Journal
Sufficient unto the day is evil enough
Preparation day arrived this warm June day, but I didn’t get out to the porch until late afternoon. It is a shock since I have spent the last so many days inside the airconditioned comfort of my studio, but I have been reading where time in a sauna is beneficial to geezers and dementia. Porch sitting in central Texas in June is much like a sauna, so here I am, albiet not really feeling that my impending senility has been halted all that much.
Some travails of aging are very difficult to discuss, and today I shan’t. But the time when others will control our daily lives is approaching faster than I would like, and many things enter my mind. What will happen to the dogs is a biggie for me. We mostly have rescue dogs other than ‘Becca da Beagle. Annie is the oldest of the lot and has socialization issues. I doubt that she would be adoptable even if she was younger, but she wouldn’t be at this stage in life. I am thinking about starting regular donations to an aging dog rescue with the stipulation that they take care of Annie, no matter how difficult that would be.
And Jenna, another rescue, is a real love. But she has seizures and she sheds. And she is big.
Tic, the youngest addition will probably adjust just about anywhere, but he also has trust issues.
And ‘Becca, though cute, is getting up there. We raised her as a pup and got her from a pet store. We had our reasons, so please be gentle with us!
Usually budgies aren’t hard to get rid of as long as you have a cage for them, so I don’t worry so much about Kippur da Budgie. But we didn’t hand train her so that makes it a bit harder to take care of.
I know that if the state comes and finds us incapable of taking care of ourselves, they will simply call animal control, and euthanize the dogs. That breaks my heart, but given the terrible state that all of us are born into, it might be the most humane choice.
Wonderful pre-shabbat musings, no?
But just for this day, it is sufficient. The bills are paid, the income comes in, the mocking bird scolds me from the pecan tree, the gravel truck speeds by on my once quiet country lane hauling road material for another housing development down the road, the sun came up, and it will sit.
Soon Snookums will call me to the Shabbat meal, and I put aside the days evils long enough to chronicle the day.
Yuh Just Can’t Hit A Lady, Even If She Ain’t A Lady
Monday arrives. But for me, it is just another day. The only way I know it is Monday is because Snookums goes grocery shopping this day, and I’ll have to lug the groceries in at some point. Still a bit sore from the latest undiagnosed attack of pain yesterday. It was by far the worse one.
As a mechanic, I know how frustrating diagnosing a random fault can be. At my last visit with the doc, we concluded that it likely wasn’t the heart or lungs, though the symptoms sure mimic a heart attack. I know I got to do something about it, but at this point I am not sure which way to proceed.
But here I sit with the afterimage of the pain still fresh in mind, and sip coffee while trying to come up with something interesting to bash about. Still fuming at the guardians of freedom who sat silently while Michelle Wolf savaged Sarah Huckabee Sanders at their big soiree. Not much I can do about it but fume. For a time I wished mightily that I was a female attendee so that I could get up and coldcock that spiteful wretch. I don’t think I would get much more than a year in prison for it.
But alas! I am not a woman, and I wasn’t there. I am just a doddering old white guy in Nowhereville, Texas. I champion nobody. I just fume at injustice, sip coffee, and rant online. Sorry.
Not much happening here … one day this week I’ll head to the garden shop for my porch plantings. My waterfall pump didn’t pump, but via the miracle of UPS and Amazon.com, a new little pump will arrive this evening, along with some hose accessories. And the summer birdbath needs to be set up. The winter one is a bit small, so in the summer, I set up a concrete one with a huge bowl that can accommodate more birds.
A mocking bird has set up house in the pecan tree shading the porch. It yells at me, and I yell back at it. Such are the diversions of a geezer.
Good morning!
And God Breathed the Breath of Life
It feels odd to suddenly go from cold mornings to sunrises near 80° in one day. I chose this property as a place where I would finish out my life, spending it searching for the presence of God rather than trying to pack more book learning. I tried that, and became a saturated sponge of knowledge without any spiritual power.
Early in my walk I had a learned mentor who held doctorates in religion and philosophy, and although an agnostic, he put me on the firm path of standing in belief. God has used a parade of flawed guides to direct my feet, from an ex-football jock cum used truck salesman who slept in the trucks he sold who taught me that you need a principle to be true to, to a crazed sex addict who taught me that a spiritual path always carries self-doubt with it.
