Good Friday
April 6, 2007
I knew this morning as soon as I woke up early that some disenchantment was setting in. I’ve never liked Good Friday—I know it’s the most necessary of days to remember—but this is always a depressing day for me. I know my sufferings today are nothing compared to Jesus’ suffering on the Cross but still, I did my best to try and keep the day from being totally without redemption. I think I failed.
I thought getting out of California and having a change of scenery would prove that my illness was only psychosomatic. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be so. All my activity caught up with me today. There is no energy but I pressed ahead. For two weeks now, I’ve had to get up and make my own morning coffee. JR spoils me wonderfully and this morning I was thinking how nice it would be to have that coffee brought to me. I got up earlier than usual since one school bus and many cars full of kids showed up down in the park below my parking place. Apparently they were having an early Easter egg hunt. That got Byrdie all excited so I took my coffee outside and let her run. While I was using the “chuck it” to fling the ball as far as I could, I met yet another guy and his adult daughter who had stopped to run their dogs. To our surprise, he had been stationed in the Army in Ft .Irwin outside Barstow for the last few years! The Monastery is just outside Barstow so we had a good time comparing snake and desert stories. He and his wife had decided to come to the hill country to check it out as a place to live when he was discharged. They fell in love with this area and had both immediately gotten jobs and were in the process of buying a house. And this is after only two weeks time!!! We enjoyed talking about how friendly and gracious the people here are. He had some regrets that he hadn’t seen Llano before settling into a different place but was happy enough with the town up the road. We chatted a long time and the dogs all got along. (Later on I will tell you about the way Texans pronounce words. I’m convinced it’s designed to confuse tourists who can’t possibly know the true pronunciation. Considering the Texans got to name the towns in the first place, you’d think they’d name them the way they pronounce them—but no, that would be too easy. One quick example: Burnet—anybody would call it Bur-NETTE or Bur-NAY but they call it BURN-it.)
I don’t believe in coincidences and have really enjoyed hearing the stories of people who have done exactly what I’m doing now. One of the best parts about Bakersfield is that there are loads of friendly people. But the smallness of the community here lets you know right away that the folks are genuine—and that is pronounced GIN-you-WINE!
April 6, 2007
I knew this morning as soon as I woke up early that some disenchantment was setting in. I’ve never liked Good Friday—I know it’s the most necessary of days to remember—but this is always a depressing day for me. I know my sufferings today are nothing compared to Jesus’ suffering on the Cross but still, I did my best to try and keep the day from being totally without redemption. I think I failed.
I thought getting out of California and having a change of scenery would prove that my illness was only psychosomatic. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be so. All my activity caught up with me today. There is no energy but I pressed ahead. For two weeks now, I’ve had to get up and make my own morning coffee. JR spoils me wonderfully and this morning I was thinking how nice it would be to have that coffee brought to me. I got up earlier than usual since one school bus and many cars full of kids showed up down in the park below my parking place. Apparently they were having an early Easter egg hunt. That got Byrdie all excited so I took my coffee outside and let her run. While I was using the “chuck it” to fling the ball as far as I could, I met yet another guy and his adult daughter who had stopped to run their dogs. To our surprise, he had been stationed in the Army in Ft .Irwin outside Barstow for the last few years! The Monastery is just outside Barstow so we had a good time comparing snake and desert stories. He and his wife had decided to come to the hill country to check it out as a place to live when he was discharged. They fell in love with this area and had both immediately gotten jobs and were in the process of buying a house. And this is after only two weeks time!!! We enjoyed talking about how friendly and gracious the people here are. He had some regrets that he hadn’t seen Llano before settling into a different place but was happy enough with the town up the road. We chatted a long time and the dogs all got along. (Later on I will tell you about the way Texans pronounce words. I’m convinced it’s designed to confuse tourists who can’t possibly know the true pronunciation. Considering the Texans got to name the towns in the first place, you’d think they’d name them the way they pronounce them—but no, that would be too easy. One quick example: Burnet—anybody would call it Bur-NETTE or Bur-NAY but they call it BURN-it.)
I don’t believe in coincidences and have really enjoyed hearing the stories of people who have done exactly what I’m doing now. One of the best parts about Bakersfield is that there are loads of friendly people. But the smallness of the community here lets you know right away that the folks are genuine—and that is pronounced GIN-you-WINE!
