Posts Categorized: Goodness

Gardening

| Faithfulness, Goodness, Joy, Patience

It rained again. I’m not complaining. We’ve run the sprinkler system about four, maybe five times. All spring and summer and into the fall. Everything’s still growing well. I’m grateful, to be sure, but it seems like the mosquitoes will not give up. It’s fall. It’s chilly. They should be dead, I think.

(Hmmm. I looked it up. According to: https://www.cmmcp.org › mosquito-information: Mosquitoes function best at 80 degrees F, become lethargic at 60 degrees F, and cannot function below 50 degrees F.)

Okay, when I was outside today, the temperature was in the upper 70’s. So, seems like I should keep on squirting the bug spray on, probably for another month. At least.
I spent a while yesterday and then some, today, too, cleaning up the thyme garden.

I did wonder, when rain was falling, more days than not, if it would be too much water on the herbs. But, there wasn’t really anything I could do. The water always dried up, or soaked in, in a day or so. But, then, rain would fall again.

And now, I’m not sure that too much rain might have harmed the thyme, or maybe this is just what a thyme plant’s life cycle looks like. Possibly, they’ll just hunker down during the winter and bounce back to life next spring. Some of the plants completely died over the summer. Others are making a small comeback. I’ve replaced a couple. The three better-looking plants at the front are three different varieties that I found at the end of last fall. They’ve thrived through the winter, spring, and summer. The big green mass at the far right is Creeping Mother of Thyme. I’ve had it for years, and it has grown and spread and been dependable.

I’ll just have to wait and see what next spring brings.
I’ve grown different kinds of mint for quite a while. I don’t cook very much with them, I just like the way they look and smell. One hot, hot day, last summer, I came home from church, walked through the patio, and went in the house. I didn’t think about watering the patio plants. (And I always water the patio plants.) Then the next day, when I went back out, the lovely curled mint and chocolate mint plants were dead, dead, dead. As was the pineapple mint plant on the shelf beneath them. I was horrified and really sad. The curly and chocolate mints were new to me, and the pineapple mint was a plant I’d had for years. I poured water on the hard, dry dirt and grieved. Then, about two weeks later, TA-DAH!! Really! a couple of tiny leaves were coming up. When I bought and potted the plants, the chocolate mint was on one side and the curly mint was on the other. Apparently, they have different root systems. The curly mint is now all around the edges of the pot, and the chocolate mint is in the center. I don’t care; I’m just glad they showed up again.

And, the plant on the right, with the red flowers, is pineapple sage. I planted it here when we very first moved in this house, and I was working on making a garden. When you rub the leaves with your fingers, they will smell strongly of pineapple. It’s amazing.

I was going to take a bit of a break, and went to the patio to sit on the bench there. It’s where I’ve been sitting to read in the late afternoons. I lean back on the pillows, balance a glass of tea on the arm rest, and enjoy a book. When I went to rest for a moment this afternoon, I couldn’t. We’d had a short, but significant, rainfall, mid-morning. I touched a cushion. It seemed all right. I pressed down, and, no, it wasn’t all right. The sun had warmed, and dried, the cushion tops, but quite a bit of rainwater had settled in the bottom of the cushions, and also to the bench. So I ended up on the concrete steps.

 

And, when I was out in the garden, I had the same idea. I could sit down for a moment. Nope. These cushions were really wet. Top to bottom. And, there was water on the bench’s slats.

 

No rest for weary me. I didn’t want to traipse up the yard just to have a seat on the concrete steps. Not all that comfortable. So, I picked up the rake and went to gather up fallen leaves.

 

What beautiful tents, Jacob, oh, your homes, Israel!
Like valleys stretching out in the distance, like gardens planted by rivers,
Like sweet herbs planted by the gardener God, like red cedars by pools and springs,
Numbers 24: 5,6 (The Message Translation)

 

A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself. – May Sarton (2014). “At Seventy: A Journal”, p.53, Open Road Media
As long as I can put on my overalls and my Crocs . . .

You Can’t Make an Omelet Without Breaking a Few Eggs

| Goodness, Joy

The reference dates from 1796 in English, and from the French, “on ne saurait faire d’omelette sans casser des oeufs” (1742 and earlier), attributed François de Charette.

The proverb (in English) is: “You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs,” and is defined as: In order to achieve something, it is inevitable and necessary that some mistakes are made or some sacrifices must occur.

The proverb is just window dressing for the story that comes next.

