All The Modern Conveniences

 

Image courtesy of MemeMonkey.com

Recently we updated our robot vacuum.  I'm ashamed to say we killed the first one, and he--Bob was his name--died a violent and untimely death.  RIP, Bob.  

We muddled along the old fashioned way for several years until Copper's shedding finally got the better of us, and we realized we needed mechanical housecleaning help.  

Off I went on a shopping spree and came home with a new vacu-bot made by Shark.  During the course of setting up the wireless app (thank you, Bigger), we were asked what we wanted to name said vacu-bot.  Cubby promptly said "Charlie" based on her favorite vintage Scooby-Doo episode of Charlie The World's Greatest Robot.  I'll let you Google that episode rather than bore you with the details.  

Once Charlie was all hooked up to our computer network, we turned him on and set him loose.  I must say, I was duly impressed!  He didn't get stuck in the toe kick under the kitchen cupboards, and he fit under the loveseat in the living room.  Go Charlie!  Plus, he did a pretty amazing job at sucking up Copper's fluff.  

I will add here that an added bonus that isn't mentioned anywhere is that because we have to clear the pathway for Charlie, we do a lot more picking up than has been true in the past.  Don't judge.  

I will also say that in the Charlie-versus-yarn combat, yarn will eventually win because it chokes Charlie and he passes out in the middle of the floor until someone pulls the yarn out.  

The whole connect-the-robot-to-the-network thing triggered a conversation about other household conveniences.  

This is going to take an odd turn now, so if you're squeamish or easily offended by bodily functions...please stop reading right now.  

Captain has always had a fascination with bidets.  He thinks they are an amazing invention and should be installed in everyone's bathroom.  

I looked at him and said, "I have one word for you:  enema."  'Nuff said. 

He debated with me that they were ecologically friendly because no one would have to kill trees to make toilet paper anymore, they would result in reduced water usage nation wide, and they were sanitary because no matter what the Charmin Bears say, using toilet paper can be messy.

I love our planet as much as the next person.  I've watched every single one of Sir David Attenborough's documentaries.  

However.

I'm not sure I'm ready to give up my dependence upon toilet paper yet.  

Besides, it just seems to me that using a stingy stream of water for this purpose is like trying to clean your car by spraying the hose on it.  Sometime you just gotta use some elbow grease and a cloth!  

And let me tell you, every mama out there knows that there is a fricking good reason that baby wipes are moisture-based.  

If there is someone out there reading this who agrees with Captain, more power to you!  Just please don't ask me to ride that ride.  

Something I Thought I'd Never See

While driving home after a thoroughly enjoyable escape to Duluth this past weekend, Captain and I were listening to a WCCO radio newscast.  They touched on the unrest in Washington D.C. and how state capitols were also beefing up security.  They mentioned Minnesota specifically, so we thought we'd detour to St. Paul and see what was what.

First off, I have to admit I have never been to or even near our state capitol.  We didn't have a field trip there in elementary school, and I didn't chaperone the field trips there that our kids went on.  I was sort of excited to explore the grounds at least; obviously we wouldn't get into the building on a Sunday and just unannounced.  

We didn't struggle as hard to find the capitol as we have when trying to find various other spots over the years.  We really do not do well in congested traffic.  However, once we found it, all the joy of our weekend leaked away.

At every street entrance leading onto capitol grounds there were (a) barricades, (b) two state patrol vehicles stationed with lights flashing, and (c)--this is the one that was a punch in the gut--armed National Guard members ready to defend.  Additionally, there were armed law enforcement personnel patrolling the grounds.

I wanted to cry; and in fact did a little bit.  How did we get here?  How in the name of all that is holy did America come to a point where disagreement requires violence?  How?!

My high school civics class was a long time ago, and my memory isn't as good as it used to be, but I'm certain that the First Amendment was written to protect citizens who voiced criticism of their government in a peaceful, dignified, and decorous manner.  Peaceful protests are absolutely a good and honorable thing.  Even if I don't agree with the demonstrators, I respect their right to voice their opinion.  Peacefully.  Please read on before reacting to that statement.  

I am just as certain that the First Amendment in no way, shape, or form outright protects or even implies protection for violence, whether against the government or fellow citizens.  My memory ain't that bad.  

