We are under water.  And it is going to rain for two or three more days.  Good news is that I could turn my sprinkler system off.  Water rates here are really high.  In Pryor, they were very, very low.  I got spoiled.

W.A. Graham, a bachelor who was a zillionaire--or mill, or bill--left his wealth to Pryor, Oklahoma.  After the lawyers got through fighting over what he meant, there was still enough left for the city to buy most of their own utilities.

When you couple that with the Mid-American Industrial complex south of the town, (built in WW2 and ceded to the state by the feds) the town was rated as one of three of the cheapest places to live in the U.S. by Parade Mag.  (I think it was Parade...)

Sometimes when both my daughters are working and I need some help, someone to drive me for a procedure, I wonder why I moved to Edmond.  It is the most expensive per-capita berg in Oklahoma.

But then, if it is an emergency, they come to my rescue.  And I have friends who help.  And it is a lovely place to live.  But...I miss home.  I miss Pryor.  Every now and then I threaten to move back.  

Edmond is drowning.  I understand Miami and Vinita have gotten twelve inches.  It’s better than the hot weather of 100+ last week.  I’m not complaining about the rain.  It’s been cool most of the months. 

My publisher never showed up.  No bound copy.  Why I expect her to, I don’t know.  I guess I am the eternal optimist.

The only problem with this much rain is the weeds are loving it.  Every time it lets up I pull a few, but the weeds are winning.  The grass loves it too, but Ruiz keeps that cut.  I make sure I have cold Dr. Pepper when he gets here for his crew.

I’ll say this for the Mexicans.  They work.  You can’t drive down a street in Edmond without seeing a group working for the city or caring for lawns and shrubs.  I haven’t seen any others--white, black or polka-dot, doing this work since I moved here.  One of them told me they work until they get a down payment for a house.  Then share it with two or three families until they get a down payment for another one.  “Eventually we get the first one paid for--and buy another one.  We help each other.”

I find that very inspiring.  Coming to America because you can work, and make a living as you make a future for your children.  (Legally of course.) 

My friend Jeanette Harder works as a cashier for my daughter’s estate sales.  Last Friday, she turned on the road where a waving sign was pointing in the direction of the sale, looking for a house numbered 2008.

It was unusual that there weren’t a lot of cars, but she had plenty of time, parked and walked in the back door of the house--noticing that none of the items on the tables were priced--which was very unusual.  

Two women greeted her in the hall.  “Why haven’t these things on the tables been priced,” Jeanette asked them  “Is this the estate sale?”

“No, we are having a tea party,” they answered.

“Please don’t call the police!  I’m supposed to be working the cash register at an estate sale--I’m not breaking and entering.”

“How lovely,” one of the ladies answered. “Would you like to stay for tea? Do they need help at the sale,” one of the ladies asked.  “I’ve always wanted to do that.”  She wrote her name on a piece of paper and handed it to Jeanette who fled the scene.

I’m glad they didn’t put my friend in jail for trespassing.  She had the right number of the house.  It was just on the wrong street. 

I’ve been bleeding money for the last few months.  Had to have a new air conditioner and heating unit.  A new instant hot water tank--the regular one stuck out in the garage so that I couldn’t get out from the car into the door of the house--so they put a flat instant heater up on the wall.

Then the metal window blinds were bent and wouldn’t work.  Had to replace them all.  And yesterday, I took my 2008 car in for a once-over and the bill came to $1700.  Then they called to tell me that there was oil in the spark plugs.  Another five-hundred and something.

That’s when I said enough.  The car isn’t worth that much.  He reconsidered and got the entire bill down to the original quote.  If it runs for six months, I’ll be ahead of a car payment.

I don’t drive that much.  Grocery store, get my hair done, and church.

Still---I am feeling like I need to put a finger in the leak in the dam.

It’s a good feeling to know that God is in charge.  I can’t think of anything else that will break down.  The appliances are all new from when I moved in.  “Every good and every perfect gift is from above--and cometh down from the Father of lights...in whom there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.”   Which means it’s all okay. 

 Yesterday was a poor-pity-me day.  I kept wondering why I moved to Edmond.  It’s been four plus years and I have not broken very many walls of indifference yet.

