I have too many thoughts in my head today and I just can’t sort them out into neat piles on my mental desktop.

Hector was working here at my house when I got home. This is not unusual since we keep adding to the list of things we’d like to have done.  He had taken out the umbrella tree in the back yard.  I didn’t know that was going to happen so I was a bit stunned.  All these years we’ve lived here we’ve just been cutting down the parts that touched the house when they got too big. Evidently Dennis said something about it always growing back and being bothersome – that maybe it should be taken out – and told Hector to cut it down. Well, he did, and dug out the roots too.  It was sort of a beautiful tree, and so vigorous a grower that I always admired it’s ability to rebound. But, no more.  I guess I should begin to appreciate that it will be much easier to take care of that part of the yard now. I’m not horrified, just stunned, and not quite believing that it’s gone.

Today at work, Scottie finally told me what her plans were for going to her mom’s memorial service in Atlanta.  They are having it the weekend of July 14 – 15.  She wants to go up on the 12th stay in Atlanta until the 16th, and then drive to Asheville, NC until the 20th, driving home on the 21st.  And because she has some kind of hotel credits that expire tomorrow at midnight, she wants me to committ to going today.  So much for having time to think it over.  She wants to stay at the Biltmore in Asheville and spend a couple days looking at (and probably buying) art. She says that Cindy will come along to help.  Can I take ten days of it? I don’t know.  Do I dare suggest the trip be altered? Don’t know.

July 16th is when Julie is starting her externship with Sarasota Equine.  She’ll be staying at our house and I’ll be missing at least half of her time here if I go on this trip with Scottie.  How very unfortunate.  The only good thing would be that she might have time to water my plants, pet my cat, and keep Dennis company while I’m not here.

Also in these very same July weeks our condo will go vacant and have to be prepared for a new renter.  We have a good  potential family but they would like hard flooring instead of carpet. My head is swimming with figures for labor and materials, comparing all the variables and wondering whether it’s worth it to go to all that expense or if I should look for another renter. The work would have to get done while I’m away and I’d have to get it approved before I leave.  Hector says “no problem”, he would do it, but he says that about EVERYTHING.

Another major concern is my broken arm.  It’s not the bone that’s broken, but some other part of it sure is.  Working is painful and I’m always trying to adjust my movements to avoid further injury. I can never rest it long enough to fully recover and it is getting worse rather than better.  I’ve mentioned this to Scottie but I’m not constantly updating her and complaining about it so she’s probably not taking it into consideration.  There’s not much she could do about it anyway since I’m once again the only day nurse that she has.  Peruvian Mary gave her two week notice.  Even though she needs the money desperately, she just can’t handle the physical requirements. I was worried that might happen.

One of my readers views the blog on a MacPro and asked me why I had put the pictures overlapping the text. Anyone else see it like that? His view is completely different from mine, in which the pictures don’t cover anything.  I hate putting pictures in because they are very difficult to place in any meaningful way. They don’t drag well, being unresponsive as you move them and suddenly jumping off the screen. Most of the time they refuse to move at all except basic left, right and center placement. And I think there is a person somewhere hired to figure out how the text wraps around the pictures and he is very creative  to say the least.  I put up with his decisions pretty much because I have to.  But who am I to complain but a user.  Maybe instead of insisting the program be user friendly, I should become program smart, eh?



new drive

 


new drive from 10th Lane

 

And last but not least, it’s been so beautiful outside EVERY day this week. TAnisha’s bayou, the beach, and the oneacrewoods where I spend my time are the prettiest places on earth this time of year. I have gardens that are fun to work in – my very own dirt and plants and trees on loan from God. There have been other good things this week too which I have been thinking about as opposed to doing but that’s for an upcoming post (follow up from Focus 1, in case you remember reading that). I’m working on it.

 

my knock out roses





the sun light on fountain grass



hard work

I danced the dance, fought the fight, did the hard thing,
listened to my soul.
And when it was said I presented it to him,
that teacher,
that know-it-all,
that God.
And all he said (though not unkindly) was
“that poem’s not finished. Keep writing.”

