I’ve written before about my occasional dalliance with coffee, usually on Thursday mornings when we go to a Bible study at 6:30 a.m. and are expected to demonstrate some form of cogent thought. It’s a bit early for that kind of mental working, isn’t it? In spite of that, I’d given it up again and had been toting hot tea to the study instead. But last week, when my husband asked (as he always does, just in case), if I’d like some coffee, I took him up on it. Keep in mind that when I drink coffee, it has cream and sugar in it. I’m not like the rest of you purists who will only drink it black.
I’m here to tell you that the coffee that morning was intoxicatingly good. It started to weave a little spell around my soul, such that I began thinking things like, “Why am I messing around with tea when I could be having this every day?” Odes to coffee were simply spinning around in my head. I was experiencing a coffee story like reading a book that’s so good you hate for it to be finished. On the way home, we drove through a foggy mist that cleared as the sun rose, and in like manner, the coffee mist cleared as well. That’s powerful stuff, I must say. I still won’t be drinking it every morning, but I’m sure looking forward to next Thursday morning’s dalliance with the Brilliant Bean.
The Post-Bible Study Sunrise
When the foggy mist clears tomorrow morning, this post will have cleared off with it.
Once upon a time in a long ago realm, there was a wedding. The king had found his queen. Love was declared, vows were made, the union was blessed by the Lord of Weddings himself, and there was great feasting and hope for the kingdom. The husband made for his bride a beautiful coat and gave it to her as a wedding gift, telling her that as long as she wore the coat, she would be covered with his love, his protection, and his loyalty. He knew that she had come from a broken kingdom and sought to assure her that he would never forsake her and indeed would be willing to lay down his life for her. In time, they had four children and their little kingdom grew. The queen loved her husband, loved her children and knew they had a blessed life. She wore the coat always and in the magical way of the gift, it was never too heavy to wear. It warmed her when it was cold, cooled her when it was too hot, and in all ways beautified her.
After many years, it came to pass that they found themselves in a wilderness and decided to grow their kingdom there, blessing all the land around them. But the heart of the queen began to instead grow seeds of discontent. Her new friends spoke in ways that made her feel that perhaps the coat she wore was a prison instead of a protection. She began to yearn for something more, something to make her feel alive again. When she looked in the mirror, her discontented heart distorted her vision and instead of a beautiful coat, she saw something shabby, torn and faded. The coat, in the magical way of the gift, knew her heart and became now an uncomfortable weight. It grew heavy and alternatively too hot and too cold. She longed to take it off and in time, that is what she did when she was by herself. She thought she was becoming free, and was unaware of the shackles that were forming around her soul. The king, busy with building his new kingdom, did not see this weakness growing in his queen. He did not understand the danger she was in and so failed to protect her from it. A breach in the wall of his kingdom appeared, but went unnoticed.
One day, she saw him, a man from another kingdom just on the other side of the wall. He was a delight to her eyes and once she saw him, she gave herself over to thoughts of him. She smiled at him, flirted with him. She saw the ring on his finger and knew he belonged to someone else, but every part of the wall that would have kept her in her own kingdom, she started to dismantle, stone by stone, starting at the breach. She could not let anyone in her kingdom know of this treachery, so she began to live a life of lies and deception. The home that she had once taken such pride in became neglected as she spent more time breaking down the wall. It wasn’t long until she made it to the other side and could embrace him at last. He gave her a coat that in her distorted vision looked ten times as beautiful as the one her husband had given her. When she asked where he had gotten it, he laughed and told her he had stolen it from his wife. It would be their little secret. The queen laughed too. How good it felt to wear a man’s coat again, she thought to herself. And she did not perceive that the coat was made of snake skin, slippery and scaly.
However, the queen’s conscience was increasingly troubled and indeed it was difficult for her to live this double life. By now she had given all of herself to the man on the other side and he had given himself to her. She loved him! Or so she thought. But she hated the lies and deceit and felt an increasing tension that was becoming unbearable. In desperation to end this impasse, she let her husband see her going through the hole in the wall to the man on the other side.
