Clearing the Courts
I know it's not like me to use obscenities in my blog, so even the word - obscenity - seems kind of out of place. And that's the whole point. Out of place.
Today, October 24, I was in Penneys looking for the escalator when I encountered tables upon tables and racks upon racks of Nutcrackers, Christmas ornaments, snow globes, reindeer, and other similar trappings just across the aisle from Halloween costumes. I stopped short, balled my hands into fists, counted to 10 and moved on. On the inside, however, I was envisioning myself swiping my arms across whole display tables and sending the offending items flying with a throaty growl, upending racks of ornaments and watching them shatter into tiny red, green and gold shards with a self-righteous roar. "Just like Jesus turning over the money changers' tables in the temple courts," I thought. Hm, let's compare stories.
When it was almost time for the Jewish Passover, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple courts he found men selling cattle, sheep and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. So he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple area, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. To those who sold doves he said, "Get these out of here! How dare you turn my Father's house into a market!" John 2:13-16.
Okay, so other than the fact that they both had to do with holy days (holidays) and overturning tables, not really a good comparison. But the daydream was satisfying nevertheless. Not as much as actually carrying it out, of course, but then I would have been tased and arrested by Mall Cop, shoppers would be filming me and posting on social media, it would go viral, and my children's lives would be ruined. Still...what fun it would be.
Really, even more ridiculous than this was seeing fully lit up, 8' Christmas trees in Costco in August. I actually filled out complaint forms. Twice. But only because the checkers told me to.
I've had a rule in my house since the kids were old enough to ask that Christmas music or movies may NOT be played until after Thanksgiving dinner is done and dishes are washed. Violators will be subject to a time out room with Jingle Bells sung by Elmo playing on a loop. Of course no one dared violate it.
So even though I see red (no pun intended) when commercial Christmas is prematurely sprung in the stores, I will admit that I purchase gifts all year. I do have two absolutely solid excuses that save me from hypocrite-dom.
1. From November 24 to January 14 there are also 6 birthdays between our kids and spouse. If I didn't pace myself we would go broke.
2. When I see a bargain I have to buy it then and there. It's culturally required. Alright, now we're getting into tricky territory here, explaining why the Jewish girl is finding bargains on Christmas gifts. That's a story for another day. Maybe when I start seeing dreidels in the stores.
Thursday, October 26, 2017
Saturday, June 24, 2017
Closure
Memory Lane is Full of Potholes and Roses
I'm one of those people who, if I had a slide projector, would bore you to pieces with slides of my child's T-ball game, trip to Disneyland or latest surgically removed dermatologic flaw found upon my body. I LOVE looking at how things were, what we looked like, and what talented/fun/warty people we are.
I recall with embarrassment how I subjected my dad to videos of my infant child waving her limbs and cooing under her Sesame Street activity gym. Surely no other child had ever been so clever, limber and adorable. He had come all the way from California to visit us in person, for goodness sake, and I sat him down in front of the TV to watch the baby's fascinating conversation with plastic Big Bird, Bert and Ernie as a 3-month-old. Thankfully he quickly started nodding off and I got the hint.
I'm extremely sentimental. Unfortunately my sentimentality includes baggage: the inclination to tear up at Lassie shows, collecting, and the complete inability to throw anything away that dear [fill in the blank] gave me for my birthday, something that was passed down or something that "I might need someday." Let me reassure you that if you gave me something for my birthday or Christmas, I still have it. Well most likely. I've had to shed a few things or I would soon be featured on that hoarders show. But really, I truly cherish whatever you gave me. I did swear off garage sales when we moved the last time. I was so disgusted with the sheer volume of crap I had accumulated.
Now, however, we have just cleaned out my mother's and stepfather's house up in the Sierras. It was a simple but beautiful place, uniquely suited to their personalities and relationship. They were...eccentric, to put it nicely. Artists. I never knew growing up that most people did not have kitchen cupboards in 4 colors - turquoise, hot pink, orange and green. Or that other mothers didn't wear only 3 colors for decades at a time (black, red and white, then later green, blue and purple).
One room of the house was their art studio, and one was their dance studio. They loved to dance. This room had a lovely wood dance floor, mirrored doors, a disco ball and colored lights. I kid you not. They tried many different kinds of dance and I imagine danced the night away with great joy and abandon. Dang it! I'm tearing up again.
Moving on, it was in a gated community just outside of Yosemite on a lake. I have very sweet memories of spending time up there. Therefore, being there without my mom and her laughter just felt like eating the ice cream cone after the whole scoop fell on the ground. Have you ever seen a child burst into tears when that happens? That's me.
I wanted to cling to any scrap of memorabilia to bring home to pass down to my children, whether they wanted it or not.
