Me being busy is no real news, I know. But there are several things I'm attempting. I designed an outdoor sectional of sorts for in front of my fire pit. So far, I have one section done and one cut out. I had to use 2 of my treated boards on the grape arbor for it was a lot longer than I had imagined. So I'm shorted for the patio furniture I'm trying to make. I won't be able to get the redwood finish on until the wood dries out alot. It is really wet. But we can still use it until I do that. It just looks a lot more rustic as is. I'm going to try to replace the tops and seats on my picnic table sections. I still have the stucco to put on the front and back of the garage, a stucco fence and gate to build and a little bit of retaining wall on the deck as well. It seems everything is a work in progress.
Not much progress on the veggie garden yet. I did get the raspberries cut back and a little bit of weeds pulled away from the perennials (leeks, rhubarb, and asparagus) The rest is still neglected. I want to redo the flower gardens by the pool and I am putting a few new ones in.
My world is growing quickly. The wisteria is amazingly beautiful. The dogwood is trying to open and the peaches, ornamental plum and redbud have already bloomed. The pear tree will again be as full as it can manage. We trimmed the apple tree pretty close last fall and I was afraid we were not going to have any apple crop at all. But there is a good smattering of blossoms coming out here and there even though the leaves are already on.
I've not yet started the bathroom or finished the laundry room/pantry floor. I really wanted to have that done before my mom came in May. We'll see. Probably not. But I am hoping to have the floor installed in the study shortly.
And among it all, I really need to stop and have some fun. Though most of what I do is enjoyable to me. I want to take a long hike this summer. Of course if I could get to Brahms and back without huffing and heaving it would be encouraging.
I'll try to post pictures when I get stuff to happening.
Blessings.
A friend of mine has her granddaughter living with them and her fiance was coming to propose after asking their permission. On her status she posted: This will be an exciting night; More info in the morning. Her son commented: Mom! that's just gross. Of course she laughed and corrected him quickly. OH TO BE YOUNG.
Reading my Bible produced a lot of thought for me this morning. Jeremiah 13-15.
I take myself way too seriously. I take others even more "way too seriously". I trust the patience of God way too often.
This is one thing I do know. God doesn't change. He is love, he is mercy, he is grace - over and over. But what makes me think I can ignore him time and time again and he will never get his fill of it?
I love my G-girl. You all have gotten that message time to time and time again. But she's going through this 'thing' right now. Even though she is a general joy and a characteristically happy child, she frequently tries to bully people into doing and giving what she wants. It became a topic of discussion several times this past week. "You can't force me, you can't intimidate me, you can't shame me into doing what I won't do!"
There were a few times when her grandpa and I each responded with "I'm done." She of course would back-pedal and plead for reinstatement of whatever she was trying to get when things went awry. But as I explained more than once, when I am done, I am done. Buy into it and let's get on with life.
Now I'm not equating myself with God, so please don't go there. In my reading, God said to Jeremiah, "I'm going to destroy these people. Don't ask for a reprieve." Jeremiah thought God was too slow about the change in chapter 12, and God said if you can't make it through basic, how will you ever fight a war? And if you can't walk on open level ground, how can you navigate the thickets beside the water? I learned long ago that sometimes you can't get around the thickets, you have to get through them - not easy.
Then God shows Jeremiah what he is going to do, famine-starvation, plague-death, war-die or go captive.
Jeremiah starts coming at God from various angles trying to change the outcome. The prophets deceived them telling them this was just temporary and God wouldn't let them die. They could expect peace and prosperity. God said, "but they lied; they weren't sent and the people only listened because they wanted to."
What about the promises? They are your people forever. "They are my people and they've broken every agreement; they've discarded every command; they've given themselves to useless idols over and over. They were not deceived."
What about those who really love and honor you? "Do what I say and I will take care of you and provide for you. The others will hate you and fight you, but I will protect you if you do what I say when I say."
God told him he would weep in solitude; he would not change the outcome. God basically said "I'm done." The idea of God going off to cry is difficult for me. The idea that God will decree destruction and not relent is consuming.
Yet this morning, during my reading I saw the last little conflict that happened yesterday before we took Liv home. She wanted her grandpa to play a game with her. He said he probably would, but he had to finish what he was doing. She hassled, demanded, jerked on his body, accused, whined, yelled and finally he said, "I'm done with this. I will not play with you."
