What's hot?

What’s hot?

                The weather is, that’s for sure. Forecasters in Georgia call for over 100° for the next three days and in the 90s for the  upcoming week. Friends in Minnesota are only looking at the upper 80s and 90s. It’s all too hot, and the electricity grids are likely to be overtaxed. When it gets that hot, it’s just hot, and it’s not going to be a dry heat.

                Hopefully, the new Word phone now sitting next to me on the desk is "hot". With all the bells and whistles, this new Smart phone is as hot as I can handle. With it comes a new number. If you want that number, message me through email or Facebook and I will gladly give it to you. The phone's display of the phone is supposedly a preview of Windows 8. A little experience can only help with the transition when the new operating system comes out. The keyboard's key arrangement make typing a little easier because the keys are slightly offset like a regular keyboard. Facebook and email are possible, if I can ever figure out which password goes with which account.

                Last night was a hot date with my granddaughter, Katie.  She is really attached to her mom, so making the decision about where we go for supper was almost more than she could handle. However, one Olive Garden and their breadsticks became the choice it was onward and upward. Katie, the whiz, actually got my old phone running so I can at least get the contacts from it. She’ll be my little navigation helper as I learn the phone. She watches and listens and gets it. No matter how smart and intuitive she is, she’s still nine and the end of our evening was spent with me giving her strange and silly directions for her starting pose as she went backwards into the pool. Coming up with 75 different poses represented the most difficult brain work of the day. The silliness and laughter will continue to bring a piece of joy with each remembrance.

Purses

                Purses, cavernous or petit, most women carry some kind of handbag or at least a wallet.  Of course, now the “man purse” parades the streets as well. We don’t call my bag a “woman purse” so I think purses still really belong to women.  We can’t live without them and it’s a struggle to live with them. They fill so fast. We buy a bigger purse for all the stuff we carry, only to realize the weight is giving us literal pain. So we purchase a smaller purse and put less in, but the day always comes when too much purse detritus creates a disaster like lost keys or receipts. Or like what happened today.

                My  trip to Home Depot was eminently successful. Lakee, the lumber area man, made my small dream come true. The cabinet Beth and I built was lovely, but it had no countertop. All I needed was one 30 x 25 inch piece of something simple to be the crowning glory of our work. Online searches yielded beautiful granite pieces for $300 or more. Websites for local cabinet shops indicated even a laminate piece cut to size would cost at least $100.  I even went to Re-Store, the Habitat for Humanity outlet, but no one actually cuts 30 inch pieces, so all that was the right size were sink tops. Home Depot had countertop pieces, but none 30 inches and they don’t cut that. One Home Depot gentleman reminded me that they carry a laminate coated particle board in the lumber area. And the lumber area saws things.

                Late yesterday afternoon, I headed for Home Depot, which is just about half a mile away. I had decided I would go cheap and just have them cut a 30 inch piece off from the 2 x 4 foot piece. That would exactly cover the top and I would just deal with the little space between the cabinet and the wall. However, it turned out that the actual size of the piece was 23 5/8 x 47 5/8 inches. A section  cut from that would not cover the cabinet top. So the next choice was to do a 4 x 8 foot piece and get some additional shelving. That panel was actually 49 x 97 inches. Go figure, and that is exactly what I did. Among  the multitude of paper scraps and receipts in my purse, I found one that was big enough to start drawing and calculating. I pondered how I could get my countertop and the maximum number of shelves  to assist in finding a place for all the stuff,  which still does not have a home in my home.

                Lakee hauled the heavy piece up to the vertical saw and did my bidding, cutting eight additional shelves beside the countertop. He was so patient when I changed dimensions after looking at the initial cuts. I found some prepainted trim and some nails and headed out the door with my $40 countertop and at least that much more value in shelving, but with no additional cost. I tucked the nails in my purse and drove home, realizing that time was short and I needed to be quick about supper and changing for my meeting.

                However, I just had to see if the countertop piece fit and if it would look OK, so I grabbed it out of the back of the car, trying to balance and carry it one handed in spite of its weight. My purse was over the arm and I had the keys ready to open the door. The board started to slip and in the muddle of trying to keeping it from chipping, my purse,  heavy with the box of nails, flipped upside down. Papers, loose coins, and my phone floated or crashed to the sidewalk. The phone lay with the back and battery scattered, the coins tucked themselves into the pine mulch and the papers started to float away. Grabbing the floating papers first, I then bent for the phone pieces and they seemed to go back together well, so I collected the coins, hopefully not leaving too many for the birds. Then I opened the phone. Nothing – black screen. I put it on the charger, and it lit up to show me that it was charging. Encouraged, I decided to rush to my meeting and let it charge fully.

                My meeting was a church women’s gathering. The director of the local domestic violence organization spoke to us about the group’s purpose and function and how we could help. The statistics were alarming. Last year in Gwinnett County 13 women died at the hands of their abuser. She also worked to disabuse us of some of the myths. The one I remember the most was the myth surrounding the question, “Why doesn’t she just leave?” There are many reasons, but one that stays in my mind is that she’d rather be an abused mom than a dead mom.

                After she left, we gathered donated purses and toiletries from the women of the church. We packed an assortment of toiletries into each purse. The purses will go to the shelter and as a woman comes in, she will be given a purse with a few personal treasures inside. Even if she leaves her home with nothing, she will start again with a purse.

                So at the end of the day, my countertop looks lovely, but if the cost of a new phone ends up being added, it would have been cheaper to just order the countertop.  And that all is petty compared to the struggles of too many women in our world.

                

Women

               Yesterday’s activities seemed random until reflecting on them made me realize it was all about women – strong, courageous, loving, hurting, passionate, lonely, intelligent, caring, discouraged, smiling, laughing, happy, sad.  Moms, grandmas, aunts, wives, married, single, divorced. Women who met together in person, over the Internet, or in fiction.

                The first women attended my new Bible study in Georgia. The one who led the study presented her insights about Psalm 119 and encouraged all to share and learn in her sweet, twangy, Texas transplanted to Georgia accent. As the women focused on God’s word, they also talked about their lives and their hopes, dreams and struggles. Before the study, one woman noticed that two nametags laid out on the table shared the same unusual last name. “These two must be related,” she called out. Later the answer was provided by prayer requests from the two women with the same name. Pray for my son; he has walked away from his faith. Pray for me for me; my marriage has fallen apart; I am exhausted and panicked. If you are one who prays, please lift up this mother and her daughter-in-law who came together to seek solace and hope.

                My old Minnesota Bible study met yesterday, too. With them, the sharing was less immediate but no less personal.  Internet provided the connection, not proximity. The study of Mary who sat at Jesus feet opened up wounds for some, creating a vulnerability we don’t always want to have. Yet it opened the door for others to minister to their sisters in Christ. Discussion focused on how we are valuable to God. Too often we think it is in what we do, or how often we say yes and get busy again for the Lord.  Mary’s story reminds us that our value to God is not in what we do, but in the fact that He wants us to sit at His feet and learn, not just keep ourselves busy doing or making ourselves somehow more acceptable to Him. He accepts us and loves us as we are.