The king was heartbroken. He knew that his neglect and prideful sin had kept him blinded to this betrayal. He grieved, wept, anguished and raged and in the end, went to the his Lord of Many Names (who understood betrayal), and after begging forgiveness, asked for the grace to forgive. And it was given, at highest possible cost, for the Lord of Forgiveness had to give his own life for it. The king knew that a battle awaited him; he had always been prepared for battle, but thought the enemy would come from outside the kingdom. He now saw that the enemy had breached his walls long ago and was in his very home.
The queen went back and forth in her mind about what to do – should she stay with the king or make a home in someone else’s kingdom with this new and exciting love? She knew what was right, but by now the shackles around her soul had deafened her to the voice of the Lord of Truth. It seemed wise to her to leave her home for a time to sort things out. And her wisdom was great foolishness, for she left the only place where she might find peace and protection and placed herself in greater danger than ever. And others would also pay the price for her foolishness. Her children, once secure and unafraid, now had to be uprooted for the queen’s folly. They would live in two kingdoms and even their own innocent minds understood that their mother had done something wrong. The queen placed false counselors around her, those who would tell her what she wanted to hear. When she spoke to those in her husband’s kingdom, she said she wanted to return to the king, but when she was by herself, she could not, would not, let go of the man whom she had stolen and who had stolen her. She wore his wife’s coat and did not want to take it off.
Ending #1
After a time, the king broke his bond with the queen, telling her “You rejected my coat of love and protection; you wanted to be free – now you will be free of me. Go and may your eyes someday be opened to all you have lost. I have sorrowed, but I will sorrow no more, for the Lord of Life has given me peace.”
The former queen felt relieved at first. She would no longer have to choose between two kingdoms and she could have her heart’s desire. And what did it matter, really, that her children would never again know the beauty and safety of one home, one kingdom with a united king and queen on the thrones? They would easily adjust to living in two kingdoms. She did not see the hurt and confusion in their souls. She did not understand that one by one they would learn of her betrayal and never be able to look at her the same way again. The most important thing was that she’d been true to her heart, her distorted and deceived heart. And the snake-skin coat was already starting to slip from her shoulders.
The new life she had chosen was more complicated and messy than she had anticipated. She wore the stolen coat and even forged stolen vows, but she could never be truly queen of this kingdom. Try as she might, she could not forget that the man she now lived with had already stolen the coat from one woman. He reassured her it was hers forever, but she remembered he had said that to someone else. She wanted to be happy, but also could not forget that she had once believed in the Lord of Unbroken Promises and when she left her king, she left her Lord and all His kingdom too.
Time passed and one day she heard rumors of a new queen in her old kingdom. She tried to tell herself that it did not matter – she was happy for the king! She had moved on – why shouldn’t he? On one of her visits to her old realm, she saw the new queen for the first time and gasped with shock, for the woman wore the most beautiful coat she’d ever seen. It was radiant, resplendent, impossibly beautiful and made of unbreakable thread. She was angry at first – why did her husband not give her this coat instead of the one he gave her on their wedding day? But as she looked more closely, she saw that it was her old coat, mended with grace, lined with wisdom that comes from suffering, rewoven with stronger and more glorious thread. And the new queen was in all ways beautified by that coat and wore it with pride and fierce loyalty. She would never remove it.
The former queen ran home in haste – she needed to see her own coat in a mirror and be reassured of its timeless beauty. But now her eyes had been opened. When she looked in the mirror, truth stared back at her. The snakeskin coat was unbearably ugly, sloughing off in places, slimy and dirty in other places. It barely stayed on. Emblazoned across the coat was a word in scarlet that she’d never seen before: STOLEN. She knew then that everywhere she’d gone while wearing that coat, in the magical way of the deceitful gift, that word had been seen by everyone else but her. The coat had proclaimed the truth that she had refused to see. And though the coat seemed ready to fall off, she could not remove it.
Ending #2
The queen would have continued in her delusion indefinitely, but one day she overheard two people talking.
“Have you seen the queen lately? She walks around practically naked except for that ugly old coat that she stole,” said the one.
The other replied, “I remember the first coat she wore – it was absolutely perfect for her and made her look radiant. I wonder why she cast it off and stole that eyesore to wear? She must suffer from some sort of blindness. Let us pray for her.”
The two agreed that the whole thing was a tragic mystery and walked on in thoughtful silence.
