Looking Back, August 2014

A peek into the journal from August, 2014.  Back when I worked at home for the sister-in-law, advertising on ebay.  When all the children were at home.  One had yet to graduate, but all had steady jobs.  Now the house is empty, and I do corn alone.  Not that mama and sister are not available, but my heart needs to process grief alone most days.....

Some things happening here recently….

Three weeks of iffy internet service because of a modem which fails to consistently recognize requests for internet access by the various devices in the house. If I was paid minimum wage for every hour I spent on the phone with the company and troubleshooting (and wishing I could shoot it) it would almost pay the week’s groceries!

Sitting at Trailside on a hot humid day taking advantage of their free wifi and feeling quite out of place, uploading info to eBay as fast as I can while trucks and their drivers come and go around me, so I can get home, cool off, and catch up on work there. This is what working from home looks like???

Processing 225 ears of corn with son (part time) and daughter (part time), from 8AM to 8PM (including doing cleanup solo). Processing 225 ears of corn a week later with daughter, husband, mom, dad, grammy, sister, brother-in-law, and assorted children and finishing by noon. Many hands make light work, if you have elbow room in which to work! Until the bag in the middle of the stack breaks in your sister’s freezer and the corn juice leaks to the bottom and freezes everything in one solid lump and you have to chip it all out and defrost the freezer to clean it, wipe everything down and begin again…and everyone else has already gone home and the children are waaay overdue for naps….aargghhh

The joy of having hubby at home for a week to do all those things I can do but don’t have time to do (mow the yard, listen to his wife, take daughter‘s truck for new tires, listen to his wife, take daughter’s car for repair, listen to his wife, get groceries, listen to his wife, pick up 5 baskets peaches, husk corn, listen to his wife, and rescue daughter below, and does his wife now have him caught up on all the issues that need decisions?), and the undercurrent of concern that he doesn’t have work this week.

Being grateful that God provided a good load for next week, being frustrated that good week’s work runs into (and over) our planned weekend away (one of just two each year!).

An SOS call from son on behalf of daughter (who forgot her phone) whose exhaust fell off her car on the way to Bible Study. Hubby to the rescue with a handful of zip ties to temporarily remedy the problem. So glad he was home! Sometimes rust isn’t cool.

Opening the door in the early AM so the cats can come in for breakfast (feeding them outside brings too many extraneous critters, tame and otherwise, to our door) and nearly stepping on the live bat one brought as a hostess gift. A wakeup call I didn’t particularly need…

Forgetting to send son’s transcript to LBC and therefore missing the deadline and costing him a chance at JumpStart this fall. Thankfully he is forgiving, and anyway his schedule is already whimpering from overload (or is it his mother??).

Straining my brain to think of ways to make practicing letters and numbers appealing to a normal, active five-year-old nephew. Since when does a child have to know and write his letters and numbers before entering kindergarten?? A son said, “I never went to kindergarten and I did OK.” His father replied, “You were in kindergarten for years and didn’t know it! You didn’t go to school, you lived it.” Being so grateful for the privilege of home schooling!

Putting away the breakfast dishes so I can wash the lunch dishes so I can clear the table of supper dishes, so I can set out breakfast. Ever have days like that?

Having a child ask, “What are you doing today?” and thinking, I’ve got to get dressed, do the dishes, start the day’s laundry, clean up the bedroom, check email, water the porch plants, sweep the floor, and by that time it will be time to start lunch, IF there are no interruptions! But thanks for being interested in my day!

Pondering a dear sister-in-Christ’s comment in a conversation about the common mindset today to “Just take out of your life things that don’t make you happy” including even your marriage partner. She said, “I made a commitment.” So simple. So profound. So encouraging!

That said, some days I am just plain angry at how cheaply this world holds marriage and the commitment it requires. I and the Man I belong to worked hard for what we have! And are still working. Where do they get off thinking they can casually trash it? Anyway, what is the point of marriage, or even any kind of friendship with another person if I can be put aside at any time for ceasing to make that person happy? Is it all about them? Or me? What kind of security is that, knowing whenever “happy” changes or ends (and it will), I can be pushed aside for the next model?

Ok, ‘nuff ranting. Murphy’s law says the phone tech guy will show up right about now because I’m not out of my sweats yet. Of course, if I was perfectly put together and prepared for the day (ha - when do either of them happen??) then he won’t show til Monday!

Newell Truckstop, Newton Kansas

5:30pm Eastern Time, 6:30pm Central.  93 degrees.  Quite a change from 12 hours ago!

A fuel and shower stop at Newel.  While the Trucker tended the fuel, his Passenger packed the shower bag.  A shoulder tote for her, and a denim laundry bag and hanging shirt for him.

