Big day yesterday.  Tony got my car fixed.  He hooked it up to a diagnostic thing-of-a-majig to check it.  The "institution" that fixed it didn't connect 6 different things when they worked on it.  Thus...it didn't run.  Tony called them and said he was calling for his grandmother (He always calls me his grandmother) and explained how lousy the work was that they did--and he took pictures of all the things they forgot to reconnect.  He said that he expected a refund for me.  They said they agreed and will send me a check.

If you don't have a man in your life, find a Tony.  His wife, Amanda drove him down to the car shop to check my car. They are wonderful.

My door inserts are in.  My light and fan switches are calibrated to run simultaneously.  My vent hood is in and looks like it has been there since the house was built.  And Tony and Amanda hung four heavy, very heavy pictures for me.  Life is good.  I can hang the small ones.

I tried to hang one of the large ones and tripped and fell--hit the swivel table going down, which was good because it allowed me to rotate before the huge picture came crashing down on me.  By swiveling, I was able to turn the glass side of the picture up (!!!) so that the back of the picture--plywood from 70 years ago-- hit my head, and not the glass.  Plywood and frame crumbled, but I ended up in one piece.  Kinda.  I'm sore.  That's when I decided to let Tony hang the big pictures.

It is starting to look like a home.

Tony bought me a small auto screwdriver and I have been putting drawer pulls on all the kitchen drawers.  I feel empowered.  I have put seven on and have four to go.  I am not entirely helpless.

Squig, on the other hand has been traumatized.  It was raining and thundering through all the time Tony was working, and his nail gun was very loud.  Squig shook uncontrollably through it all.  I felt so sorry for him.  It was loud (nail gun) in the house, and loud (thunder) out of the house.  After everyone left, and the storm ceased, Squig fell into a stress induced sleep and didn't wake up for hours.  He was exhausted.  I was, too.  Today, I am doing nothing.

I got my hopes up too soon.  My gardner went back to work full time for the woman he had been helping.  He wasn't happy about it, but he rents one of her houses, and he was afraid she would cancel his lease.  I don't blame him, but I am super disappointed.  I had visions of a garden in the spring.  Maybe it will still happen???  He said he will try to come on Saturday.  I hope so.

However, Tony showed up.  I can always count on Tony.  He is going to finish the vent over my stove and do some electrical work.  And charge the battery on my car.  When you don't have a husband, you have to learn about cars.  I don't want to know about cars.  I don't want to fix them, or wash them, or put gas in them.  But....when you don't have a person to do those things, you have to learn.

Three years ago, I made drapes for one of the bedrooms in my house.  (The one I just sold.)  I never hung them, I just kept thinking I would do it "next week."  Well, today, I got them out, (they match the bedspread in the guest room) and put them up in my new home.  I guess I was motivated to finish what I started--to finish all the details in the guest bedroom.  I was amazed to find that I had even pleated the drape tops.  All they needed were hooks in the pleats.  Which I was able to find (hooks) and pin them.  I hung them and they look amazing!  I don't know cars, but I do know how to sew.

Who knew that something that I did three years ago would be such a blessing today.

I love my new flat driveway.  But I am finding that having a two car garage is not nearly as handy as my three car garage was.  I guess I got spoiled with all that space.  But the nice thing is:  I don't have anywhere to collect junk.  I am much more organized.  Extra space is like a magnet for junk.

Today is going to be busy, and in the middle of it, I have to go to the dentist to get a filling in one of my teeth.  I don't mind going to the dentist, but I hate losing the time.  I would rather be doing something that needs doing here.  And there is plenty to do here.

I will get new inserts in my back door later today.  They now have venetian blinds that clatter and bang around on the door every time I open it. The new inserts will have the blinds inside the glass.  Whoever invented that was brilliant.  I need to invent something brilliant to pay for all this.

Becky and Joe came yesterday.  She and Joe were in a head-on collision this week.  It totaled their car of course.  By God's grace, Becky swerved the car sideways so that the other car took the back of her car off, and spared the front two seats.  It was a miracle.  I am so eternally grateful for God's mercy.  both of them are so sore that they can hardly move.  But no broken bones, concussions, or lasting injuries.  Praise God.  She is going to come back in a week or two to help me hang pictures.

The man who hit them supposedly just got out of prison.  And insurance?  Who knows.

My gardener (John) is coming back for one day on Saturday.  I am delighted that he is coming back just when I desperately need him.  I hope he doesn't cancel again.

Maybe he can get my raised beds built--ready to plant in the spring.  There is a huge pile of topsoil in the corner of my backyard that the previous owner had brought in--so I won't have to buy soil.  That's good.  I am trying not to get too excited.  Almost impossible to not do.

And Tony is coming back this afternoon to build a vent from my stove through the ceiling.  I hope he stays and works for a couple of weeks and does the tile in the master bath.

