Those are the latest in my continuing flash card series for our granddaughter. The internet is a deep treasure trove filled with simple drawings that even I can copy. I’m amazed at how many people just throw their stuff out there, apparently quite happy to let me copy their work. Unless they’re not happy about it and I receive legal repercussions…nah, that’s just paranoid. Right? It’s not like I’m selling these. Right?

I think that’s the first time I’ve used what seems like click bait in my blog title. I’m expecting my blog readership to spike as crowds of formerly uninterested people jump in to find out just how simple drawings can lead to paranoia. No doubt, they will one and all leave with a sense of great disappointment, wiping the blog dust off of their feet as they go.

I can’t say I blame them.

I’ll sweep up the blog dust from this post tomorrow morning.

The Ark. You know it as Noah’s Ark. It’s presented in children’s books as a cute little wooden vessel with giraffes and elephants poking their heads out of the top and a little rainbow overhead. Try to forget all of that when you go to see the Ark Encounter in Kentucky.

Have you ever thought about the logistical nightmare of building a boat that needed to hold 8 people and lots of animal pairs for a year? This isn’t a kid’s story, it’s real life, or it was for Noah and his family. The people who built the life-sized ark replica in Kentucky did their homework, figuring out just how big the ark really was, what size and shape made the most sense, how many different kinds of animals needed to be on board, how they would be housed, fed, watered and had their waste taken care of, etc. We tend to think that people of ancient times weren’t nearly as smart as we are, but I think sometimes the opposite is true: we’re not nearly as smart as they were.

I’m not going to give a lot of details about the Ark Encounter, but definitely recommend it as an amazing experience.

If you’ve been to the Ark also, let me know what you thought!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning – wait, is that rain I hear?

Then God said, “Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” Genesis 1:26

There is a creeping thing that creeps on the earth that infiltrates our domicile every year. It’s small, it’s shiny, it’s round, it’s orange with black spots. By now, all my fellow Minnesotans have guessed who the culprit is.

Yes, it’s the Asian beetle, evil twin of the genteel lady bug. To quote Dr. Seuss,
“I do not like them, Sam I am.
I would not like them here or there,
I would not like them anywhere.”

And to add my own verse,
“I do not like them in my house,
I do not like them on my blouse,
I do not like them on the sill,
I see them and I want to kill.”

In the spirit of the dominion mandate, I have placed our canister vacuum on semi-permanent standby next to the bathroom, where they always seem to congregate. As soon as I see one – whoosh! In they go! I used to put tape over the end of the vacuum tube just in case they didn’t perish and decided to make their way out again, but over time, I realized that this extra precaution was a bit silly.

One day recently I whooshed six of them out of existence in one fell swoop. It was a good day.

I might have to whoosh this blog post out of existence in the morning.

My dad taught my younger sister a funny little comedy routine that she recorded as part of our family nights when she was about 8 years old. He would make a statement and my sister would say, “That’s good!” And then he’d follow up with a negative statement about the same topic, to which she’d reply “That’s bad.” It went on for quite some time and was very amusing. I’ll show you how it goes with my own real-life experience.

We have a wedding in the family coming up in June; ergo I am looking for a dress to wear.
That’s good!

I really dislike going shopping for clothing.
That’s bad.

I could try online shopping which would eliminate all the driving around, garish lights in the try-on rooms, intrusive salespeople, etc.
That’s good!

But it’s so hard to find a style that I like at an affordable price!
That’s bad.

I saw an ad on Instagram for a dress that would be perfect – only $35!
That’s good!

I went to the website and found several styles that I really liked, but the name of the company was weird and there were no reviews.
That’s bad.

I decided that the prices were so reasonable that even if it turned out badly, I wouldn’t be out much. I put two dresses in the shopping cart.
That’s good!

But then I did some online research on the company just in case. It seemed that it might be a scam company.
That’s bad.

Another ad appeared on Instagram with similar style dresses at reasonable prices!
That’s good!

Wait a minute – did I say “similar?” I began seeing multiple ads, each from a different company with a weird name, often showing the exact same dresses.
That’s bad.

But I really love these dresses!
That’s good!