This startled the queen. Why would they refer to her lovely coat as ugly? They must be jealous, she thought. She continued on her way and tried to forget it. She saw two dear friends from the old realm sitting outside at a park and went to greet them. Though she approached them directly, they didn’t see her and as she got closer, she also overheard their conversation.
“Our beloved friend, the queen, has gone mad,” said the one.
“It is an odd and grieving thing, is it not? I have spoken to her and she appears to understand the truth of the matter, but then she clings ever more tightly to that misshapen rag of a coat. Can she not hear what it says?” said the other, shaking her head.
“I never took her for a fool, but it’s a true word which says ‘The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick.’ Let us pray for her,” said the one.
The queen remained unseen and pondered what she had heard. Why must everyone be so unkind? Why couldn’t they see what she saw? They just didn’t understand her. But she was puzzled and shaken. What was she supposed to be hearing the coat say?
At last she came to the king’s home where she would be picking up her children to take them with her for a time. But again, as if she were invisible, she came close to them without them seeing her, and she overheard them talking to each other.
“Brother, why doesn’t our mother live here now?” said a sister to the her oldest brother.
“I don’t know, Sister. I wish she had never left. She has spoken words about this to me, but I cannot make any sense of them.”
“Brother, I am uncomfortable when she hugs me while wearing that coat. She never used to wear dirty and smelly clothes before! She wouldn’t make me wear anything like that, would she?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“No, she would not; at least I don’t think so. But there are so many things we knew for certain that are no longer certain,” he answered.
After a moment’s silence, she said, “If I stole something, I would never want to let everyone know that I stole it! Why does she not care that everyone sees and knows? And didn’t she tell us never to steal or lie? “
“Yes, she did, but I think something must have happened to make her think that this time, it was okay. I am confused. But Father says we must remember the Lord of All Certain Things and pray to Him for our mother,” he said, trying to be a good older brother.
“She’s coming today to take us away. I want to be with her, but I don’t want to leave Father and our home, and I can’t bear to touch that coat.”
“I know,” said her brother sadly. “Let us pray for her.”
The queen could listen no longer. Her ears were aflame and her heart was beating so quickly, she wondered if it would kill her. She ran to her false home in haste – she needed to see the coat in a mirror and be reassured of its timeless beauty. But now her eyes had been opened. When she looked in the mirror, truth stared back at her. The snakeskin coat was unbearably ugly, sloughing off in places, slimy and dirty in other places. It barely stayed on. Emblazoned across the coat was a word in scarlet that she’d never seen before: STOLEN. She knew then that everywhere she’d gone while wearing that coat, in the magical way of the deceitful gift, that word had been seen by everyone else but her. The coat had proclaimed the truth that she had refused to see. And she wept bitterly.
As the tears fell, they burned right through the coat, and when the coat was gone, they burned into her soul and unbound the shackles there. And in that moment, she stood before the Lord of Repentant Hearts and humbly asked His forgiveness for her sin, shame and folly. “My child,” He said, “You are forgiven. I purchased your forgiveness long ago with my own blood. But the road ahead of you is a difficult one. You must go and make right all the wrongs you have done; you must give back what you have stolen, you must seek forgiveness of those you have harmed, and you must seek to restore trust where trust has been shattered. I say this is hard, but it is not impossible. Go in my love and with my truth and grace; I will always be with you during the long journey.”
The queen stood still for a moment, overwhelmed by the task ahead.
“GO!” He thundered.
As she turned to go, the other man came in. “My love,” he said, “Where is the coat I gave you? You are not leaving, are you? I stole a coat for you, I left my marriage bed for you, I deceived my children for you – and would you leave me now with nothing?”
Too late, she realized just how deep had been her folly. Even now, she was tempted to stay with him; the old false feelings lingered. But the echo of the Word “GO!” resounded within her and as she pushed past the stolen man, she said, “I have wronged you and your family. Make a new coat for your wife and pray she will take it. I cannot stay with you.”
