WEDDING OF THE CENTURY

I did it. Not all of it, but much of it. I kept telling everyone I was going to do it and said there would be a party in the upstairs lounge I knew it would never happen, too many party poopers. A friend picked up the cry and said she was going to come around and knock on the doors of the no shows.

About 9:30 p.m. my eyes became droopy and I was struggling to keep them open so I decided I would give up and go to bed. No one would knock on my door and no one would miss me at the party, as I would have been the only one there anyway. But with all these women, I expected them to be excited about a wedding. This was no ordinary wedding it was billed at the wedding of the century. How often to you have the opportunity to attend one of those?

The last wedding of the century I attended, ended in divorce. Not surprising since it was an arranged marriage with a young girl who did not likely know what she was getting into. It just proves that even the wealthy have difficulty holding a marriage together. I think they were supposed to stay married and have all the affairs they wanted on the side. They did that for a while.

That is not how the media is projecting this marriage to be. William and Kate have known each other along time. They have lived together for eight years. They have seen the good and bad in each other. Most believe they will make it. Of course, time will tell. They have a good foundation. But can she take the pressure of living the rest of her life in a glass cage. I hope so.

Our wedding party party requested that everyone dress appropriately. Not a problem when no one comes. As it happened, I had to use the WC at 3:00 a.m. so I got up, dressed appropriately and turned on the TV as William and Harry were walking down the aisle. So I stayed up for the ceremony all the way through to the kiss and the independent convertible ride through the mob. Pretty cool. I was dressed in tradition black and white. I wore a white T-shirt, under a black robe. I put on a nice pair of black socks and worn my black slippers. Sorry, I don’t own a pair pants, but I was discretely covered.

No one doses pomp and spectacle quite like the British. It was beautiful and even this old man who avoids wedding like they were contagious. I loved it all. It is amazing what one can do with a budget of a billion dollars, or whatever it was.

BREAD WARS TURN INWARD

I can’t remember if I mentioned that my assistant, Karlie, fired me from participating in bread wars after I went to the hospital January 31. I knew I would be out for a few weeks, but I felt like I would come back. She told me in no uncertain terms that I was fired. I asked her why she thought she could fire me when I was the boss. She didn’t care — I was done. It turned out to be a good thing.

Karlie got help by asking Gracie to help her. Gracie is always offering to help in everything, but has a tendency to take over and order people around. She was asked to coordinate the arrival and distribution of commodities. She was demanding and bossy of nearly everyone there to help. The next month she had to find new volunteers since none of the old ones returned. She changes orders multiple times at restaurants, often sends things back because they are not right and takes her frustration out on the waiter. No one wants to sit by her.

Karlie and Gracie worked together collecting bread for two months. However for most of March I heard all about Karlie’s frustration with Gracie. Gracie was diving the van so Karlie felt like she needed to put up with the nonsense. She was sick most of April and did not go to help with the bread. In the meantime Gracie asked Maria to help out. I would not have done that, but then I was now out of the loop.

A week ago, Karlie returned to help with the bread. When she went out to get in the van she did not see Gracie sitting inside the van and went to the other building to find her. Gracie yelled at her in a very demanding way to get in the van if she was here to help. She got in and they headed out. Gracie tore into Karlie for lateness, her anger and rudeness; her boisterous voice and other problems Gracie felt needed to be addressed.

Karlie demanded to be let out of the van. She asked five times that the van be stopped and she be let out. Gracie refused and continued to belittle and attack her. Finally Karlie could take it no longer and began to open the door while the van was still moving. This caused Gracie to slow down ordering her to get back in this van. As a safety precaution she swung the van into a grocery store parking lot. That slowed the van down enough that Karlie did jump out. At that point the proverbial s*** hit the fan. As if it hadn’t done so already.

Karlie began to walk home. Gracie screamed and yelled and made a huge scene. She told her she was going to call to police. Why, to have them put me back in your van? You had no right to jump out. What crime did I commit? You have left me without the help I need to collect the bread. No, you treated me in such a terrible way and I have quit. You nor anyone else will verbally abuse me any longer.

Karlie walked and Gracie drove back to get Maria.