She came in crying and I reminded her of when she had done that to me a few days earlier.
When I finished what I was working on, I pulled up the game she wanted to play and we began playing. But soon she was getting even more than playing the game, I asked her to stop, told her I would shut it down, told her it was no fun for either of us when she did that but she continued on her path of destruction. I finally said, "I'm done" and shut it off. She tried to back pedal and beg but I really was done. I set her up with something to do by herself and went to fix supper. In a couple of minutes she came in and needed some help. I helped her and then she came to fix supper with me.
What I saw this morning was that my love for her did not subside at all, but some things are not acceptable and there comes an end to the unacceptable. Now I cannot even remotely compare a child's intense misbehavior to the sins of idolatry, greed and cruelty that God was reacting to. I cannot really equate the feeling I had at being done with the feeling God had at being done. Nor can I truly equate her short misery with the misery that the people of Judah were going through. But the truth I saw was that God cried for the 'stop' he put in place though in truth it had to come. God cared and promised long term restoration and redemption even in the misery he was going to allow for the present. And for his servant who would obey, God promised divine intervention even though he did not promise "stress free, pain free, worry free days." And I realized that God really is 'Love' even when I don't get my way.
Okay then, I guess I'm a snob.
Issue 1. I believe what I believe and I believe it is far better and more correct than the alternatives.
Rationale Factor: If I didn't, why would I believe it?
Issue 2. I think sustained affluence CAN be a legitimate gauge of how much intelligence, commitment, labor, and endurance a person has.
R-factor: It's not always true, poor people are often intelligent committed hard working stick-with-it people. Idiots sometimes inherit fortunes. But without these things, affluence is never long lived. With them we can generally rise back up from the weirdities of life. My grandfather was destroyed 3 times. He made a comfortable fortune 4 times.
Issue 3. I think my moral code follows the same pattern as issue 1.
R-Factor: If I believe something is wrong and I do it, I can change my mind and say it's not wrong or I can ask forgiveness of my God and those I offended. Seems if I really believe it's wrong, why would I change my mind just because it's hard to stop doing that thing. Inside, I just accept being defiled as the norm. Which leads me back to grace anyway eventually.
Issue 4. I like my coffee full flavored without bitterness and without grounds.
R-Factor: Cooking coffee longer doesn't make up for stale or cheaply processed beans. The fact that I know the difference between coffee types and tastes may be silly to you, but only if you've never tasted really good coffee. Bad coffee is bad coffee. That's why we say it's bad. It doesn't belong in my mouth.
Issue 5. Art is intelligent, creative and interactive. No matter what kind of craft you possess, it's art or it's not. Art speaks to the internal person.
R-Factor: The fact that you don't understand it doesn't make it bad art. The fact that someone famous or someone unknown did it, or that the public likes or dislikes it is not a deciding factor. I have 10 fingers: I have a keyboard, that doesn't make me a musician or a writer. Not having sold CDs or Books does not make me not a musician or a writer. The degree that the painting, music or story connects with the heart and mind of another person, that's what determines the artistry. After that it is yours to refine and market as you will. But the art must exist before the dollar or it's a hoax.
Issue 6. Laundry, though a personal taste, is complete when the clothes are clean, dry and folded. Life is not too short to fold underwear. Life is too short not to fold underwear.
R-Factor: If you wait 3 weeks to fold your laundry and put it away, it will take you a long time to get done. If you wait 2 weeks to wash it, it may not get clean. Otherwise what's the point? Why do it? My thinking: it provides clean, nice smelling, unwrinkled garments to wear when you need them. For that, it needs to be washed promptly, dried promptly and put away folded.
Issue 7. Whether you're a house snob or not depends on whether you will let people in.
R-Factor: Let's face it, life happens sometimes and that's generally when the "cleaning police" come to call. They enter with the announcement "I came to see you not your house" and then their eyes go crazy. The only ones who rave about how dirty their houses are are the ones whose houses aren't. The rest of us figure if you haven't seen it, we shouldn't bring it to your attention.
My least favorite catch words:
loser (you don't have proper appreciation for me or value to me),
outdated (the stuff you have hasn't kept up with the latest fad which will expire 2.4 days after you get it),
hater (you have some kind of moral and ethical stand which disregards my favorite vice)
I've decided we're all snobs about something. Some of the coolest people I know are snobs. You know, some of our subcultures use 'friend _____' as a greeting. It helps them see all men as equals and beneficial. Maybe we should use the word 'snob' instead for a time just to get the idea. "Hello, snob Woodall," "Good day, snob Donna" We could love it until it was overused and outdated. Then I would decide you were a loser and I'd be seen as a hater - again.