There is a particular time of the year in Florida where fruit and vegetables can very nearly overwhelm a person in their abundance. Now is that time. The last of the citrus is falling off the trees all by itself – use it or lose it. The tomato crop came ripe and the farmers are practically giving it away. Strawberries are still around, the pineapples are ripening, food stuff is everywhere. Unfortunately this means fruit flies are everywhere and this means war.

They have striped bodies and large red eyes and appear magically out of nowhere and begin to multiply within minutes, and I mean multiply. If they were our size we’d be done for. Of course you have to get rid of their food source, which is alcohol from fermenting food, or alcohol of any kind, or even dish cloths, sponges, etc… Last week, my move was to juice up all the oranges from our Valencia tree which had been sitting around in a big tub, waiting…  Well, it didn’t work and a day later I was searching the kitchen for the next battleground. Spy work it is.  I found a potato that was mostly maggot fodder and got rid of that – surely, the problem was solved.  But no, yesterday morning I came out into the kitchen and as I approached the sink a cloud of flies swarmed out and I actually had to protect myself. Shut the eyes and don’t breathe kind of protection. Thinking that the garbage disposal may have been harboring some food I ran it and cleaned the opening really good.  Later that day as the swarm continued I got serious and poured boiling water down the drain as I ran the disposal. They stopped coming out there. 

But today they are still in the kitchen sitting on the walls and on the coffee pot and crawling across my computer screen – aaaahhgg. Searching for some bigger guns, I went to the web to find out what to do. I don’t know if any of it will work but I’ve had a good laugh. The plan I like best is “put some rotting food in the oven and when it’s covered with flies shut the door quick and incinerate them”. Satisfying but rather energy intensive.

Long ago people used to think that critters like rats, mice, and fruit flies spontaneously generated from filth, food refuse, piles of dirty underwear, etc… They say that’s been disproved but I’m checking the laundry next just to make sure.

It’s a strange thing how we resist simplifying our lives because it involves giving up something. I have been resisting giving up in several areas of my life and now that it’s coming to my attention, I’m realizing the cost I have been paying (there’s always a cost). This is not my situation, but consider the person who has lots of “stuff”, so much stuff that in order to live in a reasonably ordered world, they have to rent a storage space to put it all in. They no longer have easy access to their stuff, they usually forget what they have, but they pay a monthly cost. Somehow this seems entirely wasteful.

One of my areas of struggle is paper clutter. So much comes through the door in the mail, catalogs, ads, magazines, that I can hardly keep up with it. I can think of things I want to do with some of this paper. There are great recipes to try, info for the garden, ideas for sewing or clothing I might want to order. I even keep some catalogs just for the colorful paper in them which I will someday use for artistic purposes (yeah, right). The cost I pay is frustration trying to make things look clean and beautiful around the piles of magazines, and the stress of trying to find the one thing I know is in one of them but who knows which one… Believe it or not, I also spend quite a lot of time attempting to file things that probably don’t need to be kept at all.  My friend Karyn inspires me to throw stuff like that away because there’s always another magazine or idea on paper out there somewhere when you get time for it. I’m inspired but have not actually sprung into action, yet.

I also need to simplify the demands on my time. I’m tired of never having a full day at home to work and just enjoy being there. I can’t do much about the time I spend at my job, except continue to emphasize to Scottie how much I enjoy and need time off. But the weekend is another story. I often find myself at three different church services, mostly because I love to be involved with the music and enjoy being a helper.  It’s not that this much activity is necessary to my worship life, in fact sometimes it hinders by it’s inherent busyness. I’ve begun to work in this area. Last week I told my Saturday night worship leader that I was going to cut back, and I declined to do the worship service in his absence this week. This is the giving up part, and it is a bit hard when you like the people and enjoy the activity. I will wear this decision for a while and see how it feels. There is a freedom here that I think God will either confirm or correct.