Many years ago, when I was teaching at a conference center in New Mexico, both boys were with me for those three weeks. We stayed in a small apartment, and every morning, I’d get up, get ready to go, and rustle up some breakfast for the kids. One morning, I cracked an egg to make an omelet for my breakfast. After I cracked it, I told Kevin (who was up by then) to come and look. I thought he’d probably not ever seen a double-yolked egg before. While it’s not unheard of, it’s certainly unusual. I kept that egg in the bowl I cracked it in, to show to Jeremy when he got up. I cracked another egg for my own breakfast, and, ta-dah, it also had two yolks. Wow! Those hearty New Mexico chickens. I don’t remember if I kept both double-yolked eggs, to make a scrambled-egg breakfast the next morning, but I certainly didn’t toss them out. Someone in the apartment ate them.

I think that, probably, I’ve had other experiences with double-yolked eggs, but, they don’t come up regularly. And, that brings me to the past couple of weeks.

 

 

 

It all seems really odd. I know that egg candling is a thing (where someone holds a lit candle behind an egg to check to see the health of the chick that’s growing there). I suppose that someone could do that with unfertile eggs and check for double-yolks. That seems like a lot of trouble, especially for folks on a farm that have lots of chickens laying eggs.

One site says: It turns out that doubles turn out more frequently among young hens than older birds, and that flocks of hens tend to be the same age. The chance of a young hen laying a double-yolked egg are roughly 1:30.

So maybe the eggs I’m buying are coming from “young hens.” Otherwise, the odds of getting a double-yolked egg are 1 in 1000. I suppose I’ve eaten 3000 eggs in the past several years, and I’m just catching up.

 

She gets up before dawn to prepare breakfast for her household
    and plan the day’s work for her servant girls.

Proverbs 31:15 (New Living Translation)

 

Well, David prefers a bowl of cereal, and I don’t have any servant girls.  But, I do make myself that egg and cheese burrito. When Peter’s here, I often make him scrambled eggs. Maybe next time he comes, I’ll get another double-yolked egg.

The Havoc of February

| Goodness, Patience, Peace

Remember February? When I looked back at that post, the first sentence was “I don’t know what they’re gong to call what happened this week, but “It snowed,” isn’t going to be enough.”

Well, we’re calling it “February,” as in: “Remember February?” when we might be searching to buy heavier coats than we used to wear. Or: “Oh, yeah, February!”  when we’re thinking about beginning to stock up on non-perishables to store in cabinets and pantries. Or: “Hmmm. February. Should we go ahead and try to find some place to purchase some firewood?”

And some folks have spent the spring and summer restructuring yards and gardens, after perennial flowers, shrubs, and even full-grown trees perished in FEBRUARY!

At our house, we came out pretty well.

The Good, Bad, and the Ugly

Back in May, I mentioned a tree that I’d had to treat because it had big, brown spots on the leaves. I spoke to a nursery employee who sold me these little iron pellets, and said sprinkle them around the tree, walking in a circle at the edge of the leaves’ distance from its trunk. Then, water it in. It’s working. The tree’s leaves are a beautiful yellow-green and don’t have spots any more. I think it’s a Pin Oak. It’s in the smaller area of the yard on the left-hand side of the driveway. In the larger part of the front yard, there’s a Red Oak.

 

Other nearby trees did not fare so well.

 “Rain and snow fall from the sky. But they don’t return without watering the earth
that produces seeds to plant and grain to eat.
That’s how it is with my words. They don’t return to me without doing everything I send them to do.”

Isaiah 55:10-11 (Contemporary English Version)

 

Magnolia

| Gentleness, Goodness

Dictionary.com defines “phenomenon” as: a remarkable person, thing, or event. That’s what Magnolia is, in case you’ve been living under a rock. (“Living under a rock” is defined as “To be unaware of things that most people know about.”)

Okay, I know that many, many people in this country are most certainly unaware of MAGNOLIA, but, based on the number of folks who are showing up regularly in Waco, it seems significant. I was recently in the Magnolia parking lot, and, I’m sorry to admit, I didn’t pay attention to the license plates. I do know that the people who were with me are from Seattle, so, if there had been a daily contest for “came farthest,” we might have won.