I am down to trying to figure where small things go.  Big stuff is in place.  Most boxes are open.  I now live in this house--for better or worse.  So far, I really like it.  I would just like to have a day that I woke up and didn't have anything to do, and I didn't have things that I needed other people to do.

I didn't make it to church or my connection group on Sunday.  It's the first time I have missed in three years--except when I was out of town.  I just couldn't seem to get my act together.  I kept falling asleep.  I finally called one of my members and asked her to lead the discussion.  I think it all caught up with me.  I am so tired.  I am ready to do nothing for awhile.  I need 10 of uninterrupted sleep.  Which isn't going to happen for awhile.  I keep praying for good health, and so far, God has granted my request.  God is faithful.  "Faithful is He who calls you who also will do it."1 Thess. 5:24

There are some things that just wring my heart out.  Naval aviators who flew in Viet Nam are one.  And John McCain--among other friends of ours who were captured--has always held such a place of honor for me.  Every Marine and Naval aviator knew what was in store for them if they went down.  Ken was flying the same plane John was--at the exact same time, in the same war, and getting shot at by the same North Vietnamese military every day.  Praying they would miss.  Flying into enemy fire to support our ground troops.

Every pilot in that war was just doing his job, hoping that they would survive.  Hoping that the pols in Washington would figure out what they were doing.  Which they didn't.  America was at war with herself over all of it.  Ken despised McNamara and his "body counts" that supposedly showed that we were winning the war.  We weren't.  But he never said a word about his feelings until the war was over and he had retired--and McNamara was no longer in office.   Ken always said, "I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States."  The people choose these presidents.  We elect them.

All of those pilots knew what capture meant.  Every one of them had a friend who had ejected.  Every one of them lived with the knowledge that they could be next.  John McCain lived through it.  And his finest hour was when he refused to come home because he wasn't next in line for that opportunity.  The rule was: first shot down, first to go home.  John didn't use his father's Admiral rank to move up his return--which the Vietnamese offered.  He paid dearly for that honorable decision.

Ken nursed a crippled plane back to base with an ejection seat that had been hit, blowing his canopy off--knowing all the way back that he could lose his seat through an unintended ejection, praying to God to get back over water before it blew.  Every Marine and Navy pilot had their survival stories.

War is a terrible thing.  And only those who serve through it can fully realize what it means.  Whether you agree with McCain's political position or not, you and I owe him and all those who honorably serve, and served, our country a deep, penetrating debt of gratitude for what they are willing to give, and give up, so that we don't have to.  Thank God we don't have to.  God bless every warrior out there who is willing to serve.  Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.  God bless America.

So if Satan, Evil Eye Fleegle, put the "double whammy" on you, you were now in his power.  What better place to start doing that than in the church.  If you can confuse a Christian, you can render him powerless in the business of soul winning.  You will destroy his witness to others.

It is our total confidence in the words of Jesus that allows us to speak to others with authority.  He came.  He lived.  He died.  He rose from the grave to forever make intercession for us to a holy God--who should punish us for the sins that we have done.  But Christ died for us.  Christ took our sin upon himself and said, "Holy Father, it is finished."

(1)  If keeping the law would have saved us, there was no point in Jesus's death.  (2) If sin that we commit after we become a Christian would condemn us--what was the point of Christ's life, death and resurrection.  The Jews had that kind of religion before Jesus came.  Once a year you could sacrifice a lamb for sin committed that year.  Who needs Jesus if you believe either one of those things?!!

But the secret to the resurrection is that once we were declared clean by Christ, he returned to earth to take up habitation in our bodies.  We become the temple of God.  And God, becomes our inner guide to behavior.  We are struck by guilt when we displease Him.  We have unexplainable peace when we please him.  It's a win/win deal.  You give yourself to Christ and God gives Christ to you.  We become heirs.  Joint heirs with Christ.  Children of a Holy God.  Part of the Kingdom of God.  "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done," becomes our mantra.  We sincerely want what God wants.  "Christ in you, the hope of glory."

God explained this to his people way back when God spoke through prophets.  He said, "I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new Spirit within you.  I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a new, tender, responsive heart.  Ezekial 36:26 

As a Christian, you are Spirit led.  You want to please God--you love Him.  You truly don't want to do wrong and disappoint him.  Who can explain such a thing to someone who does not have his Spirit?  All I know is: "I'll never go back, I've closed the door..."  I want whatever God wants.  For me.  For my children.  For the people I know.  I want them to become children of a Holy God.

I heard a sermon once, years ago, on the first chapter of Galations.  The preacher rewrote the first few verses to read like this:  You stupid Galations!!  Who has put the double whammy on you so that you can't think straight.  

You would probably have to be my age to know what he was talking about.  There was a comic strip in the newspaper called "Lil Abner."  And one of the characters in the strip was an evil dude.  His name was Evil Eye Fleegle.  Evil Eye Fleegle would point one finger at someone that he wanted to demolish, cast his evil eye on that person and lay them low. 

