Posts Categorized: Love

Weave, Weave, Weave Me the Sunshine Out of the Falling Rain*

We’ve had a lot of rain. Last Sunday set a new rainfall record for the date. And I hate to complain (and, really, I’m not complaining), because we just came through a pretty dry summer. After a really wet spring. Which led to problems with growing things. And, says the exterminator, an increase in vermin. But the much, much larger problem is this: we’ve not been able to do things with Peter that we’ve wanted to do.

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Brushes and Paper and Paint–Oh, My!

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about Peter’s being here when we had lots of rain here in Waco. We couldn’t get out to do some things I had planned (zoo, play outside, have worship service in the park on Sunday). Although we were able to take a rainy walk Saturday afternoon, we mostly did inside things instead (reading, making cupcakes, watching Mighty Machine videos, playing with dominoes, playing with colored craft sticks). And we got out the art box.

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Sew What?!?

 

I’ve mentioned before that my mother sewed for us. Some of that sewing was for Halloween.


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I Just Can’t Help Myself.

Who *wouldn't* want to chat with somebody as cute as this! With such a darling hat!!

Who *wouldn’t* want to chat with somebody as cute as this! With such a darling hat!!

I confessed to a class once, when I was teaching Child Development courses at our community college, that I can’t help myself; I talk to little kids at the grocery store. I will talk to them anywhere, but the grocery store provides more opportunities, as they are corralled in a seat in a cart. And, while their nearby adult is putting groceries on the conveyor belt, I am pretty much face-to-face with them, and it just seems a little rude not to chat. I am careful to keep my distance, and I never reach out or touch them.

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Yeah. *That* Waco

In mid-May, I was in North Carolina, attending a Writers’ Conference. I arrived on a Sunday afternoon. That evening, I was playing Words with Friends on my phone, and a message popped up from my sister in San Diego. It said, “WHO lives in a dangerous part of the country?!? It’s a good thing you’re out of town.”

And I said to myself, as I rolled my eyes, “Ollie, Mollie, Gollie. What’s happened now.”

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I Recycle-All Sorts of Things

Our recycling day is Monday, when we put out our blue bin with cardboard, plastics, newspapers, etc. Or, on alternate weeks, the green bin, with yard waste.

Today, I’m recycling a manuscript.

A couple, or so, years ago, our Associate Pastor at church, Mary Alice, asked some church members to submit devotions for a booklet she wanted to put together for our church members, especially those who were on teams going on mission trips. Her plan was that we would all be reading the same words, whether at home in Waco, on vacations, or in China or Lebanon.It would be a bonding experience for us all. She enlisted some of us to write and gave each of us the theme and a Scripture reference. We wrote, sent our words to her, and she edited and compiled them all into a booklet. The response was positive, so she kept on doing it. Now, we do them for Advent and Lent and for the summer mission trips (which, this year, included China, Lebanon, South Texas, and many missions-related trips individuals and families made, all over the place).

There are, as you might imagine, deadlines for the submissions of these things, and I’m always pretty close to getting them in on time. I asked once if anyone was responsible and got them to her early, or did everyone else skid in just under the wire (or a little beyond the wire), like I did. “Oh, I do what most of my seminary professors did,” she said. “I set the deadline a little bit before I really need them, to give me some wiggle room.” Possibly not a good thing to admit, but there you go. And possibly not the sort of thing to tell me, who is now exposing it to all sorts of people. Anyway …

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We Have New Neighbors

Mike and Sandy, who were lovely neighbors, put the house next door to us on the market a couple of years ago.

We got this card in the mail from the realtor, the day the new folks arrived.

We got this card in the mail from the realtor, the day the new folks arrived.

It didn’t take too long to sell. New neighbor Bill was pretty quiet. We didn’t see much of him, but he was friendly when we did, and he kept up his yard and didn’t let his garbage/yard waste/recycle bins stay out at the curb for days (which isn’t usual anyway on our block, but David keeps an eye out for that). But, Bill decided to move back to Seattle, and the house was for sale again. It sold really fast this time, to “a young couple with a kid about his age,” said Bill, pointing to Peter, when we strolled over there to chat. Bill left early last week and the new folks arrived a day or so later. I looked out and saw a young man, chatting with another neighbor out walking her dog. There was a toddler, about 18 months old. And I began to wonder what I could take over there.

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Strawberry Shortcake for Dinner

Here’s how the story starts: I was at my sister, JoAnne’s, one July 4th. In the afternoon, after a traditional

a traditional strawberry shortcake, Mom Goodwin-style

a traditional strawberry shortcake, Mom Goodwin-style

Fourth lunch of burgers and hotdogs with her family, she said, “I think we should have Strawberry Shortcake for dinner, just like Mom Goodwin used to make.”

“What?!?!?” I didn’t recall any such tradition. Our dad grew up in northwestern Ohio, in Wauseon. We would go, every two or three years, for a summertime visit. We’d stay for a couple of weeks, but I didn’t remember ever being there on Independence Day, and I certainly never heard about having Strawberry Shortcake for dinner. Ever. So, she told me how she learned about it.

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Mr. Stevenson Had a Shadow. Mine’s a Little Different.

I had a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses when I was a kid, and I remember reading the poem “My Shadow.” It must have made a great impression on me, because I can still recite the first two lines. (Okay, maybe not all that impressive, but I do remember what the poem was about.)  It came to mind this week, as Peter’s here. So, I reworked the poem to describe my shadow.

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