Pensive

          We have been staying in (mostly) as I know many of you have. There are two cases of Coronavirus in our county and they're up in the Sayre/Athens area, more than 40 miles from us. So we decided to venture out Saturday morning to replenish our milk and get some fresh produce. For the most part, our little local grocery store is well stocked. There was bread, eggs, and even toilet paper. What I couldn't find was yeast. I don't really need yeast, not yet anyway, but I made homemade bread and used up almost all of what I had. Now I'm toying with making my own yeast. You can make potato yeast or you can make it with just flour and water and make a sourdough yeast. I asked on FaceBook if anyone's ever made or used potato yeast but so far no one has. But my question is this. Won't that increase the amount of liquid in my recipe?

          "It seems like it would," Miss Rosie said when I asked her.

          Most times, when someone gives you sourdough starter, they give you a recipe too and that already takes into consideration the extra liquid.

          Maybe I'll fool with that next week.

          I did make a batch of homemade tortillas. We had leftover chicken and I wanted to make quesadillas. It's a little more work to make them from scratch than it is to buy them but they're so good I don't mind. I freeze leftover tortillas then pull them out to make tuna wraps or homemade personal pizzas.  

          Mike and I have several games we like to play. We play Rummikub, Double Solitaire (the way my mother played it, not his), Dominos, and Skip-Bo. At some point one of us thought it was a good idea to track wins, and by default, losses. It added another element to our game-playing, upped the competition, know what I mean? We'd play a couple of games of this, a game of that.

          We played 42 games of Rummikub, I won 26 to his 16.

          Solitaire, 35 with Mike taking 18, one more win than me.

          And we play Dominos least of all, only 13 games with me the victor at 8 over his 5.

          Then we settled into just playing Skip-Bo and nothing else. To date, since we've been keeping score, we've played 1,710 games with Mike taking the lion's share of wins. He wins twice as often as I do.

          Monday, as Mike was once again mopping up the floor with me, I thought it time to play something else. And we played a couple of rounds of Rummikub. Gotta play what I can win, don'cha know. I looked up and noticed it was snowing!

          Is it the onion snow, I wondered.

          Miss Rosie and I had a conversation about the onion snow a week or so before this.

          "I'm ready for the onion snow," she told me. "My dad always called the last snow of the season onion snow."

          So when it snowed, I called Miss Rosie. "Is that our onion snow?"

          "I don't know. How do you know if it's the last snow or not?"

          "Isn't it onion snow because of the way it looks?" I asked.

          "Actually my dad would call it onion snow because it would snow on his onions after he planted them," she told me. "He was always in such a hurry to get his garden planted and feed the whole neighborhood — and he did too. He was always so good at it. That gene seems to have skipped me."

          "Me too! Well that makes more sense than what I thought," I told her.

          "What did you think?"

          "I thought it was the onion snow because of the big fat flakes that look like peels of onions! What did I know? I was a kid when I heard the expression and I made up my own explanation."

          Miss Rosie thought mine was more fun.

           I've been futzing around making more little flowers. These are colored with printer ink. It gives them a kind of glassy look, don'cha think? 

      

          I played around making wire and bead suncatchers. I was having trouble making a dragonfly, I think I told you that a couple of weeks ago. I thought I could form the wings and attach them to the body with a dab of solder. Well, I liked how bright and shiny it looked so I tinned the whole dragonfly. But not only was he too big for my piece, I don't like the silver and copper together. He got stabbed into a flower pot and looks perfectly at home there.

          Then I made this one and liked it much better. I couldn't decide if I wanted to add beads to the dragonfly or not so I left him plain. I can always add beads later if I decide to.

          I have a whole cupful of these little flowers that I've been making. I'm going to make one with nothing but flowers, I think.

          Straightening wire, stripping it, twisting, forming, bending, making something pretty from nothing is my jam. And I started out intending this to be all flowers, but what are flowers without a butterfly? So I made a butterfly. I thought to make the inside of his wings yellow and the outer edge black, like a Monarch, but I'm not liking it very well. I'm trying not to go overboard with beads but maybe with these little ones I do need more. I don't know. I have a feeling I'm going to cut the butterfly free. In the meantime, he can just hang there.

          Speaking of butterflies — I saw my first butterfly of the year! Actually, we saw a bunch of them while we were out on our walk but they were pretty skitterish and wouldn't let me get close. This guy, I believe, is an Eastern Comma.