With that, she fled home and begged the king’s forgiveness. And he, betrayed and wounded, granted it for the sake of Him who was also betrayed and wounded. But the Lord of Restoration had told the truth about the difficult journey. At times, the flood waters rose to their very necks and threatened to undo them, but they held fast to the Lord of the Ark, and He, in turn, helped them to hold fast to each other. And one day, long before the queen felt she deserved it, the king gave her a coat, the most beautiful coat she’d ever seen. It was radiant, resplendent, impossibly beautiful and made of unbreakable thread. She was confused at first – why did her husband not give her this coat in the beginning instead of the one he gave her on their wedding day? But as she looked more closely, she saw that it was her old coat, mended with grace, lined with wisdom that comes from suffering, rewoven with stronger and more glorious thread. The restored and forgiven queen was in all ways beautified by the coat and wore it with pride and fierce loyalty. And in the magical way of the coat, it also covered their children, giving them safe refuge, girding them with courage for trials, and building their trust in the Lord of Families. She would never take it off again.
Brought to you by Fiction Friday at Lynniebeemuseoday.
In the magical way of the blog, this post will be gone in the morning.
I like to set aside Wednesdays to trot out whatever artsy things I’ve been working on. I’ve been trying to be more disciplined about doing some sort of painting or drawing regularly.
The weekly watercolor:
The inspiration for the painting was something I found on Pinterest (as usual). ‘Twas a sad moment when I realized that my beautiful Pilot G-2 0.38 black pen did not have permanent ink. I’ll have to make sure and use one that doesn’t bleed next time.
In September of 2022 I had this idea to try to do my own book through a year, like Edith Holden’s “The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady.” I did three pages and then fizzled out. Here’s to trying it again with renewed determination and vigor!
Sadly, the same revelation about the ink pen I was using reared its ugly head on this page (I’d already done all the drawing before starting to paint both projects). Lesson learned. The goal is to do four pages per month. However, I don’t think I’ll be able to get it all done this year, so I’m giving myself a couple years to get through all the months.
Lastly, I’m working through a book called “50 Ways to Draw Your Beautiful Ordinary Life.” This week was lesson 2.
So far I’m unimpressed with the level of “instruction” for the lessons. There’s not much there other than to see what the illustrator did and try to copy it. No thoughts on perspective, angles, etc. I’ll keep going, though. One advantage is that there’s no real expectation of perfection or expertise – just draw the way you draw and see what happens.
Watercolor Wednesday has been brought to you by Lynniebeemuseoday.
The blog withers, the blog fades…but the Word of our God stands forever (a slight paraphrase of Isaiah 40:8).
I had forgotten until recently about the Walk for Development that I went on sometime in my early junior high school years. It was a 30-mile walk – what were we thinking? I went with two friends: Debbie and Sue. We got up around 5:30 a.m. and my Dad took us out for breakfast before the walk began (what a good fellow he was!). He dropped us off at the starting point, which was the Memorial Stadium at the U of M and although we didn’t really know what was going on, we started out in good spirits, full of the sense of adventure. As I recall it was a nice day in May and the weather was good. We had to find sponsors before the walk, but we really had no idea what the cause was that we were raising money for and we didn’t care. Early on when life was still beautiful and we had energy, we struck up a friendship with a guy about our age who was walking about the same pace as we were. It turned out he was the son of a judge on the Minnesota Supreme Court. Of course, we’d never heard of the judge, but were impressed all the same. He was a nice guy, but eventually left us behind. This was a repeated pattern throughout the walk. We’d strike up a temporary friendship and then get left behind.
Sue wore new shoes (which we were instructed not to do) and began complaining fairly early on about blisters. Debbie was a bit of a tyrant, not allowing us to sit down and rest, so Sue and I would run ahead of her and rest until she caught up with us. At one point, we were straggling fairly far behind the crowd and began alternating walking with jogging to try to catch up. I don’t remember much about the route of the walk, but late in the day we were walking down Lake Street (I think) toward the lakes and Sue just hit a wall and could not go on. It was getting dark by this time. She wanted to call her Dad to come and pick her up and I seem to recall feeling somewhat torn about whether or not we should wait with her for her ride. This was before cell phones, so we had no way of knowing how things were going with Sue. Debbie talked me into continuing on – mostly by refusing to stop – and I fretted inwardly about Sue’s safety (much relieved later to find out that all went well). The walk ended at Coffman Union at the U of M and by the time we got there, it was late in the evening and we were absolutely exhausted. I’m not sure what possessed our parents to let us go on this thing. In retrospect, they probably had some reservations, but I’m sure we begged them to let us go.
