Halloween.  I always dread it since I am here alone.  The hopping up and down is getting harder and harder for me to do.

One year I just set the bowl of candy on the porch with a sign, "Take One."  All went well until a bigger kid--who shouldn't have been there in the first place--dumped it all in their bag.

This year, I've cooked a big batch of spaghetti sauce and I'm taking it over to Becky's.  I'm going to turn off all the lights outside--and inside--and I'm going to leave a sign on the door, "Unable to Respond."  Or maybe, "Go Away."  Or "Bah, Humbug."  Probably I'll just say, "Not at home."

But if I say "not at home," someone will try to bang down the door???  People are brazen anymore.  Some of them drive their kids into this neighbor hood, to trick or treat.  Their parked cars make it hard to see the kids darting in and out to cross the street.

My connection group is doing a "trunk or treat" at the church.  They gave me a "Hall Pass" so I don't have to go.  It's freezing cold here.  Yesterday it snowed!  

I got out in it and picked all the remaining tomatoes.  Three or four dozen of them.  They will get ripe sitting on the counter.  The okra is done for.

I'll have to get someone out here to pull up all the vines and stalks and get them in the trash.  Then it's time to start thinking about next year.  New dirt, fertilizer, seeds, plants and God's grace and helping hand.

There are a number of dreams that I have over and over again.  The one that gives me the most angst concerns being late.

I was raised to always be on time, and taught that you were stealing other people's time if you were late--you were telling others that you are better than they are, that you don't have to be on time because you are special!!  which is wrong!  Those rules were engraved in my brain.  Add to that, I was also taught that you do what you say you will do.  You are dependable.  

Put those two things together and you have the script for my repeated nightmare:  In the dream, I have driven to work at the college and when I get to my office of twenty years, everything is gone.  The room is empty.

I don't know what class I am teaching at eight AM, and there are no people and no schedule to tell me where the classroom is, I can't find my text books, or what book I need to take with me.  Or where I'm supposed to go.  

I wander around the campus, trying desperately to find a schedule, to find someone who can tell me where to go, someone who can tell me what subject I am supposed to be teaching, where my classroom is, which building:  Algebra, Trig, Business Calculus... what!!  Where!!

It is probably a flash back to my first week at NEO when I drove fifty-five miles to a strange town, when I didn't know the names of the multiple buildings and every class I taught was in a different classroom in a different building.  I never knew exactly where I was going or expected to be.  I was always running across campus to get a different textbook from my office and get back across campus to a different building and a different room.  It's nice to be retired.  

When I wake up in the morning, I always can find my kitchen and my hot tea.

 Rebecca Perkins just texted to remind me that I had forgotten to post.  Sometimes I go brain dead, I guess.

Actually, I got up and got busy in the kitchen, which I never do.  But I had bought a big bag of bananas for 99 cents (bargains are impossible to pass up) over a week ago with every intention of making banana bread.  Which I didn't do.  The bananas just got riper and riper.

But this morning, there they were.  So I got busy.  I made banana bread and forgot to post.  Banana bread is my excuse.

I sliced and froze nine pieces for future emergencies when I had a carb attack.  I'm not telling you how many pieces that I ate first.

I'm not tempted by sweets, so I cut the sugar in half.  And doubled the pecans.

And while waiting on my publisher, to calm myself, I started writing on something that everyone has been prodding me to write.  It's about my journey to find out what the first chapter of Genesis actually says, and how the scientific evidence meshes perfectly with the Biblical account.

I think I would have put that off forever if I hadn't needed something to distract and calm me down every time the editor texts and cancels an appointment.

I spoke at Falls Creek for years on the subject, and taught at the Baptist student Union a number of times.  I've written parts of it in this blog.  But I guess I will put all that together.

It won't be an easy endeavor, because every time I talk or write about it I chase rabbits.  There is so much to tell.

Squig determines when my day begins.  Once he decides it's time to get up, sleep is over.  I might as well get out of bed.  If I don't, he hops to the floor, comes around to the side I'm sleeping on, stands up on the side of the bed and licks my fingers.