*Here I will admit something extremely embarrassing from my junior high years so get ready. There was a hunky guy who lived near my best friends who was 3 years older than us. When they told me where he lived I made them walk by his house so I could stalk him. One time I grabbed leaves from his bushes in front of his house and actually kept them in my keepsake box. For years. I can even picture exactly what this "special hedge" looked like. Pitiful and...so strange. It's not like he touched those bushes or they were scented with his cologne. The young teen mind is a hormonally deranged thing.*
Okay, back to present day where I'm still clingy but not desperately creepy. It's a good thing that we had only a pickup truck and utility trailer to bring these items home. If I had brought everything I wanted home we would have needed the 40' U-haul. My stepsister had tried to arrange for someone to come in and do an estate sale. The seller declared the booty insufficient to be worth her while. I started calling local charities to see if one of them might come pick everything up. And when I say local, I mean within 50 miles. This is remote mining country. Remember the phrase, "There's gold in them thar hills!" Well them thar hills are hard to get to and not well-populated. I hit the jackpot on the third call with Mother Lode Christian School Thrift Store about 35 miles away. For you city folks, "Lode" is not a Catholic nun.
They quickly agreed to come the next morning and haul everything away, including what was nailed down! They were thrilled to get needed items for fundraising, and we were thrilled to have someone take it so we could go home. In any case, I'm glad that I don't have to visit the house again without my mom's presence. That was a huge blessing.
And then there was one more. The rock there is made up of colorful strata of reds, browns and grays and is shale-like in consistency. When we were leaving Bill took a few for our garden. I was also looking to see if I could see a nice one. Right by the bottom step to the front door I saw this rock that I had never noticed before and was very unlike the others.
The fish is not drawn on. It's a white vein through the rock. As I placed the rock in the car and climbed in the front seat I was reminded of Hebrews 13:5, "Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you." And this time they were tears of joy.
P.S. I took that disco ball and colored lights and you can bet I'm going to shake my groove thang under them.
I'm one of those people who, if I had a slide projector, would bore you to pieces with slides of my child's T-ball game, trip to Disneyland or latest surgically removed dermatologic flaw found upon my body. I LOVE looking at how things were, what we looked like, and what talented/fun/warty people we are.
I recall with embarrassment how I subjected my dad to videos of my infant child waving her limbs and cooing under her Sesame Street activity gym. Surely no other child had ever been so clever, limber and adorable. He had come all the way from California to visit us in person, for goodness sake, and I sat him down in front of the TV to watch the baby's fascinating conversation with plastic Big Bird, Bert and Ernie as a 3-month-old. Thankfully he quickly started nodding off and I got the hint.
I'm extremely sentimental. Unfortunately my sentimentality includes baggage: the inclination to tear up at Lassie shows, collecting, and the complete inability to throw anything away that dear [fill in the blank] gave me for my birthday, something that was passed down or something that "I might need someday." Let me reassure you that if you gave me something for my birthday or Christmas, I still have it. Well most likely. I've had to shed a few things or I would soon be featured on that hoarders show. But really, I truly cherish whatever you gave me. I did swear off garage sales when we moved the last time. I was so disgusted with the sheer volume of crap I had accumulated.
Now, however, we have just cleaned out my mother's and stepfather's house up in the Sierras. It was a simple but beautiful place, uniquely suited to their personalities and relationship. They were...eccentric, to put it nicely. Artists. I never knew growing up that most people did not have kitchen cupboards in 4 colors - turquoise, hot pink, orange and green. Or that other mothers didn't wear only 3 colors for decades at a time (black, red and white, then later green, blue and purple).
One room of the house was their art studio, and one was their dance studio. They loved to dance. This room had a lovely wood dance floor, mirrored doors, a disco ball and colored lights. I kid you not. They tried many different kinds of dance and I imagine danced the night away with great joy and abandon. Dang it! I'm tearing up again.
Moving on, it was in a gated community just outside of Yosemite on a lake. I have very sweet memories of spending time up there. Therefore, being there without my mom and her laughter just felt like eating the ice cream cone after the whole scoop fell on the ground. Have you ever seen a child burst into tears when that happens? That's me.
I wanted to cling to any scrap of memorabilia to bring home to pass down to my children, whether they wanted it or not.