I made a vow never to do something like that again, and have been true to my vow. How about you? Have you ever done anything like this? Do tell!
Blog blisters compel me to delete this in the morning.
Our neighbors give us a bright red poinsettia every year for Christmas. It’s festive and beautiful and cheery! But through no fault of its own, there comes a day (usually in late January) when I look at it and the magic is gone. The festive presence has turned into a nagging one: “Have you watered me lately?” “Maybe you should try to keep me going until next Christmas.” “Some of my leaves are drying up and falling off – you have not been paying attention.” “Why did you take me out of a place of prominence and stick me on the kitchen table? Don’t you love me anymore?” And so on.
In years past, I’ve allowed this state of affairs to go on for months, but this year, I picked it up by the scruff of its neck as soon as the nagging started and placed it lovingly and carefully in the compost heap in the back yard. And voila! It’s festive and beautiful and cheery! It brings joy to my heart to see those gorgeous red leaves out there in the drab colorless landscape of winter. It will wilt and die, but it will do so with a serene beauty that honors its Maker. This is the way.
I’ll probably delete this transitory post in the morning. This is the way.
While Colonel Purslane’s sleigh went speedily along the riverside, Phineas was still ahead of them on the water where the river widened and became more rocky. His pleasant boating excursion was turning into a very dicey ride. This blasted boat was too small for him! He had to use all of his wits and dexterity to stay afloat and was flailing around with the oars trying to avoid hitting rocks. He could still see the squirrel’s nest spinning around ahead of him, but at this rate, he was never going to catch it. He called out, “Wait up! Can’t you get caught on a tree limb in the water or something? Help a fellow out!” Phineas was suddenly glad that no one could see him clumsily making his way down river in this tiny little froggie boat. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.
The boat suddenly got stuck between two rocks nearly throwing him into the water and he was momentarily at a standstill. Much precious time went by as he tried to work free of the rocks. Finally, he rallied and managed to push off with an oar, but he could no longer see the nest, which must be around the next bend. He was beginning to feel rather exhausted, but motivated by the tantalizing vision of a whole month’s worth of eggs delivered to his door, he kept going. “I will not be defeated!” he said, hoping it was true.
Meanwhile, the sleigh was making very good time. Grimpus had run ahead to see if he could catch a glimpse of Phineas and Mrs. Twig’s babies. After a few minutes, he came loping back with news. “They’re not very far ahead of us, now – the boat had gotten stuck between a couple rocks, but just as I was getting closer, Phineas got free of them and is pursuing the nest. We can definitely catch up to them if we hurry!” And hurry, they did, Mrs. Twig trying very hard not to fret out loud over the fate of her babies. In less than ten minutes, they caught sight of the Lucky Lucy and Phineas Fox at the helm, as it were, trying desperately to keep from capsizing. And not too far in front of him, the squirrel nest floated along, tantalizingly just out of reach.
Phineas Fox through sheer Herculean effort had gotten so close, so close! He could actually see the baby squirrels in the nest now. The scamps looked like they were having the time of their lives! Here he was trying to save their little furry skins and they were completely oblivious to the danger they were in. As he got closer, he couldn’t figure out exactly how to rescue them. If he tried to pull the nest toward the boat with the oar, he might tip the nest over. No, there had to be a better way. Maybe he could come alongside and gently push the nest toward the shore? Now that it came to it, he didn’t have much of a plan – he had just assumed it would all work itself out. He pushed ahead with the boat and started to maneuver it close to the nest, but the wave action threatened to upend it. The squirrels chortled and squealed with delight at this new rocking action of the nest. Phineas brought the boat in front of the nest finally and began slowing it down so the nest would slow down as well. He supposed he might have to jump in the water to finish the job, but before he could figure out the best way to do it, a slim green frog popped up out of the water and said, “Here, I’ll hold the nest steady, while you pick it up out of the water and put it in the Lucky Lucy.”