But when Evil Eye Fleegle put both of his eyes on a person and pointed two fingers at them, this was a double whammy. The only person who could withstand not just a single whammy but a double whammy was Mammy Yokum, Li'l Abner Yokum's wizened old mother. She would whirl and spin and totter around, but still be standing when Evil Eye Fleegle tried to lay her low with a double whammy."  So Paul's statement to the Galations, "You stupid Galations!!  Who has put the double whammy on you so that you can't think straight," was a comparison that people my age would understand.

Paul must have been horribly disappointed to find that the people he had led to Christ had been so quickly turned from the truth of the gospel.  Diverted from the simple story of Christ's death, resurrection and intervention through his payment for sin with his blood--to a story that said there was something they could do for themselves to be saved.  

There is a hymn that says: "Jesus paid it all.  All to him I owe.  Sin had left a crimson stain, he washed it white as snow."  That sums it up. 

Maybe, in the middle of all my chaos, I should quit talking about my moving foibles, and start talking about the Bible once again.  We have one more lesson in II Samuel, and we are done.  Hallelujah.  I am not very good at teaching history.  Even though the study about David was interesting.  His relationship with his sons was sad.  However, David always turned to God, and worshiped Him.

We are going to study the book of Galatians.  And then the book of James.  The book of Galatians was written by Paul to a group of people that were in need of a major butt-chewing--excuse my French.

This group of people had what the Bible calls "Itching Ears."  It is a malady very common in the world today.  People are moved by the latest orator, who spouts the latest way to heaven.  The latest way to get rich by naming and claiming it.  The latest revised truth about God and what you need to do to get whatever you want from Him.  My favorite:  God wants you to be rich.  It is, "The gospel of the week."  Prosperity as a goal, and an attainable goal if you will "send me your money."

Jews had come to Galatia--to a church that Paul had founded--and said that Paul was not an apostle, and that he had not taught them the"real' truth.  They explained that you basically had to become a Jew before you could be a Christian.  Circumcision was required.  And the laws of the Jews upheld.  Paul was disgusted that these people had turned away from the gospel so easily.

There is nothing wrong with Jewish law, but the thing that saves you is Christ.  Christ alone.  So Paul was trying to heal the damage that the "Judaizers" had done.  They were preaching Christ, plus works.  There are many churches today that teach the same thing.

As for apostleship, Paul reiterated the fact that he had met Jesus on the road to Damascus, and that Jesus himself had commissioned Paul as an apostle--a truth teller.  Someone who preaches the true gospel about Jesus Christ.  I personally believe that Paul was the twelfth disciple.  Not Matthias--the person that Peter had espoused.  Chosen before Pentacost.  Before the Holy Spirit came.  I think Peter got antsy waiting on the Holy Spirit and decided they needed to replace Judas--so he did it.

Small problems are magnified when things are confused.  Which things are right now.  Confused.  I found the toaster and the oil cruet.  But I sat on my glasses.  Broke them.  I don't have an extra pair.

I am 20/20 for distance driving, etc.  But I can't see up close.  So I took a much needed break from what I am doing in this house and went to the Optometrist.  They gave me a set of readers--so that problem is temporarily solved.  But nobody can see me for a week to prescribe new glasses.  No openings.  Oh well.  The TV still isn't hooked up anyway.

Second mishap.  I was trying to organize my keys, and put all of them next to my chair to sort out later.  Then, I went to get some drawer dividers for the kitchen at Bed, Bath and Beyond.  Since I went through the garage and used the garage door opener, I didn't need a key.  Except the door locked behind me somehow--and I was locked out with no key.  All the neighbors got involved and eventually removed the door handle.  Luckily it wasn't the dead bolt that was locked.  Squig was inside the house and barked continuously.  Of course.

On the bright side, I feel great.  Haven't been sick with anything at all in five or six months.  Not even a sniffle.  Praise God.  Except for taking a fall two weeks ago--but that wasn't fatal.  I was sore for a few days and a little purple.  Well....a lot purple.  But I have always loved lilac.  Purple is close.

I am anxious for Becky Bacon to get here.  The furniture is finally where I want it.  I'm ready to hang pictures in two rooms.  After I figure what goes where in those two rooms, I'll sort through what is left.  I have more pictures than walls.  That comes with four children, ten grandchildren, four great-grandchildren and two more on the way. I don't hang those in the living areas.  I put those in the bedrooms.  And then there is my "Wedding Wall."  I have a picture wall for every wedding this family has ever had--including my parents and aunts and uncles, sister and brother.  It's a bunch.

I bet none of you ever locked yourself out of your house.  I bet none of you ever sat on your glasses.

I bet all of you out there live in total calm and peace without a ripple.

I thought I had arranged everything in the family room every way it could be arranged.  But Becky came over and changed everything.  She moved the furniture into a plan I never would have thought of, and I like it a lot.  She spends days and days arranging estate sale furniture to it's optimal position, and has a knack for visualizing everything in her head.  I have to have paper cutouts to scale.