Having said all of that, let me state unequivocally that the violence on January 6 at our nation's Capitol Building was wrong.  I don't care if it was Trump supporters, Biden supporters, Black Lives Matter supporters, Police Lives Matters supporters, a field trip of kindergarteners, baboons escaped from the zoo, or aliens invading from outer space.  

I.  Don't.  Care.

It.  Was.  Wrong.  

Before anyone tears me apart for my opinion, please go back and read that paragraph again, because I covered both sides there.  It was wrong.  Period.  Full stop.  

How did we get here?  When did it become untenable to agree to disagree?  When did the idea of "only we can be right" become so widespread?  

I don't know.  I wish I had the answer.  

Even though the question is too complex to be answered in a blog or on Facebook, it needs to be pondered, because I want to someday go to our state capitol, wander the grounds, and marvel at our great democratic values without having to see armed military personnel protecting it.  

A Lightning Bug From Jesus

 

“Grandpa, are you going to sleep in the tent with us too?" 

“No, I think Cindy and I will sleep in the house. You have a good time, but be sure to bring Cindy into the house before you settle down.” 

My grandkids, Reggie and MaryAnn, and I were excited at the thought of spending the night in the tent.  My husband Herb had mowed a spot in the evergreens a short distance from our house where a missing tree left a cozy little clearing. 

We had made almost all the preparations. The tent was set up and ready, with sleeping bags and pillows. Snacks were already in the tent, as well as favorite books and a flashlight. 

I thought it would be fun to have a jar of lightning bugs in the tent, and we planned to catch them at dusk. 

My feeble husband was not up to sleeping on the ground, so Cindy, our beagle cross, was to occupy her usual spot by his bedside. 

After supper was put away, dishes done, and showers in Grandpa's downstairs bathroom, the excitement grew as it was getting closer to the time to go to the tent. 

But Cindy was barking at something in a tree up the hill by the neighbors' house, so we went to bring her back to the house. She really did not want to give up on her critter, and would not even let us get close to her. 

The sun had dropped out of sight, and lightning bugs were starting to flicker here and there, but there was nothing else to do but go back to the house and get Cindy's leash, which she totally respected.. With leash in hand, the three of us soon caught her, and convinced her to come back to the house, where we took her to Grandpa's bedroom. 

Now to catch some lightning bugs! I grabbed a small jelly jar and cover, but Mary Ann persuaded me that we needed holes in the cover. 

Well, of course, that was the humane thing to do, so to the workbench we went to find a nail and hammer to make a few quick holes. 

All the while, darkness was settling down around us. We could see the moving glow of the firefly, but could not follow him after the light went out. Our quest became a series of futile dashes here and there, but after the flash of light, the little insect was lost against the backdrop of evergreens.

I think I was more disappointed than the kids were.  It had been a long time since this old grandma had caught lightning bugs and gone to sleep with their phosphorescent glow serving as a living night light. 

“Grandma, we don't have to have lightning bugs. After all, they would just be dead in the morning. They always are.” 

Reggie was right. We didn't have to have them. 

Since we couldn't catch them anyway, we gave up and headed down the path toward the tent. I was still carrying the jar in my right hand. 

As we walked through the trees, swinging my arms in a relaxed stride, I felt a cool spot on my right thumb. Without thinking, I brought my left hand over and stroked my thumb. 

Imagine my surprise to see a firefly’s glow between my loosely curled fingers! Using only my thumb and forefinger, I was able to loosen the cover on the jar. 

Almost afraid to breathe, I quickly dropped him into the jar and replaced the cover! 

Letting out a squeal of delight to the kids who had walked on ahead, I excitedly announced, “Look what I have! A lightning bug!” Then, in a more serious tone, “This is a lightning bug from Jesus!” 

They were awed to hear how the little fellow had come to sit on my thumb! We gave him a place of honor in the tent, between the books and the cookies and fruit. 

Whenever the kids stay over, we read Bible stories. The crossing of the Red Sea and Jonah and the whale seemed even more powerful by flashlight. The little jar with our lightning bug was a reminder that the God who did these mighty things had just done a special little exciting thing for us. We then went outside for snacks (to prevent crumby sleeping bags), and back inside for prayers. 

How often do you think God hears children include a firefly in their list of thank you's for a happy summer day? 

“What do we do next?” I asked. “I've never camped out before, so you will have to tell me what comes next." 