Dennis and I were talking about our committments to organizations and churches last week and he gave an interesting observation about himself. He says whenever he is tempted to join himself to people or activity of some sort he considers how hard it will be to part from it in the future. We are not people who part from things easily, yet life is all about parting and departing. I really should try to get more comfortable with the whole idea. More on this is coming…

Today I stopped by the grocery store for a few things. On the way to the milk I cruised past a box of raised donuts. The last time I had a raised donut was probably last year in Hayward on vacation. I had a taste memory of something warm, light and spongy with a thin, crinkly glaze, like a fresh Krispy Kreme at the store with the Just Baked sign flashing…. It was definitely a moment of weakness and I didn’t want to waste it. I bought them. Back at home, the illusion vanished the minute I touched them. They were cold and I guess I expected that, but they were also stiff, and kind of heavy and so covered with gooey sugar that I had to wash from the wrists down after the first one. In short, they were disappointing like most of the store bought raised donuts I’d ever had but had forgotten about. I only ate three. That leaves nine for tomorrow…

I suppose I was also a little giddy about getting off work tomorrow. It’s been a couple weeks since I’ve had my so called “regular” Wednesday off and I have missed it so badly. We’ve been going through new employees one after another and the schedule hasn’t been pretty. Jackie had to have emergency surgery. Angela hurt her back. Melanie tripped in a parking lot and sprained her wrist and ankle. Jennifer took another job up in Tampa. And now we have Mary. I call her Peruvian Mary because she is from Peru and because I don’t know her last name. She’s had one morning of watching, and one morning of helping, and tomorrow she is on her own and such a brave girl for doing it. She’s only 5 ft. tall and can barely pull Scottie up in bed but she is motivated to work since she is on her own with a young son to support. She is very nervous about remembering the 7,211 steps in our morning routine even though I tried to give her all kinds of memory tricks that kind of work for me.

So I’m thinking about my time off and carefully planning how to spend it – a precious 24 hour gift from God. My limiting factor is a strange plethora (love that word) of physically painful body parts – right shoulder, left wrist and hand, right hip – kind of zig zagging down the body.  Between them all I’m suddenly having a hard time moving around. I was pretty accustomed to the shoulder and hand pains since I’ve had them for a while, but the hip thing is new and the worst of them all. I didn’t do anything to make it happen and I’m hoping to not do anything again to make it go away. It’s very strange, as I said. I’m still looking forward to my day off since there are many less active things on my “to do” list, including more blogging about my interesting week.

Writing about donuts made me hungry. Eight left.

My 60th post. I suppose I should either feel like that’s a lot, or it’s not really very many but I don’t feel anything except a strange kind of pleasure at it being a multiple of ten. Kind of like I felt last year when I was 60 (except I’m not crying this time).  I’ve had so many thoughts this week and should be able to type until my fingers bleed. I’m waiting on something though. I think there’s a theme tying all the thoughts together if I could only see it, and I know whatever message there is would be better if I could see the theme. The elusive theme…


The air around my life is thick with intensity – intense relationships, intensely beautiful surroundings, intense emotions, intensely difficult work, intensely critical decisions – all going by so intensely fast that I see my life as only a quick blip on the radar screen of time. We always think of how fast time is going on Fridays. Dennis and I look at each other and one of us says “look at this! It’s Friday again already!” We both know that one of these Fridays will be the last one. I am surprised that it’s not really a disturbing thought to me. Just a fact.


We have had a string of perfect days this week. There has been just enough rain and clouds to make it all the more glorious when the sun is back. The ocean has been dull grey, churning with waves big enough to bring the surfers out for a while and then the clouds blow away and it turns all the different shades of aquamarine that you can imagine. It’s so beautiful. We (the husband and I ) have taken walks several nights and watched the sky change as the sun sets. When it’s as dark as it gets, there has been a delicate crescent moon hanging in the blackness with a very bright planet Venus near it. Hebrew poetry says this;