Of course, in Pryor everyone knew my family “The Swans,” or Ken’s family “The Jacks.”  When you walked into a store or church or ball game, every one greeted you, said “How are you doing,” or something similar.  I had taught dozens of people in the church.  Everyone knew me.

Not here.  Nobody knows me.  You don’t know how important that is until you don’t have it.  You become an instant nobody.  Years of building a reputation go down the drain and you have to start all over.  And that is very, very hard when you are older.

You aren’t raising children so you don’t interface with other parents whose kids are playing soccer, football, or baseball.  Drama, choir, church, or anything else.  You have no common denominator to connect.

I learned everyone’s name in the department at my church.  Very few learned mine.  You really have to work at it and there doesn’t seem to be any reason for some people to do that.  They are just trying to hang in there themselves--ailments are all they can deal with.

But I have a new BFF.  Jeanette.  To go along with all my Pryor BFF’s.  It gives me hope.

 I get up every morning with thankful feelings.  It is a decision I have made.  I start by being thankful for my fingers not having arthritis.  I have it in my hips and back but not in my fingers!!  So I can type with no pain.  I don’t walk very well, but who cares! I can type.

I am thankful for running water, and hot water as well.  Light switches--my grandmother had kerosene lamps. (They smell bad.)  Every night you lit the lamps so you could see.  It’s probably why they went to bed when the sun went down.

Air conditioning!!  I used to sleep with my head on the edge of an open window just hoping there would be a breeze to cool me.  We had a water fans...they helped, but got everything wet.  The rotating fan blades picked up water and blew it in the room.

And in the winter, I don’t have to chop wood and build a fire.  Or head out to the back of the house in freezing weather to get to the out-house.  No toilet paper.  There was an old Sears Catalog.  And corn-cobs in a basket for you to use.  Now that is a truly unique experience!!!

Get up thankful.  There is so much to be thankful for.  We live in a country that has never been equaled.  Many have died to secure our freedom.  God has blessed up with so much that is good. 

 Of course..... I got a call from the publisher; she doesn’t know that she can make it today.  Why am I not surprised???

I’ve reached the point that expecting something is painful.

If you are seeing large lime green caterpillars on plants, especially parsley, don’t kill them.  They are pre-butterflies.  Monarch I think.  They won’t eat much before they spin a cocoon.  Save the animals, birds, insects etc.

Except roaches and rats.

The temp in my area went from the 90’s to the 50’s yesterday and today.  I sat on my back porch and talked to God and explained how thankful I was he decided to give us relief.  

And then it rained.  Hallelujah!!  My tomatoes said, “Thank you.”  I said, “Thank you,” as well.

The large bare dirt 15 feet across place in my backyard where a huge (huge) crape myrtle had shaded the ground, for thirty years before I bought the place, is now grown over with grass--once I had the tree trimmed, the sun did it’s thing.  My entire yard is now green.

I’m feeling blessed today.

 

The problem with losing your computer for two weeks is that when you finally get it back there are hundreds of e-mails and a zillion facebook notices.  

The only way to deal with it is to delete them all and hope none were important.  Which is probably true.  It’s the same with the postal mail.  All junk.

I’m sure that I lost some of my blog readers.  They probably thought that I bit the dust.  That said...I will say....hello to you!

I have received notice from my publisher that tomorrow morning she is coming to my house with a bound final copy of my first book.  I am afraid to believe that it is true.  I have an emotional flutter in my chest that I can’t calm down.

I wonder what it will look like to see a book named “The Letter” with the author’s name “Janie Jacks” on the cover.  It seems surreal.  I can hardly wait.  She says that I will have copies to take to Hardy’s book store for the high school reunion on the 3rd of July.

I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for that to happen.  I’ve been disappointed too many times.  There are two ways to publish: pay someone, ie Amazon, or find a publisher that will buy the book.  When you sign a contract with a publisher who buys the book, you are at their mercy as to when it is published.  But the advantages are immense.  One is that they push to get it into libraries.  They do extensive advertising...I hope it works.  I’m holding my breath.  It is definitely not the money--which is minimal--I just want everyone to read it....

ng th s

Not blogging is like loosing an old friend. I have done this for over 2500 days.  It’s amazing that I didn’t quit at some point.