 

 

 

I don’t know how many employees are needed to create the well-organized, well-tended, grounds of Magnolia, but the restrooms are spotless, and if there is a dead leaf somewhere, it surely gets picked up and tossed into a well-hidden compost area. Every employee is gracious and helpful. An example: Last week, when I went with my sister and niece, we went first to the bakery and ordered some cookies. This past Wednesday, I went back, because I’d neglected to take any photographs, and I needed photographs. I stopped in at the bakery for a cookie. The young man who took my order looked at me and said, “Do I know you? You look familiar to me. Are you from Waco?” And I said, “Well, I was here last Wednesday.” “Oh, yeah,” he said.  “I knew you looked familiar.”  That’s paying attention to detail.

”

Whether you like (or LOVE) to shop, or whether you just like to wander around, or whether you like to try all kinds of foods, Magnolia might just be the perfect getaway for you. It’s not hard to locate in downtown Waco. There are those HUGE silos. You can hardly miss them.

A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. Her husband has full confidence in her  and lacks nothing of value.

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

Proverbs 31: 10 and 11, and 30 and 31

 

It’s true, more women are apt to enjoy Magnolia than most men. But, it’s very family friendly. There’s something for almost everyone.

 

Maybe It’s Normal for You, But For Us, It Was AMAZING

| Goodness, Joy

Okay. It snowed.

For several days, the forecast said, for Sunday, 80% chance of snow. I did not find that credible. Snow is really, really rare for Central Texas. It’s really, really amazing, but pretty rare. So I was in a, rather, whatever frame of mind. I slept a little late on Sunday morning, and when I got up, I did look out the window, just in case, and Ollie, Mollie, Gollie, snow was falling, quite steadily. The tree limbs already had snow stacking up, and the fence next door sported a significant accumulation. Well, significant for Central Texas. And, even more amazing, the snow kept falling down.

I kept on checking, thinking that, as soon as it stopped, I’d go out and take some photos, to be able to get the maximum snowfall photos.

Looking out the front door, late morning. This is some serious snow for Central Texas.

 

And then, looking out the kitchen window, at the back yard. There was a bird on the bird feeder, and I verrrrry carefully edged over to get a photo, but, I’m not as careful and stealthy as I thought I could be, and he took off. Trust me, there was a bird!

 

 

 

I kept looking out the window, checking the snow. At one point, the flakes were, well, not flakes, but large blobs of snow falling, made up, it seemed, of scores of actual flakes. It was like a movie.

 

 

The back yard and patio–

All the patio plants are either winter hardy or they die down with colder weather and make a come back in the spring. More tender plants are in the little plastic greenhouse. Some of those will most likely not survive the winter, but, some will. I looked in on Thursday afternoon and they all look all right. If we get a deeper freeze, some will need to be replaced.

 

 

 

This photo shows the footprints of my next door neighbor, who trekked over in the late afternoon. When we answered the doorbell, I was surprised to see her. She was doing what neighbors do . . . she needed a cup of flour for making dinner, not having realized that she was out. I asked if her kids were at home (there are four of them), but they were at their Dad’s. She said that we’d have heard them, playing outside, if they’d been at home.

I said that, if I had heard them, I’ve have come over and, if they’d been making snowmen, I’d have offered our snow to them, if their yard didn’t have enough.

 

 

 

The last bit of snow, on Wednesday afternoon.

 

And, on the right, on Thursday afternoon . . .

These bougainvilleas have a lovely brick-colored flower. I like the way they look with the bricks on the house. After they were so swaddled in snow, I thought they’d be all done for the season. But, they’ve put out new little flowers and seem quite unscathed by the wintry weather.

 

Just as rain and snow descend from the skies
    and don’t go back until they’ve watered the earth,
doing their work of making things grow and blossom,
    producing seed for farmers and food for the hungry,
so will the words that come out of my mouth
    not come back empty-handed.
They’ll do the work I sent them to do,
    they’ll complete the assignment I gave them.

So you’ll go out in joy,
    you’ll be led into a whole and complete life.
The mountains and hills will lead the parade,
    bursting with song.
All the trees of the forest will join the procession,
    exuberant with applause.

Isaiah 66:10-12 (The Message Translation)

 

My dad grew up in northern Ohio. There, snow began falling in the autumn, and it stayed until early spring. I remember one fall, when we were on the phone, chatting with Daddy’s family. Suddenly, my uncle said, with a big sigh of resignation (or maybe a little bit of frustration), “It’s snowing.” “Oh, wow,” we said, with excitement! He was not nearly as enthusiastic as we were. I guess we’re more excited about a snowfall because we don’t have to shovel the stuff.

I Went to a Funeral

| Faithfulness, Goodness, Joy

Last Tuesday, I went to a funeral for a man I’d never met. It seemed appropriate.