          I walked along the bank on the other side of the road to see if there was any way to make a path down to the creek and see a can. It still has a label on it declaring it to be Tannergas.

          "What the heck is that!" you say.

          I know, right! That's what I wondered too. Tannergas includes a corrosive preventer, a rust inhibitor, and a lubricant that helps prevent O-rings and other rubber parts from drying out. That sounds great for parts but not really all that great for the environment.

          "Who would throw that out there like that?" you wonder.

          I'm going to hope it was unintentional 'cause I'm an optimist like that. This place, once the mill shut down, worked on trucks. I'm guessing it was something they used.

          Bug trails on a tree stump. Looks a little artsy, don'cha think?

          The only way I have to get to the creek right now is via the neighbors who are kind enough to give me access. I saw the duck but before I could get my camera up and focused, he took off.

          Speaking of neighbors...

          Mike's buddy Vernon told him something was getting the fish from his pond. We went to look. Holy cow! Look at the size of that head!

          "I bet it was at least  three feet long," Mike said speaking of the overall size.

          What would it take to pull one of these out of the water?

          I have been rather pensive this week. I guess isolation will do that to a person.

          "What have you been thinking about?" you ask.

          I've been thinking about dying. There are so many ways to lose your life. I'm afraid of dying, as I imagine most of you are but don't get me wrong, I'm not afraid of being dead. That'll be easy. Life will go on for those of you left behind. You might be sad for a moment but soon forget. It reminds me of a scene from The Dark Crystal. We took the kids to see it at the drive-in when it came out.

          The Mystics and the Skeksis were two halves of the same creature. Split in two when the crystal split. Their lives were not their own. When one half was hurt, the other half was hurt. When one half died, the other half died too. The Mystics were on their way to the Skeksis city when a Skeksis fell to his death. All of sudden there was a flash of light and a Mystic was gone. POOF! Just like that. The other Mystics in the procession stop, for just a moment, look at the spot where their companion was, then go on. And so, when my spot on this earth is empty, I expect you will stop for a moment then go on — just as it should be.

          I'd like to see it again, I think and go on a hunt for the movie. All of our old movies, the movies bought for the kids when they were growing up, have gotten moldy. Damp plus no ventilation equals mold. And that's how this place sat for years. You might be able to play one moldy movie in your VCR but that's it. The head will be so gummed up you can't play a second one. Don't ask me how I know that.

          One of the projects I undertook last year was taking old VHS tapes, transferring them to my computer, and burning them onto discs for Andrew, our grandson. I found a way to clean the old moldy tapes but at fifty cents, it was easier to buy them from the thrift store. But Thursday afternoon I searched high and low for a re-bought copy of The Dark Crystal and didn't find one. I'm guessing by the time I saw it at the thrift store I'd already given up the project. Andrew wasn't interested in the old movies. And now with Disney Plus, there isn't any need. So I've stopped buying movies for that project. If I wanted to see it, I'd have to dig out the old moldy copy and clean it.

          I really want to see it, I think and, I can do that. It's not hard and I've done it before. So I dig out the movie and all the stuff. You need an old VCR, take the top off, and a cleaning tool made from Q-tips, lens cloths, and a rubber band. Alcohol, a screwdriver, some paper towels, a mask. It's best to work in a well-ventilated area or outside. I went outside. It was really nice out Thursday afternoon and I could work in the sunshine in my shirt sleeves. But there isn't any power out there so that required me to run an extension cord through the kitchen window without breaking anything on the windowsill. I moved stuff out of the way, opened the window, dropped the cord out, and didn't break anything.

          The VCR I used for this project was the one we unknowingly ran a moldy tape through. Since then I pay better attention to the movies before I pop them in. And I cleaned it so now it works like new again. But this tape player does not like sunlight. It took me a long time and a lot of Googling (to no avail) before I figured it out. No place on the internet does it say anything about not doing it in the sunlight. The tape goes in and automatically ejects. After about 30 times, and fooling with the top (thinking there was a switch that needed to be depressed — like for the agitation cycle on the washing machine) I figured it out. I don't give up easily, don'cha know. I cleaned the tape in one direction, took the case apart to clean the spool, and couldn't get the case to go back together right. Do you have any idea how long it took me to figure out what was wrong! At first, I thought one of the posts wasn't seated right. And one wasn't. When I put the cover back on it closed better but still not right. I had it on and off four or five times and couldn't see anything wrong. If I pinch it and put the screws in tight it's almost right, I think and give it a try. Inside the player, it starts to play then freezes. It wouldn't even eject. I had to unplug it then when I plugged it in again it ejected. After doing that twice I see one of the reels isn't turning. Maybe I put the tape on the spool backwards, I think. I unplug the power, get the tape out and open it up again. But it wasn't wrong. You can't really even do it wrong. I tried to roll the spool by hand and it was locked. Then I saw the brake lever wasn't seated right! Amazing how easy it goes back together when everything's in right. I cleaned the tape in the other direction and it looks good. I plugged it into my good VCR and watched it while I recorded it onto my computer. That pretty much took up all of my Thursday afternoon.