This was an odd weekend and today doesn't seem less so.
I took my car in this morning. Got ready to go a little early and then I took a look at the inside of my car. The blessing and curse of compulsive living is that you can just not see many things about you because your mind and energies are being consumed by the stuff that presses. Then one day you have a different agenda and there's all that neglect to deal with. We cleaned the car a couple of weeks ago from top to bottom. But my car was so messy this morning. I realized that Liv had left some stuff in the back seat and gotten the sun screens out etc. but I didn't realize it was a vacuum and rag job.
I got to the Nissan place a little after 8 instead of a little before and went to the service area. A man rolled a car window down and said "This is the right place, I'll be with you in a little bit." I believed him. That little bit was a little more of a bit, kind of like the clean out. So about 8:30 he says, "Now what can I do for you?" After my explanation, he said "Well you're almost in the right place," and proceeded to tell me how to get to the body shop.
As I walked into the body shop office, a man in the side glass cubicle motioned me to come in there, so I did and he seemed to know who I was and what was needed. He grabbed a camera and went out to my car. Dutifully I informed him as my husband instructed a couple of times that they had rotated the tires and that the damaged hubcap was now on the front instead of the back. He took pictures all the way around saying that Farmer's required more pictures than I could conceive. Then he started asking for information that I didn't expect him to need and telling me they'd have to get a quote and then we set up an appointment to have it fixed.
"This is the appointment to have it fixed," I insisted. "I'm supposed to have it back on Friday."
Eyes wide with surprise he asked for my name again and started looking through his computer. It was approaching 9:30 now. "Okay, there you are. You're first in line today," he said with his best placate you smile.
I'd been there long enough to know that was not true. I mean I'm getting old, but I'm not deaf or stupid. He called the man in the other glass cubicle and my need was transferred that direction.
"I thought you forgot," he said with a grin as I approached his counter. From the visual reaction of what I gather was his boss and his customer -me- his smile changed to an 'oops' smile. He produced a folder and took my keys. He called for a ride. Yes this man knew my case. Then he called for another ride. Finally two magazines later, the 'boss' made another call and shortly a boxy little vehicle with a large jovial dark skinned man arrived to deliver me to my welcomed abode. I'm thinking I hope I get my car back.
Seriously, I know we all have those days. Mine seems to be today. You know, I just realized that I forgot to tell the second man about the hubcap.
My sister in law died last night in Tijuana in a last ditch effort to save her life in a fight with cancer. We were never close, but she was a good woman and I mourn the loss.
The whole pet thing has gone awry.
Our old doggie is not doing well. Like with an endeared but senile relative, we put up with much displeasure, grumpiness and miscommunication. She goes through bouts when her life seems but a thread, she leaves unmentionable piles about the garage and yard, lies in a distorted motionless heap for hours and we believe she will not last a night. Then she straightens up, perks up and cleans up and seems like she will live a bit; she gets stubborn and shows signs of her former intelligence. We aren't sure if it's a hearing/seeing problem or a brain process problem which puts her in befuddled times, but there are times when the door will be standing open with light streaming through and she will hunt for the doggie door without success. There are other times when she goes to the back door and sticks her nose in the crack and waits believing that one of us will let her in as we used to before her senility robbed her of her housebroken state. It's a sad, unpleasant time.
Her bed is warmed. Her water and food dishes are always full, and the garage can handle the poop with a hosing out if she forgets to go out. Most of the time, I doubt that she misses the interaction as we do.
The cat is a cat. Not a great cat, but our cat. He is quite impatient with the spring yoyo weather. He wants out; he wants in. He follows me about wanting to cuddle, wanting to argue, wanting to bite and claw. He hates the doggy door as most cats do. He squirts in the front door when I try to go out or come in and runs to the back door wanting me to let him back into the garage where his dish is. We used to feed him in the sunroom but then he became lazy about going out into the cold and began using my plants as a latrine. So now he eats in the garage. In a few minutes he's back at the front door or at the studio door waiting for a quick opportunity. If I try to ignore him, he follows me about griping in cat language and butting my leg with his head. Louis calls him the butthead cat. A couple of times he's stood up and caught my behind with a razor claw and then tore away to hide under the bed with the cedar boards and howl, knowing that if I get a hand on him I will beat him.