                Women Who Read is my Minnesota book club. The book assigned for July is historical fiction set in New York City in 1984. (Yes, friends born before 1975 or so, fiction set in 1984 is historical and not contemporary realistic fiction.) Philippe Petit’s dance on the high-wire stretched across the 200 feet  between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, more than a quarter of a mile above the city streets,  provides the focal point for the story.  The account chronicles vignettes of separate groups of people and significant events in their lives that day. I just finished the second section of the book about a diverse group of women whose one point of connection was the death of their sons in Vietnam.  They struggled with their pain and frustration, yet they laughed together, too. They came from two ends of the city literally and figuratively, yet they connected and found hope and help together.

                Women at a Mary Kay Party may evoke thoughts of vanity or self-indulgence, but this Mary Kay party had a very different focus. Indeed, while this Pampering with a Purpose party provided the skin care ideas and the makeup suggestions, the real purpose was to support moms who deal with children who are severely physically and/or mentally disabled.  Pampering with a Purpose is a regional Mary Kay focus to provide specifically targeted care to moms who often put themselves last. The consultant, who is featured in the linked video, told the story of her own daughter, Jordan, who died in her sleep at age 13 from complications of multiple conditions. Six of us sat around the table, and I was the only one who did not have a disabled child. Beth’s oldest bonus son has cerebral palsy, but each of the other ladies is a mom of a child with very severe problems that require constant care and supervision. Some of their conditions don’t even have a diagnosis because they are so complicated or rare. They have probably already outlived their original life expectancy. Overwhelmed by their stories, I saw that they loved those children unconditionally. They were tired, stressed, unsure, coping most of the time, and struggling to find ways to help their child. Mama Bears don’t fight harder for their cub than these moms fight for hope for their child. Compassionately, the women listened to each other’s stories and provided ideas for the newest mom.  Pampering for them came in the fact that a husband or someone made it possible for them to gather together for some laughter, some beautifying, and a break.

                One more strong woman is on my list today, my Minnesota friend and co-worker Deb. Her husband died yesterday after several years of a courageous battle with cancer. Deb was beside him for every step of that journey. She and their family and friends prayed for a miracle, but his healing didn’t come in the way she hoped.  She has been a strong and private woman doing everything she could to help him and her family, but she will need more strength and support in the days ahead. I wish I could be there to help, but I know God has provided a few really special friends who will be in her life.

                I raise my hands in a salute to these women even as I fall to my knees to pray for them all.

Red Tape

     When the government, a rehab center billed by the hospital in spite of the treatment being a medical recommendation, and an insurance plan that is perceived by Medicare as unusual come together to pay a claim - the claim doesn't get paid. Creating more confusion, Medicare insisted their records showed I was still an insured employee of my old school district. The rest of the details are boring and can be summarized by the combined hour plus on the phone yesterday. With the help of the school district insurance gal, the billing person at the hospital and my insurance agent, it should all resolve itself in 10 or 12 or 14 days. Then I can pay the deductible that I tried to pay when I got the service.
       The good news for the day came from connecting with a good friend from the school district business office and finding out she's going to be a Grandma for the third time. Preparing for the Tuesday Bible Study also challenged my brain and prodded my thinking about the value of God's Word. Psalm 199, tho focus of our study, has a bit to say about that.
       Georgia weather can apparently come from any direction, north, south, east or west or any combination thereof. Hurricane Debbie is playing havoc with Florida and keeps teasing Georgia forecasters with the possibility of much needed rain. Most late afternoons cloud over and look like rain, but not much has fallen and that little bit of spotty rain that's fallen was not produced by Debbie. The heat is rising, though the breezes today make it a bit more tolerable. By Friday though the forecast is for 102. I guess Friday will be an indoor day.

Artifacts for the Museum - Sunday

What a wonderful day to remember! The artifacts represent some different areas of the mind's museum, and each memory is a special treasure from the joyous journey. 

For the faith section of the museum -

     I returned once again to Gwinnet Community church which continues to intrigue and draw me. Running just a little late, I grabbed a cup of really delicious coffee and slipped in just as the tech team brought up a video for the opening of the service. If you have any interest in the stars of the heavens, the singing of whales, or the awesomeness of God, you need to go to You Tube and find the Louie Gigglio video, Louie Gigglio Mashup of Stars and Whales. 

     The sermon for the day at GCC was from a bi-vocational pastor who works with two others in a church plant with an interesting goal. Their desire is to have a church where 100% of the donations go to support missions at the local, regional and world level. Phoenix Community Coffee Company became their choice for developing the means for that goal to be reached. They buy coffee from missionary coffee growers in Central America. These bi-vocational missionaries grow quality coffee and pay their workers as much as four times the typical wage, seeking to meet physical and spiritual needs in these Central American areas. The local company roasts it and private label packages it to help churches and para-church organizations support their own mission projects. In sharing the story, this once burned out pastor made his point - for those walking with God there is no such thing as coincidence - abundantly clear. The story of their dream and start up is not mine to tell, but it was impressive, and I was blessed. The coffee is great, too! Check it out:  Phoenix Community Coffee

     One great sermon deserves another, so I headed to the Blakely's church, because Katie and John were singing Bible School songs for the congregation. And now Mimi can actually go to these activities. With time between the two services, I headed into Kroger to pick up items so I could fix supper for my furniture construction crew. I cut the time a little short and arrived just as the preschoolers that Beth taught were singing, but I was there to observe my two stars act completely like 9 & 10 year olds while the younger ones sang. However, they were quite angelic when they sang and signed several songs. After the singing, the pastor preached a great sermon, reminding his congregations to follow through themselves on the VBS challenge to "Dare to go Deeper with God." I could just about have been sitting back at Shalom Baptist. He clearly reminded them that being a Christian was not about going to church or being baptized or confirmed or doing good - it was about a growing relationship with Jesus Christ. When I was going to camp and Bible School as a kid, they taught us faith was as simple as ABC - ask Jesus into your heart, believe in Him and confess your sin. I like how Pastor Tom did the ABCs - admit your sin and need of a savior, believe that Jesus is that Savior, and commit yourself to a relationship with Him.

For the family section of the museum

     After three really pleasant gentlemen delivered the IKEA boxes containing my sofa, chair, entertainment center and dining room table, Beth, Bill and Katie came over for the construction party. Beth and Bill started with the sofa while I finished putting together a Curry Chicken Pasta Salad. I joined in putting the covers on, which turned out to be relatively easy. They then turned to the 14 piece entertainment center with scores of pegs to hold it together. Chosen because it would fill the alcove so exactly, but built on the floor, the raising of the completed structure prompted held breath. At one point, upward progress stopped and it appeared stuck. Fortunately, one little connection needed to be tightened, and the complicated piece slipped into the space looking like a built in.

     With that completed, the pool with the waterfall beckoned. We gathered up all the cardboard and wrappings so I could haul them down to the trash area, and they headed off to the pool. I chose the deck chair and enjoyed watching them interact in the pool. Supper was on the old  make-do table, but while I cleaned up, Bill and Beth finished the dining table. It was christened with strawberry shortcake and a really great cup of coffee.

Building up a weekend of blessing creates a reserve of joy, which may be needed today.

