Here’s what’s rolling around in my brain today:

1. It’s zero degrees outside. On the way home from work I passed an older fellow in a truck with his window partly open. Minnesota hardy! As opposed to someone like me who turns on the car seat heater the instant I start the car.

2. I’m working on a sewing project, another one of those things that looked easy, but due to misdirection and mistakes in the pattern book has been surprisingly difficult. I have had to depend on “The YouTubes” and my seam ripper quite a bit. Has someone been praying for me to grow in patience?

3. My mom has had both vaccine shots for Covid now and I’m wondering if the place where she lives will re-open for visits (most of the residents are getting the vaccine). It’s been almost a year since the place shut down for “two weeks.”

4. I think eyebrows were meant to be ignored. If you start looking at them on people’s faces, they strike you as very odd.

5. It’s funny how we don’t always see ourselves as we really are. Photographs and mirrors are truth tellers. My husband and I were just a little shocked to see how gray our hair looked in the photos from our daughter’s wedding last year. James had it right:

“But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man observing his natural face in a mirror; for he observes himself, goes away, and immediately forgets what kind of man he was.” James 1:22-24

All too true – it’s our nature to forget the things we don’t want to see, and to hold an image in our mind’s eye that’s not very faithful to the truth. We do, indeed, deceive ourselves.

Ha ha!

This has been Monday Musings with Lynniebee. Thanks for reading.

I’ll probably muse about deleting this post in the morning while avoiding my mirror.

Dear Bucky,
I started a new job today. Yes, congratulate me – it only took me four months to find another job after being downsized from the last one. I had to sign all sorts of non-disclosure stuff for this one, so now I can’t tell you much about what I do. There are whole floors in this place that are strictly verboten. Something seems a little off – the other employees are rather standoffish – not the kind to gather around the water cooler for office gossip. I’ve had my antennae out to detect whether or not anyone has a sense of humor, but this is a deadly serious conglomeration of humanity. My talents are wasted here.

Hope all is well with you and Suzanne. Tickle little Bucky Jr. for me.
Martin

Dear Bucky,
I’ve been on the job here for a few months now. Wish I could tell you more about what I do. It seems very commonplace to me, so I don’t understand all the secrecy. At times I feel sort of puffed up with a sense of importance, and at others times I realize the absurdity of it all and half expect someone to slap their knee jovially and tell me I’ve been the butt of a complicated prank. Sigh…no one at this place is jovial. I can’t tell you the name of the company, but privately, I call it “Hotel California,” or just HC.

Something a little odd happened the other day. I think I can tell you without divulging any of their precious secrets. I was filing something (ack – now you know that they use paper files – old school, for sure) and I came across an intriguing file with the heading “Interesting Ideas.” Of course we’ve been warned not to open files that aren’t part of our job and such is the culture of this place that I stood there for a moment with the file in my hand wondering if opening it would trip some silent alarm and I’d be carried away and disposed of in the night. The “charming” atmosphere here tends to cultivate paranoia even in rational people (meaning, me). I looked around – no one was near. I opened it. The file contained one piece of paper on which was typed the words “Long have I waited for someone to open this file. You will be contacted.” I almost laughed out loud – maybe someone here DOES have a sense of humor! Still, I went back to my desk and checked (surreptitiously) to see if anyone was looking at me meaningfully. Nothing happened. Nobody winked or tapped the side of their nose. There were no mysterious emails. Yup, it had to have been a joke. Wish I knew who it was so I could give silent kudos to them. I make good money at HC, but miss the comradery of the co-workers at my old job.

Hey Bucky, I know it’s a bit of a drive, but I’d sure appreciate a visit if you can tear yourself away from the Missus and the Progeny. As much as we fought while growing up, I kind of miss having my big brother around to torment me. If the itch to torment strikes you, I’m available.

Tell Suzanne she could do better. Ha ha – kidding. Mostly. Thanks for the photo of Bucky Jr. -he’s looking quite manly for an 8-month-old child. Hey, can I call him BJ? It could be sort of an Uncle Martin nickname that only I get to use.
Martin

Dear Bucky,
Sorry to have alarmed you with all the cloak and dagger stuff from the last email. No, I don’t think you’ll have to start dredging the river for me if you don’t hear from me for awhile (but it’s nice to think that you would – that’s what family is for, right?).

But I do have an update on the situation at HC. You’ll never believe this, but I have now been “contacted!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Welcome to Fiction Friday here at the LBMOD blog. I wanted to give you an example of an epistolary story. I’d love some feedback, so here are a few questions:
1. Do you want to know what happens next?
2. Does Martin sound too girly? I’m not sure if I should tackle writing from a man’s point of view. I changed it to Marcia at one point, but found I was already attached to Martin. What to do?
3. I decided, reluctantly, to make it clear that this was an email exchange, since this probably takes place more or less in our current time. But if I go back in time, these will be real letters. Does it even matter?

I’m not sure which of my kids did this illustration, but it was either Ruth or Sam for sure. I thought it fit the general mood of the post – funny, but vaguely unsettling. 😆

I’ll probably delete this post in the morning, but not until I’ve given you the impression that you can check into my blog anytime you want, but you can never leave.

Greetings from the land of frozen tundra.

Actually, we’re not far enough north to lay claim to that geographical nomenclature, but I like how it sounds. We enjoyed a nice snowfall with all the blowing and howling wind that you could want. Minnesotans eat this stuff up. If you read my post about the snow fence, you’ll be pleased to see that it worked just like it was supposed to:

Note the snow drift on the left side of the fence. The drift that normally would have been swallowing up our driveway is now tamely sitting in a calm and submissive manner by the fence, leashed, as it were by the mystical powers of the snow fence.