Now Karlie has been abused all her life. She was abused physically, emotionally and sexually. It began with her dad and next came her step dad, then some friends of her step day. She married twice. Both were abusers. She retreated for a very long time and than began to defend herself. She is not real good or gracious about the defense, She is learning. I have spent hours talking to her and trying to gently help her see what needs to change. Some of it is working, but she is fighting 60 years of abuse. That does not change overnight.

My problem with Gracie is she is a church going person who wears her religion on her sleeve. I don’t mean to degrade what I consider to be an acceptable practice, but she seems to make a show of praying for her meal in every situation to the great annoyance of other residents. They do not see her as a serious believer and her practice is mocked.

Frankly, they both have serious problems. Who says places like "The Home" are boring.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

We celebrated family birthdays on Saturday. My daughters birthday is the day before mine, mine was Saturday, and granddaughter #1 has a birthday this coming Thursday. I got a beautiful sweatshirt and t-shirt from my daughter. She and the granddaughters got me a new bathroom rug. They never liked the one I had. Always felt like it was going to slip with me on it. It was a possibility that I might fall as it had nothing gripping on the back. I still liked the rug, but I guess I should be careful. The grandkids got me a puzzle for our puzzle room.

Many friends sent cards and small gifts. Maria got me a gift certificate from Barnes and Noble. I love books. Liz brought me a plastic chicken with three pieces of homemade fudge. Those were delicious. I also got a chocolate covered marshmallow bunny and another chocolate bunny with crushed nuts inside. None of those things were good for me, but they were sure fun.

Alice bought me a small bag of “Silverdale Seagull Poop.” It has a very nice drawing of a local seagull sitting on a post sticking out of the sea. Some friends of his are flying in the area. With it came a card with bears sitting around a tree stump table drinking coffee with a moose and a jar of jellybeans on the table. The bear making the coffee is called the Bearista. Inside said, “Just wanted to espresso my happiest birthday wishes.” And further day was, “celebrate your birthday with a balance mean…caffeine in one hand and sugar in the other. I still smile about that one. The actual contents were Huckleberry jellybeans.

My other favorite card

came from Gail. “Your birthday is a good time to say, I could never find another friend like you.” And on the inside, “Heck, most of the time I can’t find my cell phone or car keys.” My sentiments exactly!

I had pretty well given up on birthdays a few years back. You do reach a point where it no longer even feels like a milestone. It’s just another day. Once my daughter was born we celebrated her birthday. Mine was just sort of squeezed in. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted it that way. It’s another one of those Hallmark holidays designed to sell cards. OK, it is a little more important than that. But I still feel like it is the best deal for kids. Enough. I don’t want to rile anyone up who loves having birthdays. You can’t stop them. Wait, yes you can, but it is better to let them end on their own.

I cooked Salmon rollups for lunch and bought everyone’s favorite birthday cake from Dairy Queen. Since I got there before my family did, I also hide some plastic candy filled eggs for an egg hunt for the grandkids. They still enjoy those kinds of activities. I love watching them. Guess I have really become a grandpa.

IT WAS FUN

Surprise, surprise, surprise! The egg hunt was a marvelous success. I was never really sure until it began. Attendance was down from our regular potlucks. That didn’t change the quantity of food. There seemed to be enough for everyone to take another plate full home, and several desserts.

I had put up several semi-threatening signs around the grounds requesting people stay off of the downstairs and out of most of the downstairs area from 10-11, and to refrain from using the front doors between 10-12. I expected someone to yell at me for blocking off some areas. I didn’t demand it and didn’t even get at the two who ignored the signs. Anyway, no one yelled. People began arriving about 11:45, brought their food in and waiting anxiously for the egg hunt. When I saw their growing enthusiasm I was shocked, shocked, shocked. Shocked! Did I tell you I was shocked?

I handed out the official, sanctioned Easter baskets (brown paper bags), explained the location where eggs could be found, told them quantity would not make a difference but finding one of the four special eggs was the deal. When I let them go, they were off. Only three stayed back and they had walking difficulties. You could hear excitement, laughter and a general scurrying around.

I told them they could keep the plastic eggs and the candy, but whatever they returned would go to a school. I hide 82 plastic eggs. I don’t know how many they actually found as one of the winning eggs did not come back. I searched for eggs that were not found and only picked us six. However, I never found the one missing winning egg. Three winning eggs were returned. I gave matted prints of their choice of my drawing to places two and three and a framed print of the one that is the most popular of my prints – at least around here. It happens to be one of my favorites as well.