If that doesn't work, he begins to talk to me.  Loudly.  Explaining that I have to get up because he wants to go outside and he can't open the door by himself.

I let him out; And when I let him back in, he hops up on his blanket in the family room and goes back to sleep for an hour or two.  While I am wide awake with no hope of going back to sleep.  Such is the life of being owned by a dog.  You are at their mercy.  I'm thinking I need a doggie door.

I am also at the mercy of my publisher.  She has cancelled a meeting around twenty to thirty times.  My friends are offering suggestions as to what her next excuse will be.  It has gotten ridiculous.  She calls, we do nine or ten pages, she says she will call me the next day and a week later, she may call back.

We have waded through 140 pages.  Sixty to go.  I have never been at the mercy of another person like this.  I've never been involved in anything I couldn't walk away from.  I told my friends Jeanette and Carolyn that I feel like I have one leg caught in a bear trap and can't get loose.

My grandson Stephen told me that the next time I am getting ready to sign a contract, let him go over it with me.  He works in the world of contracts.

I'll have due dates all through it.  And if the publisher doesn't reach the due date, the contract will be broken and I can escape.  Self publishing is all the rage, but a publisher advertises and promotes the book.  I've googled the company, they actually do that.  I hope I'm alive when it happens.

It's really cold here.  And wet.  I even turned the heater on.  Tony wasn't able to get here today, he had to cancel--but said he was coming tomorrow to check to see what is in my attic and set traps. I hope whatever critter is in my attic gets miserably cold tonight and leaves.

Where do squirrels go in the winter??  I have never thought about that before.  You see them running up and down the tree limbs in the summer, spring and fall, but I never thought about where they go when it gets cold.

Probably in someone's attic--like mine.  Tony will probably find a stash of acorns up there.  I hope they haven't chewed on any electrical wires. 

My choir was supposed to sing today at The Timbers.  I called the director and told him that  I wouldn't be able to get the marimba out of the trunk of my car because of the rain,  (It breaks down into seven pieces.) because the wood keys would get wet.  

He decided to cancel everything because the choir members are older and don't need to be getting out of their cars and into a building in the rain.  They have a hard enough time getting from their cars into a building in the sunshine.

Growing older has its problems.  Doing it with grace is a bummer.

My doorbell isn't working.  Squig, however, does.  He never barks inside the house unless someone comes to the door.  And then he comes unglued.  He weighs all of twelve or thirteen pounds and thinks he's a guard dog.

Tomorrow, Saturday, my connection group that I teach is having a party.  It gives us a chance to get to know each other better.  I like that.  Everyone brings food.  I like that, too.  God bless your weekend.

Judy Cameron passed away yesterday.  She and Carolyn were best friends for all their lives.  Judy's father, Dr. Cameron was everyone's doctor back in my day. He set my broken arm.  He delivered almost every baby in town.  Judy was his only daughter.  I am sad.  I am sad for Carolyn.  It is so hard to lose a friend.

When Dr. Cameron passed, Carolyn bought his house and has lived there all the rest of her life.  Memories.

Finished all my testing for the year (I hope) and all is well.  Stress test, echo gram, EKG were perfect.  Mammogram clear. (thank God--eleven years in remission)  They won't say you are cured.  They say you are back in the general public average.  No more risk than anyone else.  Get your tests.  It can save your life.  

At teacher's meeting last night, we studied the fourth chapter of Ephesians.  I've always called it the "Put off, Put on" chapter.  Paul says we have to put off the old life before we can put on the new life.

Some people want to put on the trappings of Christianity without putting off their old behaviors.  I heard a sermon once on this scripture passage where the pastor said it was like taking off a dirty smelly robe, then putting on a clean one.  If you don't take the old robe off before you put the new one on, you don't get rid of the smell.  It's impossible to be clean outside if you are dirty on the inside.

