As I, um, mature, I find that it takes longer to recover from, well, everything. After a big weekend or a few days of having company, I used to need a couple of days to get back to normal. Now, it takes much, much, much longer. And I don’t always realize how long it takes until I wake up one morning, days later, and realize that I feel better, physically, and mentally. So, I expected to need significant down time after the big Thanksgiving to-do.
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We didn’t have Sunday School for kids last Sunday morning because the bikers were coming. Every year at church, we collect new toys for the Mission Waco Toy Store. Several churches participate, and on Thanksgiving weekend, local bikers (some are members of “Riders of the Son”) ride from church to church and pick up the toys. (They bring a trailer, too, for the toys, which is efficient, but keeps drivers around Waco from being able to see bikers guys and gals roaring around with Barbie dolls and Lego sets tucked under their arms.)
This year, an adult Sunday School class sponsored a time for parents and kids during the Sunday School hour to talk about Advent and giving and about the bikers’ ministry, and then the bikers came. They thundered into the parking lot and the kids got to meet the bikers and get close to those motorcycles (which are turned off at the time), and even sit on a bike. Then the bikers packed up all the toys we had donated, and blasted off to the next church.
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When I started this blog, I had a lot to learn. A lot. Kevin and Jeremy have pushed and led me through the process and helped me solve the problems that arise. One thing that didn’t come up at the beginning was the “comments” option. I knew that blogs had comments, but I didn’t think through how those things happened until my first posts went out. I got a couple of e-mails that said there was a comment waiting for my approval. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do nor how to do it. I phoned Jeremy to get help.
“I have to approve any comment anyone makes?” I asked, surprised.
“No,” he said. “You get to approve any comment anyone makes.”
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I needed to refresh my knowledge about side effects of one of my prescriptions, so I looked in a file folder marked “drug info sheets.” Flipping through all those pages, I came across a half sheet of paper that didn’t look like the others. The print was small, and there was a hand-written list on the back. I finally figured out it was the receipt from a train trip I’d taken back in 2009. I had been out to visit friends in Fresno, then gone on to meet other friends in Sacramento. The train was the cheapest way to make that nearly 200 mile trip, and my Fresno friends recommended it. They’d taken a train trip a few months earlier and enjoyed it.
I enjoyed my trip, too. I stayed put in my seat and watched the world go by. I read, I knitted, and the three and a half hours passed pleasantly.
But why was that receipt in the drug folder? It had nothing to do with prescriptions. And what about the lists written on the back? Also not drug-related.
?????
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Many shoppers at the grocery store irritate me to pieces. I suspect that I irritate folks, too, so I try to think gracious thoughts about other people, even the ones who leave their cart on a busy aisle (because they are having to wait to get down the row) and walk an aisle or two away to get something else, therefore creating additional snarling, because the rest of us now have half an aisle to navigate through and . . . . But I digress.
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