The biggest surprise was the candy in only nine eggs was returned. They kept the candy. I found another six. I think since there is so little I will take the eggs and hide them for my grandkids on Saturday. Not much candy was returned.

After everyone had overstuffed his or her selves a resident came to say this was the most fun he had had since being here. There was a genuine sense of camaraderie. He mentioned that while it was a smaller group, people were warmer and much more friendly that usual. When they returned to their tables they talked about the search and where they found eggs. They compared finds. They laughed and talked to people they usually ignore. All of this was a wonderful side benefit that was unexpected. Another lady told me she felt like a kid again and had a wonderful time.

This is all I had ever hoped for. People pulling together and having fun. I’ve been working at this for nearly two years and this is the first real evidence that it happened. This is not the event I expected would pull us together. I am thrilled.

IT"S SPRING TODAY

Today is the first day it both looked like and felt like spring. Yesterday it looked like it, but it was cold (I say that with a burrrr in my voice). In fact there was rain, hail and even snow all around us. We never saw it but we felt it.

Went to my doctor today and explained that I am doing almost every thing right and cannot lose a single pound. So he finally confessed that some of my medication may be adding weight. So I am not just fighting my own stupidity, but my prescriptions as well. Go figure! I also argued that I no longer need pills for depression and wanted to be weaned off. So we went into why.

I was put on the pills when my wife died, then had the quantity upped when my son died. A couple years later I tried to get off those things and the stress of work caused me to get back on them. Well work went from bad to worse and now I have been on them 19 years. Yuck. I forgot I was still taking them. Since moving near my family my stress has gone way down. It doesn’t matter that I receive the least amount I have ever received – yes even than my first years of work. It doesn’t matter that some health problems have increased. Neither of those bothers me. I love life. So asked to get rid of those pills. The process has begun. Good! At least one more pill I can eliminate.

It’s Easter around here tomorrow. At least we are having our Easter lunch and Egg hunt. No enthusiasm seems to be developing for the egg hunt so I offered four prizes valued from $10 to $100. That is a little iffy. They are prints of some of my paintings. I have never sold a print near the $100 range to a friend, but it could be worth that much. Does that count? The low-end prizes are unframed prints. I don’t know if prizes will help or not, but it may increase my self worth just saying they are worth that much.

I don’t remember if I told you that I have developed a minor shake in my left hand. That’s a problem as I am left-handed. I am almost fearful to try to draw in case my hand shakes too much. I would rather think I could draw anytime I wanted, rather than learn I am too shaky to draw. It’s an illusion. Oh well. I must test it soon. I have been asked to be in a summer art show and I need new things. I know what I want to do; I just need to get started. Maybe next weekend.

EASTERS COMING

I attend a Bible study group on Tuesday afternoons. We hit a very difficult passage in Romans 11 that is confusing and hard to understand. I loved it. Finally we got to a passage that opened discussion wide and turned heads and made them spin. I really don’t like to do that to people but it was really fun to grapple with the mind of God. What is Gods call on the Israelites? How do the Gentile compare to His chosen people? The summation of this challenging passage is this

“Rom. 11:33-36 (The Message) Have you ever come on anything quite like this extravagant generosity of God, this deep, deep wisdom? It's way over our heads. We'll never figure it out. 



Is there anyone around who can explain God? 


Anyone smart enough to tell him what to do? 


Anyone who has done him such a huge favor 


that God has to ask his advice? 



Everything comes from him; 


Everything happens through him; 


Everything ends up in him. 


Always glory! Always praise! 


Yes. Yes. Yes.

This challenges our understanding of Gods treatment of His people compared to his love for the Gentiles. If this is easy to anyone, they do not grasp the passage. I actually love that there are passages in Scripture that we cannot understand or do not make clear sense to us. It reminds me that God is wiser than I.

We often get really tied up on side issues. But there are basics. There are fundamental believes that most who follow the Bible share. What divide us are secondary issues. They tear us apart. Reminds me of the church that is split wide open over the color choice of new carpeting. I’ve seen that and tried to mediate a fight like that. The only thing that unifies both groups is that they hate the mediator. Cool job.