Artifacts for the Museum - Saturday

      What a busy weekend! How many times have you said, "Remember when we..." or do you recall that time when ....?  In the book for the Women Who Read Club's July meeting, the author provided just the right turn of phrase to describe that experience. In his book, Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann reflected on a shared family experience from his childhood, "I can still after all these years sit in the museum of those afternoons." The phrase rang true as the sights, sounds, people and discussions of the weekend created a kaleidoscope of images. Each represented a small part of the the memories of this new journey. 


Artifact 1 - How easy it is to fret over things. After weeks of looking and plotting, considering ideas and rejecting them as impractical, too expensive, or just not right, reality said my furniture shopping would be at IKEA. The new decor would be bright or white or subdued. The sofa would be green or white or tan or plaid. It would be a love seat or a sectional or include a chaise. The style would be country, cottage, traditional, transitional or eclectic. With the IKEA run planned for Saturday, I awoke at 6:00 AM, not at all sure what I was going to choose, but convinced that something had to happen. After all, the rebate on sofas ended that day.


Artifact 2 - Driving down the road with Beth and Katie, I managed the 35-40 minute trip without incident. At one point I counted the lanes, seven in each direction, but people were sharing nicely. After meatballs, the quest began. The green would be too hard to match, the white too stark. The off-white looked dirty: the dark colors were not in consideration. The caramel color appeared to be the default choice until we saw a new cover, one that looked and felt more like  sofa upholstery. The neutral tones would serve as a great base for seasonal pillows and not fight with any other colors I might choose. Beth lobbied successfully for the chaise sofa, arguing that while it took a significant amount of wall space, that would in essence be my recliner. We added a chair with a pattern consistent with a sort of cottage/transitional theme, and we were off to entertainment centers.


Artifact 3 - The deliberations on the style of the entertainment center brought us to the definite choice before we arrived at the showroom. My early morning ruminations prodded me to consider whether I really wanted in the white color which was the original plan. "Too much white with the table and chairs also being white," I thought. Standing by the display, Beth cleared her throat and said, "Um, I was just thinking, I mean it's just an idea, but have you thought that maybe the white would be too much? The black with a black TV would just look classier."  I smiled and said that I had pretty much decided I liked the dark better myself. Ah, great minds.


Artifact 4 - The dining table and chairs presented no problem; simply walk up and ask the person to include those on the list of items for the Pick and Deliver. Only two tables remained in the warehouse, so she entered it  and we charged downstairs for a quick check out to insure we got one of those two tables. Rushing through IKEA on a Saturday afternoon was something of an oxymoron. The lines at the registers reminded me of a Disney cue. Of course, we got into the line with people who were having problems, and we were no exception. Apparently the new computer system confused our kind helpers at each stop, and some items were "pick and deliver", some were "cash and carry', and others were "you pick and we deliver".  25 minutes later, everything except the dining room chairs, which did not find their way onto any list, was together on the correct list, and I  purchased all of it in 30 seconds.  Getting the rebate gift card and arranging for the Sunday delivery proved easy by Saturday and IKEA standards. Beth and Katie found the chairs and I used my rebates toward the price, and we were on our way. the last task of the day loomed ahead - creating space for it all.

Sweet Trilling

     Tomorrow I hope to announce that all cardboard save boxes of stamps to be transferred to Beth's house and books boxes are gone. The end of organizing the Master Bedroom and closet is near. The time for pictures and finishing touches approaches.
     Georgia heat arrived in full measure, but the couple of hours spent at the theater seeing Brave with my family provided a nice respite. The movie was cute and a bit intense with some of the bear fights. The typical Disney princess defies her parent(s) and finds her true love. This movie marks a slightly different twist, but I won't be a spoiler. 
     As I mentioned yesterday, the accompaniment to breakfast al fresco comes from singing birds in the nearby trees. Today, warbling sounded from my guest room closet and birds did not get in there. Having gotten all closet boxes except those containing books emptied, a number of items lay scattered about the closet. After the movie and a trip to "my" gigantic Home Goods store, Beth and Katie came over for lemonade and cookies. Ever the house explorer, Katie prowled in the closet and found my old recorder. She sneaked off into my bedroom and we could here some squeal and squeaks. Katie walked back in, headed toward the closet, and in typical perfectionist fashion said, "I can't do this," and headed to put it away in the closet.
      Because both she and her sister have a tendency to think they should just be able to pick up something and do it, both her mom and I jumped on the learning and practice bandwagon and gave the speech in chorus. "You can't do everything perfectly or even a little bit without instruction and practice. Even the great musicians practiced and took lessons..." As might be expected with such a trite commentary, Katie continued to head for the closet to put the recorder away. And then I said, "Wait, I'll give you your first lesson." as if I could teach someone the recorder. But, pulling my foot out of my mouth, I put the recorder in and showed her the fingering and the blowing technique for a pleasant sound.
      Off Katie went to my bedroom again, coming back in about five minutes with some good sounds and some muffled ones since her fingers were not tight enough on the holes. Clearly she felt good about making a sound, but needed to work on quality. At that point, she went into the guest room closet and began to practice some more. Soon she was making bird trills and warbles and clearly enjoying her capabilities. She asked to take it home, but her mom and I agreed that was an activity for Mimi's house. Katie obediently put it away and said, "Next time I come back, you can give me another lesson." JOY!!

       And now I have to practice so I can give her another lesson.

Breakfast with the Birds

     Yesterday was a nothing day, more mess made than cleaned, no direct human contact unless you count the 888 call I missed that didn't leave a message. Days like this are inevitable for all of us, but perhaps more so when separation from old friends occurs before  new friends are made. Not a bad day; not a good day: a nothing day. The worst thing about it was preparing my breakfast this morning and contemplating making an interesting blog post.
      The weather was one likely candidate. Yours has turned lovely and mine is helping Georgia live up to its reputation. That's the end of that discussion.
      But as I sat down on the porch to eat my breakfast and enjoy a cup of coffee before the day heated up too much, my raucous bird friend perched atop the tree outside and began his single note, raspy throated call, over and over again, dragging my attention away from my book. Soon he was joined by several other birds of different types. Having no bird books to reference, their species remain unknown. One's coloring reminded me of a robin, but smaller and with subdued coloring . Another small mottled-brown bird with a long skinny beak sat nearby furtively watching the others. Soon a redheaded, tan bodied bird landed on a top branch. One, then two, then three birds landed next to him and lined up on the branch which bent under their combined weight. Momentarily, similar birds with paler heads landed on a nearby branch facing the first group. Their conversation of chirps and twitters back and forth across the branches drove the other birds out of the tree. The chatter continued for several moments, fascinating me, then they rose virtually as one. Seven or eight birds flew on perhaps with the conference completed or perhaps to delight another human observer down the way.
      Those sweet birds brought joy to my day and reminded me, there really is no such thing as a nothing day, you just have to look for, or be given perspective.