Could it possibly be that dapper froggie from which he’d stolen the boat? That was his hat, all right. Yes, Fig Newton had dashed out of the sleigh as soon as he’d seen Phineas’s predicament and had swum with all haste to the nest. Well, Phineas hadn’t wanted to share the glory of the rescue, but he couldn’t deny that the frog’s intervention was going to get him out of a jam. He steadied the boat as well as he could, reached down and lifted the nest, babies and all, and set them in the boat, after which he brought it over to the shore, got out and pulled the boat up on on sand where he laid down. My, but he was tired. The baby squirrels by now had jumped out of the boat and were climbing all over him, jumping up and down like he was some sort of plaything.
“My babies!!!” Mrs. Twig was running over to the boat, wild with relief.
How on earth had Mrs. Twig made her way here so fast? Phineas looked around and saw, to his astonishment, that Colonel Purslane was there with his sleigh, as well as a large bear, a little girl and that busybody of a mailman, Clive. Phineas sighed inwardly at the sight of Colonel Purslane – he was such an officious fellow and a stickler for the law; he was not going to overlook a stolen boat and a shady deal to get eggs. The vision of those weekly eggs was beginning to fade…and after all his cunning and all that work! Well, he’d have to try to make the best of a bad situation.
“All’s well that end’s well, eh?” Phineas said jovially to the frog, who was inspecting the many scratches along the outside of his boat making tsking sounds. The frog turned to Phineas, took his hat off and said, I am most pleased to meet you, Phineas Fox. You have had the good fortune to meet Fig Newton, the frog with wanderlust and a sturdy boat to carry him toward adventure.” (Fig had worked hard crafting that speech and saw no reason not to use it every time he had the opportunity.) Phineas could hardly believe his ears. He had rather expected the frog to pick up one of the oars and start beating him with it.
Fig Newton was himself surprised at his courteous tone with the thief. But he’d had some time to think while they had raced to catch up with the fox. He couldn’t condone what Phineas had done, but neither could he condone his own self-absorption and his idolization of the Lucky Lucy. He was prepared to forgive the fox, but there was the matter of damages. He went on, “Phineas Fox, you stole my boat, which was wrong, to save Mrs. Twig’s babies, which was right, but for the purpose of getting eggs, which was selfish. I am willing to let bygones be bygones if you will help with repairs to the side of my boat.”
Phineas might have laughed at this notion, but for the presence of Colonel Purslane, who was small, but wielded a lot of power in their forest community. “Glad to help you, my good chap,” Phineas said. “Of course, I wouldn’t dream of leaving your boat in such disrepair! Once Phineas Fox is on the job, the job will get done!” Phineas had his own speeches that he liked to repeat.
Mrs. Twig was hugging all her little babies at once, murmuring loving things in their ears. They squirmed a bit, but were awfully glad to be with her, even though the ride they’d been on was the most fun they’d ever had and couldn’t wait to tell their dad all about it. She turned to Phineas and Fig, saying, “I am most deeply grateful to the two of you for saving my children.” Phineas thought this was a bit lopsided – he’d done almost all the work and the frog had only come in at the end. But considering the gathered company, he decided to keep his thoughts to himself. She went on, “Phineas, I’m prepared to keep my end of the bargain. You’ll get two eggs per day for 4 weeks, with no deliveries on Sundays. But I’m also going to make both you and Fig Newton here, honorary uncles to my beautiful offspring. I can see they’re quite devoted to you now and I believe you’ll want to come over regularly to play with them, won’t you?” She looked meaningfully over to Colonel Purslane who nodded, as if to say, “I’ll make sure of it.”
Phineas knew when he was cornered. “Madam, nothing could make me happier than to spend time with these worthy children of yours.” The squirrel babies began climbing all over him again. He told himself, “Two eggs per day, two eggs per day, it will all be worth it!”
And Fig Newton? He was thoroughly thrilled to be made an honorary uncle and began thinking of all the fun things he would teach his honorary nieces and nephews. “They’ll need to learn how to swim, of course,” he said to himself, “And I believe they’d love to have a ride in the Lucky Lucy. I wonder if I could teach them how to catch flies and eat them?”
Mrs. Twig invited them all to a picnic lunch over by her tree and as they made their way over, they picked up Willow Wanderer, who looked nervously at Phineas Fox, but was reassured by the protective presence of Colonel Purslane. Clive had a whole new crop of stories to tell to the critters on his route, and Fig, Grimpus and Miss Agra had a whole new set of friends.
