Fridays are stressing.  I am out of the house at eight A.M.  and not home till twelve thirty.  Today I stopped and got a hamburger and fries and when I finished it, I then proceeded to spill a bottle of thick, gooey chocolate Boost all over me and the recliner.   I didn’t get it on the carpet was the only bright spot.

By the time I cleaned the mess up, it was 1:30 and I hadn’t even read the paper or done the crossword.  Much less post.

I don’t have anything wonderful to say, except that the banquet last night left me disgusted with myself.  I couldn’t remember names of people that I should remember.  One lady talked to me about how much she enjoyed the choir with me and loved hearing my marimba.  I don’t remember her at all. Another said she enjoyed working Bible school with me--then introduced me to her husband.  I couldn’t even remember where she worked until the conversation was over. I came home feeling like a dumbo.  Does anyone out there do this???  Names are getting harder.  And it is so insulting to the other person when you don’t remember their name.  I’m going to try to do better.

Most mornings, I go outside and check the flower beds around the house to see if any dandelions have worked up the nerve to sprout.  If I get them soon enough, they don’t have time to run their root down and get hold.  The root is always at least three times as long as what is above ground.  Nasty little buggers.

I think children are the same.  They are always learning, putting down deep roots of “knowing things” long before there is any sign of growth on the outside.  By the time they get to first grade, they have five or six years of learning under their belt--  from watching their parents.  And we wonder why there are so many problems in the schools today.  Parents aren’t what they used to be.  The world isn’t what it used to be.  When I grew up, every woman on my block was my parent.  Everyone helped “grow us up.”  We couldn’t get away with anything.  Everyone went to Sunday School. The Bible’s instructions on behavior were the bottom line.  And the school teacher was respected.  It’s so bad now that we can’t find people to teach.  There used to be a line of teachers who wanted the job.  Not any more. Why apply for a job where you will be constantly abused? We have lost something in our society.  It’s sad.

Sunday, my lesson was on some Old Testament story about when the Israelites had been in wandering around for months after Moses led them out of Egypt.  It was all about places.  So I did that in three minutes--then told them to turn to the book of James and we spent the rest of the hour talking about people who wrote what we read and call the “New Testament.”

If you don’t know who is writing the letters in the New Testament, you won’t completely understand why they say the things they do--and how they tell the things they tell.  Paul wrote in most part to the Gentiles.  James wrote to the Jews.

I call James letter the book of “ifs.”  Every thing he writes is conditional.  Black and white.  If this....then, that.  If-then statements.  I had them circle all of the “ifs” as we read them.  And we only got half way through. I’ll finish it up next Sunday.

Becky Bacon drove all the way from Pryor to stay with me for a few days.  She is so easy to be around.  We both read our books, and look up every now and then to say something or ask something--and then go back to reading.  She likes to listen to the people on the Bill Gaither hour sing as much as I do, so we have that on in the background.

Pat brought me a dozen rolls from the Texas Roadhouse, and Becky brought stew (with okra) so we are going to have that for supper.  She got the recipe in Saudi Arabia where she and Joe lived for a number of years.

Tomorrow we are going to go to Red Lobster with Jeanette and load up on calories.  

 

 I slept ten hours last night and I am almost a new woman.  At least I feel like I can function.  Which is good because my publisher is coming at one to finalize some things on my book about Ken.  “The Corsair.”

Fridays are always good.  Ann and I go to breakfast, then I get my hair done, and then....nothing-usually.  Except today. I’ll be editing all afternoon----probably.  Maybe she won’t come.  I can live with that. 

The publisher has one more book I have written.  I wonder if we will ever get around to that one.  “The Jersey Cow”  About my grandmother coming to Arkansas from Tennessee in a wagon pulled by a cow.

Have a great weekend.

Done!!!  Tate and Brady are going home.  I am going to bed and sleep for three or four days.  I am amazed at how tired I am.  I thought I could do Bible School--no problem.  Well, I now know my limits.  I can’t do this again.  I will have to drop them off next year at the door.  And not volunteer to help.  I guess there is an end to everything.  And I am really at my end.

The boys were awesome.  They were so good--and sweet!  Every time I got out of the car, they would run around and each of them take an arm to assist me.  My kids weren’t that observant.  But Tate and Brady have been raised to be polite.  They said “We want to be there if you need someone to lean on.”

The next generation looks like they are going to be okay.

 I must be doing ok.  A young man, a high school senior, asked if he could take a selfie with me.  He is one of the helpers, and every day when the children file into the room that I monitor, I tell them to be good so I don’t have to be a grumpy enforcer. (!)  They all laugh--but get the idea.  When this young man goes in with them I always say, “You better be good so I don’t have to come in and get you.”  He gets tickled.  An 86 year old woman up against a buff 17 year old.  

I asked him why in the world he wanted my picture and he said, “Because you are so nice.”  Which made me laugh.  He took our picture and said, “I want to show my mom who you are.”

So I guess I am doing ok.  Just being nice seems to be working.

One more day after today.  I’m counting.