Bible, Butter, Boxes and Bins

      Oh, no, I have lost it. Two posts named Bible and Butter popped up and I deleted one. It was the finished one. Now I must recreate and that is not a good thing. Somehow the words at the end of the day don't seem quite as fresh as those at the beginning. Perhaps I will just combine yesterday and today, and move on. Flexibility.
      Random describes my nature as well as these days. Random people have trouble with lists. The to-do list often looks untouched at the end of the day. Some folks labeled as random have come up with a solution, writing the list as they go or leaving blank spaces to fill in actual tasks accomplished. Neither applied today, and the only list was in my head. Writing the blog post occupied the first spot after the morning routine was completed. Since Tuesday included Bible study and I have been waiting to tell you about French Butter Presses and Butter Bells, they became the rather random co-topics.
      To keep the mind and spirit engaged, two Bible studies occupy the agenda for the summer. Doing The Frazzled Female study from afar with my Shalom friends provides regular contact and insures that I hold them up in prayer even as they keep remembering me. By joining with women from the new church I am attending for an in-depth study of Psalm 119, I have the opportunity to meet and discuss scripture in person. Getting to know a few people doesn't hurt either. The Shalom group begins working on their study this week, so I am ahead. The Gwinnet Community Church (GCC) study, Sweeter than Chocolate began last night with 30 women gathered. Both promise to be enjoyable and valuable

SQUIRREL

       Believe it or not, butter can sit on counter in the summer and not turn into mound of soft yellow mush in a pool of golden liquid. An alternative to spreading rock hard refrigerated butter exists. Known variously by the classy name, the French Butter Press, or by its southern moniker, a Butter Bell, this ingenious little two piece pottery gizmo works! My introduction to the Butter Bell came when Beth received one from Bill as a gift. He demonstrated packing softened butter tightly into the bell, adding about a half inch of water to the bowl, and inverting the bell in the bowl. Beth lifted it out; the butter was in the bell, not the bowl. I tried it after it had been on the counter all night. The butter was in the bell. But, that was winter. Considering purchasing one when the move to Georgia was complete did start me looking, but that would be something to complete after arriving, not something to haul down.
      However, on a trip to the Clay Coyote Pottery Shop near Hutch to purchase a mug for Bill, there on the shelf was a French Butter Press. Examination of the piece and the literature indicated the two items served the same purpose. The idea that I would arrive with a unique, beautifully turned, glazed and fired butter keeper began to take shape. When two friends blessed me with some money to help with moving, I hurried right out to the Clay Coyote and purchased the item you see below. It won approval even from Bill, the connoisseur of Butter Bells.

The French Butter Press as it sits.

Soft, spreadable full stick of butter.

    More boxes and bins got emptied today, and the plans for where to put it all developed problems. More items found their way to the Goodwill bin. A second bin will have to get started tomorrow. Too much stuff - redundant stuff. Why in the land of chapped lips could I never find a Chapstick? A drawer in the bathroom now holds a modest collection of 15 or so. Why was there never a pencil or pen when I had to write something? A storage drawer now overflows with pencils, pens, markers, highlighters, and colored pencils. Really? How many plastic folder label holders does one person need; how many post-it note packs; how many writing pads; how many file folders; how many colored dots? Yes, today marked actually unpacking the boxes from the desk, the kitchen, the basement, my desk, and wherever else these products were stored. 

      I've lost count of the boxes hauled to the compactor and the number of empty bins will soon match the number of full bins including the Christmas collection. The apartment did not get done by my birthday, so we'll hold out for the Fourth of July.

      

Al Fresco

     By all accounts the June weather in Georgia this year does not represent the norm. Last year, by June 16 the thermometer topped 90 degrees 15 times; this year it hasn't hit that mark yet. Recognizing that the cool trend is about to end encouraged me to enjoy the benefits of my patio before reality strikes at the end of the week. Diminutive describes the space well, but with a 30 inch round table and two chairs, the patio serves me well. With the real herbs and flowers on the railing and the beautiful faux geranium arrangement on the table, the ambiance is pleasant. The blue sky with lovely puffy summer clouds and the green trees provide a lovely view while dining; that is if your nose comes out of the magazine long enough to notice. The birds sing and screech constantly. The setting provided a relaxed space for both lunch and breakfast.
     Beth called and asked if she and Bill could come over and finish up the cabinet. Of course, I said yes, but not until after I teased about being too busy for them to come. The thought of getting that cabinet done provided the impetus to suggest that they feed the children and then join me at Five Guys, just around the corner from the apartment before they set to the task. The children got leftover pizza and we ate the best hamburgers and fries around, a small enough payment for the construction work. At Beth's request we ate outside, so three times Al Fresco. As it turned out Bill worked on computer issues and Beth and I finished the cabinet. OK, honestly Beth did most of it, but I was the one who could get the drawers in.
      Now the task is to get a top for the cabinet and move ahead with unpacking.
   

Birthday Blessings & a Bonus

     Birthday celebrations differ among various cultural and family traditions. Some do not acknowledge the day at all, while for others each birthday is a reason for a huge celebration,  and some special birthdays become rites of passage with either hilarity or solemnity or both. My family didn't go to either extreme, but birthdays called for significant celebration. It was your day, one deserving of some kind of special treatment, a dinner, and a cake of the celebrant's choice, maybe a few presents and cards from many of the aunts and uncles - sometimes even a party.

     The excitement of yesterday's birthday was finally being able to celebrate with my family. My dinner choice was Maple Glazed Salmon and a carrot cake, and the set time was 5:30. What a lovely evening to look forward to. No but's should be attached to that statement, but... in the back of my mind was the thought that it would be a long time before the actual celebration. Thoughts like that come unbidden on your first birthday in a new place, going to a church where no one knows it's your birthday, and no particular plans for the day that made it different.

      The unintentional treat for the day was sleeping in a bit, so I didn't miss the breakfast in bed that wasn't there. Multiple Facebook wishes pushed me out the door with a smile on my face as I headed for church. Every so often June 17 falls on Father's Day, so the day is shared. Church and Sunday School focused, as they should, on dads and families. My empty stomach grumbled rather loudly and my mind wandered to waffles. My brunch for the day needed to be waffles. Where could I get waffles? This is IHOP country, and I know I have passed the blue roofed restaurants on one of those roads by now well traveled. I set out from church, with the goal of finding one. Twisting and turning and crossing over myself, I eventually ended up in downtown Lawrenceville, which is my touchstone. I know how to get home from there. Reluctant to give up, but beginning to be low on gas, I headed to the Kroger near home where I can get cheaper gas. As I pulled up to the pump, I noticed a large yellow Waffle House sign a block off to my left.

      Waffle House is not IHOP, but by now the word waffle was all I needed to see. Since I was by myself, I could ignore Beth's disdain for Waffle House, so I proceeded to drive over and walk in to a loud, crowded Waffle House bustling with activity and screamed orders. Beth's complaints about the place rattled in my head and sounded in my ears, but hunger won, and I stayed to wait for a place to sit. The sweet waitress offered me one of the two empty chairs at the high counter, but I deferred to a couple who had just walked in. Then she suggested joining another single lady diner. Memories of my mom and I being joined at a Rochester restaurant many years ago popped into my mind*, so I said, "Check with her and see if she is willing." She was, so I joined Amanda for brunch.

      We conversed about circumstances that brought us alone to Waffle House. For me it was the self-indulgent birthday treat, for her it was a self indulgent treat before she went to visit her husband in the Pulmonary Critical Care unit at the hospital. She cried a little and talked about him and about her work and family. We chatted about the weather, apartments, and moves. As Amanda left and we agreed brunch was more pleasant than we had anticipated, she stopped  to pick up a coffee for her husband and came back to the table to doctor it up to his liking.  Amanda left then, but did a quick turn around and said,"Don't let her take any money from you for your breakfast, because I paid for it. Happy Birthday." God's blessings take many shapes and forms.      

