defiled by dying the worst death offered at that time.
Tomorrow, we will greet each other with "He is risen!" We will dress in finery, celebrate with a meal, and then things will be as usual. Or will they? Will there be those who hear the real message of Easter for the first time and respond? Will there be those who remember a parent or grandparent often referred to Easter as more than spring, bunnies, eggs, and candy? Will those memories come home to settle into a heart and become implanted there for change?
Some will forget what all the hoopla was about. Some will scoff (what's new in that?). Some will look about and smugly say, there has been "no change". Some will criticize the sunrise services, the new clothes, the celebratory dinners.
Why not celebrate? I've spent enough time volunteering in prisons of different levels of security. Even the lowest security prison emits its contents in various numbers every year, and not one soul spewed forth doesn't feel the celebration of breathing free. Not one Christian doesn't understand why we celebrate. We are breathing free.
Christ took it all. He took the betrayal, faced the arresting force, took the disbelief, took the trial, took the beating, scoffing, and death march. He took the nails, the dehydrating sun as the remaining blood dripped from his wounds, and still could forgive, promise paradise, and take care of his mother. He did that so we could celebrate. He said, "It is finished". And so it is.
Celebrate? Bet your bippy I am going to celebrate. I am breathing free. I am living free. I have One who every day helps me repent my stupid, mean actions, grants me pardon, and blesses me with another chance to try again.
Thank you, Jesus, for spending time with me each and every day. Happy Easter!
Good Friday. Our Lord was crucified and died on the cross. This only after he had been betrayed, mocked, tried, beaten, scorned, and dragged through the streets. A spectacle soon to be made defiled by dying the worst death offered at that time.
Tomorrow, we will greet each other with "He is risen!" We will dress in finery, celebrate with a meal, and then things will be as usual. Or will they? Will there be those who hear the real message of Easter for the first time and respond? Will there be those who remember a parent or grandparent often referred to Easter as more than spring, bunnies, eggs, and candy? Will those memories come home to settle into a heart and become implanted there for change?
Some will forget what all the hoopla was about. Some will scoff (what's new in that?). Some will look about and smugly say, there has been "no change". Some will criticize the sunrise services, the new clothes, the celebratory dinners.
Why not celebrate? I've spent enough time volunteering in prisons of different levels of security. Even the lowest security prison emits its contents in various numbers every year, and not one soul spewed forth doesn't feel the celebration of breathing free. Not one Christian doesn't understand why we celebrate. We are breathing free.
Christ took it all. He took the betrayal, faced the arresting force, took the disbelief, took the trial, took the beating, scoffing, and death march. He took the nails, the dehydrating sun as the remaining blood dripped from his wounds, and still could forgive, promise paradise, and take care of his mother. He did that so we could celebrate. He said, "It is finished". And so it is.
Celebrate? Bet your bippy I am going to celebrate. I am breathing free. I am living free. I have One who every day helps me repent my stupid, mean actions, grants me pardon, and blesses me with another chance to try again.
Thank you, Jesus, for spending time with me each and every day. Happy Easter!
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