The Sunday edition of the Waco paper usually includes a half-page spread highlighting a local veteran. Several weeks ago, I noticed that the article covered a World War II vet, and those folks are few and far between these days. I read the first line, which said that this man grew up in Hillsboro, Texas, a town north of Waco, where my mother and her four older sisters grew up. I read on and saw that, when this man was in the service, he’d had the opportunity to run into his older brothers, also in the service. I didn’t know the man in the article, but I did recognize the name of one of his older brothers.

One of my mother’s older sisters was widowed when I was six. A couple of years later, she remarried, to one of those older brothers. That man was the nicest guy. I remember him as kind and gracious, and, he had this cabin on a lake. And he invited us to come. My family and another aunt’s family and possibly more of us. It was such great fun. The older cousins water skied, and we younger cousins played on the shore, wading at the lake’s edge and finding mussels and other rich, exciting items.

A couple of years after that, my aunt developed breast cancer and passed away. She was buried in the family plot of that kind man.

In a Christmas card, I sent that veteran’s article to my cousin who had been the kind man’s step-daughter for a few years. She phoned to thank me for it, and gave me some more information about the veteran in the article. My cousin’s older sister died a few years back. She had not wanted any funeral or any sort of to-do. She’d been divorced for many years, and there hadn’t been any thoughts or plans for a “final resting place.” This veteran, who was just as kind as his brother, insisted that my cousin’s sister be interred in his family’s plot. “She should be with her mother,” he said. And that is what they did.

That’s why I went to the funeral. I’d hoped to be able to chat with family members, but I was delayed leaving Waco, and there was pouring rain all the way from Waco to Hillsboro. When I did arrive, I found the parking lot packed with cars and the Marshal and Marshal funeral home packed with people. I was overwhelmed and reluctant to walk around asking, “Who are you? Are you a family member? What’s your name?” So, I went to the restroom. Then, I walked around the edges of the crowd and turned a corner and ran into a couple that had been members of my church a few years ago. We were all startled at this unexpected meeting.

Turns out, they grew up in Hillsboro, also. (If I had known that before, I’d forgotten it.) She said that she’d been best friends with the veteran’s daughter, spending more time at that house than her own. “And,” she said, “what’s your connection?” And I explained about the kind man and about the veteran’s insistence on providing a resting place for my cousin.

I said, “This is why I so strongly believe in the concept of Six Degrees of Separation. There are connections all over that we don’t realize. If every time I walked into a store or park or event, it would automatically generate little illuminated dotted lines to all the people I had a connection to, I could go introduce myself, and we could figure out how we’re connected.”

 

 Ask God to bless everyone who mistreats you. Ask him to bless them and not to curse them. When others are happy, be happy with them, and when they are sad, be sad. Be friendly with everyone. Don’t be proud and feel that you are smarter than others. Make friends with ordinary people.

Romans 12:14-16 (Contemporary English Version)

 

Based on the man that I knew and the stories and information I heard at the funeral, this sounds like the men in that Hillsboro family.

 

Now, I do understand that it was Hillsboro, the town were all my mother’s family grew up. So I might have expected to find someone with whom I might have had a connection  But here’s another example:

I have a son and daughter-in-law who live in Brooklyn. Sarah phoned me one Sunday afternoon with this story:

She was going to a friend’s shower and riding on a subway train that she didn’t usually travel on. When the doors opened, she stepped into the train and saw that there was only one empty seat. It was next to a man who looked very much like the actor Tony Hale. She sat down next to this man, took a deep, brave breath, and said to him, “You look a lot like Tony Hale.” And he said, “I am Tony Hale.”

Sarah and Tony Hale on the L train

Now that might seem pretty brash and maybe even invasive, but, there’s more. (Often, there’s more.) When Sarah first moved to New York, fresh out of TCU, she attended worship services at “The Haven,” a place for New Yorkers in the arts communities. A place that was started by . . . yes . . . Tony Hale. She walked into the subway car already having a connection with the actor. They had a nice chat about The Haven and people they knew, and, at one point, he said to her, “Nice bag,” referring to a large, quilted tote that she was carrying. She said, “My mother-in-law made it for me.” Tony Hale liked my bag! She asked if she could take a photo, and he said “yes.”

A year or so earlier, a local songwriter and singer made a movie based on his life and struggles, and how things turned out. Tony Hale was one of the actors in that movie, Sironia. That singer/songwriter and his family were members of my church, at the time. I’d had a couple of his kids in my Sunday School class. The Sunday after Sarah told me about sitting next to Tony Hale on the train, I ran into that songwriter’s wife. I told her about Sarah’s encounter. And she said, with great astonishment, “Tony Hale was riding the subway?!?!?”