     The official celebration was delightful. Good food, a wonderful cake, and being with family represented all I needed. Having a couple of Georgia friends of Beth's and mine stop by for the cake was the frosting. Speaking of frosting, Beth's homemade carrot cake with cream cheese frosting decorated as a daisy, was out of this world good.

     God blessed me with a most enjoyable birthday.

*Bonus Story: 

     Rochester, being a medical town, boasts numerous restaurants within walking distance of The Mayo and has for years. One day when I was a teen, my mom and I decided to go to one of those restaurants. This was before the days of Applebee's and all the sit down restaurant chains, so we headed to one of the downtown places with a reputation for good food and reasonable prices for our outing. The place was hopping. 

      When we were seated the hostess leaned over and asked Mom whether we would be willing to have a single diner join us. My sweet mother said she would be fine if a lady joined us, and I rolled my eyes, subtly, of course. Within  moments, a lady joined us. Her husband was in the hospital and she needed to grab lunch. To break the ice, my mom said, "My name is Elsie and this is my daughter, Carol." 

     The lady brightened, and exclaimed, "My name is Elsie, too! Isn't that an interesting coincidence?"

      Smiling and nodding with a twinkle in her eye, Mom declared, "That is interesting, but I'll bet you don't have the same middle name. I don't know what my mother was thinking when she tagged her own name with Elsie for my middle name. I loved my mother, but I do not like my middle name."

      Elsie replied, "Frankly, I am not particularly fond of my middle name either. You don't suppose..." Both pondered whether they would actually share their hateful middle names, and finally, one of them said, "Sophie" and both of them, with incredulous countenances, started to laugh. Shaking my head I joined in the joke.

     The Elsie Sophies stayed in touch until our new friend died.

For Father's Day - Daddy's Girl

     I was a daddy's girl. My dad was 47 when I was born, and I was his second family. Just this year we have learned the details surrounding the deaths of his sons in WWII. Both were Army pilots; one was lost in a mechanical failure over the English Channel and the other due to a mechanical failure on a training mission in South Carolina. Statistics indicate that a huge number of WWII air deaths were not due to dog fights, strafing, or enemy ground fire; more crashes and deaths were caused by design, mechanical and engine problems.

     The story of my dad's courtship of my mom waits for another blog story about romance and love on one side, and fondness and expediency on the other. However, they married and I was born about a year later. His comment upon my birth was, "Thank God she's a girl. She won't have to go to war."

     Recently we found a letter my mom wrote to Beth, my daughter, about the Grandfather she never knew. Apparently, I was my dad's pride and joy from day one. Though I remember trips to the depot and roundhouse connected with the Chicago Great Western railroad as part of my earliest memories, I did not realize that the first trip occurred when I was only months old. No wonder that peculiar diesel and leather smell is such a powerful olfactory trigger.

     My own memories are of counting train cars wherever we went and watching the direction of engines change on the huge turn-style. The coke machine at the freight depot dispensed nickel bottles of coke, so my treat while the guys talked shop was a bottle of coke, and I thought I was pretty special to get pop, because we didn't get it at home. My dad received permission for me to ride with him one day, an original take your daughter to work day. We traveled about 25 miles to a mine site, and I spent time in the engine and caboose, even climbing up to the cupola. In the engine, I got to pull the whistle for the crossings.

     Fishing provided another special daddy-daughter time. I loved fishing with my dad, but coddling his little girl and baiting my hooks wasn't his style. I learned to squish the worm or spear the minnow on the hook. He usually took the fish off the hook, though. One particular time in Balsam Lake,Wisconsin, Dad met a farmer who invited him to fish for crappies on his private lake. We got up a daybreak and headed down the overgrown track leading to the lake. Dad helped me get set and reminded me about casting and fingering the reel before he donned his waders and moved out to deeper water.

     Of course, I managed to mess up my reel royally. The fish were biting so Dad said to just use the other one and be more careful. Dad was so excited as almost every cast yielded a large crappie. Thrilled just to be with him and not paying close attention to my casting from the shallows, I managed to get a huge backlash in the second reel, so I called out to my dad, but he said it was time to learn how to fix my mistakes. Clambering out of the water, I sat down dejectedly and began to pull at the knotted fish line. Beyond the black cord, I noticed my legs, covered with little leaches and striped with bloody streams. What followed was a bloody scream. My dad was probably as mad at me that day as he ever got, because as much as I loved him and wanted to  be with him as often as I could, when it came to blood I wanted my mommy.

The stories could go on, but on this Father's Day, I am so thankful for the memories I have of a dad who really loved me and spent time with me...a dad who encouraged my in my faith even before he came to his own ...a dad who died too soon at only 61. I missed him then and I miss him even yet. However, I know that from that loss was born a relationship with my mom that might well not have flourished as it did. The Lord works for good in all things..., and sometimes we get to see it.

Around the World and Neighborhood

     Coming from a relatively quiet and traditional rural community in Minnesota to the varietyand hubbub of the greater Atlanta metroplex provides a whole new view of life. Though The Preserve at Legacy Park is fairly secluded, in an area the size of Hutchinson, I can sample cuisine from around the world, from the Caribbean to the Orient to India, Africa, Europe and Central and South America. Not only that, most recognizable American stores are within 10 to 15 minutes. Churches from around the world dot many corners or are tucked just off the main thoroughfares.
     Saturday meant laundry in my intact laundry room. Having the laundry area close by and on the same floor creates a better incentive to actually do it. However, the incentive to fold the laundry didn't really improve. Likewise, having a dishwasher is veritable wonder, but it does not unload itself.

     The family was gone to North Carolina to celebrate Bill's dad's birthday and Father's Day, so I enjoyed the blessing of family by going over to let Ginger, the Blakely family dog, out for a potty break. Kenneled, she barked when I unlocked the  front door, but when I opened her door she came out and showed her submission by rolling over and letting me scratch her tummy. That acquiescence was a snare and a delusion. She trotted outside and returned to the door quickly while I swept up the Styrofoam tray shreds provided by one of the kitties. Upon coming back into the house, Ginger curled up on the sofa so I thought I would just read for a while.

     With a chapter finished, the time seemed right to move on, so I called Ginger, who came obediently and stood by the door to go out. That appeared to be a reasonable request, though I wondered if she would play hide-and-seek in the back yard. To my delight she did her business and came back to the door. However, when I told her to "Kennel" or "Go to bed", she bolted. We played chase around the circle, and then she disappeared. One more round of the downstairs convinced me that she had somehow silently bounded up the stairs, so I trudged up checking all the rooms, with no obvious signs of the dog. Inspiration led me a second time to William's room where access to the bed was quite easy. Bending over, I spied Ginger tucked way under the bed, and she was not interested in joining me. With no saber to rattle, a plastic hanger appeared to be a good choice, and it worked, though Ginger sat looking at me with disdain. Escape plans clearly filled her mind. The situation called for bold action, so shutting the door as she tried to bolt past me, I grabbed her and carried her to the kennel. Hopefully, she will have forgiven me by the time I arrive today.