*Here I will admit something extremely embarrassing from my junior high years so get ready. There was a hunky guy who lived near my best friends who was 3 years older than us. When they told me where he lived I made them walk by his house so I could stalk him. One time I grabbed leaves from his bushes in front of his house and actually kept them in my keepsake box. For years. I can even picture exactly what this "special hedge" looked like. Pitiful and...so strange. It's not like he touched those bushes or they were scented with his cologne. The young teen mind is a hormonally deranged thing.*
Okay, back to present day where I'm still clingy but not desperately creepy. It's a good thing that we had only a pickup truck and utility trailer to bring these items home. If I had brought everything I wanted home we would have needed the 40' U-haul. My stepsister had tried to arrange for someone to come in and do an estate sale. The seller declared the booty insufficient to be worth her while. I started calling local charities to see if one of them might come pick everything up. And when I say local, I mean within 50 miles. This is remote mining country. Remember the phrase, "There's gold in them thar hills!" Well them thar hills are hard to get to and not well-populated. I hit the jackpot on the third call with Mother Lode Christian School Thrift Store about 35 miles away. For you city folks, "Lode" is not a Catholic nun.
They quickly agreed to come the next morning and haul everything away, including what was nailed down! They were thrilled to get needed items for fundraising, and we were thrilled to have someone take it so we could go home. In any case, I'm glad that I don't have to visit the house again without my mom's presence. That was a huge blessing.
And then there was one more. The rock there is made up of colorful strata of reds, browns and grays and is shale-like in consistency. When we were leaving Bill took a few for our garden. I was also looking to see if I could see a nice one. Right by the bottom step to the front door I saw this rock that I had never noticed before and was very unlike the others.
The fish is not drawn on. It's a white vein through the rock. As I placed the rock in the car and climbed in the front seat I was reminded of Hebrews 13:5, "Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you." And this time they were tears of joy.
P.S. I took that disco ball and colored lights and you can bet I'm going to shake my groove thang under them.
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Wherefore art thou, Sunnyo?
Is there a Spring in your step?
So far there is mostly a gush as I stomp through another puddle of mud to complete my farm chores. There's no springing back from that. One time I stepped one foot into the neighbor's field to retrieve a golf ball and almost didn't get my foot back. My boot was immediately sucked into the quagmire.
There have been little whispers of spring. A 65 degree day here, a 72 degree there in between days of drizzle and leaden skies and outright gales with sideways slashing rain. We even had thunderstorm warnings last week. They actually interrupted our regularly scheduled program (Jeopardy, no less, of all the nerve!) to give us a warning of thunderstorms in the area, complete with that annoying warning buzz. What was the warning supposed to do for us? Stop watching TV outside 'cause you might get struck by lightning? Clearly the weather warning dude has never been to Florida. Personally, I love a good thunderstorm, but Florida storms can make even the bravest person whimper.
Oregonians clearly can't handle anything other than warm and sunny or rainy. When it snows just the littlest of dusting all schools close down. And apparently when it thunders we are to batten down the hatches or periscope down or something that requires protecting ourselves from lightning.
What comes after two days of rain in Oregon? Monday.
Have you heard of the four seasons in Oregon? They are Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter and Construction.
A tiny, lone yellow rose has blossomed on our miniature roses, but in a week we will have hundreds of blossoms in coral, red, pink and white. The strawberry plants are covered in white blossoms and little green cherries are filling out the cherry branches. As the mud starts to dry out and the grass fills in, I will stroll barefoot through our little piece of land going from plant to plant to admire its progress with a spring in my step.
So far there is mostly a gush as I stomp through another puddle of mud to complete my farm chores. There's no springing back from that. One time I stepped one foot into the neighbor's field to retrieve a golf ball and almost didn't get my foot back. My boot was immediately sucked into the quagmire.
There have been little whispers of spring. A 65 degree day here, a 72 degree there in between days of drizzle and leaden skies and outright gales with sideways slashing rain. We even had thunderstorm warnings last week. They actually interrupted our regularly scheduled program (Jeopardy, no less, of all the nerve!) to give us a warning of thunderstorms in the area, complete with that annoying warning buzz. What was the warning supposed to do for us? Stop watching TV outside 'cause you might get struck by lightning? Clearly the weather warning dude has never been to Florida. Personally, I love a good thunderstorm, but Florida storms can make even the bravest person whimper.
Oregonians clearly can't handle anything other than warm and sunny or rainy. When it snows just the littlest of dusting all schools close down. And apparently when it thunders we are to batten down the hatches or periscope down or something that requires protecting ourselves from lightning.
What comes after two days of rain in Oregon? Monday.
Have you heard of the four seasons in Oregon? They are Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter and Construction.
Still...I love Oregon. I will take the green over brown any day, even though that includes green moss, green mold and green mildew. My sweet hubby could see I was growing moss in between my toes and whisked me off to Las Vegas for my very first time to find some sunshine. Find it we did and I was happy to absorb the rays by the pool, but what I found interesting were all the facades that the casinos created to try to look like real waterfalls and plants and animals. I thought, all I have to do is walk out my door or drive to the river or ocean or woods and I can see these things the way God created them, not the way Metro, Goldwyn or Mayer did.
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| An Oregon lake |
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| A Las Vegas "waterfall" |
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