Judy read my blog every day.  I am sure there are others out there who do as well.  Knowing you are reading---keeps me writing.

God bless you.  Throw your old robes away.  Put on the armor of God to protect you from the evil of the world we live in.  I don't want to lose any of the rest of you.

  

I took the shirt off that I wore yesterday to throw it in the wash.  I had only had it on for ten minutes when I asked myself why I was wearing it.  It was so old it looked like it was on it's last leg. (or last sleeve)

It's going to the trash, but I'm so OCD, I have to wash it before I can throw it away.  I'm going to ask myself from now on--before I put a shirt on--do I really want to keep this in my wardrobe?   How do you know when something is so worn out that it is done for and needs to be deep-sixed? 

I just keep stuff and wear it--with no thought as to whether it's worn out or not.  Old shirts are like old friends.  Comfortable.  

Old Levis are the same.  But now, holes in your Levis are all the rage.  Which means I'm in style.

At last count I had 46 pairs of shoes.  If you divide that into winter, summer, spring and fall, it doesn't sound so bad--that's 11+ per season.  And of course some are dress--then there are the brown, navy, black, red--you have to have colors!  And Becky brought me four more pairs the other day that didn't sell at an estate sale she had, and went to half price.  All brand new in the box. 

Two pairs are Keds.  Fancy ones.  But I haven't worn them because I don't want to get them dirty.  Which defeats the purpose of shoes.

I wear an 8 narrow and even though 8 is a normal size that a lot of people wear, not many people have narrow feet--trust me you don't want narrow feet.  It's too hard to find shoes.  I really need more shoes???

Here's the scripture for that:Romans 10:15 How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things! (Feet need shoes.)

My neighbor across the street set ten mouse traps in the garage for me, and yesterday a mouse met his maker. It was upsetting for me, because the mouse suffered.  I don't mind killing a mouse, but I hate for any animal to suffer.

He got his foot caught in the trap and had a slow death.  I was so upset, that I thought about removing all the other traps.  But the chance of that ever happening again is slim to none.  I've killed a lot of mice in my day, and never had one trapped by the foot.

I still don't know what is in the attic.  Tony is supposed to come Friday and check it out.  It is definitely something bigger than a mouse.  The mice come in under the garage door--it needs a new rubber seal.  Tony can do that as well.

Every time you move into a new or different house there are all sorts of things that need to be done.  The front and back doors need new rubber seals also.

That's not all that I'm upset about.  Sunday as I was getting on the elevator at church, a director that I had heard speak at a conference got on as well.  He asked me my name, I told him "Janie Jacks," and he said, "Oh! I'm glad to meet you.  You are famous around here."  No lie.  That's what he said.  And I have no idea what he meant.  I only know a handful of people, maybe thirty, in the church--because there is no real avenue for me to meet them.  

So there are only two possibilities.  Either I've done something wonderful--which I know for a fact isn't the case.  I come to church, teach my class and go home.  Or I've done something terrible and I am on the "bad list."  

How does that man know my name?  I am like a mouse in this church. The church is huge.  Nobody knows me except for the women I teach.  But one way or another, I am "famous."  Which is unsettling.  The question is: why??? 

Every morning since March, I have been wakened by air gun hammers pounding nails.  The March hail storm--baseball hail--cut a one mile wide swath from Quail Springs directly over my neighborhood and all the way to I-35. There was a tornado in it, but it didn't touch down.  Thank God.

Every roof on every side of me for a mile in each direction has been undergoing replacing shingles.  And over half of them, including me, new decking as well.  And of course, rain spouts and drains, and paint.  I wonder if the pounding on the roofs will ever cease.  Not enough roofers to get it all done in seven months.

Last night, it rained so hard that, of course, Squig was a mess.  He has to have a tranquilizer just so he can take a breath.  He got through all the preliminary lightening and thunder in the distance as it was approaching--no problem, but once the rain drops hit the roof, he came unglued.  