     The next circuit for the day was at the nearby International Farmer's Market, which was like a trip around the world. My little Minnesota version of fresh produce, though greatly expanded since my youth, was nothing compared to the rows and rows of strange looking fruits, vegetables and herbs from around the world. Mangoes are not all the same, but different colors depending on the variety. Large strangely spike- studded fruits gave no clue as to what flavors would be yielded. Aloe leaves lay dried and ready for purchase. Peppers of many shapes, sizes, colors, heat and names in many languages created a colorful display. The seafood section alone was bigger than any entire meat section in my previous experience. People of many skin tones and nationalities had their choice of  fish or mollusk representing their culture, some frozen or filleted, but others swimming in a tank. A tour of the shelves provided cans and packages with names from multiple languages. Truly, the humor came with the intermixing of Jeno's and Chef Boyardee with all the other delicacies. My purchases were sadly traditional to my culinary tastes, but the invitation to explore new flavors may someday stretch my purchasing.

     However good the prices at the Farmer's Market are, I did learn that I will go elsewhere for my meat. Since I thoroughly enjoy a good steak, I've gotten in the habit of buying a nice big flavorful steak (the good stuff) and cutting into appropriate portions for several weeks. The steak purchased for last night had to be one of the toughest pieces of meat I've ever had - well except for my mom's pork chops. (Bless her heart)

    Imagine my mom's and dad's worlds and contrast it to my new cosmopolitan, variegated world, and the nature of this adventure continues to unfold. Oh, the joy of seeing the nearly infinite variety the Lord has created in people and in the foods for them to eat.

   

What Georgia is not Famous For

     Georgia may not be famous for pleasant, sunny days with cool gentle breezes, but that was the afternoon gift poolside at the apartment complex. After the morning water disaster, lunch at Subway, and a visit to the eyewear store to pick out a new frame for my new prescription, Katie wanted to swim in "my" big pool with a waterfall. Beth and I started out with our books, stretched out in a beach chair, The sun soon moved our way and the clouds thinned, so we transferred to the umbrella table. Thus shaded, and with a lovely breeze blowing, we forgot the books and just visited about myriad things from the mundane to the eternal. It was good.

      After staying up too late playing on the computer, the pleasant air and the quiet lulled me into a true sleep-in morning. That called for a veggie omelet brunch and catching up on the laundry. The PC chose this morning to fall gravely ill. It might just be the keyboard, but I would like to experiment before actually buying a new one. Besides, the family geeks are more likely to provide an accurate diagnosis. Thank goodness for my laptop, because I certainly would prefer not going computerless. Later, the plan calls for letting Ginger, the Blakely dog, out for a little free time while her people are up in North Carolina visiting Bill's dad for a combined birthday and Father's Day.

     Speaking of pleasant, sunny days it's another one. Temperature at 2:00 is 79 with a dew point of 61. Back in 55350 it's 80 with a dew point of 69. We'll see how they compare in July and August.

In All Things

   This blog started off as a daily or almost daily journal with the hopes that I could slowly blend into other kinds of posts. That may come because daily life isn't always all that interesting. However, today I am definitely cheating because my story must include the first hour of this morning as well.
   
     We know that in all things God works together for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose. We also know He is the God of the small stuff, not just the big things. The practical working out of this is my story of the day.

    You probably remember the GOOD NEWS/BAD NEWS story from yesterday. I did inform the management in a very non-complaining, just giving information way. Sherry, the property manager called early to apologize and tell me they would come and move my furniture back. It wasn't the furniture that concerned me, it was all the boxes, so I tried to call her to explain, but she was out getting food for the 55+ onsite potluck. So the "geezer" lunch became the appointed hour of conversation. My contribution to the luncheon was Chicken & Dried Cherry Pasta salad (Thank you, Marilyn Carlson), which by the way disappeared. Sherry came up to me and was completely apologetic over the incident and assumed that the carpet folks had already moved my furniture back. The carpet company may not bring that worker to this site again. When I returned after the tasty potluck, the furniture was indeed moved. The furniture - two pieces that will not even remain in the apartment. Every box rested exactly where it had been put the previous day.

     After an uncharitable thought, I decided this was the time to let it go and it became the good out of the bad. Moving and consolidating boxes, sending a few things to other destinations, and storing empty bins allowed me to tuck things against the wall and create an open living room space. How many days would it have been until I got to that without the grand carpet shuffle?

     Beth, Bill and Katie came for supper and to finish installing the washer and dryer. The if-I-do-say-so-myself delicious supper featured a Pork Chop and Peaches dish. The fresh thyme called for in the recipe came from the little herb garden on my porch. A couple of leaves of basil added another nuance of flavor and just a wee bit of pride in providing some of my own fresh contributions. Bill got the washer and dryer hooked up. That sounds like a relatively simple task, but since the vent hose within the dryer had been modified, it took days for the part to come and there was no easy access for fastening the new part. Bill's persistence prevailed, and after a successful test run of a small empty load with cold water, I loaded it up with whites for a hot wash and went to bed.

     Morning called for the transfer to the dryer, so a plunged in to complete that task. Yes, I said plunged in. Water covered the laundry room floor. Being a seasoned water fighter, the nice clean white towels in the washer became the mops, soaking up the water. Dollar signs popped up in my brain- replacing a washer and dryer... well OK, it could go unmatched...so just think washer - maybe a repair... not sure it's worth a repair...put the remaining stuff in the dryer...this is too much to think about...let's have breakfast and check email.

     Knock, knock, knock! Sharp wraps at my door surprised me. I opened it to the maintenance guys from the complex. A neighbor had noticed the sidewalk getting wet and reported it. Embarrassed doesn't begin to describe how I felt, and I explained the situation.

     "Do you mind if I come in and take a look? Maybe I can help you out and save you some money," requested the polite smiling maintenance man.

     "Sure, I'll take any help or suggestions I can get." All three came in, and studied the back of the washer. They found that the hot water hose going into the machine had come a little bit loose and was dripping. After tightening it up, he encouraged me to just call if that didn't take care of it or if it happens again.

Once again, out of bad came all kinds of good, including reinforcement of why apartment living is definitely best for me right now.

   

A Fine Day

     One of my daily emails read this morning provided the title for the day. The quote comes from Dr. James MacDonald. 

• Life is filled with the typical. We sleep. We wake. We eat. We drink. We come. We go. We talk.  We listen. We breathe. “How was your day?” we ask each other, and the typical response given is “Fine.”  “Fine” means it’s been another typical day.

     Though the context for his comment was on what would be typical for Jesus, it applies to what happens when one works to find a new routine in a new place. The day had its ups and downs, but it was a Fine Day. 


     Silly as it sounds, the morning began with reboxing stamping supplies before taking them to Beth's home where we will set up a stamping studio. Well, perhaps not a studio, but a place where we can get together and stamp to our heart's content. Certainly, the apartment does not have room for a stamping alcove to say nothing of a "studio." With that complete, I rerorganized and consolidated things waiting for a home and almost managed to have a sitting area established in the living room.


