TO HECK IN A HANDBASKET.....

I know, I know, it's supposed to be to hell in a handbasket, but ours wasn't such a big deal, so heck is entirely appropriate. 

It all started on Tuesday. I went to visit my friend Emily on her lunch break so we could knit together, eat our lunches, and schmooze. (A lot of world-class problems get solved during our schmoozing.)

I left my house at 11:50, knitted/etc, left her office at 1:05, and was home four minutes later. I'd no sooner put my lunch box in the kitchen than the doorbell rang. My next-door neighbor stood at my door and said, "Have you seen the big limb on your roof?"

That was the beginning. A trip to the yard and a gawk at the roof showed me what she was talking about. Wow! It wasn't a little limb, it was not only nearly a foot in diameter at the base, it was long. It was still attached to the maple tree. Looked a little as if it had got too tired to hold its head up and laid it down on the roof for a little snooze. (But that's just my interpretation.)

I thanked my neighbor and immediately dialed the cell phone of my tree guy, Dan. He was surprised to hear from me--he had trimmed three other trees for me a month ago.

He came to view the incident a couple of hours later (meanwhile, I had time for my afternoon nap), and after some cogitation, he and his crew (three other guys) worked together to tie the wayward branch so it would be supported by the main trunk of the tree and a super-duper rope. We agreed that barring a hurricane, that would suffice until the next day.

The next day, Wednesday (if you're keeping track), part of the crew returned with what I call a portable lift. They backed it into my yard, lowered the balancing arms/legs, flipped levers, and hey-presto! one of the guys was up in the air with a small chain saw reducing the limp limb to a pile of leafy limb-lets on the lawn. When all the leafiness was removed, he worked on the bare limb. And when he got back to the main part of the tree from which this one branched, he discovered the source of the rot that has allowed the big limb to slowly subside onto my roof.

Not only rot--ants! Apparently some ants love dead/decayed wood. So more decisions to be made--remove that big limb? Wait for a time to see what needs to be done? More cogitation. We opted for wait-and-see on the ant business. But it won't be a long wait-and-see.

The Good News: No damage to my roof at all.

More Good News: I didn't have to mortgage the ranch to pay for having my roof de-treed.

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Okay. Still Wednesday. I'd had to cancel an appointment in Fort Wayne because I wanted to be available to talk with the tree guy.

My daughter worked a split shift at the Post Office--she came home later than expected because she had a bad tire. Had spent some time getting an appointment today--Thursday, also known as blog day. She'll need a ride home from the tire place and will probably drive my vehicle to work.

The Good News: She had no trouble getting home with the flat tire (run-flat has to be the invention of the century); and I have a vehicle she can drive until hers is good-to-go again.

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As I say--not world-class tragedies, but certainly annoying disturbances in two orderly (or what used to be orderly) lives. But I have to say: scrambling to redo appointments isn't anywhere near major or unfixable or life-threatening.

Much to be thankful for; though I won't quite go so far as to say blessings. But, close enough.

The photos today were taken before/during/after the Big Tree Adventure. Hope they don't take too long to load.

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As the saying goes, "don't sweat the small stuff," and may all your irritations be small stuff.

 HOW LONG IS A PIECE OF STRING?

That depends--what are you going to use it for?

String has been around for centuries--as thin rope, animal hide strips, twisted from reeds and grasses. No matter what they called it, it was, essentially, string.

Just consider the uses for string:

--to hold beads or pearls together in a necklace
--to tie up packages (you used to be able to do that to mail them)
--to tie around your finger to remind yourself of something (this was a big feature in It's a Wonderful Life--Uncle Billy often wore a string reminder)
--to make a chain of lanterns for a garden party
--to hold two mittens together (the chain of yarn went around the kid's neck; ideally the two mittens remained a pair)
--to make sound in stringed instruments: harps, violins/violas/cellos/basses; also pianos, harpsichords, autoharps, zither, dulcimer et al.
--kids used two tin cans and a string to make a "telephone"
--puppets, though strictly speaking, the ones with strings are marionnettes
--to let kites and balloons float up, up, up (don't forget helium for the balloons)

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Then there are many the references to string in the world; here are a few:

--string along (go along with; agree)
--stringing you along (fooling you)
--world on a string (everything's absolutely fantastic!)

There's also:

--string cheese
--string beans
--shoestring potatoes
--string bikinis

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To get back to our opening question--How long is a piece of string?--think of it as a somewhat subtle reminder that a silly question deserves a silly answer.

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My all-time favorite string story was told by Great-Aunt Mary Hofer (on my kids' dad's side of the family); it goes like this:

An elderly lady died and left a house full of belongings. She was frugal, having lived through the Great Depression and known what it was to do without, so she saved a great number of things. Naturally the family had to go through these collections and decide what was to be kept and what could be discarded.