THE END
Phew! There were times when I wasn’t sure I’d finish making all of these delightful felt creatures, much less finish the story. It has been a grand adventure, indeed. If I ever decide to try and publish this story, I’ll have to go back and do some judicious rewriting, but for now, this is how it stands. I hope you’ve enjoyed the process as much as I have. Special thanks to Simone Gooding for her creative pattern book that started the whole process.
P.S. There’s actually two more little girls in the tent with their sleeping bags and pillows, but I forgot to get them out for the group photo. Maybe next time! Right now, like Phineas, I’m exhausted! Ha ha!
I’d invite you to a celebratory picnic lunch, but this post will probably be deleted in the morning.
The call came, the call sounded forth The gnomes were summoned for a meeting Those bearded ones walked from depths of earth And somber was their greeting.
“All gnomen, listen, listen to me,” Their chieftain called them to order, In the shadow of the old oak tree At the farthest reach of their border
“Our brethren are taken and put on display,” At this, the assembly did groan. “They’re used as decor in a most vulgar way, And kept from their native loam!”
The gnomes did weep and stamp their feet So great was their displeasure. But the moment passed, it was time to eat; They returned to their former leisure.
And now you know what happens at a meeting of the Gnomes, the Gnome Gnoggin.
This has been Thursday Verse Day with Lynniebeemuseoday.
I finished the last painting for the Lazy Artist Initiative yesterday. It has been taking me so long to get around to doing these paintings that I’ve concluded the initiative hasn’t made me less lazy about painting. So this year, the year 2024, my new goal is to do a watercolor painting every week. Starting next week. I’ve been working on honing my time management skills, which should help. And now, the final entry in the LAI Program!
For a friend who is expecting her first baby in April.
I’ve also started working through a book that I got for Christmas:
It was on one of my wish lists, but I didn’t expect anyone to actually get it for me, so it was still a surprise of sorts. The first lesson is “How to draw a cup and saucer.” Keep your expectations low, but here’s my work on it so far:
I might try the Blue & White cup and saucer again – the proportions are a little wonky – but it was fun.
This has been Watercolor (or Artsy) Wednesday with Lynniebeemuseoday.
There are 50 ways to delete this blog post in the morning.
I worked as a secretary for several years in my twenties. Somewhere along the line, the word “secretary” became frowned upon and wordsmiths came up with the term “administrative assistant” to make it sound more accomplished. Bah. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the word secretary, nor is there anything demeaning about the job. I quite liked it. My one superpower when I was in junior high school was typing – I was a veritable wizard at it. I found this comforting in a world where I was at the bottom of the social heap in every other way. It was inevitable that I would gravitate to work that allowed me to exercise this ability of mine.
The first full-time job I had was secretarial work at an insurance company that, among other things, provided malpractice insurance for doctors. I was looking for a job after a life crisis set me back on my heels so hard that I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. I had quit college and thought a job would help me get my bearings. I went through an employment agency to get some interviews and was gratified to get two job offers from which to choose. Things were looking up!
You know how it is starting a new job. I was anxious to make a good impression, but to my HORROR, I overslept on the very first day, my alarm having failed me catastrophically. What would they think?! I called in and made my way there as quickly as I could, filled with apologies. From that moment I was determined to make sure they knew that oversleeping was a complete fluke – I assured them it would never happen again. And it didn’t.
I was trained in by the Platonic ideal of secretarial-ness; Verla was her name. Verla was everything that a secretary should be: prompt, efficient, patient, conscientious, and very good at her job. With Verla at the helm, it wasn’t long before I was humming along pretty well in my job. The medical malpractice files were so interesting that I’d sometimes grab a particularly thick and juicy one and spend my lunch hour reading it, making mental notes about which doctors to avoid. One of our doctors lost a lawsuit and I had the task of typing up the check for damages – over twenty million dollars. That sounds like chump change now, but it was quite a heady experience for me, particularly since I was using an actual typewriter (no computers and word-processing programs yet) and there could be no mistakes whatsoever in typing the check.
