Winter-ing

Sorry for all the non-posting/-presence. I don’t know when it’ll ease up, but I’ve been babysitting for two kidlets from first light until I go to work (still 1 – 3 people short), and I come back much like a hamster when he makes the wrong move and flies off his wheel.  :-p I am considering it temporary, but then again, so is life.

I look forward to sleeping (all day). And maybe some frozen yogurt with also fat free caramel sauce, first. :-D  I’ll catch up with yas eventually. G’night!


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In Eggshell Time

O, the thoughts from this disunuion’s dangerous new republic, perhaps especially on Sundays when politics is finally weighed against the sacred.

Already, there are watchlists (and public outings) of perceived leftists, and already are supremacy germinations growing their fruit. Were these people just waiting for the opportunity, for the terrible day when real hate crimes could be winked at by the State?

Already, one who has read Solzhenitsyn’s descriptions of even familial betrayal unto the almighty republic is seeing chilling similarities. Informers. Snitches. Don’t ever congratulate yourselves near me, Judases.

Already, states are intimidated into not acquiescing to vote recount requests. So American of them… not. A lack of courage and valor.

Already, granddaughter is scared in her college life and dorm that her peers will de-peer her and worse if they ever find out for whom she voted (if she voted). However she voted, she faces flak for which she is not ready.

Already, my return to Facebook for primarily family’s communication sake is hairier than ever. I don’t give opinions there based on either secular facts or God; I link to those, now, from the respected and credentialed. It was already sad enough that I had to unsubscribe to everyone, lest I clearly see budding Aryanists even in my own once traditional children, let alone friends there.

I like receiving posts from pages I’ve liked — Bishop Barron, Daughters of St. Paul, American Lighthouse Foundation, Driving Miss Norma — but every day I’m aware that my children’s posts and their in-laws’ posts (and my granddaughter’s posts) are missing from my feed. It hurts to be able to look in on only one family member (and on only two friends) regularly.

The already-disposable bully posse got what they wanted — why can’t they shut up about it already? And those friends who were truly, truly leftists, I can’t look in on them regularly, either. Some are as angry as Lucifer could write them, the others are suddenly feeling as vulnerable as black Jews in 40s Germany.

I can no longer risk encountering especially some family’s credence in “Christians for Trump.” Get thee behind me, all Christians who somehow missed the Gospels, the Beatitudes, and even the Decalogue! You are “Deluded White Citizens For Trump.” Trump has nothing to do with Jesus. The Democratic platform comes closer (and always did) via its social justice for all.

A profane sword, this millionaired *election.* (That says it all, except for the soviet parts, but the post would’ve been rather short.)

In calls, I skirt around the orange (and red) elephant in the room, and not even on Sundays dare I look in for long on my little social media circle.  It’s likely mutual; we’ve all tasted the blade and are avoiding the myrrh. Perhaps we are even in the time when one will be taken, and one left. Some do seem raptured. The locked and loaded raptured.


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Early December

Ah, the sights and sounds.. and smells.

I just watched the oldest man in my small world walk by with the oldest beagle in the history of my world. Both of them were creeping along down the sidewalk, both of them with earflaps against the brisk Autumn wind. I had to stare very discreetly from behind the blind to make sure my place wasn’t being cased by them.

It never is, of course, but as I often say and sometimes too dismally mean, it’s a small world.  At any rate, I hope they’ll both see Spring. I always hope that. I hope to hear tags jingling deep in the oaks and maples out back and hound-dog howlings for a treed squirrel. I hope they’ll both do that.

That dog, however, seems only 1/2 as old as the balding collie I drove young-teen daughter 4 miles after school (for nearly a year) to go walk for a working commuter couple. They offered her $15/week, and she needed horse-goodie money, so that was that.

Poor olllllllld “Sadie” could no longer hold it ’til 5 or 6 pm. Unfortunately, she had issues with depth perception, so we’d have to lift and carry her (as gently as if liquid nitrogen, lest she yelp from the arthritis that wanted her for its own) down the very wide, very shallow porch steps to the driveway. After she got loosened up a bit (and lightened of inner loads), daughter enticed her into trotting a bit. (Dear God, don’t ever let a pony-girl care for me in the nursing home — I don’t want to have to face my Maker with a death on my conscience.)

Sadie was the couple’s Theirs. There’d been the His and the Hers, all of whom had grown up and moved away. She wasn’t an only Theirs, though — there were cats. I love cats and usually that’s mutual, but these two could’ve featured in a Stephen King novel. At any rate, we did this crazy thing until the couple called and said there was no need to come anymore. We did not ask why, only said how sweet was Sadie. I promised to drop off the house key, but I was avoiding the Sadie-less house. I still am. It’s only been 17 years.