But the most interesting thing is that I have two pathways, of only one person each, between me and Tony Hale. It’s like we’re BFFs.

 

Breath of Heaven

| Faithfulness, Gentleness, Goodness, Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience, Peace

Two or three times a year, my church publishes a devotional book, for Advent, for Lent/Easter, for support for teams of church members on mission trips, and other occasions. Church members are asked to write devotionals for the booklets, and sometimes I’m asked to write one. This year, for Advent, our assignment was to choose a favorite Christmas carol and a scripture passage, and to write a devotional based on our experience with those things. This is the one I wrote, inspired by the song Breath of Heaven. The song’s title has the link to  Amy Grant’s singing the song.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

I trust you to save me, Lord God, and I won’t be afraid. My power and my strength come from you, and you have saved me. Isaiah 12:2 (Contemporary English Version)

Breath of Heaven

We have a niece who had a baby about a year and a half ago. While her husband rushed into the hospital’s emergency room to get a wheelchair for her, she gave birth to their third child, a baby boy, in the front seat of their vehicle. Now there’s a birth story.

The birth story Mary has to tell is pretty impressive, too. Well, more impressive, I guess. After all, it is Jesus.

There’s not much detail about Mary, herself, in the Bible. If you go online, there’s lots of information about her, but it’s all pretty much speculation.

I do wonder, though, if Jesus ever said to her, “Please tell me about the night I was born.” It’s not a matter of his not knowing all the facts, but I like to think that he would appreciate hearing her tell the story.

(He listens and responds. As she narrates the tale, she’s also pondering about her own feelings and struggles.)

 

“Oh, Mother! An angel? Were you surprised? Were you scared?”

         Holy father you have come
         And chosen me now to carry your son

“And Aunt Elizabeth, too? Cousin John? Really?”

         Must I walk this path alone?
         Be with me now

“I remember hearing about that census. All the way to Bethlehem. Quite a trip.”

         Lighten my darkness
         Pour over me your holiness

“No place to stay? Then what happened?

         Do you wonder as you watch my face
         If a wiser one should have had my place

“Shepherds came all the way into town? That was a hike!”

         Help me be strong
         Help me be
         Help me

“What was the hardest part for you, Mother?”

         Breath of heaven
         Lighten my darkness
         Pour over me your holiness
         For you are holy
         Breath of heaven

“You are the bravest woman I know, Mother. I am grateful that you were willing to do what you were asked to do.”

 

 

Reflection
You may have heard two people tell the “same” story, but from really different points of view. This holiday season, think about spending time with friends and relatives that you think you know pretty well. Listen to their stories and appreciate how the details may be different from the way you might remember those occasions.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(We writers are asked to include some bio information. This is what I wrote: My sister was born the October that I was 4 1/2 years old. My mother says that, that December, I would drape small baby blankets over my head and shoulders and wander around the house, stopping at each room, and shaking my head and muttering “No room. No room. No room.” Then, I would erect my toy ironing board, drape IT with blankets, and sit under it, holding a doll. Apparently I would do that for hours, leaving her free to take care of the new baby in the house.

 

In With the New

| Goodness, Love, Peace

Our first computer was little more than a toy. It used (you may need to sit down to process this) cassette tapes to copy and store data. Once, I lost an entire Vacation Bible School session: activities, group time plans, snack ideas, recreation suggestions, and information for preschool teachers, for a session that would be three hours in length. I still, of course, had my notes and plans, but I had to immediately sit down and re-enter it, while it was all fresh in my mind. Ordinarily, one would save material, and then print it out, just in case there was some glitch in the printing process. Not this time. After I’d completely re-entered all the material, I printed it out. Then I saved it. And that time, the saving process went smoothly. I don’t remember how long we had that computer, but when the family of a friend of Kevin’s was getting a new computer, and he was talking to Kevin about the computer they weren’t going to keep, Kevin suggested that we buy it from them, and we quickly did. And, while it was nothing like the computer we have now, it was a mighty improvement over what we had. It was an Apple II. It used floppy disks to store data.