One of my bosses was a colorful character named Tom, a youngish man in his mid-30’s. Tom was a claims adjuster. He approached me at some point wanting me to do some typing on the side for him – all very hush-hush. He was taking some independent consulting jobs and since he didn’t have his own secretary, he hoped I would do the work without tattling on him. I wasn’t a Christian at the time and had absolutely no compunctions about doing it; in fact I found it kind of exciting to be part of a covert mission. The case he had taken concerned some man who’d had his hand cut off accidentally. Whenever Tom wanted me to type something related to this case, he would approach me surreptitiously and make a cutting motion with one hand over his other wrist – his secret way of letting me know that this was for what he called “the Hand-Off Case.” Cloak and dagger!
Our manager, an older man named John, used to call impromptu meetings once in a while. He’d gather us all in a circle and talk about the the company “bidness.” I was privately very amused by his use of that term, but restrained my mirth. These impromptu meetings were horribly boring, so I had to take my entertainments where I could find them. However, the group meetings were few and far between and for the most part, I found my job very satisfying. I was sad to leave it when I decided to go back to college and finish getting a degree.
One more story needs to be told about my experience while working at the insurance company. A friend of mine found out what building I was working in and had a roommate who was working at the same building. “You two should carpool together,” he enthused, “you’ll save so much on gas!” Sounded good to me, so I called her and set it up. Cue the ominous music. Carpooling with her was a nightmare. She was domineering, impatient, rude and insulting. We took turns driving and she hated the way I drove. If I didn’t step on the gas the millisecond the light turned green, she’d fume and yell, “What are you waiting for?!” Sometimes she’d just make unpleasant tsk-ing sounds and roll her eyes with disgust. If she thought I was going too slow (and she often did), she’d criticize loudly. She would direct me on when to change lanes as if I was new to this whole business of driving. I’m very averse to confrontation, so I bore up under this abuse silently, but inwardly grew more and more angry and frustrated. Upon realizing what things I did that provoked her the most, I began to take a perverse pleasure in doing those things just to get her riled up. You’re correct if you’re thinking this was very passive-aggressive of me.
One day we were waiting at the front of the line at an intersection for the light to turn green. A large utility vehicle was turning left in front of us and seemed not to have quite enough room to make the turn. “Back up! Back up, you stupid idiot!” she yelled at me. I’d had enough. In spite of the fact that she was right, I became obstinate and refused to move. The boom on the truck took down the signal light on the corner and everything came to a halt for a time. I was inwardly stricken at having been a part of causing this, but I didn’t say a word. She verbally abused me all the way to work and that was the last time we drove together. I told her to find her own way home. It needs to be said that in spite of the fact that she was so unpleasant, I’m not proud of how I responded to her. I was immature, dishonest and prideful. If I could go back in time, I’d do things very differently.
This has been true stories with Lynniebeemuseoday.
When the ents in Lord of the Rings decide to have a meeting, they call it an Ent Moot. I noticed that my living room gnomes have gathered, presumably to discuss things that are important to the gnome world, and I have come up with the definitive term for it: a Gnome Gnoggin. Try as you may, I don’t think you can improve on that, but you’re welcome to give it a go. I’ll have to find out why my garden gnome was not invited to the meeting.
The gnomes in our gardens and living rooms are rather cute, but originally these mythical creatures were thought to be more like ugly, ground-dwelling goblins. Nobody really knows when gnomes, as folklore, came into being, but they first appeared in oral traditions of Northern Europe in the 1300’s, where they were thought to live for 400 years and were a merry folk that were industrious, wise and kind. In addition, though friendly to humans, they were known to be secretive and would never divulge the location of their underground burrows. How horrified they must be to know that their modern kin are just lounging around as decor.
Next up: I think it’s only fair that I give an update on how my indoor plants are coming along, the ones I brought in with such hope and optimism last fall. Here’s how the report card looks:
Mint: dead Rosemary: dead Chives: Mostly dead (think Princess Bride)
Basil: Life is a struggle.
Lastly in the musing department, there’s a sheep on my dresser and I’m not sure when it arrived or how long it’s been there. My theory is that I picked it up somewhere while I was cleaning, put it in my pocket, and deposited it on my dresser at the end of the day where it became a weirdly permanent part of the dresser top items. Does this ever happen to you?
This has been Monday Musings with Lynniebeemuseoday.
Lynniebeemuseoday 