My curser on my computer quit moving.  I couldn’t even shut it down.  Craig worked on it for days, finally re-synced it.  Whatever that means and it is up again, but he and Becky both think it’s time for a new one.  I just do what they tell me to do.  Both of them are engineers and computer gurus

And as I am typing this, the curser is failing again.

I am in Bible  School this week and I think this is my last year.  It is a lot of walking jumping and playing which my old bod can’t do any more.  My grandson Brady is staying with me so he can go.  He loves it.  Which is good.

Today is the last day.  Which is also good.  I’m worn out.  

Craig fixed the old computer--somewhat.  I have to use a mouse with it, and I haven’t used a mouse in six years.  It’s an adjustment--which I don’t like.  The older I get the harder adjustment gets.  A new one is on order and will be here next week.  It will be lighter and smaller.  Lighter I like.  Smaller, I don’t know.  I am going to have to adjust.  No choice.

My computer crashed.  I’ve been out of sync for days.  I get a new one next week.  I’ll be back.

I am drowning in paper.  I don’t seem to be able to figure out what to do with it.  Some of my friends take a picture of it with their phone, but I don’t think I would ever be able to find the phone record when I wanted it.  Problem is, I don’t even know if I want it.

That’s the problem.  What if I decide I want it and I threw it away.  Every thing else in my life I know where it goes and what to do with it.  Not printed paper.

I have started shredding bills once I pay them.  Which is a vast improvement.  I used to save them for a year.  Why?  I have no idea.  I have the check stub or the record on my computer.  Now I only save the bills where I have made a purchase that might be returned.  Because I know that although I have the receipt, I wouldn’t be able to find it.

How can a mathematician be so incapable of organizing paper?  I haven’t figured that out yet.  It’s on my to-do list.

If there was a class on how to use my phone and Mac-book Pro that was close by---I’d go.  I-phone for dummies is what I need.  I have found the Command Z on my Mac.  Which gives me some confidence.  I can now un-do what I just did.  So I am not so fearful of making a mistake.  Tech is not easy for my generation.  Or maybe it’s just me??? 

Sunday we studied the appearance of Jesus in the room where his disciples and the women and others were hiding from the Jews.  He just appeared.  Scared them to death.

Which is interesting, because Jesus said to touch him that he was flesh and bones, and then he ate a fish.  Bodily form.  He wasn’t a ghost.  How did he get into the room if he was flesh and bones?  Did he just pass through the walls?

Which made me think...what is the  way he changed from spiritual to physical?  And next, where is the abode of the spiritual?  Where is heaven?   We always look “up” to heaven, but if that is true, what about the people on the other side of the earth.  Their up is our down.

Maybe heaven is all around us but we just can’t see the spiritual--we don’t have “eyes” to see.  I don’t know.  But when I start asking those kind of questions, my mind rattles back and forth. 

God is everywhere.  He is spirit.  What is that?  What is spirit?  Where is it?  How does it go from spirit to bodily form like Jesus did that day after the resurrection--in such a way as to pass through walls.

Maybe I ask too many questions?

June 1, and it is still cold in mid-Oklahoma.  Strange spring.  Yesterday it rained all day.  I’m wearing a sweater today.  I slept under a down comforter last night.

I have decided that this is a good time to read the writings of Josephus.  Many educated Bible theologians quote this Biblical figure.  He was a Pharisee living in Jerusalem at the time of Christ, and considered to be the most informed historical writer about Herod.

I think I finally want to find out for myself what the big to-do is about Josephus.  So far, all I’ve learned is that Herod was a murderer of an extreme degree.  He even killed his own sons.

I’m not much interested in Herod.  Or his wives.  Or relatives.  Their names are hard to keep track of.  Many names look similar.  Suffice to say that it feels like I am wading through quicksand.

I want to get to something that adds to the narrative about Jesus.

However, I’m reading it.  I finished reading “Their Finest Hour” by Winston Churchill the last few weeks.  It has me prepared for quicksand.  Every memo he wrote to a zillion people prepared me to read Josephus.  Both are rich in detail.  And I have the attention span of a gnat.  But, I’m getting it done.