"Ghost stories!!” 

"Really? But I don't know any." I was concerned about Mary Ann, only 3 years old, and did not want to scare her. 

Reggie knew one, so he proceeded to tell us about the old couple who got a phone call, and then a knock on their door, both of which brought the same scary message: 

“Bloody Fingers! Bloody Fingers! Coming to get you! Coming to get you!” Since Reggie was telling the story, my role was to be scared, so I waved my hands in front of my face and groaned in fear, at which both kids laughed hysterically. 

“Grandma, it's just pretend!” Reggie assured me. 

And Mary Ann added, "It's just ‘petend,' Grandma!" 

So I would settle down until the next time. After the third repeating of the "Bloody Fingers''line, when the old man opened the door, we find it is only a boy with a small cut on his hand. Then we all laughed, as the joke was on me for being scared. 

I was pleased that a 6-year old could tell a story so well! 

It was time for Lights Out, and we held up the lightning bug to see him still blinking away. Reggie was soon breathing deeply, and Mary Ann softly singing herself to sleep. It took me a little longer, lying on the hard ground and thinking of Herb in our comfortable bed! I had not mentioned air mattresses when I asked my daughter if we could use the tent and sleeping bags. 

But sleep did come, and morning also. To our surprise, we found the lightning bug was still alive! Was it because he was just one little bug in the jar, instead of 30 or more usually crowded in? Or was it because our loving God, who created lightning bugs in the first place, who called this one to sit on my thumb and be captured, also chose to keep him alive so we could be doubly delighted to give him back to Jesus in the morning? 

Since I tend to call upon God mainly for the big problems, this little miracle has shown me that God really does love us, and is happy to give us joy in all measures. That the God who holds the universe in His hands would arrange such a delightful little miracle for a silly old grandma and her two beloved grandchildren, is evidence that He not only cares about our necessities, but also all of the little things we take pleasure in. And the more credit we give Him, the more we praise and thank Him, the more He will give us and do for us. 

I imagine He was sitting up in Heaven chuckling at all the fun we had on our night in the tent! 

Image used: https://bloximages.newyork1.vip.townnews.com/nola.com/content/tncms/assets/v3/editorial/9/fd/9fdbf5ee-082f-5385-b854-a12e8db5d996/5d126897996d9.image.jpg?resize=400%2C210

On Target

I recently had the chance to take a Pistol Basics for Women class in Rochester with a friend.  I'm not unfamiliar with guns but my experience is more of hunting rifles or trap shoot shotguns (and that was a one-time thing).  Hand guns are not in my wheelhouse.  

Well, okay, there was that stint as a sophomore with the Olmsted County Sheriff's Department Junior Deputy Program that include the chance to shoot 100 rounds with a .38 revolver, but that was nearly 40 years ago!  And I wasn't all that sharp back then, either.  

But I digress.

So the class started out with just some basic information on the anatomy of a hand gun, why a person might want to have a permit to own a hand gun, and the logistics of aiming and firing a hand gun. 

Well, theory is all well and good but the only way to learn is to do it, right?

So the instructor takes us to the retail area to pick out our target sheet.  I pick a cute one with cartoon blue birds, squirrels, a fence with a bullseye on it and beer cans across the bottom.  Isn't it cute?

The targets were set up 5 yards down the lane.  Now, before anybody snarks about that being close enough for a blind person to hit it, keep in mind that I have bilateral lazy eyes that have been surgically addressed.  I'm still blind as a bat for the most part unless whatever I'm looking at is at the end of my nose.  

I'm not kidding.  Ask Captain.  This is why I'm not allowed to navigate on a long drive.  By the time I see a road sign that is relevant to our travels...we've passed it and are now heading to a different state.

But I digress again.

So the target is 5 yards away and measures 2 x 3 feet.  I load the clip, take my stance, and aim for the bullseye.  

How did it go, you ask?  I will let Cubby answer this:  "Gramma, there aren't any holes in the bullseye!"

Yep, missed it every dang time.  I kept hitting the squirrel above and to the left.  Killed the crap out of that squirrel, but never hit the bullseye.  Fine.  Reload the clip and aim at the center squirrel.  Missed him but killed the crap out of the bluebird above and to the left. 

Do you see the theme here?