In other news, the subtitle of today’s post is: The Case of the Missing Suet Feeder. It was there yesterday and gone today.

The Man O’ the House suggested that perhaps it had broken off. I did my due diligence and shoveled under it with a fervor that would have looked to a passer-by as if I was digging for treasure.

I suspect squirrels being at the bottom of this crime. It’s a good rule of thumb: always suspect the squirrels. They’re frequently skittering about with quivering noses and looking furtive, positively reeking of guilt. Yes, squirrels have a lot to answer for.

A few more snow photos and we’re going to call this a wrap. Or, if autocorrect takes over, possibly a warp.

Okay, that’s a warp!

This has been Thursday Thoughts by Lynniebee.

If the snow is melting and the squirrels have returned our suet feeder, I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

Now that I have a feature called “Watercolor Wednesday,” it actually pushes me into action. But today, I didn’t want to sit at a table, I wanted to sit on the couch in front of the heater, so I decided to use watercolor pencils and water reservoir brushes – the stuff I often bring when I’m traveling and almost never use anyway.

I have an assortment of colorful photos that I cut out of one of my mom’s old calendars to use for inspiration (waste not, want not!). I cut these out a couple years ago and they’ve been languishing in a drawer ever since, staring at me accusingly as if to say, “Why did you bother if you’re not going to use us?” Well, no more! Today is the day!

I started three quick sketches and only finished one with the actual watercolor part, since it’s suppertime and duty is calling out from the kitchen to get me off the couch (and no, I’m not talking about my husband).

Hopefully, I’ll get to the other two before another two years goes by.

I’m not much of a detail person.

That’s all, folks! Time to mosey on out to the kitchen!

I’ll probably mumble mumble mumble….

Let’s start off the Reading Roundup with a little Ogden Nash:

Laments for a Dying Language – III
In the nice-minded Department of Prunes and Prisms,
It’s I for you
And euphemisms.
Hence the phrase I would eagerly jettison:
“Senior citizen.”
Shall we retranslate
Joel 2:28?
To the sociologist squeamish
The words “Your old men shall dream dreams” are less than beamish,
So “Your senior citizens shall dream dreams” it shall henceforth be,
Along with Hemingway’s “The Senior Citizen and the Sea.”
I, though no Joel, prophesy that someday while the senior citizens
are projecting the image of an age-adjusted social group,
The old men will rise up and knock them for a loop.

Hear, hear! I still remember when the good old word “secretary” had to become “administrative assistant,” like some sort of linguistic upgrade was required. I note that this poem is the third of its kind, so I’ll have to find the first two.

And staying with the poets for just a moment longer, here’s another Emily Dickinson gem:

“The Day came slow – till Five o’clock-
Then sprang before the Hills
Like Hindered Rubies – or the Light
A Sudden Musket – spills –

I love the way she sees sunrises and sunsets – in this case as if a musket full of light, like red rubies, shot forth over the horizon at dawn.

Have you ever read anything by Louis L’Amour? I just read the book Sackett, narrated by William Tell Sackett, and found much to amuse, admire, and even occasionally inspire:

“You have been led upon evil ways,” I explained, “and the way of the transgressor is hard. Seems to me the thing led you down the wrong road is that mustache.”

But the fact of the matter is, no man can shape his life according to woman’s thinking. Nor should any woman try to influence a man toward her way. There must be give and take between them, but when a man faces a man’s problems he has to face them a man’s way.

Nobody ever said much about me being good-looking—except Ma—and even Ma, with the best intentions in the world, looked kind of doubtful when she said it.

No man has the right to be ignorant. In a country like this, ignorance is a crime. If a man is going to vote, if he’s going to take part in his country and its government, then it’s up to him to understand.

More from L’Amour in the future – I didn’t want to overdo it on the first go. Apparently he has a whole series on the Sackett family – now I want to read them ALL.

And lastly, I found this next paragraph from the introduction of Douglas Wilson‘s commentary on the book of Hebrews, Christ and His Rivals, to hit the spot for me:

The biblical faith, lived as it should be lived, will always generate resistance and conflict. This should not be a surprise; it should not come as a shock. The charge we are given in this context is the charge to be strong and courageous. This means that we are in the midst of circumstances where it would be easy not to be courageous, and not to be strong. What is God’s role in this? He does the “not leaving.” He does the “not forsaking.” What do we do? We believe him when he says this, and the natural response to this faith is courage. …no matter how grim it may look, God will never forsake us.”

Amen and amen!

A wintry scene done on the Paper App by my daughter, Ruth, many moons ago. Around 72 moons ago, give or take a few moons.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, but not until the dawn has shot forth her hindered rubies of light o’er the hills.

Things I’m thinking about today:

1. Excited about the slew of books I just requested from the library. I have bookish friends who send me recommendations. If you’d like to be one of these bookish friends, let me know and I’ll send you an application for the position. It doesn’t pay anything and it wouldn’t mean anything on your resume. Oh, and I might not always like the books you recommend (or vice versa).

2. I ate too much lasagne for supper.

3. Saddened to think about relationships being “canceled” for differences in politics.

4. If I practice the piano piece “Pavane” by Ravel every day for fifteen minutes will it ever sound like it’s supposed to?

5. My husband and I are reading through the Psalms together again using the schedule found in the Common Book of Prayer. It gets you through the entire book of Psalms (150 of them) in 30 days with two readings a day. It sounds like a lot but it only takes 5 minutes or so each time. And right now, my husband is sitting in a chair in our living room with The Book of Common Prayer in his hand, waiting patiently for me to finish this so we can do our evening Psalm reading.

So that’s the Monday Musings for today. Very stream of consciousness.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning (never have I been so close to serious about that warning).