I decided to start taking photos of each ad and write down the name of the company. Instagram now had my number and the ads began to multiply in my feed, all with the mostly the same exact dresses.
That’s bad.

But I really love these dresses!
That’s good!

At last count, I had saved ads from 21 weirdly-named different companies, all showing the same wonderful dresses, all with the tagline “Tailored for the mature woman of all ages.” Sometimes it read “Tailored for the mature woman of ages.” 😆 On the websites, each company boasted of being a global company. Most of them had no reviews. If I looked at a dress, I got a message saying something like “200 other shoppers are looking at this dress!” My son took a look and proclaimed that the photos in the ads were faked.
That’s Bad, BAD, BAD!!!

So, we have a wedding in the family in June and I’m looking for a dress to wear, tailored for a mature woman of ages.
That’s good…

I might not delete this in the morning. That’s good!
But on the other hand, I might. That’s bad!

I’ve watched enough Perry Mason now to get a real feel for courtroom etiquette – at least the television version of it. Perry’s hapless “adversary” is the district attorney, Hamilton Burger. That poor guy has never won a case against Perry. He’s got some pizazz about him though. One of my favorite lines of his is when he objects to a question that Perry has asked of a witness. “Your Honor, I object! That question is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial!” It’s never just one of those things – it is always all three. Most of us would be gobsmacked by getting that trio of words slung at us on a regular basis, but Perry just keeps on plugging away and the next thing you know, the real murderer has confessed and Burger has lost his case.

I think there are any number of situations in which you could toss off that phrase and add entertainment value to your whole day.

“I don’t like the food you made for supper.”
”Incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial!”

“Someone said it’s going to snow tomorrow.”
“Incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial!”

“He started it!”
”Incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial!”

“You wouldn’t believe what I heard so-and-so say.”
”Incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial!”

Good old Hamilton Burger. He’s very long-suffering in his job, but to give him credit, he always says it’s not about winning a case, it’s about seeing justice served. And in my book, that’s competent, relevant and material!

You know what I’m going to have to say if someone tells me to delete this blog post…

How were your Easter celebrations? We went to a sunrise service that started at 6:00 a.m. when it was still dark. Just as we were getting ready to start communion, the sun rose and was shining right through the stained glass window showing the Ark of the Covenant. It was quite lovely. I didn’t get a photo, of course, but I have a photo that I took last year after the service of the sun pouring through one of the windows. Whoever thought up stained glass windows was brilliant.

In certain church traditions, we exchange what is known as the Paschal Greeting on Easter morning:
“He is risen!”
”He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!”

You might be wondering, as I often have, why we don’t say, “He has risen,” which sounds more grammatically correct to our modern ears. I did a little bit of nosing about on the internet and discovered that it has to do with the 17th century grammar of the King James Bible.

If you were to do this greeting among certain Orthodox churches, it might be accompanied by 3 kisses on the cheek. We don’t go to a kissing church, but that was something else I discovered while doing some idle research.

Does it make any difference whether or not Jesus Christ actually rose from the dead? Of course it does! Our pastor reminded us yesterday of Paul’s words in his letter to the Corinthians. “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins…if we have believed in Christ in this life only, we are of all men most to be pitied.” (1 Corinthians 15:17, 19)

He is risen!
He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

If I delete this post in the morning, you can be assured, it will not rise again.

The frosted wren is a winter bird
It loses its rime in the summer
The frosted wren has a yen for the cold
In the summer, its glimmer is glummer.

You cannot catch the frosted wren
You must not touch its feathers
For the frosted wren will freeze your bones
And winterize all your weathers.

When the frosted wren alights on your deck
‘Tis a rare sight of wintry glory.
For the Father of Frost made this sparkly bird
A transient denizen of His story

Many thanks to my friend Barb for sending me that delightful photo of the rare Frosted Wren, thus inspiring a poem.

I’ll probably melt this Frosted Blog Post in the morning.