Some time after that, we had a brown-out at our house. (That’s what the electric company guys called it.) A branch fell from our big pecan tree onto the electric power line, in the middle of the night. Jeremy, who was ill and not sleeping well, noticed that the numbers on his clock were dim. He came in and woke us up. When we turned on the lights, they also were dim. David called the electric company, and repair people came right out, in the middle of the night. There’d been a surge before the brown-out, and we discovered that a few things had been damaged by that surge. The air conditioner!! (Of course, this thing happened in the heat of the summer.) The VCR.  Jeremy would be unable to watch movies we’d gotten for him to watch while he was under the weather. And, yes, the computer. Actually it was some box (which had important wiring) that was part of the electrical wire that plugged into the socket.

We called the air conditioning repair guy as soon as we could. Even though it was August, it was a rainy few days and we didn’t swelter too very much before they were able to come and fix it. Then, I went and purchased a new VCR. I called the computer people. I don’t remember how much the new electrical cord with the important box on it cost, but it was a lot and, really, the computer was old. In computer time.

I made the suggestion, over dinner that night, that instead of replacing the damaged cord, we put that money toward to new computer. BUT. That new computer would be an early, family Christmas gift. And, given the cost, that would be what we would be getting for Christmas. No other gifts. It seemed like a good idea. Maybe not a great idea, but a good idea. I reminded them that they would be getting gifts from grandparents and other family members. And, we would have, right now, a brand new, fabulous computer.

We got a Mac. Next, we got an iMac, that blue, roundish kind. Then we got a red iMac, because the first on got stolen. Yeah. Really. And then David got a computer, too. And then we upgraded.

And now, I’m as bad as anyone when I complain that my present computer seemed so slow! It WAS so slow.

A few months ago, I was complaining to Kevin about it, and his immediate reaction was, of course, that I should get a new computer!

This is the new computer. The picture is a dune from the Mojave desert. It changes during the day, and at night, the sky will be dark, as will the dune.

And it is way too easy to get a new computer. Kevin made the choice for me, I gave him my credit card number, he ordered the thing, and Bob’s Your Uncle.

Kevin was planning a trip to Waco soon, and he got it all set up for me while he was here.

 

 

Meanwhile, I also had, on a shelf above the computer, a television set. It was a verrrrry old television, and I didn’t watch it a lot, but, I did watch it some. And it just seemed like a nice, new, up-to-date television might be nice and work well and look nice. So I got a television, too.

The television we have in the main room is a nice, newish, television, and there’s a TIVO box that brings a lot of television programming into the house. We don’t really watch that much of it. The box that was in the room with my archaic television is a smaller version and only provides something like 90 channels.

When Kevin came, we got the computer out of the box, and he got it all set up. He moved all my mail/work/photos/etc. from the old computer to the new computer. And it is very nice.

The new television with the remotes

The television proved more challenging. There were lots of cables and wires, and after several tries, he finally got the right cable in the right place and used the television’s remote to get all the channels up and running. But they didn’t quite run. Kevin said to call the cable company and tell them that and find out what to do. And, after a few weeks, I finally did, earlier this week. First, I had to call the cable people. I had to wait a long time for a human being, but a guy finally came on. I explained that I had this new television and it came on all right, but I couldn’t get the channels to come up. He said was I using the cable company’s remote. I said I was using the television’s remote. I didn’t have a cable company remote. He was confounded. How did I use the TIVO box if I didn’t have the cable company’s box? I said that I didn’t have the TIVO cable box on my television. The main television, in another room, had the TIVO box. My box was small and it didn’t have its own remote. We don’t use those small boxes any more. You need a TIVO box. Okay. But someone will need to come and bring it, right.

So he said, “Tomorrow. Times are ‘between 8 and noon,’ and ‘between 1 and 5,’ and ‘between 5 and 9.’ ” I went with “between 8 and noon.”

A very nice young man showed up at 8:00 a.m. and went to work. Turns out, I do not need a big TIVO box. I just need the small box, which is what I said. However, my small box wasn’t working well, so I got a new small box. And he had to do some work with wires outside, where he found a wasp’s nest. He said did I have some dishwashing liquid, which I did. I put it in a cup with some water and he went out to take care of those pesky wasps who had made a nest right by the wiring he needed to work on. And, turns out that the little box does have its own remote, which must be a new thing, because for years, I didn’t have one to use and watched all the channels by using the television’s own remote, but none of that matters now, does it.

The cable guy was gone by 9:30, and I sat down to enjoy my new equipment. I checked the television schedule (conveniently on my computer) and ended up watching 9/11 programming for most of the day.