The parked truck was left running and locked, as it would heat up quickly in the sun, and after a shower that has to last for two days, we didn't want to break a sweat waiting for the AC to cool things down again.

The showers in this place were named!  This is new for the Passenger.  We were assigned the

The Trucker is waiting for the day he is assigned

The Kenworth shower!

The shower rooms were not stocked with amenities such as floor mats, hand towels, a hairdryer.  But what they "lacked," was more than made up for by the generous size of the room.  No squeezing past each other, no waiting for space at the counter, etc.  And we carry needed toiletries anyway.  The shower head had a unique fountain shooting off to the side, in addition to the regular spray of water, which by the way, was of such pressure that the showeree had to keep moving so as to not lose any skin.

And there was a bench by the sink for the Trucker to sit upon while waiting for his Passenger's last minute  adjustments.

Per instructions, the shower room key and the towels were carried back out to the service desk, a receipt was obtained, and we were on our way.  Less than an hour for all.  

Down the road and down the road we go, just like the brown bunny in the Little Golden Book of old.  Route 50 in Kansas, looking into the setting sun.

Joe's Diner, a Blast from the Past

Lunch on this rainy, chilly  today was at Joe's Diner near Hannibel, Missouri, just off US Route 36 in Palmyra.  A smallish place.  Paved lot, fuel pumps, store, and diner.

Today was the second time the Trucker took me here.  Quite a nice place, really, although the air conditioning rendered the atmosphere decidedly frigid.  A few hard bitten truckers were about, one middle aged and quiet in t-shirt and jeans, another rail thin, tattooed and pony tailed, carrying a gallon thermos for the waitress to fill with ice and water.  

The booth behind us was occupied by a young man in jeans, cap, and a few days of beard.  A small boy of about three years was cuddled up under his arm.  They were sharing a game on the young man's phone.  How refreshing to see the two together, rather than what happens so often, an adult on the phone, leaving the child to amuse himself.  Giggles bubbled out of the boy, and a waitress passing by with a broom stopped to talk.  Apparently they were regulars.  The man's hand was devoid of a ring; was the child his son, or maybe brother?

Another couple came in, greeted the waitress with a hug, and the three sat down for a chat.

The diner's decor was totally given over to Elvis, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, pink cadillacs, Casablanca, and the Three Stooges. 

Also period advertisements for Pepsi-Cola, Dr. Pepper, cigarettes were scattered throughout.  And these:

  

 and more.  Most of every wall was covered.

A corner was devoted to plaques of verse:

Keep your words sweet, you may have to eat them.

Money talks - mine says goodbye.

And my favorite:

Our waitress was quiet and efficient, with pink hair and rather weary eyes.  The Trucker settled for a plain cheeseburger and fries.  I opted for the grilled cheese with ham, and fries.  Generally I look for a little ham with my grilled cheese, but this was a little grilled cheese with ham.  Delicious, but I could have made two sandwiches out of that ham.  

The daily special was codfish, baked beans, and mac & cheese.  The Trucker had a suspicion that the fries shared their oil with the codfish, but as the Passenger didn't seem to notice during the meal, he kept quiet til after.

Back out in the rainy mist, the Trucker plucked a long nail from the lot, just in front of the fuel pumps.  Some future customer will be spared a blown tire, delay, and repair bill because of that deed.

Down the road the big green Kenworth rolls toward Kansas, where the sun shines again and the temperature rises ten degrees in an hour.

The House and the Road

The House and the Road By Josephine Preston Peabody THE LITTLE Road says, Go, The little House says, Stay: And O, it’s bonny here at home, But I must go away.   The little Road, like me,         5 Would seek and turn and know; And forth I must, to learn the things The little Road would show!   And go I must, my dears, And journey while I may,         10 Though heart be sore for the little House That had no word but Stay.   Maybe, no other way Your child could ever know Why a little House would have you stay,         15 When a little Road says, Go.

The Trucker sent me this some months back.  How well we know the conflict between home and the road.  The Trucker is on the road to live, but he lives to come home.

The Swallows

With the abundance of rain, overabundance for many in the area, plant life is lush, green, and on overdrive.

Once again, it is past time to climb on el Toro and go at the lawn.  Tuesday afternoon, and mowing should have happened the preceding Saturday.  But for weekend guests and rain, it would have.  

I removed the bagger - not even gonna try this time - and did a slow trim along the fence that borders two sides of the property.  Daddy always said that good fences make good neighbors, so this one stays, even though there are no four footed specimens to corral anymore.  Not that I mind, especially now that my weed whacker and I have such fun trimming along it.

Then, slow passes back and forth, from the bottom of the property up toward the house.  The clouds thickened.  Wet grass splattered across the lawn in waves.  Breezes increased.  