Over the years my knowledge of his word has grown, and I still pore over scriptures seeking out His presence. The apostles spent much time stamping out heresy in the early congregations, yet those congregations moved in great power despite their lack of scriptural sophistication. From that I learned that theology, while important, is not the goal that I pursue.
So I have hung out in the first chapters of Genesis for a few years now, seeking out the basis for my relationship with God and an answer to why the body of Messiah is so powerless. Yeah, I have heard all the excuses, but truthfully, the edah does NOT move in the power of that first century body.
T I have long wished to share the beauty of those revelations, but alas! I am not a teacher. I am a braying jackass, and all I heard while teaching those revelations was my hee hawing. So you will just have to seek out those pearls on your own. I have enough opportunities to sound like a braying ass as it is.
So, it is back to my little porch garden. I filled the little waterfall in the corner, soaked the bed of sweet alyssums, and sort of picked things up and straightened a few things. A rich and cooling ichor arose from the planters as they engorged themselves with water. Peace has returned to my little sanctuary in the Pampas in central Texas, and I catch the breath of God that pours into this lump fashioned from the red clay.
Grumpy Old Men & God’s Time
Mr. Bladder has now trained himself to wake me at sunrise, and Tic, the latest acquisition to the canine side of the family, conspires with him. However, it has been a long-time ambition of mine to free myself from that infernal tick tock machine.
So far, I have been moderately successful in getting back to sundial time, but there are many conflicts. Doctors, for one. I wasn’t aware of how linked in to the medical profession I was. They insist on appointment times set by the clock, not the sun. And Snookums, the love of my life, is a total creature of habit, and governs her life quite nicely by the clock.
In fact, we have wall clocks in every room of the house that we regularly use that enforce her daily routine. Rouse at 7:00am. Morning ablutions at 7:15am. Pour coffee at 8:00am. Feed mutts at 8:20am …
I have a ‘Jewish Clock’ installed on my tablet that sits on my desk that keeps a form of God’s time. It was designed for prayer observances, but the designer mistakenly used the Roman system of twelve-hour days on it, with the 11th hour being the last hour of the day. The 12th hour being sunset.
The Jews had a sundial with eight hours on it, the last hour being the 7th hour of the day. The 8th hour was called sunset.
In the first century, Jews used both Roman and Jewish time, but it wasn’t a major problem because they referred to the Roman clock in Latin, and the Jewish clock in Hebrew.
Those two distinctions were lost when the modern scriptures were written in Greek, and that gives Bible expositors headaches to this very day.
However, for us old men who wake at dawn with full bladders, and nod off to sleep shortly after sunset, our sun clocks only have five hours. Wake, Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, Sleep. We wake with the sun, sleep with the sun. And eat with the damned tick tock machine. And that what makes us grumpy …
A Fool and His Wisdom is Soon Parted
And the vision of all is become unto you as the words of a book that is sealed, which men deliver to one that is learned, saying, Read this, I pray thee: and he saith, I cannot; for it is sealed: And the book is delivered to him that is not learned, saying, Read this, I pray thee: and he saith, I am not learned.
So this phrase runs through my head today as I listen to the … ahh … sages of our generation drone on and on, lulling the people to sleep in the hubbub and murmurings. I watch wisdom being stripped from my countrymen, like there was never wisdom to begin with.
Eight generations from then ‘til now.
I read the ancient prophesies, and wondered how it would be that a people would curse God in the midst of calamity. Yet here it is, and in the midst of calamity, a people too wise for God have arisen. In thinking themselves wise, they became fools.
This is not going to end well …
Ahhhh!
It’s a little hard to believe. I am sitting out on the porch, barefoot and wearing shorts. Writing on a laptop is not my all time favorite way to type, but dragging the desktop outside is too much of a hassle.
My neighbor has fired up his lawnmower and is cutting back the winters growth to give the bermudagrass a head start, but I think he may be about a month early. The skies are scuddish and rain laden, and you can almost swim in the humidity, but we takes our victories where we gets ’em.
So I plan my summer planting. Gardens are out now, but I think I can handle container plants on the porch. I am tired of the sweet potato vines, with the exception of a very purple variety that flowers. So, thoughts of ivy, and morning glory’s float by, and maybe some taller posies to screen the top rails. I like peeping at the neighbors from behind a wall of greenery.
Still, some physical maladies threaten even that much activity, but then I think that maybe I shouldn’t plan on what may happen, and probably should make my plans based on what I can accomplish now.