Seniors think a lot about death and life after death. Most seem to believe that being good is the pass to heaven. So you would think they would start being good. That rarely happens. Because they have shaped God into their own image they hope they will be acceptable to God – but none are very sure if they are and will argue that there is no way to be sure. That’s a fun debate. The only think I have seen that they agree on is cremation. None want their family to pay the price of a burial. Many have prepaid that arrangement. For most this is an environmental and conservation issue. Too much land goes to burial plots.

You just can’t beat the life in The Home. There is always something to get peoples blood to boil. With Easter coming, the talk of God is very high. Some are coming with me to Good Friday and Easter services. Should make for some great discussions on the way home.

EASTER EGGS

Today I was filling plastic Easter eggs, eighty-two of them to be exact. I’m also trying to figure out how to get seniors to participate in an egg hunt.

It’s silly. It’s childish. Why would I want to do that? I don’t want any candy. I will not participate. The idea is ridiculous. Actually, no one has said goody, or anything close to that. I did have one woman ask if we were going to do the egg hunt. I said yes. Oh, she said, and walked away. That was the most enthusiastic response I have had.

It is like pulling eyeteeth to get these people to do much else but eat. They want to sit for everything. Many people have said they want to walk. So I started a walking group. The most I have ever had was two others. I now walk by myself. If anything, it got me moving again. Yeah!

I am determined to go through with this and I have not given up the idea that I may recruit some others to join in. If no one does it will not take me long to find the eggs since I will be hiding them. Our Easter lunch is Thursday. At least the food will be good.

I will hide four eggs that are unique. They are all plastic, but four have a unique arrangement of candies. There is a mixture of type and quantity in all but the four. Four have only one kind of candy, which is all wrapped in the same color foil. If they bring these back they win a larger prize. That is harder. Trying to find something they might want to win that might motivate them. I still haven’t figured that out, but expect to give them prints of some of my artwork. At least it’s cheep.

BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

It’s been awhile. I’m sorry but I got hooked on a book and used every spare moment reading. “The Given Day” is about the1919 Boston Police strike. You know the strike is coming, but the build up is suspenseful. I finished the book today. Yeah!

Saturday was a memorial service for one of the beloved women of The Home. She passed away about two weeks ago. It was held in a nearby church. The unusual guests were a former manager and her husband the maintenance man. They are sort of lay pastors in the Anglican Church. He led the service and she sang. I’m telling you this, there are some people who should never sing in public — she’s at the head of the list.

The former leaders have been in town visiting around. They would like to get their old jobs back. That is now the hot topic around The Home. It is also extremely divisive. The residents either loved them or hated them. At the moment it seems like hate is winning 2 to 1. Management does not want a resident manager and they would definitely not hire this couple. They already fired them, but used finances as an excuse. That was convenient, but now they must deal with this in another way. I would love to know how it’ll be handled.

The whole situation has put the fear of God in Rocky – he’s our current maintenance man. He is also really struggling with his health. He over reacts and expresses his thoughts much more than facts. So we are still a little confused about what is happening. He said he had cancer, but that seems to have drifted away. That diagnoses was made before he saw a doctor. That seems to be his pattern. I wish I were that good at figuring out what is wrong with me. Of course, he is often wrong. I can be wrong too.

So he’s wondering if he might lose his job since he seems to be missing a lot of work lately. Then he has a scheduled vacation this week to go to California to meet his first grandson. With Rocky gone for a few days the debate about bringing the other couple back will rage. It will never happen in a million years. I like saying that since I will not be around long even to know if that is true or not.

RETURN TO REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING

We return now to our regular programming schedule and join today’s episode of “The Home”.

As you may recall there has been relative peace in “The Home.” Backbiting was nearly non-existent. Enemies were staying on opposite sides of the street and the gossips have been under the weather and not out sharing their “concerns”. But that all that has changed today after the mail arrived.

The natives are back on the warpath. They would be putting on their war paint if their faces weren’t bright red to begin with. A small note in our contract has been ignored over the past two and one half years I have lived here. Today, offenders received a strongly written letter (read nasty) giving them eight days to correct the situation.

The clause says that no one may store anything in the small space in front of his or her car. It is to remain open and clean of personal belongings. I suspect there are a dozen or more people that have huge piles of things in front of their cars. The space is small so the piles go up. There are one or two I wonder when the pile will fall over. Mostly people store what would typically be garage type items. There are garden supplies, bicycles, tools, and just boxes of who knows what.