I don't get it.  What is there about the sound of rain plopping on the ground or roof that frightens him?  He kept me up all night.  I finally gave up at three in the morning.  Now, he is sleeping.  And I am awake.  Good thing I love him.

Still no news from my publisher.  All we need is (are) a couple of hours a day on the phone this week and this would be done.  I just can't seem to get her hooked up to an agenda.  It's already driven me crazy, or I would go nuts.  But you can't go somewhere if you already are there?  I'm already there. 

She promised my printed copy to me in May.  She promised twenty printed copies by July 4 to take to my high school reunion.  She promised publication in September, etc. etc.....  I've never understood why people say they will do something, and then they don't.  Why not just tell the truth, or say that they don't know???  It would be easier to deal with.

I've got animals in my attic.  Been there and done that before. I had a raccoon in my attic across the street.  I had "My Guy Kenny," who put my new roof on my house come crawl from end to end of my attic.  He gave me the bad report.

I had been hearing banging ever since the roof was finished.  It's too loud to be mice, although it looks like there are mice as well.  Tony is coming to figure out where they are getting in and close it up.  I think its squirrels.  It could be another raccoon.

When I did a redo on a house we lived in in Miami, I removed the inside sheetrock and five zillion acorns and pecans fell out from between the studs.  It was an old house.  Squirrels had been stocking nuts for twenty years at least.

I have no tolerance for critters.  They may be up there eating on my electrical wires.  At this point, until Tony gets here, I'm at the mercy of the critters.  I sure can't crawl up in the attic myself.

Owning a house is a constant litany of repairs of some sort.  Everyone needs to have a plan for such emergencies.  My raccoon across the street turned out to be a $700 raccoon.  

There are people who will come and catch your critters, but it's expensive.  This raccoon got away free.  They built a chute into one of the vents in the eaves for him to slide down through and slip off to make someone else miserable.

One thing they do, however, is figure out where the critter got in and repair and seal it so you are done with animals getting in.

I'm sure Raccoons do not go to heaven.  I don't know about mice and squirrels.

If it wasn't for junk mail in my mailbox, and junk e-mail on my computer, I wouldn't have any mail at all.  Except for bills and an occasional letter from Amy Smith.  She writes at least once a month and has done that for four years now.  

It is so nice to get a letter in cursive from her.  She is faithful to write to me and I can't help but wonder how many other people she writes to.  It must be a gift.  I know it is a gift to get the letters.

I feel like that about posting.  Every time I think, "This is the last time," I wonder if someone will miss a post from me--even if it is Email. So I keep it up.  

Sometimes I write it, then forget to post it.  But I have another friend who texts me (Rebecca Perkins) to say, "You forgot to post."

And every now and then, my son-in-law, Craig, comments on what I've written.  He is way above the intellectual level of what I write, but he takes the time to read it.  

So here is my scripture for your day, "Whatsoever your hand findeth to do, do it with all your might."  Ecclesiastes 9:10  These days for me, it is to write. 

I just finished a second book.  It is ready to get transferred to a flash drive and sent to the printer.  I will give the copy to Carolyn to edit.  Rebecca Perkins already has a copy.  They will fix my mistakes.

I'll think twice before I give it to the publisher.  There will be ironclad clauses that will put a limit on how long she can have it before it is finished with her final editing, and publication.  I've learned some things since I gave the first book to a publisher.  The most important thing I've learned is to not listen to what they say.  Get it in writing.

I don't like to figure things out that are technical.  I find my computer overwhelming.  When something goes wrong, I get out my "Word for Dummies" book and try to solve the problem, but I just get more confused.

The problem is the words.  I don't know what they mean.  Things like HTML, and ribbon, and link and permalink, etc.  I am afraid that I will do the wrong thing.  Everybody says just try something and see what happens.

When I do that, I can't seem to get back where I was before and try again, I feel like I've fallen down a rabbit hole.

How do people ever learn a new language?  I took three courses in Italian and only learned one word.  I think language may be my Waterloo.  