The prime find was a small box labeled, "String Too Short to Save."

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Have a great week!

 

A LETTER TO MY FRIEND ON THE OCCASION OF LETTING GO

[I'm repeating this post because among the parts of my life that are disappearing are people who have to move on because of ill health and need new living arrangements to keep them safe, and those who have passed to a new realm. I know God is with them, and I pray that they know God is there. Always.]

My dear friend,

You have been working at your task for some years now. I recall the time you boxed up newspaper cuttings, greeting cards, notes from people you had helped expressing their gratitude—boxed it all up and left it to be collected the next time the city truck came through.

At the time, I wondered how you could let go of all those things. My accumulation is similar, and I’m finding it difficult to cull the items I still want to hang onto.

Why, I wonder, is letting go so hard?

Did you find it so? Did you agonize over whole stacks of letters dating back thirty or forty years?

Much advice is written—and re-written—in magazines, newspapers, on the Internet—but it boils down to this: “If you haven’t used it in the last _____ years, pitch it.” The only difference from writer to writer is the number of years—3 years? 5 years? 10 years?

What about something that has lasted 25 years or more? Does it now have antique value? Do I care about that?

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You’ve given me good advice about this letting go business. Take, for example, clothing.

·         Each time you buy new items, get rid of the same number of old ones.

Okay, I can do that. I usually have plenty: too-small, too-large, wrong color, scratchy, too hot, too cool—easy to find the right number. Sometimes, I say proudly, I can discard/donate even more items than I just bought. How about that? And since I don’t buy trendy styles, what I remove from the closet isn’t any more attractive than what I put in its place. The big advantage in taking this advice is that I don’t have to build another closet (or room) to house an increase.

Books, now—that’s a different story. I know you’re not a collector, and you take pleasure in passing on to other folks many books you’ve enjoyed. But you also keep some, because, you say, those authors pleased you and became like good friends; you look forward to rereading those stories.

So I’ve "taken a page out of your book" about books:

·         When my taste changes, I can recycle books by donating them to my library for their monthly sale or to the senior center where a minimal charge for used books puts a few dollars in the center’s piggy bank. If the books are mysteries, I check with my children first—they like different kinds, so I may be able to pass along something they haven’t read.

The hardest category for me is correspondence. In my younger years I wrote and wrote and wrote letters to my nearest and dearest. The Internet and email changed that, and though I still write letters, they’re usually typed to save my aging fingers. But receiving letters! What a joy! There’s nothing like a real letter, written/typed on paper, put in an envelope, and sent off via the USPS to arrive at my house. A cup of tea, my feet up, and I’m transported into the world of my friend or relative who sent the missive. It doesn’t get much better than that. No wonder I have trouble disposing of those good times, represented by letters and notes.

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In thinking it over, I’ve concluded that letting go involves more than sorting, discarding, and bagging it up for the trash collection next Monday.

Letting go means a break in a relationship with the items from which I’m parting. For out-of-date clothing, books I no longer read, there’s no trauma. But for very personal items—reminders of who I once was, who I still am deep down, and what I meant to somebody, sometime . . . the letting go can be painful.

So I ask myself these questions: Do I need those items to remind myself of who I was? Don’t the memories attached to letters, photographs, greeting cards remain with me?

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You’ve purged many, many things from your life. And I find you are still the same person, without all the physical baggage that you’ve shed.

Thank you for letting me see how that works.

With love and appreciation for who you are,

J

 FIVE GRATITUDES

Some time has passed since I expressed--in public, that is--my personal gratitudes. Every night I do so privately--giving thanks for people, activities, books, music, you-name-it. Today I want to share five different ways that Life gives me occasions to be grateful.

1--PEOPLE

Ask anybody--I am not a people person. "The more the merrier" has never been one of my goals in life, and if I said it, it had to be a slip of the tongue. There's a memorable Peanuts episode in which Linus says he'd like to be a doctor. His sister Lucy says, "You can't be a doctor. You have to love mankind." And Linus retorts, "I love mankind! It's people I can't stand!"

Now before you start off on the wrong foot and fall on your face, you have to understand that I'm not one of those who says I can't stand people. I like people--individuals with whom I can visit and come away feeling it's been a good encounter. People in large numbers? Unh-unh. Overwhelming.

My favorite people share some of the same traits--they enjoy life; they want to make things better for the less fortunate among us; they do interesting things--like make quilts or birdhouses, or teach others (all ages) how to do something. Naturally I'm drawn to people who like to do the same things I do--read, write, paint, cook, sew--but it's never about competition; we like to talk about what we do, appreciate each other's efforts, and share other things in our lives.

2--BOOKS

What have books done for me? They've taught me how to reason, to think, to figure things out. Yes, that includes the mysteries and the women's fiction that I still read.

