Showing posts from June, 2011

Squirrels, Bacon, God and the Devil

One of the things I remember most about my grandmother was her sense of humor - and her stories. Even as a young girl I repeated them to any willing audience.
My mother cautioned me. “Marie, just because your Grandmother told you that, doesn’t mean you should repeat it.”

Now, my grandmother did not cuss. She was a woman of tremendous faith and to my knowledge never spoke or acted improperly, but my mother followed Emily Post to the letter. Bodily functions were never mentioned, and the particular story in question was a satire on Gone With the Wind...

“Mama, what happened to Daddy?”

“Well, son he is Gone With the Wind…”

 My mother was horrified.

Other stories described everyday experiences, told with a humorous twist, such as the two hunters determined to live off the land. After several days with no success, except one small squirrel, they argued over who would eat it.

“Tell ya, what.” Frank said. “Let’s go to sleep, and the one who has the best dream gets the squirrel.”

Howard a…

The Spice of Life

My palms were sweating, my breathing was rapid, and shallow, my imagination was running amok. The warning had been explicit: Do not walk around the compound at night without an armed guard.  I looked ahead. Twenty more yards to the chalet.
Granted, my husband did have certain skills ( he was a police officer and big game hunter), but those skills didn't mean much since he wasn’t carrying a gun. The man with the gun was back at the lighted (safe) enclave with the rest of our group, enjoying his glass of sherry. Bill had drained his in one gulp, and hurried me with mine. He wanted to go back to the chalet to “wash up” before dinner and did not want to wait for the rest.
Five more yards.

The reason behind the warning was valid. Two weeks prior to our stay, two people were mauled and killed by lions - inside the electrified, fifteen foot fence. The older gentleman was attacked just a few feet from his chalet (probably just about where we were), and his wife was killed when she came…

And Another Thing

It wasn’t fair. How could they do this? (Fill in any situation – most would fit.) I was so angry I could barely wait to tell my bus mates and co-workers. I vented, I raved and I justified – until the next morning. At five am Jimmy Cricket extolled the virtues of Wishing Upon A Star. I wasn't in the mood for a Pollyanna wake up call and wished I’d changed my alarm to something more like I Can’t Get No Satisfaction.

I rolled out of bed, shuffled out to the kitchen and made coffee. While it brewed I stared out the window. Light was just showing in the eastern horizon. Clear sky, maybe we’d finally have a sunny, warm day.

The scene faded, receding behind a thin veil. I saw Jesus on the cross. As I watched, He transposed His face over my perceived enemy, for the second time. The first being right after my divorce.  I was being reminded, once again, of God’s opinion of anger - even justified anger.

Justified. That was exactly what I had done - justified my action, my decisions, at the…

Life’s Embellishments

My devotion, God’s Little Lessons on Life for Women quoted Sherlock Holmes. Holmes said flowers were not necessary to life. They were an embellishment given to us from a compassionate God (from The Adventure of the Naval Treaty by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle).
After owning and managing a flower shop for ten years, flowers were not an embellishment to my life. They were a means to an end and represented the stress that accompanies small business ownership. I did not see beautiful blooms or notice their sweet fragrance. They represented hours of standing ankle deep in floral debris creating Something Spectacular while answering phones, taking orders, organizing deliveries and assisting walk in customers. When the holidays ended, I did not want to celebrate anything except the chance to shower and go to bed.

The last Valentine’s Day I owned the shop began in the usual way with aching back and feet, allergies running amok from too much exposure to all the pollen, and panic over cash flow. My …