If somebody shows me something, I get it.  It's just difficult for me to read a foreign language like "Computer" and know what I'm reading.

I wish there was a class taught by a REAL human for people like me.  Problem is, the things I need to know come up randomly.  I think I need to start writing down the snags I have and the solutions to them when someone shows me what to do.

Then I have to remember where I put my notes.

?????????

As for you and me, when the roll is called up yonder, we'll be in heaven.  The faith side of paradise is empty and no one is going there any more.  We are going directly to be with Him.

What I hope is that He comes soon.  I'm ready for God to put an end to all the evil in this world.  As Ruth Graham once remarked (Billy Graham's wife) "If God doesn't punish America, He'll have to apologize to Sodom and Gomorrah."  I don't think she was being disrespectful, she was just making a comparison between America today and Sodom back then.  There isn't much difference.

My publisher finished 25 more pages yesterday.  She will be back from a publishing convention on Thursday and if we keep this 25 pages a day up, we'll be working Friday and get our part done in four more days.  Hallelujah!

Sam (Scott' son) called to tell me he was sitting by my friend Kathy on Sunday, and they had the same markings in their Bibles on the first chapter of Genesis.  They looked at each other and said, "Janie!"  Which probably is true.  I had Kathy in class for a study on that, and Sam has repeatedly asked me questions on the subject.

If you haven't heard me teach Genesis, chapter one, google it.  Your kids need to know that the Bible is true cover to cover and how it fits with the science of strata, carbon dating, dinosaurs, and all the rest.

I recently watched a program that described how the earth was darkened by a sulfur compound that burned and caused the world to be dark for years--created by an asteroid hitting the earth in the gulf of Mexico.  Interesting.  The scientific (Not religious) program said it caused the dinosaurs to go extinct 66 million years ago.  Which explains why there is nothing in the strata after that.  "The earth was void, and without form, and darkness was on the face of the deep..." Sounds like the Bible got it right.

Chapter 11 of Hebrews is called the "Faith Chapter" in the Bible.  But it isn't talking about faith in Christ--because he hadn't come yet.  It is a list of people in the Old Testament who believed in God's promise that a Messiah, a sacrificial Lamb was coming.  

They believed the sacrifice for sin was coming in the future.  We believe He has come in the past.  But it's all about Jesus.  He died for all of our sin.  Both those people in the past, and those who believe now.

They believed God, and it was counted to them as faith. Galations 3:6.  God promised to send a redeemer who would save them from their sins.  Some people have the idea that people in the Old Testament were saved by their yearly sacrifices.  No.  They weren't.  They were saved by faith.  Everyone is saved by faith.

You either believe in the promises of God and have faith in him, or you don't.  God said He would send a permanent sacrifice for our sin.  And He did.  Jesus.  God's only son.  Whosoever believes in Him is saved.  And has the gift of eternal life.  Jesus said,"I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but by me."  John 14:6

People like to think that if they are good people, that that is enough.  It doesn't work that way.  The creator, God, made us.  He made us perfect--and gave us free will. We messed up.  We choose what we do, and you can't undo the sin you commit by doing something good to balance it out.

All sin is against the will of God.  God says there is a penalty for sin. We don't like to talk about hell, but there it is.  Christ, however, said, "I will pay their penalty for sin."  And he did.  But you have to repent and take his Spirit into your life.  You have to have faith that God will do what he says he will do.

When I posted yesterday, I knew what I was saying--but I didn't say it.  I was even looking at the scripture.  But my friend Carolyn is my super-editor, and caught it.  I said the rich man spoke to Lazarus--he didn't, he spoke to Abraham.  I hope I didn't confuse anyone.

What I was a talking about was paradise.  And there is another scripture that should be noted on that subject.  When He was on the cross, and one of the men on another cross defended Jesus, Jesus said, "This day will you be with me in paradise."

Christ didn't say, "This day you will be with me in heaven."  I think that was because Jesus hadn't yet conquered death.  And He hadn't yet risen three days later to ascend to heaven.