I'm now halfway through the first Nancy Drew mystery. (Stay in the buggy--this is not a joke.) A few years ago my Kroger store had the first three ND books, and I think they were a dollar each, but don't quote me. I bought all three, thinking there'd be more to come, but alas, the first three were all they got, and the book/magazine section has now dwindled to one set of shelves squashed in between cards and seasonal stuff. Anyway--I was drawn to the Nancy Drew books because many decades ago I'd read most of them. And since that time, I've heard a number of mystery and romantic suspense writers say they got the bug to write because they read the Nancy Drew books when they were young. (I suppose guys read the Hardy Boys; my kids read both series.) I wanted to get reacquainted.

Books not only educate or entertain, they provide a place (sometimes a safe place) for the reader to go when things get too tough out here in the so-called real world. Ask any reader why he/she reads the same books again and again. You'll get different answers, but I'm willing to bet the farm one of them will be "to go to a place where I feel good."

3--FOOD

Goes without saying, we need food. I'm grateful for all levels of food:

  --plain old sustenance, nothing fancy, just tasty and plentiful

  --interesting dishes, probably new to me, especially from other cultures (the picture at the right is an Italian frittata)

  --gourmet goodies, because I will probably never make them myself

  --gluten-free foods, which have helped me enjoy many of my favorite things without unhealthy results

  --home-grown, home-cooked, reminding me of my growing-up years

  --recipes from my family, from my friends, from magazines, newspapers, cookbooks, and blogs

4--HELP

I may not be the most sociable person you'll ever meet, but neither am I a hermit. (Hermitess?) If I need help, I know how to ask for it; I am not shy about that, though I always remember my parents' rule: "Don't impose." However, I won't suffer unnecessarily just so I can follow a stricture that was important to my parents.

Sometimes help comes without my asking. A week ago my neighbor brought me a grocery shopping bag stuffed full of cleaned rhubarb from her little patch. "Do you like rhubarb?" I nearly fell down and kissed her feet. Do I like rhubarb? I love rhubarb. I adore rhubarb. Once we settled that and I had the bag safely inside my house, she said she'd give me some roots to start my own patch. After that came the offer of strawberry plants. She didn't offer to plant them for me, but I had a live-in gardener who did that for me.

Another example: For my birthday I received a hand-painted card from a friend at my church. We hadn't seen each other for quite a time (COVID, remember?), so I texted her to thank her for the beautiful painting. She said she's taken up painting now that her hands are less agile for playing the organ. My ears pricked up--painting? As in watercolor? Yes, indeed, she said. We now meet about once a month at her house for paint-and-chat time. We share our watercolor books and other resources (she's introduced me to some great artists on YouTube). 

5--COMMUNICATION

I'm not housebound for any reason other than my own resistance to going out in (1) hot/humid weather, (2) cold/damp weather, (3) rain/stormy weather, and/or (4) because I have a project going that needs constant attention, whatever the weather. (Quilts are usually in category #4.)

So, being a homebody (sounds so much better than housebound, right?), I can keep in touch in various ways:

  --least favorite, telephone; I prefer to see the person I'm talking to

  --next best if in-person isn't available, is text or email, for short communications

  --best for in-depth is the letter--hand-written if my fingers still work; typed if not

  --blog--pretty much one-way communication; I visit many blogs for information

  --Facebook provides me with photos, etc. from my family and friends; I don't spend much time with FB because it becomes an unending event; I've discovered my time is not infinite

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There you have it--five gratitudes that guide my life. Sometimes I focus on one and give it my full attention; other times, I find myself nodding and smiling while I'm in the throes of whatever it is and wherever I am, recognizing its value and giving thanks. Fleeting, but heartfelt.

If you made it this far, I hope you strayed into thoughts about your own reasons to be grateful. If you think you don't have any, or many, try writing them down. You'll surprise yourself.

Until next time,

Thursday's Child

 FROM SEA TO SHINING SEA

[I'm repeating a post from 2020 because I want us to remember why we celebrate July 4th in our United States of America. We may have a good time, our hearts may swell with pride as our children and grandchildren march in parades, and the best dang barbecue will feed a multitude. And then there's the real reason for it all. Be blessed!]

In three days, the United States celebrates Independence Day. On that day in 1776, men from 12 of the colonies signed a Declaration of Independence from the mother country, England. The official vote in the Continental Congress occurred two days earlier, July 2nd. After that vote, a committee headed by Thomas Jefferson wrote the official Declaration.

John Adams, one of the delegates, had written a letter to his wife, Abigail:

The second day of July 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more. [from Adams Family Papers, Massachusetts Historical Society]

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The United States celebrates in solemn events and riotous ones, from the serious contemplation of what freedom means to the joy of being able to express our gratitude openly.

However you celebrate--if you do--remember the men who made that possible 245 years ago. And be safe.