The instructor came over to see what the problem was, and we figured out that I am left-eye dominant, the solution for which is to close your right eye.  Now I'm a one-eyed blind bat.  Yep, put a gun in my hand; that's a good idea.  

Turns out I actually did do better that way; whoda thunk it?  By the time I fired the last 10 rounds, I actually put 6 of them in the squirrel I intended them to hit.  Go me!

Still, the only reason I took the target paper home was to give Bigger a chance to chide his mama.  Backstory note:  Both Bigger and Molly have taken the conceal and carry class and are licensed to own a handgun.  

He surprised me, as he often does.  He looked at it and after I explained how I hadn't "killed" the squirrel or bird I intended to, he reminded me that killing is the absolutely avoided most last resort thing ever when handling a gun.  Deterrence, he told me, was the key.  

"Mom, you put 49 shots out of 50 into an area the same size as the average male torso.  Had this been a 'real life' self defense situation, you'd have done some damage."  

Huhn, that was a novel way to look at it for me.  

This happens to me a lot.  I get tunnel vision on something and get frustrated or upset when the particular situation doesn't turn out the way I expected or wanted it to.  I have to learn over and over and over that if you just turn your thinking just a little bit to one side or the other--to make it a very basic analogy--you will see a whole different view of the situation that might not be quite so frustrating; it might even be uplifting or happy.  Who knows?

All I know is that I enjoyed the shooting experience and would enjoy more target practice.  I do not ever, under any circumstances, want to or plan to use a hand gun for self defense purposes.  I don't mind "killing" a paper target, but that's as detrimental as I want to be.  

Zoom, Zoom

Is anyone else having a hard time functioning in this pandemic-centric world?  I am a social person so the whole "social distancing" and "no hugging" thing is NOT okay with me!  

Not only that, but the technological work-arounds to satisfy the social distancing guidelines are something of a struggle.  Have you all seen the Progressive Insurance commercial where they are trying to have a Zoom meeting and Flo has her nose right up against the screen and someone else's dog is barking and another person is muted?  

I've lived that.  Invariably, I am the one who is muted but talking a mile a minute.  Then I figure out I'm on mute and I lose my train of thought and can't even start over.  It's good that we have these electronic tools to use, but I wish I was more savvy about it.  What happened to me; I used to be kind of tech savvy?

I remember when we were kids and VCRs were the new thing.  My dad always like to have the newest thing, so when my parents bought one, it was top of the line and expensive.  My brothers and I were told in no uncertain terms that we were not to touch that VCR because of it's expense.  That was on Sunday.

Fast forward to Friday--so five days later--and Dad wanted to record Dallas but couldn't figure out how to program the machine to do that.  What to do but ask one of the kids to do it.  

Fast forward another 40 years, and I have an expensive tablet that I use for entertainment, and Cubby--who just turned 6 years old--is the one I turn to for advice.  It's amazing to me.  

There are other things that Cubby is teaching me.  She can have her CrabbyPants on when she goes to bed on a given night, but without fail she wakes up smiling and happy to greet the day.  I need to remember that each day is a new opportunity to be happy and grateful.  

She teaches me to find joy and awe in the most simple of things.   A bubble, a flower, and a hummingbird in flight can make her eyes go wide and her hands cover her mouth in pure delight.  I often forget that in my busy days of work and obligations so much that I don't even find the joy in something as monumental as good health or gainful employment.  

What do I teach her?  I teach her how to put her finger in her mouth and make that popping sound like a champagne cork releasing.  Not quite so impressive in the grand scheme of things.  

She teaches me patience, especially when I'm trying to explain something to her that seems simple to me but is completely alien to her.  "Gramma, I'm only 6 years old...I don't know everything you know."  Wow, cut off at the knees by a kindergartner.  Sometimes the truth stings.  

But most of all Cubby constantly reminds me that unconditional love is the epitome of the human condition.  If she hears me being judgmental or what she terms as "mean" to or about someone, she will look me in the eye and ask, "Does Jesus think that way?"  Whoa Nelly, can we can mature thought process?!

There is a long-lived saying about the wisdom of children that goes "Out of the mouths of babes," and it rings true generation after generation for a reason.  

May we never be too old to relearn lessons of love and tolerance.  

Images used:  www.society6.com

Accentuate the Positve

Image courtesy of sayingimages.com

Hello friends, I hope this finds you well and healthy and surviving these challenging times.  I know that it is getting scarier by the minute. 