That's just my opinion.  I think scripture supports that thought, but it isn't spelled out for us in the Bible.  So others may have different ideas, and it isn't going to affect a person's salvation. We are going to heaven to be with Jesus.

There are a lot of interesting things in the Bible that aren't crystal clear to us. We shouldn't get hung up obsessing on things that make no ultimate difference to salvation.  But they are interesting to look at.

Some people get hung up on when Jesus is coming again.  And that's all they want to talk about.  The main thing needs to be the main thing.  And that is that Christ came to pay the penalty for a person's sin.  If you give him your life, and repent (which doesn't just mean that you are sorry) then Christ promises to come live in your soul.  We call that the indwelling Christ, "The Holy Spirit."  After God takes up residence in your soul, you will be miserable when you do wrong, and you will stop it. You don't have to have a list of rules you have to follow.  But you will want to follow what the Bible says because you love God.

At teacher's meeting last night, I wanted to hear what the others had to say about Ephesians 4:8-9. "When he ascended up on high he led captivity captive...now he ascended...what is it but that He also descended first into the lower parts of the earth...he ascended above...that he might fill all things. 

Personally, I have always believed that this passage was talking about paradise.  Paradise is mentioned a number of times in the Bible.  It seems to be a place where those who died went--while waiting on the Messiah.  (Or waiting on their Judgment.) The place where the rich man looked across a gulf, and begged Lazarus (Who is described as "in the arms of Abraham) to send someone to tell his brothers about the place of torment he was in.  They could see each other. It was not heaven.  There will be no sorrow in heaven, you won't see the lost.

This is probably where Catholics get the notion of purgatory.  However, Lazarus told the rich man that even if someone rose from the dead, the people living in sin wouldn't repent.  Paradise was a waiting place for the death and resurrection of Jesus.  It was not a place you could pray someone out of, or make a donation to the church to get them out.  You were in torment, or waiting on heaven.

This was a holding place for those who died and couldn't enter heaven until the sin price was paid by the blood of the Lamb--Jesus.  Two sides, one a place of torment, the other a place of waiting until Jesus could "descend" and get the "captive" people who had died in faith to ascend to heaven with him.

We know that when Christ arose: Matt.27:52 "And the graves were opened and many bodies of the saints which slept arose."   What we know from the Biblical record is that you couldn't get from one side of the gulf in Paradise to the other.  You were physically dead waiting on eternity with Christ, or condemnation with Satan.  So paradise wasn't heaven.  It was to hold the faithful till Christ arose.  

Well, all my eating finally caught up with me.  I gained two pounds.  So yesterday, I paid attention to what I ate and how much I ate.  I am one of those people that burns calories just sitting around thinking, so it won't be a problem to get back to normal.  I just don't want to ever let it get away from me.

And right after I committed myself to watch what I eat, Becky called to tell me to come eat asparagus risotto.  Which I couldn't turn down.  One of the times we were in Florence, I ate it every day for a week.  I'll recommit tomorrow.

Wednesday is brown bean day for my neighbors, Linda and John Kerley.  Which they always share with me.  But now that they are in the process of moving, so I told them that I would make the beans, cornbread and fried okra today.  They were excited about that because they've packed their dishes.  But I'll have to "steam" some okra for myself if I'm gonna be serious about the two pounds.

I got my flu shot yesterday morning.  If you haven't gotten yours, get yourself to Walgreens or CVS.  They are free.  America bases how bad the flu season is going to be here by what it was doing in Australia for the last few months--and they say it's wicked this year.  Just do it--go get the shot.

I usually quit going into the auditorium on Sundays during flu season.  Our church has an entry with sofas and chairs and multiple TVs and a few people sit out there for the service to avoid the crowd.  So that's what I do during flu season.  It's not the same as being inside for the service, and yes I could stay home and watch it on TV, but being there is a life commitment for me.