It will be good to spend more time puttering and less time fighting the forces of liberal darkness. It is time to let another generation address that. I can still shoot back, but it is highly unlikely that I can use tactics, cover and concealment as effectively as I used to.
So … the daffies are waving in the humid breeze, the paperwhites will pop any day now, the hydrangeas are spent. Yet to come is bluebonnet season, but this year should be a good-un for them.
Then comes the indiaen paintbrushes and blankets, and the long hot summer. A little caution is in order as the rattlesnakes and copperheads start moving to their spring hunting grounds.
The stock pond across the way is brim full, and the neighbor is fattening up some herefords and shorthorns destined for the feedlots.
Yes! A Texas spring!!
… If anything is excellent or praiseworthy …
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable——think about such things.
Well. This week has been on that I allowed myself to be pushed off my serene perch arguing for the arming of teachers as one positive step we can take to mitigate the death toll of logic impaired megalomaniacs shooting up schools.
The world is what it is. Strip it of all the interpretations and commentaries, and it is still the same. There is someone out there who will delight in killing you for any number of reasons. Fortunately, most killers hate getting killed back, so some sort of equilibrium has been achieved.
But the Shabbat is here. God rested from his labors, and so shall I.
Shabbat Shalom!
A Time To Keep, and a Time To Throw Away
Well, she’s gone. There is a big hole in the carport where she sat. The new owner of my pickup truck came and got it yesterday. I forgot how handsome she was until I saw her go down the road. It is another milestone in my misspent life as I chronicle the passing of days.
So, I note as I sip my coffee this chilly February morning. 31 degrees outside, and the chill seep through the double panes, so I tip the thermostat up a couple more degrees and sit back in my battered executive chair to take another sip of coffee and reflect over my oft squandered past.
Nonetheless, life in my dotage isn’t all that bad. It is quite comfortable thanks to my woman of valor. I am glad that karma is a myth and that we often don’t get what we deserve.
There is a time to keep, and a time to throw away, says the preacher. And it is a time to throw away. I have bicycles I will never ride again, tools I’ll never use, parts for projects I will never complete … and lots of time to decide what to toss. I think. One never really knows, do they.
Oddly, though, there is a quiet joy in ridding myself of encumbrances while I can do so. I still have time to improve my router, time to play, and even time to dream of the future. But that horizon is getting nearer, and much doesn’t seem as important as it once did.
And spring is around the corner. I am already planning the flower boxes and making improvements to the yard. There is always spring, and I have a tiny bit of strength left to do a little porch sitting when the weather warms. I am looking forward to it.
Fomenting or Fermenting? That is the question.
A frigid and gray dawn today as another polar express roars through Texas. Snooks get the day off from her food bank volunteering, and I made up a big batch of beef stew for the freezer. I like my beef stew on these kinds of days, and all we need to do is drop a chunk from the freezer into the crock pot, and a hearty dinner is ready by evening.
Chili was always a good choice for days like this, but as geezerhood and senility slowly settled in, chili became too aggressive for our delicate constitutions. I don’t know what’s next. Beef flavored Pablum, perhaps.
Peace and serenity have returned to my world now that I have disconnected from the active news feeds on facebook. I still read the news from RSS news feeds, but since most of them don’t have any way to respond to the item, I don’t get worked up trying to refute every asinine headline from the press, and that has left me with a bit more time to spend writing and meditating.
<delete rant on scientific activism>
And so this Tuesday morning unfolds. Two cups to get me going, and maybe some more if I pick up on the thread of a new idea fomenting in my mind , and begin translating it into English.
Good morning!
Cold, warm, then cold again.
A chilly but sunny dawn for us this morning, but supposedly getting warmer later in the day. That will give me time to finish the electric fence in my ongoing battle to keep Tic, my wandering aussie mix, contained in his own yard. He is a climber, not a jumper, so just making the fence taller won’t work for him. I am going to have to lock the door and put my headphones on when I turn it on, though. I am not tough enough to let him learn the hard way …
I had hoped that with the freezing weather, the allergens would die off, but no such luck. I am choking and coughing up a storm this morning despite the frigid weather … maybe it is time to look to other causes.
And the morning stretches into midmorning. Must fix Snooks breakfast. It didn’t take her long to get used to me cooking on weekends. But there still is a few sips left in the coffeepot, and I need to take care of that first.
Good morning!
Rusty's Armory 