And now I will tell my woes about today. First of all, I was trying to shave a leg in the mini-shower last night and caught my big toe on the nozzle hose. Somehow I pulled it a little loose and now the water is shooting out of the connection at the faucets as well as through the shower head. It seems to take out the hot water faster and since I only get six gallons of hot water per shower I was pretty annoyed with the situation. It only got worse because when Donald Lee tried to check it out it was spewing water from the entire faucet connection. I think we have insurance for such things but it’s just one more thing to do.
When we got back from Fredericksburg I let Byrdie out as usual to run and let off some of her boundless energy. After about half hour of playing chase and retrieve ball, I let her back in the Minnie Winnie and realized her face fur around her mouth was green! Then I looked closer and realized that somehow she had gotten in some green stickers and they were stuck to her long fur EVERYWHERE!!! Oh groan—this was going to mean a very long combing out. I began and HORRORS!!!! I found a tick in her ear!!!! What to do??? I remember my grandmother using a match or kerosene or some home remedy that is lost in the ages. I kept thinking of our propane tank in the RV and didn’t want to be playing with open flames. I got the tweezers and pulled on that tick until it came out. I was NOT prepared for the gushing blood that accompanied the removal of the tick. Now, I am not a “tick-removal” kind of person. This was gross. Cousin Sylvia talks about killing snakes as turning them into “good snakes.” Well, I turned that tick—which was still alive—into a good tick. Thank heavens I’m in Texas and didn’t have to worry that I might be killing off some sort of endangered species of tick the way I would in California.
Do you know what happens when you pull out a new tick on a dog? THEY BLEED!!! Suddenly my precious Labradoodle was gushing blood out of her ear. Double gross!! I kept patting her ear with a paper towel and she tolerated me combing dozens of green stickers out of all her fur. Don’t you know that there was not just ONE tick on Byrdie—there were several. Her other ear also was hosting an embedded tick and I combed off two more that I got to turn into good ticks as well. This is about the time that my mind began doing a system search of country/western songs that mention anything about pulling ticks off dogs, combing out stickers and wiping up blood. THEY DON’T EXIST!! My romantic view of Texas began fading rapidly. Maybe the men get one good dog and one good woman but it’s the woman who is picking off the ticks! After that disaster I had to clean all the floors. That’s when I realized that Byrdie had also tracked in all those green stickers onto the RV rugs. I got out the Oreck and vacuumed everything I could. Then I got out the Swivel Sweeper and went over everything again. I threw all the rugs out the door and then scrubbed all the linoleum floors with hot water and vinegar.
(Let me put in an unpaid plug here. These Swivel Sweepers are fantastic!! You can get them at K-Mart for under $25.00 and they go everywhere and pick up everything on your flat floors. They do alright on carpets but don’t deep clean carpets. But on tile and wooden floors, they are fantastic—as good as a broom.)
By this time I’ve totally missed the Good Friday liturgy. I’m also feeling very sorry for myself and thinking there aren’t green stickers and ticks like this in California. I think the pity party was to try and assuage the guilt over not attending the Good Friday service.
So, here I am, a long ways from home, drinking a very strong gin and tonic and feeling a little sorry for myself. I think that getting down and drinking is the prerequisite for writing a country/western song. My song will be about dogs and ticks! I wonder if Nashville would like to pick up a song like this one?
When we got back from Fredericksburg I let Byrdie out as usual to run and let off some of her boundless energy. After about half hour of playing chase and retrieve ball, I let her back in the Minnie Winnie and realized her face fur around her mouth was green! Then I looked closer and realized that somehow she had gotten in some green stickers and they were stuck to her long fur EVERYWHERE!!! Oh groan—this was going to mean a very long combing out. I began and HORRORS!!!! I found a tick in her ear!!!! What to do??? I remember my grandmother using a match or kerosene or some home remedy that is lost in the ages. I kept thinking of our propane tank in the RV and didn’t want to be playing with open flames. I got the tweezers and pulled on that tick until it came out. I was NOT prepared for the gushing blood that accompanied the removal of the tick. Now, I am not a “tick-removal” kind of person. This was gross. Cousin Sylvia talks about killing snakes as turning them into “good snakes.” Well, I turned that tick—which was still alive—into a good tick. Thank heavens I’m in Texas and didn’t have to worry that I might be killing off some sort of endangered species of tick the way I would in California.