And yes, I could get the flu anyway, but my doctors don't want me in a crowd where there is a better chance of being exposed to the flu.  So as soon as the flu starts making the rounds, that's where I'll be.  I just have to tell everyone in my class to get their shot and stay well.  I'm careful. The rest is up to God.

The thing that protects people on my street and the people on your street is that almost everyone in an established neighborhood is honest and watches out for each other.   We are non-violent and honest by an unspoken agreement, so that we can live in peace and not fear each other.  We don't for the most part need police protection.  Most of us follow unspoken rules.  Mow the lawn...etc.

I can't imagine what it would be like to fear my neighbors.  Or live in a community where gunfire is the norm.  I want peace and security from fear.

As I have grown older, it is a big comfort for me that I trust my neighbors.  They check to see if I turn my outside lights on at night, and if I forget to turn them off the next morning by dawn, they call and check on me.

Neighborhoods are made up of similar kinds of people.  Most times by economic stability and educational levels.  We have all kinds of races and ethnicities in my neighborhood.  Race and ethnicity don't seem to be a factor here.

Educational level seems to be the determining factor, because your educational level determines the kind of job you qualify for.  And subsequently your income, which determines the type of house you buy.  And the area it is in.

America has always been known for our commitment to education for all.  But somewhere along the way, we have lost our commitment to the "system" of education.  "Everyone makes a passing grade" is the new norm whether they earn it or not.  "Everyone is promoted" whether they have mastered what they need to master or not.  Respect for teachers by students has evaporated.

And teachers, weary of the lack of support are leaving the system.  If we lose education, we will ultimately lose safety in our neighborhoods.  An educated society (for all) is a safer society.  What has happened to us??

I lost my purse.  I was dressed and on my way to church and couldn't find it anywhere.  I had my phone, so I gave up and drove without a driver's license to my church, and thought if I got picked up for some reason that surely a patrolman would understand. I don't know why I thought my phone would help.

Before I left, I mentally went through everywhere I had been for the last two days, and the last time I had my purse, I was in the car, going through the Brahms drive through for a hamburger on Friday night.  I didn't leave the house from Friday night to Sunday morning.

So here I am, sitting in church trying to concentrate on what the preacher is saying, and all I can think of is "Where is my purse?"  And since I am in the house of God, where better to send a petition to Him?  "I've lost my purse.  You know where it is, Father.  Can you help me find it?" I prayed.

And somewhere during the service, I began to think about a nightmare I had during the previous night.  I dreamed I was in a warehouse full of people that was on fire, and I was responsible to help get people out.  I was on the second or third floor balcony trying to get a man who was sweeping floors to get out before the smoke got him.  You know how dreams are, they don't make sense.

I woke up in the middle of the fire-dream.  It was 2:45 in the morning and in a sleep induced daze, I decided I should check my house.  What if God was warning me of something.  Everything was fine, but I picked up my purse and computer and took them to the bedroom and put them on the floor by the window so I could have them in case of fire and I needed to get out of the house.  Nothing makes sense at 3 in the morning when you aren't really awake. And I didn't remember any of it until God reminded me of what I did sleep walking in the night.  I found my purse.  I'm not having any more dreams that cause me to do something stupid that I don't remember doing the next day. 

I have put off going to the grocery store to buy milk and bread for a week.  Today, I'm going to do it.  Eventually, you gotta do what you gotta do.

The thing that stops me is getting in the car.  The simplest things get harder. 

It's in my head--I know--but I'd much rather sit and read than go to the grocery store.

Jeanette has offered to go for me.  Pat has too.  But I think if a person stops going to the grocery store, that's it.  You're done.  Jeanette brought me salt last week--I was out.  That helped.  You've got to have salt.

I'm just never going to let that grocery shopping job go for six weeks again.  That's what I did last month.  Getting stuff out of the car and into the kitchen was monumental.  Sack after sack.  I'm never going to do that again. 

I tip someone to load it in the car, but I have to get it out and get it in the house when I get home.