  “God’s glory is on tour in the skies, God-craft on exhibit across the horizon.  Madame Day holds classes every morning, Professor Night lectures each evening.  Their words aren’t heard, their voices aren’t recorded, but their silence fills the earth: unspoken truth is spoken everywhere. God makes a huge dome for the sun – a superdome!  The morning sun’s a new husband leaping from his honeymoon bed, The daybreaking sun an athlete racing to the tape.  That’s how God’s Word vaults across the skies from sunrise to sunset, melting ice, scorching deserts, warming hearts to faith.  The revelation of God is whole and pulls our lives together. The signposts of God are clear and point out the right road.  The life-maps of God are right, showing the way to joy. The directions of God are plain and easy on the eyes.  God’s reputation is twenty-four-carat gold, with a lifetime guarantee. The decisions of God are accurate down to the nth degree.  God’s Word is better than a diamond, better than a diamond set between emeralds. You’ll like it better than strawberries in spring, better than red, ripe strawberries.  There’s more: God’s Word warns us of danger and directs us to hidden treasure.  Otherwise how will we find our way? Or know when we play the fool?  Clean the slate, God, so we can start the day fresh! Keep me from stupid sins, from thinking I can take over your work; Then I can start this day sun-washed, scrubbed clean of the grime of sin.  These are the words in my mouth; these are what I chew on and pray. Accept them when I place them on the morning altar, O God, my Altar-Rock, God, Priest-of-My-Altar.

I am helplessly trapped between worthy requests, necessary work and scheduled events that can’t be cancelled. Well, I guess they could be cancelled if I died or got really sick. Saturday, Sunday and Monday have been like a trio of mind- numbing, busy days lately. I’m starting to dread them. I have a minute right now, but I worked a double shift last night and am longing to close my eyes (so I can stay awake in my class tonight…) But what I’m really going to do is get a Mary Kay order in the mail to one of my four customers. All of them picked this weekend to order something – how does that happen? I know they don’t get together and plan to make me crazy. I would love to take more time and maybe even be funny about this but, got to go. Just thought I’d let you know and thanks for checking in to see if I’m writing….

I would like very much to be spending time with my parents. It’s so easy to tell myself that I know them very well in the way that I’m used to thinking about them in relation to myself. But when I hear them tell a story of a part of their life before I came along, or when I was young and oblivious, I find myself thinking “who are these people?” I really hardly know them at all. Even the stories I know and experienced with them sound different to me when I hear what they were thinking or feeling. My parents are several thousand miles away, however my father’s sister and her husband, Auntie Irene and Uncle Bob, are less than 1/4 mile west of my house and it just occurred to me that they are a pretty good second choice.

Last weekend when we stopped in to see them Auntie Irene gave me copies of notes my grandmother had made. There were notes about her own children’s important events (first time to milk a cow, when they had measles, first loose tooth, etc…) and also her grandchildren’s and great grandchildren’s doings and sayings. There are lots of little hand tracings. There are lots of cute things Shirley did and said because evidently I was with her a lot and somewhat favored. Going over all these notes got Auntie Irene started remembering all kinds of “stuff”. I think everyone has a tendency to think that their life is pretty ordinary and uninteresting to anyone but themselves (and frankly my life sometimes is uninteresting even to me) and Auntie Irene feels this way, but at the same time she has had an urge to write stories down, just in case.

She has to get about two inches away from the page with a magnifying glass to see what she’s written – but her printing is even and careful and her lines are straight across the page. I have no trouble reading it. She has already finished 30 pages or more and I start typing them up for her. I have to stop frequently to ask for more details. It’s fascinating. This woman, her mother, that she writes about was the grandmother that I loved all my childhood. What does a grandchild ever know about their grandparent? I certainly didn’t know her like her daughter knew her so these stories are enriching. And as we get to the stories about my father it’s getting even more interesting.

My point – we really don’t know people like we think we do. We shouldn’t pass up the chance to know them better from a different angle. What better way to study life than through your own family history. What better way to grow in love for your family than to hear stories of their ordinary, day to day life, that turns out to be rather like your own in many ways. I’m going back again this week to finish typing what she’s written so far and I’m just sayin’… it’s a good thing.