Craig and David carried the TV over last night and said it weighed a ton.  Tony will install the TV today, and I'll find out what has been happening in the world.  I probably don't want to know.

The granite man came to put the plates back over the outlets, and the screws weren't long enough.  It has been the little things like that going wrong that has driven me nuts.  I'm lucky I haven't electrocuted myself plugging into open outlets.  I'm going to write a book:  "The Anatomy of a Move."

I never got all my stuff out of my old house.  I thought I had packed everything, but David and his wife Jennifer keep bringing stuff over.  I must have been sleepwalking those last few days to have missed so many things.

And Jeanine and Dean, my next door neighbors, have been awesome.  Jeanine cleaned cabinets so I could line them with paper, while Dean broke down boxes for the trash men and swept up afterwards.

John Kerley, the next door neighbor that is my realtor, came over and put a tennis ball in my garage, hung from the ceiling, so I would know where to stop my car when I put it in the garage.  His wife Linda brought me sandwiches every day.

These four people are the neighbors that I would never move away from in a million years.  God just gave me a better place to live (with a nice flat driveway) without having to leave them.  They are so good to me.  God's blessings.  Like I have said before, God plopped me right down in the middle of heaven.

I spoke too soon.  Still no TV.

I am cleaning out all the unidentifiable items in my freezer.  Each day I open one of those see-through containers--I can see through them, but who can possibly identify what is in them.  Surprise every day.  Today it was something cheese mixed with either chicken or tuna.  I ate two bites and threw the rest out.  There are only about 20 or so of those containers to go.  Yum.

Luckily my neighbors, Jeanine and Linda, keep bringing me food.   I've got to stop freezing things that are left over.  I need to either eat them that day or the next, then throw out what's left.  I seldom freeze what Jeanine and Linda bring over, I eat it all.  It's what I cook that I have too much of.  I haven't yet mastered the talent of cooking for one person.

I can't fault those people in the desert with Moses when they complained about the manna and the quail (?).  Manna for breakfast, manna for lunch, manna for supper.  I'm sure I would have been complaining as well.  I guess they forgot how hungry they had been when God "came through"   for them and provided manna.  Pizza, fried chicken, steak and baked potatoes--I guess if you had to eat the same thing three times a day for weeks on end, anything would have become monotonous.   Except fried chicken, Mexican or Chinese food.

Sally sold her house in Hattisburg, Mississippi, and is moving back to Pryor.  I am happy for her.  She misses her friends and her friends miss her.  She is a beautician-supremo.   When she gives you a pedicure, your feet look like a baby's bum.  She soaks your feet in steaming hot water, and then starts scrubbing.  You lose ten or fifteen pounds in the process.

I still haven't found the toaster.   Or the cruet filled with canola oil.

I've got all the china put back in the buffet--I'm starting on the depression glass in the dining room tomorrow.  I've got it all unpacked.  As a matter of fact, everything except books, pictures, blankets, pillows and bedspreads are unpacked.  If I unpack those things, I will have to make the other two beds.  It can wait.  "Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." Matthew 6:34

I have had no TV for a week.  Mine is mounted on the wall at the other house, and I haven't had any one to move it and install it here.  Tony said he would do it tomorrow.  I hope he brings the boys.  I have missed the boys.  I haven't missed the TV at all.

I found the shredder.  I haven't found the toaster.  Which is odd.  How do you lose a toaster?

The cleaning ladies came yesterday and cleaned above the top of the kitchen cabinets.  I can start my "decorating" up there now.  Which is good.  All the stuff that goes up there had been unpacked and was sitting on the dining room table.  Julia had me hand it all to her.  She put all of it on top of the cabinets--with a warning that I was absolutely not to climb up there and start arranging things.  She made me promise to wait until she came back in two weeks to help me.

I remember walking into my grandmother's house once when she was 80.  I found her standing on top of the kitchen cabinets getting her canning jars down.  I really scolded her and told her to call me when she needed something out of reach.  Her answer was: "Why?"  Now I understand.

I feel like I am at home.   Houses have never held much sentiment for me.  Places have.  But houses come and go.  I've lived in 27 of them.  Once I get my stuff in them, it becomes home.

Squig has decided he likes it here.  The back yard is huge.  He is still in the process of sniffing every inch of it.  He got a haircut yesterday--which is always traumatic for him because Jason puts him in a cage and Squig has to wait for me to  come get him.  His leg is healed.  He looks like a pirate with a peg leg because one leg is shaved and the other one is really fuzzy.

Carolyn called to tell me that her brother is horribly ill.  When we get this age, someone is always sick, in the hospital, or getting bad news.  We share each other's burdens and grief.  Our friend Judy Cameron burned her legs terribly, and was in the hospital for months.  She recovered.  It gives us all hope and reminds us that we are never to give up.  We are to pray for each other because, "The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous person avails much."  James 5:16  God is listening to us.  Waiting on us to pray.