What I’ve seen of a too-big world could fill a book, but I’ll just mention the people I see going back and forth to the river/woods area, here. They seem new faces, and are wearing packs with rolls, and I see them at 8 am heading toward town. Just before dark, I see them heading back here, perhaps after working for the day labor place. I hope they all, men and women, have something against the freezing-cold temps of night, especially in the recent pouring rains.

Actually, I mainly came back in to ask you about something. For two nights at work, I kept smelling rubber burning in a certain office. I looked around at the electrical items/plugs; none were hot or smoking, but what a severe smell! Something must be wrong.. Or, could it be this mat under this desk, I wondered, when my nose was pulled sharply to the right toward something on the top of the desk.

I took a good deep whiff of the two giant blossoms in a vase of water, and nearly keeled over! It was indeed those two that had given me the EW!-face.  It is a completely white flower (no freckles), like a tiger lily only much larger, and it may have had a yellow pistil or stamen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen these before, and I surely have never smelled anything like this that was attached to some elegant beauty! Anyone know what they are?


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An impressive array of I-think-nots

Panoply? Really? Here I’ve been, floundering under writer’s block (too) with a side epidemic of very little online time and energy, and panoply is today’s blogging Prompt?? Surely, that’s in the top 200 of everyone’s least favorite words! The Greeks have really messed with our heads this morning!

I would use mycoprotein in a sentence before I’d use panoply. And I don’t want to, because that word (and fungus) are also in the top 200, at least for me!  “There’s a panoply of fungi in your new meatless fajita chicken, Relax.” Gah, say it ain’t so!  Oh, yes — panoply  is clearly up there under deplorable (which only recently made the list) and mycoanything

What — there was something wrong with kitten or, I don’t know, sand?? I’m hurt, WordPress. I got out of bed for this little slap in the cerebellum? I have to go see what others said of panoply. (You others are real troopers about this kind of disappointment.)

😉


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Whispers in the warren

You know how Jesus said that some certain troubles could only be routed out if disciples fasted as well as prayed for those afflicted?  Well, I’m not going to talk about that.  What I am going to say is something about a prayer remedy of sorts that is quiet like that, but a tad outrageous.  You’ve been forewarned!

People are simply complicated.  Sometimes, it’s not easy to pray for others, because if one has any sort of history with a person, it’s hard to move beyond that and/or to get fired up.. and if one doesn’t know the person, it’s hard to be personal in prayer for him or her.

Plus, I’ve never felt this utterly jaded about everything of human life, and have endured a prayer block for some time — it was time for a new way to pray (petitionally), and since I couldn’t come up with one, He did (upon my request), via either my angel or St. Therese — both of whom can be hilarious, unless that’s all Him.

It began innocently enough about 2 weeks ago.  A friend asked me to pray for a couple of folks, giving me only first names and a very brief reason. As always upon request, I prayed immediately, but I had no mental image of them for future prayer other than what their names put me in mind of: Geese.

Indeed, I’d thought immediately of a long-together goose couple!  I don’t need to add that I love geese, right?  Who doesn’t?? They’re loud, boisterous, very much alive and they fly!  Although I don’t know either of these folks and never will in this lifetime, I saw my prayer for them ascending only so high — to be air beneath their wings, so that they stay airborne and, thus, closer to Heaven.

I asked about how two others are doing, for whom I was asked to pray.. not well, not well at all.  But I saw them now as swans.

I mentioned recently that I saw a big beautiful deer grazing right out front of my workplace one night.  As I told this very serious person about his friends as geese and swans, I got an image of his very self as the deer.  Oh, it was fitting indeed.  Free, innocent, large, God-created beautiful, purposeful, peaceful, never once plotting a harm. Honestly, my heart leaped at this and I smiled.

Maybe I just need some B vitamins, yes, but I’m really liking this new way to see folks, and much more importantly, to be able to pray objectively with the greatest and most open appreciation possible — while involving them in my own prayer for them, so to speak!

Yes, I’m picturing you folks this way, too.  There’s a gazelle out there, and a heron. Some bunnies, some big cats, oh my! My prayer is a grassland hill, an underwing breath, a beach thicket, a branch reaching skyward.. I’ve only begun.  I need to re-see those with whom I live.

I wonder who will make me think of a whale, forever spouting spray skyward… maybe that will be the one who is, rather, praying for me.

Well, anyway, try it!


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