Do you know what happens when you pull out a new tick on a dog? THEY BLEED!!! Suddenly my precious Labradoodle was gushing blood out of her ear. Double gross!! I kept patting her ear with a paper towel and she tolerated me combing dozens of green stickers out of all her fur. Don’t you know that there was not just ONE tick on Byrdie—there were several. Her other ear also was hosting an embedded tick and I combed off two more that I got to turn into good ticks as well. This is about the time that my mind began doing a system search of country/western songs that mention anything about pulling ticks off dogs, combing out stickers and wiping up blood. THEY DON’T EXIST!! My romantic view of Texas began fading rapidly. Maybe the men get one good dog and one good woman but it’s the woman who is picking off the ticks! After that disaster I had to clean all the floors. That’s when I realized that Byrdie had also tracked in all those green stickers onto the RV rugs. I got out the Oreck and vacuumed everything I could. Then I got out the Swivel Sweeper and went over everything again. I threw all the rugs out the door and then scrubbed all the linoleum floors with hot water and vinegar.
(Let me put in an unpaid plug here. These Swivel Sweepers are fantastic!! You can get them at K-Mart for under $25.00 and they go everywhere and pick up everything on your flat floors. They do alright on carpets but don’t deep clean carpets. But on tile and wooden floors, they are fantastic—as good as a broom.)
By this time I’ve totally missed the Good Friday liturgy. I’m also feeling very sorry for myself and thinking there aren’t green stickers and ticks like this in California. I think the pity party was to try and assuage the guilt over not attending the Good Friday service.
So, here I am, a long ways from home, drinking a very strong gin and tonic and feeling a little sorry for myself. I think that getting down and drinking is the prerequisite for writing a country/western song. My song will be about dogs and ticks! I wonder if Nashville would like to pick up a song like this one?
Ah got a good dawg at the county pound
Lemme tell you that gal had been around
She the sweetest dawg there ever were
With her big brown eyes and long black fur.
Ah let that dawg jes’ run and play
Thru the high park grass 6 times a day
I’d throw that ball and she’d be on it
While I was admirin’ those Texas blue bonnets.
Now you don’ hear the dark side in a country song
When the dawg you luv gits somethin’ wrong
Yew don’ hear how when yer throwin’ sticks
The dawg comes back with burrs and ticks.
So you comb and pull and wipe up blood
And comb s’more and clean up crud
And think the man has a better life
‘Cause the one poppin’ ticks is always the wife.
I don’t think it has much chance of being picked up even by the Dixie Chicks.
I just turned on the TV and wish I hadn’t. What was on? It was an in-depth study of Islam in a “modern” Egyptian woman’s life. ON GOOD FRIDAY!!! I believe it is intentional to slam Christians and their faith. Why go to the effort to portray a religion of hate on the very day that Christians all over the world believe that Jesus, the very Word of God, the Prince of Peace, died to free us from the evil such as Islam espouses and the distant, severe god they worship? Why was there not an in-depth piece about the devotions of Christians all over the world on Good Friday? Why not show the millions who go to Church for 3 hours and remember with humility and gratitude the salvific work of Jesus on the Cross? Why not highlight the millions of Christians who go to Church and pray for the Moslems and for the conversion of the hearts of the entire world? I wonder how often one finds worshippers in mosques praying for their own hearts to come to love Christians instead of vowing to kill them? But most of all, why does a public television network feel compelled to highlight a religion hostile to our own culture instead of shining some light on the Person who is Light Himself?
So, I switched the channel to one of the alphabet stations. And what are they showing on Good Friday? A wife-swap with the most counter-cultural family imaginable! The forces of evil certainly rise to the occasion when Christians remember with intensity the ultimate battle of good and evil. The culture wants us to believe the lie—they want us to think that evil is acceptable and that those who try and follow the Good are somehow defective. It is a sick society. Good Friday provokes those who specialize in marketing to our lowest nature to bring on the full assault.
So, I switched the channel to one of the alphabet stations. And what are they showing on Good Friday? A wife-swap with the most counter-cultural family imaginable! The forces of evil certainly rise to the occasion when Christians remember with intensity the ultimate battle of good and evil. The culture wants us to believe the lie—they want us to think that evil is acceptable and that those who try and follow the Good are somehow defective. It is a sick society. Good Friday provokes those who specialize in marketing to our lowest nature to bring on the full assault.
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