Two years ago the management moved in a large collection (about 30) of used stoves that were changed out in various apartments. I don’t know where they were before they were brought here, but they consume the largest open space in the garage. When those appeared the piles began to grow. The feeling was if they can turn the garage into a junk pile, residents could certainly store some personal items there as well.

Each of us signed a contract that disallowed the practice. But no one has enforced the practice. Now with eight days left there is a group that would like to tar and feather the bosses. One was so angry she went around and took photos of everything on the property that she considered an eyesore that belonged to the housing authority. The worst pile is the stoves. Everything else was very picky: some weeds, some over grown plants, areas that needed painting, etc. She then took the photos and her own nasty letter to the bosses demanding equality. You clean up your spaces and we will clean up ours. There is little doubt that she doesn’t have a legal leg to stand on, but she may feel better now. She is one of two educated and trained gardeners. I expect at least one will move. The other is on section 8 and would likely not find another place as low priced as this.

I don’t know what they will do, but anger, frustration, gossip and useless threats are the current approach. I’ve been here long enough to know that will never work. Neither would management be disappointed if these two moved. First they have a long waiting list of people wanting in here and second — these two are a pain in the …

THE DRYER DID IT

Laundry equipment sure gets a bad rap. If it isn’t the washer, it’s the dryer. They have been accused of eating more socks then we have been accused of losing them.

Personally I’ve always been pretty good at keeping track of laundry. I know what I put in the washer and what comes out of the dryer. I admit I do not check the laundry piece-by-piece between the washer and dryer. I did my laundry on Saturday morning and I noticed a sock was missing. Naturally I accused the washer and then the dryer of eating my sock. If they did eat it, they must have swallowed it whole. There was not a trace to be found.

I searched the area around the machines. I retraced my steps between my apartment and the laundry room. Nothing! I dug around the area of my laundry basket in my bedroom. Nothing! I gathered up what I had and returned home. I was sure it would show up when I began to put my things away. I was quite sure it was caught up in the sheets somewhere. Fitted sheets are notorious for hiding small pieces of laundry in their corners. You would think their mother would have taught them better. Still nothing!

I was bewildered. No, I was flustered. No, I was flustwildered. I know I took it to the laundry and yet it is no where to be found. I know I’m old, but I doubt I am senile yet. But they do say you are the last to know. So who knows? Maybe the people are just being kind by not mentioning my declining mental capacity.

I was not going to give that sock another moments thought. I had other socks. I could live without one sock.

I showered and shaved and got dressed for church. I had never been to the Saturday night service and wanted to attend. I walked over expecting a nearly full sanctuary, but the attendance was about the same as the first service on Sunday morning. But it was a lively crowd. I loved the message. I have heard the preacher many times before and he is more than acceptable. But that night I heard his heart. Something special came through. I sat and talked with him about it after the service.

I came home and actually went to bed a little earlier than usual. I read and did not turn the TV on. I did the same thing when I woke up the next morning. I am enjoying my book with the vulgar language (very little now that I’m passed the first chapter). Late afternoon I got a call that there was cheesecake upstairs. I threw on the same sweatshirt I had worn the night before and joined a small group eating cheesecake and fresh strawberries.

While eating I was bothered by my sweatshirt sleeve. It felt twisted and I tried to straighten it out. But it moved. I could roll it around my arm. I reached up my sleeve and pulled out — wait for it — my missing sock. Well I was glad to find it but I want to know where it was Saturday night. Makes one wonder.

COMMENTS

I have changed some things around to make it easier for readers to comment. At least I think I have. I value your input and love the comments I get. Some even teach me new tricks. If you do not want to share your name, you can now do that (I think).

Anyway, the changes should make communication much easier. I don't even think you have to be a member now. Although it is cool to have followers. Of course, I'm not leading anyone anywhere so why should I have followers.

SUNDAY SERMON

Last night a fellow came in with the first real theological question I’ve been asked since I’ve been here. There have been attempts to get me involved in debates on creation and abortion. While I care about both issues, I’m not interested in debates. Now that I have offended everyone – the question was why didn’t God answer my prayers. I prayed and scripture says ask and you will receive and I asked, but didn’t get anything.

On the contrary, God always answers your sincere prayers. The real problem is that we don’t like His answers when He does not answer as we requested Him to answer.

I am only going to touch on what I choose to call selfish prayers. Those prayers we pray with a specific answer in mind. I am going to try to explain why God says no to those.