          Sometimes I get mad. Angry mad, not foaming at the mouth mad. But definitely mad to the verge of tears mad. More specifically, it was just this week that I got mad.

          Up here, on my mountain, self-isolating because of the Coronavirus, I wonder, What's the point! Why did You make me only to die! I railed. I'd rather have not been born at all!    

          And I think of all the ways there are to die. Momma got to die the way she wanted to, and I'm thankful for that. She wanted to slip away quietly in her sleep and so she did. There are other more violent ways to die, corn pickers, car crashes, choking, and one of those might be required of me and that's what scares me.

          I had a conversation with one of my besties this week. She was having a bad week.         Her husband is like most of our old-school husbands in that he brings home the bacon, she does the housework. Never mind that she's bringing in a slab of her own. It isn't fair and I know it isn't fair. Sometimes we just need someone to listen to us grumble and commiserate. I was able to that for her.

          "No matter how much I nag him he still doesn't help!" Bestie told me.

          No. Nagging won't change them. It only makes 'em dig their heels in deeper.

          At least my Mike is good about picking up after himself but sometimes when I have to do something for him that I don't think I should have to do or I don't want to do — like pick up his empty toothpaste box from the sink — I have a little trick I use. Maybe it would help you too.

          "What's that?" you ask.

          I ask myself this question. Would I do it for Jesus? And my answer is always YES! — and happily so!

          "But Mike isn't Jesus," you point out.

          Yes. I know. But we are to emulate Jesus. He came to serve and so must we. Whatsoever we do to the least of our brothers we do for Jesus. Husbands can be brothers too.

          "But I feel like a slave!"

          Lots of thoughts come to mind here:

·         If you can't change something, don't dwell.

·         If you have to be a servant, be the best servant you can be just as Joseph was in the house of Potiphar. He was a slave and yet came to be second in command over all of Egypt.

·         I like to correlate it to being a dog. You sit, shake hands, high five, and roll over on command and your master takes good care of you. But the best part? Laying in your master's lap and having a nap. Wouldn't you like to just sit in the lap of Jesus and rest your head against his bosom?

          "Peg! That's a girl part!" you say.

          It could be but it means somebody's chest. It can be man or woman.

          "But I don't want to be a slave!" you cry.

          Too late, my friend. You already are. As a believer you're a slave to Jesus as Paul was when he declared himself "a bond-servant of Christ Jesus" or as a non-believer, you're a slave to sin.

          I was getting in the shower and went to toss my underduds into the laundry basket in the bottom of the closet. I slid the door open and there beside the basket was a pair of Mike's underduds. He missed. I'm sure he didn't see it or he'd have picked 'em up and put 'em in the basket.

          "Did you pick them up?" you wanna know.

          Was a time I wouldn't have. But now, having asked myself that 'special' question so many times before I don't even have to think-ask it anymore. It's just there, know what I mean? I did, I picked 'em up — and never mentioned it to Mike.

          There's a jewel for my crown, I think as I gingerly picked 'em up and put 'em in the basket. I should tell Bestie, she'll relate. Then I remember that when we do something good and get accolades from others, we lose our heavenly reward because we've already received our award for that particular good deed here on earth.

          Later, I went to dump a pan of food scraps into the weeds, potato and carrot peels, eggshells. Stepping over the dog fence, I hear, in my head, Tell everyone. So I'm telling you.

          There isn't anything we do, not in secret or in light, that isn't known to our Lord.

          I think we all touch other people's lives and never know the impact we have on them and maybe that's as it should be too.

          I know that not all y'all want to hear my God stories but maybe that's part of why God has given me this gift — maybe that's part of why I'm here.

          This seems like a good place to end it so —

          Yep! You know what I'm going to say!

          So —

          Let's call this one done! And remember. You are all in my heart.