     The foray into the world of southern beauty salons turned out quite well. Even Beth agrees. Splurging in honor of the adventure, I had both cut and color done. Yes folks, my blond is from a box. The splurge represented a really big deal because Julie not only colored my hair but added low-lights which turned out nicley. The only problem remaining is that I really like the look, and splurge is the right word to describe the cost. Getting 25% off as a first time customer was helpful, but the computer won't lie and neither will I, so the next time will be pricier. 


    Returning to the apartment provided a jump into a good news/bad news situation. The carpet man had come and replaced the padding removed after the air conditioning drain plugged and water flooded the hallway. They even replaced more padding in the living room and all of the hall to make it all even. GOOD NEWS. However, they moved everything. Boxes, bins, cable box and every item not in a place lay in jumbled piles with little rhyme or reason in the newly open sitting area and in the dining area, virtually blocking access to the kitchen. BAD NEWS. I could skinny into the kitchen to cook chicken for the next day's salad. GOOD NEWS. The items left near the front for easy access lay near the back of the new piles. BAD NEWS. The carpet edges did not show, a job well done. GOOD NEWS. A dark, flat object laid on the edge of the carpet in the hallway. It was a razor sharp blade. BAD NEWS. I anticipated the danger and picked it up carefully. GOOD NEWS. Evidence clearly confirmed that the carpet man had made use of the guest bathroom. BAD NEWS. I could flush and drop the seat. GOOD NEWS.


     Finally, truly making it a good "fine day", I met several lovely women at the church I attended Sunday. Wallflowers and Butterflies was not a special program to encourage ladies to appreciate each other, it was a simple practical application, putting people together to get to know a few others a little better. What a perfect opportunity for me. Thank you, Lord. I even remember three women's full names with a mental picture of their faces this morning.


     A fine day, indeed.

Missing Tuesday

     Tuesdays have been special days for years. Tuesday Women's Discipleship at Shalom has been on the radar for me since I retired the first time, only missing the two years I taught full time. As a leader for the years I was there, Tuesday was a focal point, studying for the lesson and then being part of a wonderful group of ladies sharing insights into God's Word. The leaders also did a second study related in some way to our role as leaders. The final highlight was a trip to a local restaurant for a long, leisurely, laughter-filled lunch. We moved from restaurant to restaurant not only for variety, but so that our hilarity did not cause any problems for them. Let's just say that the joy of the Lord permeated our gatherings, and we expressed it with our own characteristic laughter, some more unique than others, but not one of us possessed a really quiet laugh. Even the week of cleaning, Beth and I joined them. Last Tuesday was truck arrival day, but this week was just Tuesday, and it was hard. My story is past tense because that part of my life is changed, and for the present not in any way replaced. Something will come tol provide special friendship and joy, but it will come in time after relationships have been built. There will never be a group just like it, nor should there be. But for a while, Tuesdays will be a little harder than the other days. It's OK, though not easy, because I am on an adventure. I still say "Road Trip."

     Other than that, my second Tuesday in Georgia was pretty non-eventful. I did get the porch set up and a different non-permanent table up in the dining area and consolidated boxes and bins somewhat. A semblance of what will be is beginning to emerge, but we are still awaiting the dryer part which is the first domino that needs to tumble. I did get the nickel tour of the "Club house" and now know where I can do some laundry until the domino falls.

     On the weather note as I track how it works here, a cold front came through last night, bringing with it warmer temperatures. Hunh? Oh, but the humidity dropped. Honestly, the weather people were shaking their heads at the phenomenon of a cold front followed by warmer temperatures. Weather is crazy everywhere, I guess. And, it always provides a topic of conversation. Enjoy yours, wherever you are today.

   

Rainy Days

     Rainy days and Mondays always get me down. That lyric describes yesterday. Don't worry, it's not as bad as it sounds; the sun shone a little, too. The remaining boxes and bins that have not moved for a week testify to the ongoing need for energetic, focused effort. The kitchen counter got clear and recluttered several times, but it is definitely moving in the right direction. Careful analysis of the cupboard space tells me that while the kitchen has a bigger footprint and definitely more counter space, it does not have more, but less storage, explaining the need for the cabinet waiting in the back of the van. Assembly is dependent on access to its location, now blocked by the washer which is waiting to be installed until the dryer part comes and it can be put in first. Clearing a space in the living room is also required for assembly. Dominoes still standing.
     It will take a long time in Georgia to figure out normal weather patterns. Monday was interesting with alternating sun, downpours, generalized mist, and sometimes all of it in the space of a mile of travel down the road. At one point I could see rain behind me, charcoal gray clouds beside me and I was driving through deep puddles, in sunshine, slipping on sunglasses. My errands included another trip to the Mall of Georgia area to pick up a Bible Study book and to browse furniture stores. Given the need for a new car and a new sofa, it is safe to say I will not be getting the sofa at any of those stores.
     No matter the weather outside and the gloomy, nonproductive personal status, when Katie and her friend Lily wanted to stop by after their library trip, I was reminded why I am so glad to be here. The few Beanie Babies I kept called their names and soon they were setting them up and playing. My attempts at finding an audible and not obnoxious ringtone produced hilarity as the two girls created specific dance moves to each trial tone. That filled the cluttered apartment with great laughter and much joy. 

First Weekend in Georgia

Saturday and Sunday, June 9 & 10 Weekend 1 - More of the "Why I'm here."

     With the apartment still cluttered with boxes, bins and unpacked stuff looking for a home, it's clear that focused effort is needed. Unfortunately, much is stalled because we await the arrival of the dryer part that will allow access to the pantry. However, the problem is greater than just that, but Saturday marked the search and Sunday marked the purchase of a kitchen drawer cabinet from IKEA to slip into a large open space in the pantry thus solving many of the kitchen problems, and when they are solved, the rest sorts out pretty easily, or so I say now.
     Saturday fun included Beth and Kjersten stopping by for milk and cookies after shopping for California clothes. Kjersten is off to Grandma and Grandpa Beavers for several weeks. While she was getting on the plane Sunday afternoon, granddaughter Katie and I hung out at IKEA. Looks like IKEA could be a big part of my decorating, but first the space has to be cleared.
     Sunday marked the beginning of the search for a church here in Georgia. Let me tell you, as pretty much a life-long Baptist, this should be easy here. However, my standards, hopes and expectations are high coming from my wonderful Shalom back in Minnesota. I may be at the long end of the Baby Boomers, but my heart for worship and truth presented in fresh ways narrows the choices. The actual selection du jour boiled down to what would work with the family plans for brunch before Kjersten's trip to the airport. I attended Gwinnet Community Church for an early service. Warm greetings, a good welcoming person with a "professional" name tag, meaningful worship, a forthright sermon dealing with tough concepts at the end of Romans 8, a dedication of an outgoing missions team, and obvious concern for world and local missions were impressive. Might God do again, what He did in Hutchinson and put me in the first church I visited? We'll pray and see.
     The week ahead promises additional joyful adventures attending a Wallflowers and Butterflies Event on Wednesday night at the church and going out for lunch with a group at the apartments on Thursday. Oh, yes and some unpacking.


