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.

In my house there are hundreds of cozy places for a cat to nap. But I am honored that my cat finds me, in whatever room I am working, and wants to nap preferably on me, or if I am vertical, as close by as possible. And my cat knows that I love her and she trusts me. That is why, when I fold clean laundry and happen to leave a tablecloth on the bed while I’m putting other things away, she is quick to take her place. She KNOWS I have set that tablecloth apart just for her – a throne-like place where she can lick herself and shed fleas and hair (before I put it on the table). I’m just saying… I like to make her feel special.

All sorts of nasty jobs are getting done today. Hector and his friend are pressure washing the house, Dennis is finishing income tax, and I am doing a complete closet cleanse. It started out as a cool, breezy morning which had me opening all the windows and looking forward to airing out the house. Midway through breakfast Heck showed up unexpectedly – another job had postponed – and all the windows got closed again as the water began to fly.

What a job it is to wash a house – or really two houses in our case. Our side is not so difficult, but the two story rental side is, well, it’s another story.  It has steep roofs, and a balcony with white trim and a heavy tree covering which results in lots of mold and tree dirt. Even the metal roof gets dirty, making it pretty slippery when wet. I was just outside watching the process and have to admire the stability of the guy with the wand. He’s managing to stay upright and keep his footing while holding on to that hose that has a mind of it’s own. Heck is lighter and says the pressure pushes him around too much so he works on the ground fixing the ropes and ladders. It will probably take two days. I will have to pay them well because it looks like hard work. The house looks very nice when it’s clean.

The groans and exclamations coming from the table where Dennis and the Mac are doing income tax are a yearly occurrence. As it progresses we have hundreds coming back from the government one minute and owing thousands the next. Such weirdness comes from the program, I’m told. The last report was a $24,000 loss that suddenly came up and can’t be accounted for.  Poor Dennis. This is the one job that I can promise him I will never take away from him. Never. Ever.

And the old clothes closet situation… it’s a “walk in” true, but I’ve seen ones a lot bigger. I don’t know how I can actually lose clothes in there, but in cleaning it out I find stuff I didn’t remember I had. It’s like going shopping but cheaper. And instead of just passing by everything that’s wrinkled, I am ironing things, resulting in all kinds of new wardrobe choices. Did you know that hangers can get dusty? I cleaned all the horizontal surfaces of my clear plastic hangers and now they’re shiny (And keep in mind that this is the FIRST time I’ve ever done this so it’s not like I’m obsessive or anything). The biggest problem for me is that I keep a lot of things that I don’t wear very often – they really might come back in fashion, or I might remodel them. I give up on a few things each time I do this but I have to keep at least a couple of Dennis’s suits (I can’t remember the last time he wore a suit, years ago) and I don’t know what to think about Esther’s wedding dress. I think I was going to mend something on it and send it to her. It makes Gray Kitty very nervous when I have so many things spread out on the bed and the vacuum cleaner standing at the ready – no good, safe place to lie down.

And to complicate all these nasty things taking place, the power has just gone off all over the neighborhood. We have no water for the pressure washer, no internet connection for the computers, and no lights in the closet. Guess we’ll have to take a nap since that is much easier than trying to figure out what to do without electricity. Got to go… battery getting low.