The only problem is:  "Where is Squig's leash?  Where is my toothbrush?  Where is the Tide?  Where is my shredder?  Where is the garbage can?  Where is the rest of the china? Where.......I'm sure that it will all sort itself out.  I only have a few boxes left to unpack.  Every box I open is a surprise.  Something unexpected in every carton.

I have moved the furniture in the family room four times.  I lift the foot of something (sofa, chair, footstool....etc.) slide one of those round "sliders" under it, sit down on the floor and push with my feet.  You are never too old to get something you want to do done if you want it done badly enough.

The thing I am going to give up is the Schwinn bike in the TV room.  I thought that I wouldn't ride it if I couldn't see TV while I am on it...but my friend Jeanette gave me such good advice.  "Riding it is an act of discipline," she said.  "If you decide to do it, and set a time to do it, then "where it is" is not the problem.  It's discipline.  If you decide to ride the bike, it won't matter where it is.  Put it in the bedroom."  She is so right.  That's what I will do.

Sometimes you need a friend to point you in the right direction because you are blinded by habits that make it impossible to see.  That's what Christian friends do for you when your life needs tweaking. They improve your thinking with words of encouragment.  They improve your behavior by the lives they live.  You want to be better, too.

We become like those we run with.  That's just a sociologic fact.  If your life isn't what you want it to be, check the list of people you habituate.

That is what a church does.  Yes, it is full of hypocrites.  The world is full of them as well.  But people who habituate a church have admitted that they need help to get better.  And by surrounding themselves with others who are on the same path, it becomes easier to do the right things, and harder to do the wrong things.

You are who you run with.  Change your crowd.

I finally have all my stuff in my house.  It is a total mess.  Disaster.  There are boxes lying around everywhere, with the seal split open so that I can see what's inside.  Yes, I wrote on the box what was in it--except when there was room for one more thing, I grabbed what was handy.

The granite looks fabulous.  (Ask for Mike at Silex on Broadway.  He knows his stuff--and is pleasant to work with.)  The dishwasher was installed this morning--thank goodness.  I was about to have to do dishes by hand!  The oven and burner went in as well.  Tony did an expert job laying tile.  Jerry Stanford did a superb job of installing faucets and hot water tap--which I have to have to make hot Darjeeling tea.  I drink hot tea all day.

I can't find my paper shredder.  It's not filled with paper because I upended the shredded in the air.  I am finding shredded pieces of paper in everything.  What a mess.

Two weeks and one day and Becky Bacon is coming back.  We will hang pictures.  Ann is going to help.  And Jeanine.  I will supervise and direct traffic!!  Until they tell me to "can it."

I've got to figure out how to arrange furniture in the family room.  I'm trying to cram a 50 pound pig in a 10 pound sack.  I have to give up one of three pieces of furniture to do it.  1.  My matched sofa.  I have a pair.  No I don't need both of them but I like they way they look together.  2.  My Schwinn bike I bought 3 months ago--because I need exercise and can't walk very far--that's another story.  Or 3.  My marimba--but here is no room for it anywhere else.

Everyone who comes through wants me to play the marimba for them--so I don't want to give that up.  I don't ride the bike like I should, but if I put it in a bedroom, I won't ride it at all.  So the obvious choice is to give up the sofa.  Which causes me pain...I love having two of them.  I guess I'll get over it because it is the obvious choice.   However, I'm going to cram for awhile longer before I give up.

I went to bed last night and couldn't think of anything to ask for.  All I could think of was how thankful I am for the blessings in my life.   For all the wonderful people who have helped me get moved.  God is good.

The day the movers came, I crossed back and forth across the street so many times that the soles of my shoes cracked in six or seven places.  And finally a big chunk fell out of the middle of one of them.  I threw them in the trash and wandered around barefooted.

I still have stuff to move.  I have till today to get out.  My grandson David said for me not to worry about it, he will bring whatever is left over to my new house.  I do not understand how one old woman can have so much junk.  Christmas stuff, every medication for any ailment you might have, soap and cleaning products up the wazoo.  A cleaning agent for any kind of dirt or stain that could possibly occur.  And on and on...it's incredible.  I'm embarrassed.

Half of it I didn't even know I had.  Some of it I threw out.  There were six cans of spray starch that my lady in Pryor (Leota, who worked for us for thirty five years because I was so damaged after heart surgery I couldn't do much.  She stayed because she loved us till she was almost 90.  Everyone else let her go because she couldn't do very much.   She was trying to live on social security.  I didn't have the heart to let her go.  She was like family.)  Leota wanted to starch Ken's shirts, so I bought six cans of spray starch for her--which she never got to use.  Ken was a Marine and thought every shirt needed to be starched.  I will never use any of it.  If you can't wash it and wear it, I don't want it.

God has been so good to me.  I prayed my health would last for the month of August while I moved.  I usually get a sinus infection.  But I didn't.  I felt great except for exhaustion.  But that comes with the territory of moving.  I haven't even had a sniffle.

