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.)