I am, in general, something (or more) of a procrastinator. For example, after I cleaned out the stationery cabinet and sorted out all the orphan envelopes and things I didn’t want or need any more, and the plethora of postcards, I hadn’t actually gotten around to taking those things to Goodwill. And here’s the challenge that arose:
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I just found the best quote about New Year’s Resolutions. The quote is Mark Twain’s, and he says, “Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual New Year’s resolutions. Next week, we can begin paving hell with them as usual.”
I’m not a great one for making resolutions. Well, that’s not quite true. I’m not a great one for following through on resolutions. As is, apparently, Mark Twain. But, I often get a few things done at the beginning of the year. Some I plan. Some I just stumble upon.
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My new hoodie
I have a new hoodie. It was a spur of the moment purchase. But the spurring happened because of an … um … inciting incident.
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I had imaginary friends when I was a little girl. (The more current term, in educational circles, is now “imaginary companions.”) I don’t remember them, but my parents told me about them, and Mother wrote their names in my baby book. Linda and Lulu. Maybe after the comics character Little Lulu? I don’t know. But I did have an actual friend named Linda, so maybe when she wasn’t around, I just conjured up an imaginary Linda to play with. Anyway, all I know about them is that once, they got left behind on a bus.
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Every one of my physicians thinks I should walk. Well, maybe the ophthalmologist and the retina specialist haven’t mentioned it, specifically, but I think they would be on board with it.
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When we purchased the fridge, the Home Depot guy explained that they would deliver it and carry away the old one. They would also hook up the water line for the ice maker … if it was a plastic line and not copper. Hmmmm.
the water tube, all new and ready to be attached
Of course it was copper. I called Kenny, the plumber. Kenny is an independent plumber and the only phone number is the home phone, so I (and others) call and leave a message. I called. The answering message said that Kenny would be unavailable until the 17th. No good, as the refrigerator would be delivered on the 14. So I called another plumber that I’d used years and years ago (but liked, and they came right away). The lady who answered the phone, in response to my, “I need some plumbing work done,” said, “Oh, he’s got the people out at a construction site.” “How long,” I asked. “Oh, for about a month.” Hmmm. So, I had to call a stranger, who did come and did look at things, and did go back and get plastic tubing, and did replace the thing.
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This just in from Waco, Texas. Long-time resident, Gayle Lintz, reports that, Tuesday, late afternoon, she went to her kitchen to prepare a dinner-time meal for her husband.
“I was planning to attend my Knitting Group’s meeting at 5:00. I opened the freezer section of my refrigerator and reached in for a frozen chicken breast to heat up for him to eat when he got home. My hand touched a freezer-weight zip-locking bag of previously sauteed onions and peppers. It was soft. Next to that was a bag that held some leftover spaghetti in marinara sauce that had unexpectedly begun to smell, far sooner than it should have. My husband had bagged it up and put it in the freezer until trash day. (It smelled that bad). It was absolutely squishy. Homemade popsicles that I had made for my grandson had turned back into apple juice.”
The ice maker with the ho-hum, maybe I will, maybe I won’t attitude
Mrs. Lintz says that, a couple of weeks earlier, the ice maker had stopped making ice.
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A friend at the knitting group meeting, a couple of weeks ago, asked what the Tall Painting from Fun with Friends looked like, when it was all finished. “Oh,” I said. “I should do a follow-up. Like The Rest of the Story.”
She looked a little confused. So I explained (because she is somewhat younger than I am, and I couldn’t remember how many years earlier Paul Harvey had been on the radio). “There used to be a radio commentator, named Paul Harvey. And he would share news items, and sometimes, he’d talk about the first part, and then, after a commercial break, he’d say, ‘And now: The Rest of the Story.’ He was kind of a folksy guy. Like Garrison Keillor, on ‘Prairie Home Companion?” And I began to wonder if anything I was saying made any sense.
“I didn’t grow up in this country,” she reminded me. Oh, yeah. Well, she’s at least heard of Garrison Keillor.
Anyway, here’s some catching up, filling in, and more story:
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Last week, on Wednesday morning, I happened to glance out the front window and saw some big equipment in the street.
There was a truck with a smaller truckish-thing on it. And there was a much larger truck thing with two very large utility-looking poles on it. And there was a guy standing by the curb, sort of between our yard and the neighbors’, holding a post-hole digger-ish sort of thing. And I thought maybe I should go out and investigate.
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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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