I think that the rhythmic phrase “Remember, remember” was first used in a poem dated as 1870. The event, poetically described, refers to a rebellion in Britain led by Guy Fawkes on November 5, 1605. The poem’s title is “The Fifth of November” and the first lines are:

Remember, remember!
The fifth of November,
The Gunpowder treason and plot;
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!

There’s also a song, “8th of November,” that refers to a military event from the Vietnam War.

We’re encouraged to remember! Remember the Maine!    Remember the Alamo!

And it is easy to recall and say “Remember. Remember, eleven September.”

My children do remember. Kevin will be able to explain it to Peter, who can say to his kids, “Yeah. I remember my dad telling me about that.” And we can hope that in Peter’s generation, the rallying cry “Remember!” could refer to a different kind of event. One that doesn’t make you cry.

 

I will call to mind the deeds of the Lord;  I will remember your wonders of old.

Psalm 77:11 (New Revised Standard Version)

 

 

Remember! Remember! The great deeds! The wonders! Remember!

 

 

 

 

What a Holiday!

| Goodness, Joy, Love

For my July 4 breakfast, I had the same thing I have every morning: a cheese and egg breakfast burrito. It’s not, I’m pretty sure, what the the Founding Fathers had for breakfast on July 4, 1776, but it is certainly an early American food. Very early, early American.

The word tortilla originates from the Spanish word tort meaning “cake” and its first documented use was around the mid-1600s. The food itself, a thin flatbread made from dried and finely ground corn, can be traced back many thousands of years to people of the Sierra Madre Mountains. Today, tortillas are second only to sliced bread as the number 2 packaged bread product sold, passing bagels and muffins.

I put some cheese on my tortilla. Apparently, not an American discovery, but I suppose we invented American cheese.

It is thought that cheese was first discovered around 8000 BC around the time when sheep were first domesticated, in Middle East, Europe, and Central Asia. Rennet, the enzyme used to make cheese, is naturally present in the stomachs of ruminants. The leak-proof stomachs and other bladder-like organs of animals were often put to use to store and transport milk and other liquids. Without refrigeration, warm summer heat in combination with residual rennet in the stomach lining would have naturally curdled the milk to produce the earliest forms of cheese.

East Indian history indicates that wild fowl were domesticated as early as 3200 B.C. Egyptian and Chinese records show that fowl were laying eggs for man in 1400 B.C. Europe has had domesticated hens since 600 B.C. There is some evidence of native fowl in the Americas prior to Columbus’ arrival. However, it is believed that, on his second trip in 1493, Columbus’ ships carried to the New World the first of the chickens, which originated in Asia, related to those now in egg production.

Most people of the world eat the egg of the chicken, Gallus domesticas. Nearly 200 breeds and varieties of chickens have been established worldwide. Most laying hens in the U.S. are Single-Comb White Leghorns.

My breakfast, then, has some American, and very, very, early American roots. I took my hand-held breakfast to the computer.

I enjoy working online jigsaw puzzles on the computer. They have a bit of an edge over regular jigsaw puzzles that come in a box. You do not have to worry about lost puzzle pieces, pieces that fall on the floor and no one notices, or, the ruthless friends and family members who will sneak a piece from the table and hide it in their pocket, so they can be the person who places the last piece into the puzzle, completing it. (No one like that in your family? Really?)

Anyway, I like the site Jigsaw Explorer. They put up a couple of new puzzles each day, and they have a big inventory of previous puzzles. The best part is that I can adjust the number of pieces into which the puzzle will be divided, from 6 to 1026. I like the 140-150 range myself. I enjoy completing a puzzle, but I don’t want to spend the entire day working on one. Thursday morning (July 4), I did the puzzle version of the painting “Congress Voting Independence,” by Robert Edge Pine.

For lunch, David said, “Where?” and I suggested D’s Mediterranean Grill, self-described as “Counter-serve Mediterranean-Middle Eastern eatery serving gyros, falafel, salads & kebabs in a casual setting.” He wasn’t so sure, but after looking at a couple of other places, he said OK. April and I had been there the past weekend and enjoyed it. They’ve been in business for several years and have expanded their menu quite a bit. In addition to their Mediterranean fare, they’ve added things like grilled chicken breasts, which is what I had, and, seriously, chicken fried steak, which is what David had. You get sides, and, last weekend, I had Fried Green Beans, which is why I suggested going there. More Fried Green Beans! David had some of those, too, braiding together Mediterranean/American cuisine in the most delicious way!

The saying “an army marches on its stomach” has been attributed to both Napoleon and Frederick the Great. It is recorded in English from the early 20th century.Which makes me wonder, “What did revolutionary was soldiers eat?” Or, rather, what were the revolutionary soldiers supposed to be getting to eat?