The hardest thing I have to learn to live with in this house, is that I have slept on the right side of the bed all of my life.  But the bathroom is on the left side of the bed.  And when I wake up in the night, I have to figure out where I am.  Last night I gave up and moved back to the right side.

I guess I should say that wondering "where I am" is in the hands of God, and the rest of it I will have to figure out.  Which I will.  I have found everything except the flour, sugar, and cornmeal.  I won't be making cornbread for awhile.

Tonight, I will sleep in my bed in my new house.  And I will be able to kick back and do nothing if that is what I want to do for the next few weeks.  Yes, there are boxes to unpack, but nothing I need right now.  I can unpack most of them at my leisure.

The kitchen is put together.  The pantry is stocked.  And makeup, lotions, etc. are in the bathroom.  All I can say is "Hallelujah."  I can make it for weeks before I have to do anything else.

Tony didn't have time to tear into the master bath, he'll come back in six weeks or so.  But, sadly, the boys won't be with him.  School starts before then.  I will miss the boys.  They were a wonderful relief in the middle of my chaos.

Becky Bacon will be here in two weeks or so.  She and Ann, Jeanette, Jeannine and I will hang pictures.  That will be fun.  And then I'll take everyone to Hide-away Pizza.  Best pizza in the state.

I haven't been to teacher's meeting on Wednesday nights for six weeks.  I had nothing left in me every day by four or five o'clock.  Pooped, beat, sore feet, backache and every other kind of ache.  I told the director I'd be back by the middle of August.

We've been studying the last years of King David.  His life was sad at the end.  Actually, his life was sad for almost all of it--after he messed up with Bathsheba.  That sin cost him for the rest of his life.  The repercussions went on and on.  The fallout was terrible.  That's what happens when you don't live according to the plan of God.  There are consequences for what you have done even though God forgives you after you repent.  I'll be glad to get to the life of Solomon.

It is supposed to rain again next week for four days running.  This is a strange August.  I'm certainly not complaining.

There is a place in Edmond that has fried oyster nachos on Wednesdays for $6.00.  They are to die for.  Craig and Becky got me started on them.  And their crab bisque is unbelievable.  Last time I had decent bisque was in the Boston airport waiting on a plane.  It was so good I never forgot the experience.  But this is as good or better.  Fish City Grill.  Last week Jeanette and I had crab and shrimp stuffed flounder.  I can't even describe it--I would fail.  It was extraordinary.

So anyway, Jeanette and I went yesterday and did the whole shebang again.  Oysters and bisque.  It was delicious.  I was so perked up I came home and stained the bathroom cabinets, and unpacked three huge boxes of kitchen stuff and put it in the cabinets I had lined with paper.  I'm starting to feel like this is going to be home.

Houses don't mean much to me.  I've lived in dozens of them.  The thing that makes a home is getting your stuff and your family in it.  Once the kitchen is set up and you have your bathroom stocked with all the things you use every day, you're home.  But I don't have kids or a husband anymore.  It's just Squig and me.

And Squig caught a mouse in the garage, so he now feels like he is at home.  He has a job to do.  He was so proud of himself that he brought it into the living room to show it to me.  I'm sure that isn't the last one because I left the door from the house to the garage open--to make it easier to unload stuff and bring it in.  He will be very happy if there are more mice.

Becky's dog Max used to catch locusts.  He would snatch them out of the air or catch them when they landed.  Locust time was his best time of the year.  My last dog, Bo, would catch a mouse on the run. Schnauzers are great at catching moving things.  And digging up moles.

God gave us dogs because we needed a companion.  I think God must have made mice specifically for dogs to catch--because Schnauzers need a job to do to feel needed.  Squig is very puffed up and proud of himself.  I just wish he had dropped it on the tile floor instead of on the living room carpet.

My second piece of advice is:  Don't fall.  You will be so sore you can't move by the next day.  I had to get down on the floor to line the bottom cabinets with paper yesterday, and getting back up was a problem.  Pain.  And more pain.  But three more bottom cabinets and I'm done.

And on this eighth day of August, an unfamiliar thing has happened.  It is pouring down rain.  Thunder, lightening and frog strangling rain.  It has been so hot--above 100 almost every day--that the odds of it raining were zero.  But God took mercy on us.  It is wet and cool outside.

Carolyn calls almost every day to tell me how wonderful I am.  And she doesn't pass out meaningless compliments.  "You are 80 years old and doing a difficult thing--and you are getting it done.  You are almost there.  It will be over soon."  She knows how much I need encouragement about now.  My mind is willing, but my body is shot.  It is maddening.  I have things to do and my body won't do them.  My body betrays me.

Jeanette is going with me to lunch at noon.  That gives me incentive to get over to the other house and finish the cabinets.  I refinished the fronts with walnut stain yesterday.  All of them.  They were scratched everywhere.  When I finished, they looked brand new.  Walnut.  My favorite wood.  It is so forgiving.  I will stain the bathroom cabinets this afternoon.