The issue was that he had prayed he would not go to jail nor be put under house arrest for drunk driving. He argues that he was not drunk and that he was under the breathalyzers limit. The court says he was driving erratically and was a danger to others. End of discussion!

He argued, “but I prayed that God would not let me go to jail or be under house arrest. God did not answer that prayer. Oh yes He did. God said no and told this man that he must accept responsibility for his behavior and pay the piper for his actions. God rarely ever delivers anyone from facing the consequences of their actions. If you screw up there are penalties to pay. No amount of prayer will remove those. You put your hand on the hot stove you will get burnt. You steal and get caught you will appear in court. You get caught breaking the speed limit you will pay the fine or go to jail. You pray for your will to be done, the answer is no.

Why do we think that because we love God and try (yes I said try) to do the right thing and we can escape the consequences of the wrong action? We don’t pay for everything in the next life we pay for plenty here and now. Drink to excess and be drunk enough you can loose your job, your family and your health. Those are consequences.

We are like little children dealing demanding that our parent comply. But you promised. Yes I did but on condition. I promised to take you to the park if you cleaned your room. You didn’t do that. But I want to go to the park. Yes, and I want you to clean your room. You’re mean. First the demand and then the accusation! Try looking at yourself.

So we accuse God when we do not get our own selfish way. We demand and argue but we do not obey. So I asked the man why there was still liquor in his apartment. After all, he had announced he no longer drank.

He has a fear of loosing his job. Possibly legitimate. Did he know that his drinking might affect his work? Yes. Did he care? Maybe, but he generally thought no one would notice. While it’s true people do not notice all the actions of others, God does and still holds you accountable. Reminds me of my own son screaming, “It’s not fair.” Really?

AND THE LORD SAID…

I’m reading “The Given Day” by Dennis LeHane. It’s not the kind of book my parents would have approved. The language you know. Tonight I read a passage that helps put words to my real feeling about growing up in the church.

The story is set in 1917 America. Luther and Lila left Ohio when he lost his job and moved to Oklahoma where her aunt would help him get a job. At their arrival Aunt Marta learned that Lila was pregnant and not married to Luther. Uncle Cornelius is a minister and neither was going to allow an unmarried couple to live together in sin in their home. Besides, Luther needed to man up and marry the woman he made with child. They were married that night. Luther sort of loved Lila, but at 22 was not ready to settle down to one woman.

Luther got a job and began spending nights out with the boys drinking whisky, playing pool and taking small amounts of heron. He feels Lila is holding him back. On Sundays they attend church and spend the afternoon with the aunt and uncle. Luther is upset that they all seem to be trying to be white folk. He hates them for this and thinks they will never be accepted no matter how hard they imitate white behavior.

So often the Sunday afternoon conversation turned to what God thought about things and it irritated Luther. This quote hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Their saying fell more along the lines of ‘The Lord hates a …’ and ‘The Lord don’t …’ and “The Lord shall not abide …’ Making God sound like one irritable master, quick with the whip.

All I knew as a young teen was that I didn’t like church. I didn’t like the screaming, the crying, the threatening and I was afraid of God. Few at that time in history came to God because of love and compassion, but rather as a fire insurance policy to escape hell. I have told many a person that growing up in my church I believed God had declared that anything fun for a teen was a sin. The only thing they never mentioned was what to do about sexual urges so a good many kids stayed out of pool halls and movie theaters and did not play cards, but needing to do something with their time they were necking in very dark places. No one said they couldn’t.

I good friend of mine drew me into a Bible quizzing program with Youth for Christ. What that did was cause me to begin to read the Bible. That led me to a grand search for the “no’s” of God. There were some, But I found more “do’s”. Neither did I find a single no about most of what I was hearing preachers say was an abomination to the Lord. In fact I began to see how ticked off God was at all the phony baloney leaders laying guilt trips on people He loved and laying burdens on the laity that were to heavy to bear.

That’s why Martin Luther tacked his thesis on the Wittenberg church door. It is by Grace we are saved, not by works. Scripture has everything to do with “doing” and very little do with “don’t” The don’ts there are seem to be very much common sense which explains a lot since there is not much common sense going around these parts.