 

Canny Canines and Crafty Cats

| Goodness

I’m thinking that, for “canny,” definition 2 is what I’m thinking about, when I consider a recent encounter with a dog.

Canny
1. careful; cautious; prudent: a canny reply.
2. astute; shrewd; knowing; sagacious: a canny negotiator.

I was disappointed to see that the primary definition of “crafty” is negative:
“skillful in underhand or evil schemes; cunning; deceitful; sly”

I prefer this obsolete definition, which I think is how I’ve heard the word typically used. And how I’m going to use it here.
Crafty
Obsolete. skillful; ingenious; dexterous
I didn’t grow up with pets. I did have a bird, but it died, I think because I wasn’t always a good caregiver, like forgetting to feed it. I did have some fish when I was a senior in high school, but it was because I had to do a Science Project, and I chose to study changes in goldfish when they had several 24-hour days of consistent light compared to when they had several 24-hour days of consistent dark. I don’t remember the exact results. But the light won over the dark, I’m pretty sure.

When the boys were growing up, we really didn’t have much in the way of discretionary funds, and I told them that we couldn’t have any pets that had to make regular visits to the vet. Jeremy had a rabbit, and Kevin had a gerbil. They were fine pets, but neither were particularly canny or crafty.

I do know, however, that dogs can certainly trained to do amazing things. Maybe cats can, too. They just seem to prefer not to.

This little fellow seems young, and neither canny nor crafty. He’s just standing in the middle of a city street. Cars were driving carefully around him, without his moving or seeming concerned. Obviously, he stayed put for a while, looking around the neighborhood, long enough for me to stop the car, get out my phone, pull up the camera app, and take a photo. A few minutes after I took the picture, he sauntered on across the street, taking his sweet time. I drove around him slowly, just in case he decided, at a moment’s notice, to head back the other direction.

I hope he found his way home.

He was quite a departure from a dog that I saw, on a city street, a few days earlier. I was driving home on a one-way street that runs several miles through a residential neighborhood. There are a few traffic lights but no stop signs, so the cars move along at a pretty steady pace. I was driving in the far left-hand lane when I saw, several feet in front of me, a smallish dog heading across the street. He was on a cross-street, and, as he entered the intersection, he actually turned his head away from the lane in which I was driving; the lane in which there would be traffic, on a two-way street. I could so be making this up, but it seemed like he was checking for oncoming cars. Of course (because he is a dog), I suppose he didn’t realize that, on a one-way street, there wouldn’t be any oncoming traffic. He should have turned his head toward me.

The speed limit on the street is 30, so I wasn’t going too fast to be able to slow down. And, he scampered across the intersection pretty quickly. Again, I could be trying to put my human driving knowledge on a little dog. It just seemed eerie. He did just exactly what I would have done before crossing the street–turning my head to check for oncoming traffic.

Jeremy and Sarah have a cat. When I was a kid, I had a friend who had a couple of cats. I enjoyed playing with them at their house. They never struck me as being particularly “skillful, ingenious, and/or dexterous.” Maybe they were, and I just didn’t notice. Things were different for Jeremy and Sarah’s first cat.

Once, I was visiting them, and I was staying in their apartment one morning while they were both at work. I’d been reading and doing some research on the computer, looking for something interesting for me and Jeremy to do in Central Park, later that afternoon. I was sitting at the computer when Jeremy came back.

“How’d things go,” he asked.
“Just fine,” I said.
“Did the cat want anything to eat?” he said.
“How would she have let me know that?” I asked.
“She’d have put her paw on your knee.”
“Well, no, then. She didn’t do that.”
Jeremy went into the bathroom and closed the door.
The cat walked over to me and put her paw on my knee.
And I was dumbstruck.

This is the cat Jeremy and Sarah have now. I believe that he’s just as clever as their previous cat. And, he likes boxes just as much as the other one did. I send a box of gifts, and/or treats, to Jeremy and Sarah, periodically. The cat always finds and takes over the box. Jeremy says that I could just send empty boxes, every now and then, and the cat would be quite happy.

If you want to learn, then go and ask the wild animals and the birds, the flowers and the fish. Any of them can tell you what the Lord has done. Every living creature is in the hands of God.

Job 12:7-10 (Contemporary English Version)

 

He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands (kids’ version)

He’s God the Whole World in His Hands (Mormon Tabernacle Choir version)