   

The Reason I Came

Joy in the Journey - Day 9 (June 8, 2012) 

     Today was a good reminder of the reason for starting this journey - time with my family, this time with Beth. We made a Trader Joe's run and ate a fabulous Basil Pesto Pizza at California Pizza Kitchen. The distance and time to TJ's is about a third of what it was back in the Cities. Every trip follows a different route, offering views of more things to see and do in the days ahead. Beth is an adventurer, too, so using her greater knowledge of what should happen, we tried an entirely new route back to my place, successfully I might add. 
      Success on such forays into the unknown is not assured here. Because many roads are labeled NE or NW or SE or SW, you might assume that there is a grid somewhere, but you would essentially be wrong. Once upon a time, in somebody's mind, perhaps a grid existed, but geography, time, growth and community pride have made the grid virtually useless. First you must know the reference for those directions , and that differs in each community. Knowing the city or unincorporated area you live in also seems to be a logical first step. Interestingly, so far my computer address has shown me in Lawrenceville, Suwanee, and Duluth. Technically, I guess I live in an unincorporated area which has been attached to Lawrenceville for postal purposes. 
      To those of us from the Midwest, that underlying grid implies straight lines and corners. Virtually, nothing here is on the grid, but rather algebraically speaking it is on an infinite set of slopes. Two different streets can cross each other more than once, rather like a meandering stream. If that isn't enough confusion, street names change en route. On another foray yesterday, I got more than a little confused as I set off on Duluth Highway, arrived in the actual town of Lawrenceville only to discover that I was no longer on Duluth Highway, nor did my objective, Lawrenceville Highway exist on a street sign. Apparently both change names to local streets in town. I guess the highway numbers might be important to learn. Therein lies a sample of a phenomenon that happens frequently around here, roads changing names, usually at major intersections. The easiest one is Bethesda Church Road turning into Bethesda School Road, but most of the rest have no relationship, you just have to learn it. For example, Pleasant Hill Road, an interstate exit becomes Lester and Beaver Ruin Road becomes Killian Hills Road. This will no doubt be my brain exercise for the next few months.
     Of course, I am supposed to be unpacking not gallivanting. However, the stalemate in the pantry closet makes it a challenge to want to unpack boxes for the kitchen. I think I have a solution to my storage problem, but it will have to wait until the washer and dryer are set up. It would appear that the Lord intends to keep working on my patience. Of course, I wanted to get the kitchen done first, so now flexibility is being tested as well. 
     An adventure is a growing experience; thank you, Lord, for the challenges that make me grow, wherein lies much joy.

Joy in the Journey - Day 8

An Adventure

     Not that everyday isn't an adventure, but Thursday was a little more so because I ventured off on my own to find Barnes and Noble at the Mall of Georgia, not to be confused with the Mall of America, though it is huge. Of course, that trip happened after emptying some boxes and bins, creating more mess than was reasonable. The old saying, "A Place for everything, and everything in its place" certainly sounds good. Let me tell you; it doesn't matter how much was thrown out, sold or given away, moving from a three bedroom with basement, garage and storage shed to a two bedroom apartment with big closets does not bode well for following the maxim. Too much everything and not enough place stops progress every once in a while.

     I decided that since my Nook charger was missing, I would go buy a new one and ask them about a couple of quirks with my Nook that I didn't like. Using my Google search, I found the nearest Barnes and Noble and looked at the directions, but I didn't like them because they put me on the freeway, and I am trying to acclimatize slowly. So I remembered that the local road crosses a connector to the Buford Road, which I wanted to take up to the mall. I turned out my driveway and waited to cross that highway, but it didn't come up. Soon I was at the main road I know from all the prior visits. Figuring that if I turned left I would eventually encounter the desired Buford Road, I proceeded and indeed did find it several miles down the pike. I recognized it as being the way from Beth's house to Mall of Georgia, so off I went. I always figure mistakes that teach you something are really valuable, perhaps more so than doing it right the first time. By the way the road I was looking for was on the other main drag near the apartment.

     Barnes and Noble provided the exciting part of the day! I stepped up to tell them my tale of woe about the Nook freezing up and to ask for a charger replacement. The young man was accommodating and asked about the troubles. Once I explained, he asked if it was under warranty which it was, so he proposed checking to see if it had the right software, and suggested that perhaps they would just switch out the device. As he tried to turn it on, he encountered the problem and in checking my account noted that I had complained before, so he immediately called the manager and swapped it out, downloading all my old files. I did help his sales for the day by purchasing a new cover on sale. So I did not buy the $19.99 charger and did buy a new cover for $14.99, thus saving $5.00 and came away with a new Nook. :-) I drove directly home with no side trips.

     Finally, Beth and Bill came over and helped me finish setting up Wi-Fi and all the computer stuff and to get the washer and dryer hooked up. The computer system went well. The dryer - not so much. The venting and those ridiculous snake like pipes proved too much. Bill poked and prodded and turned the dryer upside down to try to access the interior and get the internal part hooked up. Before we were done all of us had our hands in the dryer and as soon as one end was fastened the other would come off. A little research showed Bill that the original piece was a single straight metal piece. It had to be changed in Beth's apartment, and the original piece got lost. So it will have to be ordered, and I now have an upside-down dryer in my laundry/pantry closet. It's a good thing I have a lot of clean underwear.

  

Joy in the Journey – Day 7

One week ago today, I signed the papers, and we headed for Georgia and my new home. The adventure continues, but though I am jumping ahead, I am pleased that I am writing this at home, not at Einstein’s Bagels, though this will not be a total desertion of Einstein’s.

The unpacking is like a treasure hunt and Christmas rolled into one. Putting it away is another story. The treasures are multiplying while the space seems to disappear. I have decided bins and baskets will be my new mantra, with the addition of some stackable drawers or something. The kitchen has lots of counter space, but not much more storage space than my old kitchen and especially lacks drawers. If I were making my own kitchen plans, I think I would opt for fewer cupboards and more drawers. At this point, you would find it challenging to figure out where the counter is, but the situation is temporary, I hope.

The good news is that little damage or breakage occurred in loading, unloading and transit. One vase and a bowl did not make the journey intact. By the time I found them, however, that was not necessarily a bad thing. “One less thing that needs to find a home.”  While the dear friends packing the truck were finishing, I asked a couple of young men if they would haul up the chairs that were to be left in the basement so that I would have seating for the last few days. They dutifully trudged downstairs and bounded up quickly to announce there were no chairs. Oops. The chairs were on the truck, well buried, and made the trip to Georgia. The blessing is that they are providing a place to sit here while I wait to get furniture that I really want. Another blessing in disguise included finding the an old set of dishes that I was trying to sell online. When they didn’t sell, I promised them to a friend, but when I went to retrieve them for her, the bin had disappeared. Assuming I had taken them to WIC in my sleep, I emailed that they were gone. Yesterday, Beth said, “There’s Iva’s dishes.” Yes, they got loaded on the truck, and long story short, Beth decided she did want them after all. Sorry, Deb.

The task is daunting, but I have removed many boxes and have 14 empty bins, so progress is occurring. All the Christmas bins fit in the storage area on the porch and more bins will soon fill all the nooks and crannies. The joy in the new adventure continues with starting to look for affordable cars, many of which are almost as old as mine – how does that work? Finding ways to accommodate my stuff to the space includes trips to Goodwill, chucking, and finding creative storage solutions. As I unpack boxes, I think of the friends who helped pack and load them. Some items provide precious memories of the past both recent and long ago. It is in many ways a sweet time.