I don't have time to write, I've got to get going.  I have today and tomorrow to finish up.  The movers come to move the furniture on Friday.  Praise God, Jeanette drew paper models to scale to show where everything goes, so I can sit in a chair on Friday and direct traffic.

It was inevitable--as tired as I am--I fell, last night,  hit my head and thought I might have broken a rib.  I picked myself up, ignored the pain, drove to the emergency room--just to be safe--because I take blood thinners and didn't think I should take a "wait and see" approach.  I told the staff that I was being cautious and they kept saying that I had done the right thing to come in.  All is well.  I am bruised and battered but fine.  And very sore.  So today I will be slow.  But determined.

Which is a good thing since I am in the final "rush to the finish" to get moved.  I've been lining shelves all day.  And my lovely neighbor Jeannine has been cleaning the cabinets.  I finished the pantry completely and everything is moved in there.  It is satisfying to have finished something about which I can say that it's done.  Done.  It's a lovely word.

 Squig is upset about the entire process.  He can't figure out where to lie down.  He knows something isn't right.  I cross the street dozens of times a day with my arms full of junk, and usually take him with me--but he isn't happy.  So then I leave him at home, and he isn't happy there either.  He is very stressed.  But then, so am I right now.

Amy (grand-daughter) came Sunday to go to church with me, and she stayed and moved pictures and greenery.  I had no idea how many pots of greenery I had--over twenty vases and pots.  I kept buying stuff at garage sales and sticking it on end tables, etc.  It is excessive.

Every time I take something out of a box, I've been asking myself, "Why do you have this?  Do you ever use it?  Do you really think you ever will?"  And I have filled a box full of things to go to the thrift store.  I am forcing myself to do this every time I unwrap something.  It is cathartic.  I should have done this years ago.  But they are wonderful things.  Wonderful and useless to me.  I don't need the cookware I used to use to feed a family of six.  There is only one of me.

Here is my advice for the day.  Don't move unless you have to.  If you have to move, get rid of everything you can before you move.  There are charities that will come and pick it up.  God gave us everything we have, but when we don't need it any more, we can bless someone else with it.

My boys came.  They moved every one of the boxes.  Some of the faucets have been installed.  The granite has been finished and tweaked in four rooms.  There are new toilets.  Everything works except the air conditioner.  It needs freon and clean coils.  The dishwasher, oven and top burner need to be installed and I think that's it.

I will line the pantry shelves with paper and move all my pantry stuff in today.  I don't know why I line everything with paper.  Probably from the military days when I didn't want to leave dirty shelves for the next occupant.  When I moved, I could trash the paper and the shelves would be pristine-- without being wiped down.  You always had to pass an inspection in the military.  I always passed.

I bet all of you readers are as sick of this move as I am.  I have nothing else on my mind to share.  My creative efforts are kaput.  I am kaput as well.  It will soon be done.

As if I wasn't already overwhelmed, I was trying to find a piece for the bath that the plumber wanted, drove 15 miles to get it and smoke and fumes started pouring from the hood of my car.  I was next to Pep Boys, but didn't have a way home.  Becky was working, Pat was in California, Ann didn't answer her phone, her husband Dave just got out of the hospital and all of my neighbors were out of town.  I left the car there, called my grand daughter who just moved here to come get me.  She works out of town and was on her way home.  Thank God.

Who knows what is wrong with my car.  It doesn't look good.  They are supposed to call me.  I see dollar signs--or junking my dependable old 1999 Town car.  I sure don't want to do that.  I'll leave it in the hands of God, I already have my plate too full to think about it.

Scott just texted me that he is going to stay all day Saturday and Sunday as well.  Hallelujah.  I need a set of shoulders to lean on right about now.  I've been calling Carolyn twice a day for emotional support, and to whine.  She's the only person who will listen to me when I am in that condition.  I never whine, and she knows that.  She keeps telling me that I am going to make it--and makes me believe it.  I do see light at the end of the tunnel, I just hope it isn't an oncoming train.

The granite came today.  I am having my last nervous breakdown.  All that worry over nothing:  Will I like it?  Will it be too dark?  Did I choose the right pattern?  It is absolutely gorgeous.  Everything I hoped for. "Get a grip."  I kept telling myself that.  And reminding myself of the real problems in our world.  Our men at war.  Crime in the streets.  Hungry children.  I must have said to myself, "Quit Obsessing, you are being an idiot," a hundred times.

It's almost over.  I can go back to being normal.  The only thing left is the movers.  Then I can spend all winter unpacking and such stuff as that--taking as long as I want to.

Sally called me.  She is going to the beach this week with her grandchildren.  They only live two hours away.  I told her to squish sand between her toes for me.