What I should be saying is "Praise God I can still do it.  Praise God I have the funds to buy what I need.  Praise God I live in a nation where I can go to the store and buy anything I want.  "Praise God I have neighbors who bring me a plate of food two or three times a week."

Linda, next door cooks beans and fried okra every Wednesday.  I make the cornbread.  They are moving.  It makes me sad.  They have been wonderful neighbors.

I'm going to the store and get milk and bread...I am...I am.

I went to one of those "All You Can Eat" buffets for lunch yesterday.  You gain five pounds just looking at all the food.

And of course, you eat too much.

I've often wondered why God made all the good stuff high calorie.  Everything you really want to eat makes you gain too much weight.

Which means that you have to discipline yourself and balance your meals.  It's a good thing I love turnip greens.  You can eat all the turnip greens you want and never gain a pound.

Problem is, they aren't any good unless you cook them in bacon grease.

It's also a good thing that I have one of those high metabolic systems.  I burn up calories just sitting and thinking.


Lately, I've been so mad at my publisher that I constantly stew and burn calories thinking about the fact that I'm trapped.  I can't finish her editing unless she calls me, and I can't control when that happens.

We've finished 68 pages and have 136 to go.  It is the most frustrating thing I ever remember being involved in.  I'm not the problem.  The hold up is on her end of the deal.  This book was supposed to be published in September.   

Obviously, that isn't going to happen.  I keep reminding the publisher that she may have all the time in the world--but I don't.

I should have let Carolyn edit it and published it myself.  But I didn't, and now I'm stuck at the beck and call of a publisher.  It's driving me nuts.

I've had two Spam calls this week already.  Telling me that my Social Security number has been compromised and I need to contact them immediately.

I know not to answer, but there are so many older people who lived in a time when crime of this nature wasn't common.  They think the calls are real.  

One of the women in my choir gave the caller everything.  They cleaned out her bank account.  She was poor to begin with.  

Most older people haven't kept up with the internet.  They are used to having someone "real" talk to them on the phone.  That's how they lived their entire lives until the internet came along, and many of them don't know what the internet is, and the others don't trust it.  Talking to a real person on the phone is their way to get things done.  So they trust "real" voices.

Someone told the choir lady she should have checked it out and "Googled" it.  She didn't know what google was.

I sympathize.  It's hard to keep up.  Just when I learn how to do something, it becomes obsolete.  I was cleaning my garage yesterday, and found all sorts of hand held devices that had to be trashed.  Wires, cords to things no longer useful.  

Well, not entirely useless, a family of mice had made a home under it all.

And a black widow spider had woven a web around the garage door beam that helps the door come down.

They are gone.  I wish spiders and mice would become obsolete.

I actually learned to play the marimba by accident.  I had gone to the tryouts for twirler at the high school--I was getting ready to enter the ninth grade which at the time was considered high school--freshman.  It was the last year ninth grade was included as high school in Pryor.

I didn't know how to twirl.  Why I thought I could be a twirler, I have no idea.  The band director informed me that I had to be in the band for a year before I could try out anyway.  I just thought you had to be cute!

So I asked him what I could play in the band and he told me that he didn't have any more chairs for woodwinds or reeds and that all the horns positions were filled as well.  But he did have a spot for one single percussionist who could cover a number of instruments Timpani drums, bell lyre, cymbals and marimba. 

The Timpani drums--or kettle drums--are a dual set of drums with the tones controlled by foot pedals.  You have to have a sense of the sound of the key to control the tone.  That was difficult.  You have to hear it--you can't see it.

I said okay.  I had never played any of those instruments.  But I could read music since I played piano--and the marimba had a piano type keyboard.  

The director's wife was a marimba teacher, so I took lessons.  First learning how to roll mallets on a drum, then two mallets in each hand on the marimba, four at a time.  By the end of that year I had become proficient, and people were asking me to play special music on the marimba for civic and other events.

I never learned to twirl.  

But God in his wisdom saw that I learned to do something that was unusual, something I could do at church.  Church doesn't need 81 year old twirlers.