Amid the fear and unknowns ahead of us, there are two things emerging from this crisis that give me hope. 

One is how much deserved recognition is going to the trades as "essential industry."  Those who followed a vo-tech path rather than an undergraduate path.  And no, I'm not dissing people who have an undergraduate or higher degree.  I'm saying it's high time that those working in a trade get the recognition and appreciation they deserve.

Think about it.  Truckers, assembly line workers, farmers, welders, plumbers, electricians, HVAC technicians, grocery store workers.  Careers that for far too long have been looked down upon by many as less worthy than others.  Doctors and medical personnel along with emergency services professionals have always been held in high regard for their service to their communities.  Your local Kwik Trip or Hy-Vee truck driver getting the goods to the place where you can buy it...not so much until now. 

I remember a school superintendent telling me once during a time when budget cut talks were centering around the vo-tech/shop/ag curriculum.  He said he would fight hard to keep those classes and teachers because "someone needs to know how to fix the toilet." 

So, kudos to our blue collar citizens who are holding us together right now!

The other thing I've found heartening is how people are now using social media to connect and to build each other up instead of arguing and tearing each other down.  Whether it is tips and tricks to fight cabin fever (let me just say that I could have used those before I stooped so far as cleaning the bathroom) or family-friendly activities that parents and kids can do together for exercise and for education. 

The musicians who are performing on YouTube and Facebook to keep peoples' spirits up is amazing whether it is Garth Brooks, Keith Urban, or a small police force in Spain going out into their city and singing to neighborhoods. 

Will it get worse before it gets better?  Yes, I'm quite certain it will.  Will we start seeing some of the worst behavior of mankind?  Probably.  For right now, I'm going to embrace the positives that I can find and pray that this is over in as little time as possible, please God. 

Hugs to you all (and yes, check on the huggers in your world...we are NOT okay right now!)

Shelter in Place

Image courtesy of wisdomquotes.com

After our family trip to Spokane, Washington, last week for a family funeral, Bigger had to be in quarantine for work purposes.  Given that Mama Bear works for the same company, Bigger couldn't quarantine at home, so he is temporarily living with us.

We should be used to this since we raised him for 18 years.  Please keep in mind that it has been seven years since he has lived here plus we have been full-fledged empty nesters for five years.  We are kind of set in our ways at this point!

There are some things I had forgotten about having Bigger under our roof.  One is that he eats a lot of cereal.  I don't know as we have actually purchased cereal since he left home other than to make rice krispie bars or crunchy chocolate chip cookies.  Malt-O-Meal needs to thank me for our recent spike in purchasing because I think I made their quota for this quarter.

All that cereal requires a lot of milk.  We don't usually have a lot of white milk on hand.  Chocolate milk, yes.  White milk...usually goes sour in our fridge before it gets used.  Don't judge; we eat six times our body weight in cheese every month so we are doing our part to support the dairy farmers.

I had also forgotten how much he likes to sing at the top of his lungs when he's taking a shower.  And how bad he is at it.  But he's enjoying himself so I don't say anything.

Bigger likes to watch movies and has gotten me hooked on the Marvel movies.  So far we have watched Captain America, Iron Man, and Iron Man 2.  I'm trying to convince him to watch Hidden Figures because I think he would enjoy the historical aspect of it, but so far he is resisting.  Captain doesn't watch movies, so he retires to the couch in the basement to watch ME TV on channel 47. 

I have been getting a lot of crochet done while we are self-quarantining.  The crochet-a-long I've been doing has been keeping me busy along with several other projects I have going simultaneously.  Bigger asked me what would happen when I ran out of yarn and I laughed and laughed and laughed! 

This forced separation from his family is hard on Bigger, who is very much a homebody and family man.  But technology is wonderful.  Every night at bedtime, Bigger video calls with Mama Bear and Cubby.  He reads a story (Mama Bear holds the book up to the phone so he can see it), they say prayers, and settle Cubby in for the night.  It is incredibly precious to see and hear this nightly routine.  We are finding ways to cope in new and challenging times. 

We hope and pray that you and your loved ones survive this pandemic unscathed.  I think we will see some of the very best of humanity over the next weeks; that's my hope anyway. 

Stay well and healthy, my friends!