And across the tops of tasseled corn, from every direction...barn swallows.

I had noticed a few the last time I mowed.  Seen them gathering along the power lines, especially in evening hours.  Now they came, gracefully swooping and diving around me.  Sometimes so close as to collide with the mower...almost, but never quite.

Rain drops began striking my face.  Again.  I had so hoped to get this done before another drenching!  But still the swallows swirled, silently.  Beaks open, but no sound.  So beautiful they were, with perfect timing.

Hmmm...I did know how to upload videos....some

thing else to learn....again...

Braking, I idled the mower, and began filming.  But as I did so, many swallows disappeared away over the waves of corn.  A few remained.  The roar of el Toro was all that could be heard.

Rain increased its tempo, beating a steady rhythm of wetness.  Closing the camera, I released the brake and el Toro started forward once again.  Immediately, the swallows returned, looping and swooping, impervious to the rain.

Then the answer came.  They associated the sound of the mower with the cloud of insects rising up in search of safety ahead of the blades.  And so they came with radar fine-tuned by the Creator, without fear, swooping down, silently devouring the feast set before them.

I love learning  new things.  Even things that have been obvious for a very long time, waiting for me to notice. 

Shutting off the blade, shifting to high gear, and trundling off the the garage,  I called apologies to the swallows.  We'd be back tomorrow, el Toro and I.  And to the insect population, a reprieve.  For now.

A Lament

Psalm3 (NIV)

A psalm of David. When he fled from his son Absalom.

1 Lord, how many are my foes!
    How many rise up against me!
2 Many are saying of me,
    “God will not deliver him.”[b]

3 But you, Lord, are a shield around me,
    my glory, the One who lifts my head high.
4 I call out to the Lord,
    and he answers me from his holy mountain.

5 I lie down and sleep;
    I wake again, because the Lord sustains me.
6 I will not fear though tens of thousands
    assail me on every side.

7 Arise, Lord!
    Deliver me, my God!
Strike all my enemies on the jaw;
    break the teeth of the wicked.

8 From the Lord comes deliverance.
    May your blessing be on your people.

Psalm 142 (NIV)

A maskil[b] of David. When he was in the cave. A prayer.

1 I cry aloud to the Lord;
    I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy.
2 I pour out before him my complaint;
    before him I tell my trouble.

3 When my spirit grows faint within me,
    it is you who watch over my way.
In the path where I walk
    people have hidden a snare for me.
4 Look and see, there is no one at my right hand;
    no one is concerned for me.
I have no refuge;
    no one cares for my life.

5 I cry to you, Lord;
    I say, “You are my refuge,
    my portion in the land of the living.”

6 Listen to my cry,
    for I am in desperate need;
rescue me from those who pursue me,
    for they are too strong for me.
7 Set me free from my prison,
    that I may praise your name.
Then the righteous will gather about me
    because of your goodness to me.

The "Bop"

The abundance of rain in recent weeks has taken our lawn into overdrive.  After six weeks or so of no rain, the grass dry, spiky and uncomfortable to walk upon, there's been several weeks frequent, heavy rain, and smothering humidity.  The lawn has leaped into action, requiring a trim every two days to be kept under control.  

Not that there is time around here to mow so frequently.  But I try.  It is time to think, to talk to God, to appreciate the beauty around me.

A few nights ago, the Toro and I were rolling across the lawn, me racing with the encroaching dew, and it trying to keep its throat clear of juicy grass blades, when DS#1 drove up.

"Is this all you do?  Ride the mower?"

Hah.  Not quite.

He was borrowing his dad the Trucker's pickup truck to haul away the remnants of his deck.  But while he was here, I had a question.

"My new weed whacker.  How do I advance the string?  It is so short, and hardly cuts.  And if I unscrew the head, everything tangles."

DS#1 answered with a question.  "Do you bop it?"  What in the world did he mean?

He explained.

"When Grandpa taught me to use the weed whacker, he told me to "bop" it on the ground a few times while it is running.  That advances the string."

So he "bopped" it on the ground a few times, and the string lengthened.  And with a grin and a wave, he was on his way.

El Toro and I finished the mowing at high speed, having dispensed the with the bagger.  Then the weedwhacker was pressed into service once again.

Wow.  

A text was sent off to DS#1 after the job was done.

"Oh. My. Word.  NOW I has a weed whacker.  Just got done.  I been massacring light bugs, beheading flowers; got welts all over me, and even nailed weeds on the other side of the fence!  Thanks for telling me about the 'bop!' "

Sometime the answer is very simple.  When it's explained to you, that is.

The lawn and its edges are tidy now, for a few days at least.