Home Country

The clerk at St Vincent de Paul's asked a birdlike old man to help me carry out the second hand end tables I found for Tessa's first apartment. He wheezed heavily. His pink nose and cheeks became scarlet from the effort and weight of his burden. I felt terrible they had him help me. I was perfectly capable of making two trips to the car.

He fussed about getting them to fit, then closed the door with a flourish. Taking his gloves off he peered up at me with a twinkle in his eyes. With much brevity, he asked me if I was a sugar gal or a sugarless gal. Laughing, I told him my mama always taught me never to take candy from strangers. He cackled as he unzipped his ancient fanny pack. It was stuffed with varied brands of single wrapped butterscotch candy. Possibly collected from gratuity bowls by cash registers?

He gallantly offered me three from the sugar gal side. The moment required a grave bow but I gave him a warm hug - one that lifted him clean off the ground. He wheezed rapturously.

Too bad it was so cold out. Our bundled condition kept me from seeing his feet. I'm sure they were hairy -  a misplaced hobbit sent to cross my path - freshening my weary day.


After fifty it is permissible to take candy from strangers. Do. 

Brambles

Archived from facebook notes-'08

Tess, my oldest daughter and I went for a little R & R to Westport.  A seedy little cottage on the jetty was perfect.  Otters playing and feeding, seals and sea lions entertained us.  Reclining with a blanket, bundled up out under the starts on the porch not asking for anything - being together, enjoying each other was enough.  

We took a long walk to the lighthouse along the beach path, stopping along the way to pick up heart rocks and beach glass.   The walk was going to be long, I was loaded down from the beginning, so I scrounged a plastic bag from the ditch and put all the rocks and treasures from my bulging pockets in the bag behind a big pile of rocks to get later. 

The next morning before we left town, I parked as close as possible to go retrieve my bag of treasures down the path where I had stored them.  Two choices presented themselves.  Follow the path which was twice as long or cut across this field laced with stickery low lying blackberry brambles and save time.  I decided to risk the brambles.  It looked uncrossable without tearing up my pants and shoes.  Then a thought.  Just take a step, one step.  So I did.  Every 'next' step I took opened up a 'next' step which I couldn't see until I took the one before.  I had to move, take an action step. 

I quickly made it to the other side, grabbed my stash and because of the first success, went back to the edge of that bramble field and had the exact same impossible feeling that I couldn't possibly accomplish it; even though I had just come across it without mishap a few minutes ago.  Isn't that a strange thing?  It seemed daunting, impossible, undoable.  Again?  

Remembering that I just had to take a first step and the next would be made clear and open up before me helped me move into the bramble patch one more time.  This time it seemed like dancing effortlessly through a grid, smiling.  God smiled too!   :)  

 

Getting our song back

Rerun 'o8- archived from facebook....which is deactivated for now.  

Last night Craig and I went to Lowes to get some full spectrum lights for the kitchen, the back room and our bedroom .  In the winter, I get sad from lack of sunshine.  We had heard that the proper lights really help.  We were having trouble finding them, so Craig asked this guy up on a ladder about them.  He said, "Oh yes, we have them.  A lady was just here getting some.  Her canary had quit singing."    

Here's to full spectrum lighting and canaries and finding our song again!    :)