The fish love to be fed. They love that morning moment when I grab the fishfood tub and sprinkle their sustenance into the tank. They will come up and peck my hand if I do anything inside the tank before feeding them. If I sit for my morning time before feeding them, they will stick their heads out of the water and make slurpy noises. That's what fish do. No need to expect more.
Gus doesn't like the garage doors so he's moved on. I'm devastated! NOT!
We've talked about getting another dog. The neighbor cats and small animals are beginning to invade and I want to start a garden soon. I'm just not sure. This time, I want a comfortable dog. Since Shambley wasn't really a breed, I can't get another like him. I don't hate shitzus, but I don't think I'll go there again. I loved our nephew Anthony's dog, a golden retriever, but I don't know for sure. Louis used to say he wanted an irish setter. I think Wegman's weimeraners are perhaps the most intelligent, cooperative dogs on the planet but that doesn't say it would be if I got one. I knew a guy with a wolf. Awesome, intelligent animal, but I like having company and they are kind of exclusive. Wouldn't want any small children to go missing.
I'm done with wildlife as pets. It didn't ever really work. I don't want anything that will foul the pool or kill my gardens.
May your day be good and fruitful.
Blessings
While driving my little white car with the bite out of the back end, or rather, while thinking about all I needed to get done, the little white car drove down the busy four lane road from one purpose toward another. My mind was not on the road or the other drivers, though the street was quite busy. And then, there it was in the parking lot across from the mall. A shiny gold recent model Thunderbird with a big For Sale sign in its windshield and a number I could not read as I passed by.
Just seeing it lifted my spirit a little, though I really didn't wish to buy it. It was beautiful, flawless for what I could tell. I am quite sure it gets less MPGs than my Nissan and one day in the future, my Nissan will have cosmetic surgery. My mind went back to earlier days and a different life.
I was a young mother, struggling with day to day existence. Working as a freelance artist and a piano teacher. At times the freelancing was lucrative; at times it left a lot to be desired and paid for. Who hasn't hoped to win the PCH millions? The teaching was a fairly stable if inadequate income and I juggled and saved and it was always just enough. Then the delicate balances on the vehicle I was driving went out of balance.
We shopped for a car and ended up in debt for a new blue Chevrolet that I could not afford and did not love. Though I was assured that it was the car for me, I was pulling for a small sporty gold Pontiac. I was allowed to let that dream slide for the reasoning of another. Within a month it had broken down twice. They fixed it. Within six months it had broken down at least 5 times and it was taken back to the dealer. I was glad to see it gone. I wanted to buy something like the small Pontiac even though I had 4 children and the car seated 5 comfortably. I was told we would get by with what we had: an old pickup that sported as many dents as mechanical problems. One day I learned that the car had been repossessed. Believing it was possessed the whole time, I felt sorry for whoever owned it now. Seems the money I saved went for something other than what I thought.
A colleague came to visit. He'd heard of my plight and had a vehicle he wished to unload. It was only a couple years old and was kept in perfect shape, had all the bells and whistles and ran like a dream. His wife wanted a different car and now they were car poor, because the daughter had bought her own. He promised to refinance it for me so that the payments were manageable. Sight unseen, I agreed. I needed a car. Less than a week later, I gazed on my dream car. This was in the mid 70's when 'boat cars' were still manufactured. It was long and sleek. Everything about it was luxury and power. I couldn't see why his wife had rejected it. I felt like a queen in my enormous gold Thunderbird.
It was fast and held the road tenaciously. It was clean inside and out. It didn't break down. Its vices were the cost of its tires, the amount of gas it used, which at that time was no object, and the cost of insurance. I traveled a lot and had a CB radio installed. I was known as 'Gold Dust' back then, a handle suggested by another driver. Many jokes littered the airwaves about my speed. I drove the heck out of that car.
There came a time when I traded it for a more economical ride. It was worn out. With sadness, I realized no one else valued it as I did. It's era was past. It was no longer new, stylish or sleek, but I loved that car.
Eventually my attention turned back to the road ahead and my to-do list. But some how, the whole matter was lighter. Just like the car, sometimes blessings come from unforeseen places and events.