WEATHER

Yes, life is strange. Better yet so is the weather. It started out cloudy and cold. I grabbed my coffee cup and left for “the gathering.” No gathering. Head office was having a big meeting in the commons until 11:00. I never did find a note to that affect. Doesn’t matter, they were there.

I took off to find some economical stores and buy myself a new pair of pants for my birthday. I held back on some medical bills to treat myself. Treat may not be right. This was a real need. I have only two pair that fit properly, and not torn or stained so bad I’m embarrassed. Found two I could afford. Very happy!

When I came out of the stores it was sunny and warming. Looked to be a nice day ahead. Stopped at my barber and watched it get brighter and saw a man walk into the barber shop wearing only a t-shirt. Must be getting even better.

Went back to the other building to see if headquarters was finished. They weren’t but a group was gathering in the pool table room. Clouds were forming. The commons meeting broke up at 11:00 and we moved in closer to the snacks and coffee. Within ten minutes it was pouring rain. Not the typical northwest drips, but real rain, like pouring down rain. It takes only seconds to develop a pool outside the commons window. It was also pounding the window.

The weather broker 30 minutes later so I went to my apartment. There I worked on the newsletter for a while and took a nap. I know I was getting tired, but a 3 hour afternoon nap was long even for me. But I feel terrific. The sun was gone when I awoke. I left to check my mail and was told they were serving corn chowder at Bingo. I don’t play. But I go eat the food. While I am eating at the normal coffee break table, it hails like someone dumped a large bucket of ice balls all at once. It was over in a minute or less and, of course, the sun came out.

My daughter dropped off the two younger grandkids for a few minutes and Morgan told me about the hailstorm at their place. It was just a hard but much longer. Their whole yard was covered and it looked like snow. I asked had he been outside in hail. Yes he had. Did it hurt? No, it was cool. I guess ice is cool, come to think of it. Then as only a nine-year-old boy would say, what if the hail was this big (he made a circle above his head about the size of a beach ball)? That would hurt. What is it were slushy? Well, then it might break on your head and slide of your shoulders with you standing in the muck. That would be nasty, wouldn’t it. No, that would be cool.

I have certainly moved along way from the days when I thought things like that were cool. They left a few minutes later with it raining. But before he left he pulled out a temperature gage from his pocket and announced it was 82 degrees. If it were only true.

WHERE DID THE DAY GO

Have you ever just sat back and reflected on where the day went. I seem to be doing that even more than usual. I got up early to take Maria to her 9:00 appointment with her eye doctor, She is nearly blind and they often give her a shot right in the eyeball. It hurts just writing about it. I think I would rather have the colonoscopy. Come to think of it, I did. The needle goes right into the eyeball. Yikes!!!

Since the procedure takes 1 ½ - 2 hours I came back to hang out with the coffee klatch. It is still a klatch when men are there because for a while there were only two men? All I really wanted to know was what was wrong with the garage door. When I pulled up to run my card over the sensor to let me in there was a note that read: “Door broken, use the back door.” When we opened the doors with a remote button in our cars that worked well. But now the front door opens with a swipe card and the back door opens when you run over the trigger cord. If I wanted to open it from the outside I would have to park my car with part of it sticking into the street (door is very near the street) use my key to get in through the pedestrian door, push the button to open the garage door, wait for it to get to the top so I can lock it in position. Back to the car, get in start it and drive in. Once inside I need to get out of the car, release the lock so the door will come down.

Finally I must get down to my spot and fight with getting my car turned around and into its angled spot striped the opposite direction. All of this is more work that I typically do in a whole day. See, it’s not easy following weird directions.

When Rocky came through the coffee room He asked what happened to the door. At that point I had only heard a rumor — the bread truck backed into the door. Rocky went out to have a look. Meanwhile, back at the coffee ranch, the two ladies who let the bread man
In returned. Small problem. He was so close to the door that the bottom lip of the door struck the truck bumper. As soon as it hit, the ladies tried to put the door back up. Now that lip caught under the bumper and stripped the motor. Rocky was mad and determined to resolve it immediately. After a somewhat lengthy argument with the food bank they settled and agreed it was their drivers fault. And everyone lived happily ever after.

Now that insurance companies are involved we will be without the door for 7-10 days while each outfit investigates, we argue some more, they refuse to pay, more arguments and finally they try to pay for a quarter of the costs. They won’t get away with that with Rocky. He’ll take the money out of someone’s hide if necessary.