I love the beach "abstractly."  It's the "actuality" that stops me from going.  I've lived on the Pacific--four different times.  The Atlantic--twice.  And the gulf at Pensacola once.  The white sand in Florida is the best.  But to tell you the truth, I hated brushing kids off--and trying to get keep sand out of the car when we left the beach.  I have pictures of Pat when she was a toddler playing in the tide pools at Laguna Beach after the tide went out.  That was 1957; it isn't the same any more.  The beaches are dirty.  And crowded.  We are destroying our natural wonders.

In Beaufort S. Carolina, we lived two blocks from the Atlantic backwash and the kids would go catch crabs and come home full of sand.  So I have mixed feelings about beaches.  You need to live on a beach after your kids are grown and gone.  Then you can enjoy sun-up or sun-down views without dreading the aftermath of clean up.   You can walk up and down the beach and only have to rinse your feet with a garden hose after you get back home.  And find some little hole in the wall restaurant on the water, where the boats come in and unload their catch and you get to watch them do it.  And eat the kind of food you couldn't afford when you had children and were feeding six.

I love those little cafes on the beaches where everything they serve is fresh.  Why, then, am I living in Oklahoma.  I ask myself that every now and then.  And of course, the answer: it's the people.  Oklahoma people are the best in the land.

Lowe's called and are delivering the dishwasher, oven, cooktop, microwave and other stuff.  Supposedly in 30 minutes.  But you know how that goes.

I can't get them installed until Monday.  That's okay.  Next week I'm going to be finishing up with odds and ends.  I don't have a clue what those odds and ends will be.

I went to Braum's Ice Cream store, and got a couple of kinds of ice cream--and cones--and took it over to the boys.  You would have thought I had given them the moon.  Their dad had them cutting in the paint edges, while he is rolling it on the walls.  (I picked the wrong color.  I'll live with it.)

I've made a couple of mistakes, but none quite so big as that one.  Oh well.

I packed all the napkins, didn't know which box they were in, and had to go get some.

I've purchased and returned faucets and towel rings and towel bars four times.  I can't seem to get it right.  Lowe's is patient with me.  So is Home Depot.  The hardest thing to decide on is drawer pulls.  The ones that I can get my hand through aren't "pretty."

I'm to the point of idiocy over my pickiness.  I keep saying, "It's just drawer pulls, Janie.  What is your problem."  And I have started talking out loud to myself, saying, "I don't know what is the matter with me."  I was driving along yesterday talking out loud to myself and thought:  This is getting ridiculous.  I was saying, "There are starving children all over the world, and you are worrying about drawer pulls.  Get yourself into perspective, Janie.  Get a grip."

I'll be glad when this is over.  I just want to get moved.  I want to be moved yesterday.

Scott called.  He is coming Saturday to help Jon and Blake with boxes.  He's bringing a pickup.  Thank God for the men in my family.  They are absolutely wonderful.

Thank God for everything.      

Retroactively, I am frightened.  I did something really scary this last month--something that I knew better than to do.  I just didn't make a critical connection that I should have made.  All my life I have been interested in bugs.  My first degree was in Zoology--with a concentration in entomology, which is the study of insects.  Who knows why that interests me.  I don't know.  It just does.  All bugs.

And I know which spider weaves a distinctive pattern for a web.  Especially the Black Widow--who weaves a random, scattered, undefined web characterized by it's seeming messiness--as if it got caught in a wind and blew apart.  Chaotic.  I know that.  I have found and studied many, many Black Widows.  The first one when I was 6 years old.  She had strung her messy web by the step on my back porch, and laid her clutch of eggs--which had hatched.  Babies running in every direction.

I made a garden back in Pryor, lined with concrete blocks--holes up--which was the perfect home for Black Widow spiders.  Dozens of them.  They like dark, cool places near a source of water.  I filled the holes with dirt and destroyed the spiders.  You don't want to give them an opportunity to nest.  They can kill you.  One of the men on our street was bitten and died.

However, the problem around here has been copperheads.  So, I have been carefully watching for copperheads when I change the filters in my Koi pump.  As a result, I didn't think much about the fact that there were strands of webs in the pump housing.  I had stuck my hand down in there a dozen times at least, and brushed away the stringy strands of cobwebs.  But this morning, my friend from next door (Dean) was getting ready to stick his hand down into the pump when he jumped back and said, "That's a Black Widow in the pump."  Sure enough, there she was in all her pitch black glory with a bright red hour-glass marking on her belly.  I had stuck my hand in her web a dozen times.

They are deceptive little critters.  And more dangerous than a copperhead because you don't see what it is that bites you.  How many times had God protected me from being bitten?!!  And I know what a BW web looks like.  I just let my guard down.  Thinking about one thing--copperheads--and not noticing another.  I walked right into a lion's den.  But like Daniel, God spared me and shut the mouth of the lion.  Like I said, if anyone should know about BW spiders, it's me.   These sneaky female buggers live everywhere in America.  They are the Devil's handmaiden.  She will even eat her mate.