After this excitement, I picked up Maria and brought her back. She was exhausted, probably slept most of the day. I grabbed a quick lunch, picked away at the newsletter for May and went to Bible study. Increasingly there is very little of the Bible that gets studied. lots of talk and many, many stories. That’s usually OK, but I wanted to lay down about half way through. So it was back to my apartment, ate a light snack and fell asleep in my recliner. As usual, my feet went to sleep. I must remember to lie on the sofa. That way my feet stay awake.

MY PLACE pictures part 7

Wow! I’ve been lazy. It’s not that I haven’t had time I’m just swamped — resting. That includes reading, sleeping, yakking, puzzling and generally goofing off. Sounds like college doesn’t it? I was going to do this earlier today, but I got motivated to clean my apartment and start dumping more things I don’t need. I know, surprising. It even surprised me.

Well, back to my building and a look down the long hallway. I live at the last door on the left and right next to a back exit. This is a small building with only 18 apartments – nine on each of two floors floor.

My front door has several of my drawing hanging on either side. These are prints. I am enjoying trying to sale some of them. The table usually has something sitting on it that is seasonal. I guess I could have put up an umbrella. All it’s doing is raining. To the left of my door with the funky welcome wreath is the exit. Because I’m on the end, I let my family in at that door. When they come they just knock on my window. It works great.

To the left as you enter my place is the kitchen, tiny, but workable. At first I felt like there was not enough space, but you get used to it and eventually start getting rid of unused items and then you have plenty of room. Still want a dishwasher. I hate doing dishes.

Straight ahead is the living room with my comfortable leather sofa. My work space it to the right. I have a very old Mac. It should be upgrades, but the last time I did a major upgrade I had to upgrade all my programs. I’m trying to stick with what I have. Besides, I can’t lift my computer anymore. I decided not to straighten up the stacks, as that is not me. If there are not stacks around I have probably moved. You may as well know the truth.

There is a hall that parallels the kitchen and leads to a very large bathroom and the bedroom on the right. No bedroom photos. The place is a disaster. As you can see the hall holds many of my books. I keep telling myself it is silly to buy books as there are libraries here and the community library is only a block away. There is something about owning a book that seems to have meaning for me. Usually it means I am running out of money.

The next photo looks back to my door. On the left behind the leather recliner in which I live is a drafting/light table. My best buddy made that possible. I have no table for meals and the drafting table can flatten and be a table. Talk about multitasking.

UNCOMMON COMMONS pictures Part 6

One more area in the other building before we return to my building: the commons! Everything that involves a large group happens here. There is a monthly meeting of residents where we celebrate the birthdays of the month and get chastised for things we are screwing up: All garbage must be in plastic tie bags. There is no

smoking in the buildings. The public areas will be re-carpeted next week. Please take your hall decorations into your apartments.After the announcement there is laughter, scoffing and/or demands for more information or why. Also, all potlucks and meals are here as well as coffee and snacks available 9-4 Monday to Friday and of course bingo.

This is the morning coffee table piled with snacks. It is hard not to take something, especially

The bread table is a result of a couple going to the war front and fighting for our share of free bread. Since my heart attack I consider myself wounded in action and have not returned to Bread Wars. I have been replaced at the front. Yeah! Residents had already taken a rather large amount of bread before I took the picture. The bread comes Wednesday and most is gone by Friday.if one of the ladies baked something fresh. Most snacks come from the area food bank. They deliver bread and sweets every week. You can see the coffee pot in the back group and the open lighted area behind is the kitchen. In addition to coffee there is tea and hot chocolate. To the right of the snacks is our congregating table. You can only see a chair or two and a corner of the table. In reality the table only seats five, but there have been up to twelve squeezed near the table. Most mornings are a lot of fun and laughter.

A hall photo is weird, I know. It is taken from the entrance to the poolroom. To the right is the commons and the left is the elevator. There are doors on the left side of the hall that lead to restrooms and to the right is the kitchen. Heading left down the hallway takes you back to the main entrance past the mailboxes.

The last photo is a bit of space filler, as I didn’t want to move back to my building until the next blog. This staircase is beautiful at Christmas with greenery, ribbons and lights. In fact, the entire building is beautifully decorated. I know, it takes using your imagination.

I think I’ll leave this as is and some my cutting remarks for the next edition. Unusual!