When I was a child, I watched a short French film called “The Red Balloon.” The plot, if you can call it that, involved a beautiful round red balloon that began following a little boy. It knocked on his bedroom window when he went inside and then tried to follow him into the school, causing such a large distraction for all the students that both the boy and the balloon got temporarily expelled. There was very little dialogue, but plenty of sounds: running feet on cobblestone streets, children playing and shouting, etc. After school the other children tried to get the balloon away from the boy and chased them around the town relentlessly. Finally, they cornered the balloon, tied it down, and threw rocks at it until it punctured and “died.” The little boy wept, but at the same time, all the balloons in Paris made their way to him, coalescing into such a huge group that when he grabbed ahold of all the strings, they carried him away up into the sky. The end.

I loved that little film so much that my husband ended up buying me a copy of it early in our marriage. Our children universally hated it, and although that surprised me initially, I can understand why. In a way, it’s really a movie about death and resurrection. The death part comes as a shock, since the balloon seems very much alive, and the feral cruelty of the children is distressing. What appealed to me as a child was the whimsical friendship that sprung up between the boy and his balloon and then the fantastical scene at the end when all the balloons come to take him away. The narrative arc goes from whimsical to tragic and then to joyful triumph in a way that I always found satisfying.

Our son-in-law just got a job at a fairly new job board company called Red Balloon, which got me thinking again about that film. I wanted to find a connection between my Red Balloon movie and the name of the company, but alas, there was none.

Did any of you see that film? And if so, what were your impressions?

This blog post might meet with a cruel fate at the hands of children in the morning.

We have traveled through regions of the land.

We have driven in sunshine, snow and rain.

We have visited old friends and had conversations late into the evening.

We have told stories and listened to them.

We have seen a museum that glorifies God as Creator and Savior.

We have meandered through a gigantic ark.

We have sojourned overnight with the Amish.

We have worshiped in the company of the saints.

We have had dinner rolls thrown to us in a restaurant.

We have driven through a Civil War battlefield.

We have talked, prayed, laughed and enjoyed meal fellowship everywhere we’ve gone.

We have been on a Tour of Friends, the best kind of tourism.

I’m back, friends! I hope you have missed me as much as I have missed you…

I’ll probably drop this off at the Bureau of Blog Tourism in the morning.

A recent dream:

The monster in my dream was a man who became a giant when he ate a small white egg-shaped thing. In his giant form he was destructive, intent only on murder and mayhem, always rampaging and seeking to destroy. He came at us in his giant form but just as he was upon us, he went through an explosive transformation back to a man. When this happened, the egg dropped and he picked it up again and ate it, so that he could continue in this cycle: from man to giant to man to giant again. Whenever he became a man, it gave us a short reprieve, a chance to escape.

We ran into a tall building and began to run up the stairs going around and around. We could hear him behind us, a giant again. We knew the transformation back and forth happened fairly quickly – it was just a matter of outrunning him. As we were getting to the top, he transformed back into a man, but this time when the egg fell, it went to the bottom of the stairs and one of our group grabbed it. It seemed that victory was on our side. We threw it down from the top of the building, somehow under the impression that when it fell it would explode and end the cycle. It did explode, but the cycle did not end. More eggs were created in the explosion. The man/giant took one, but we took one as well and found a hiding place to regroup and determine a new strategy in the fight.

We decided that the best way to fight the giant was for one of our number to eat an egg and meet him in battle. The decision made, one of us ate the egg and instead of transforming into a giant, he became an elephant. He rushed out and ran toward the giant to fight him. The giant grabbed the elephant by the trunk and held him firmly, in a sense completely disarming him. What now? We went into hiding, demoralized that the egg gained us no advantage whatsoever. It seemed that all was lost.

But in the next scene, we saw that our despair was premature and not based on reality. For the elephant had befriended the giant and in that friendship, peace had been forged.

There are so many intriguing elements to this dream. On the surface, it is a nonsensical dream story. But upon closer inspection, I can see that I am the monster, continually eating the sin-egg, repelling it, but being compelled to eat it again, a never ending cycle. And I am also the person being chased by a monster, always in danger of being destroyed. And then there’s the element that one of us, a representative of us, had to be willing to eat the egg, to risk becoming the monster to in order to overcome the monster. And lastly, the one who was going to save us has been seemingly defeated by the giant, a moment of false despair that lifts when we find out that the savior had a different kind of battle in mind. The enemy has been overcome by a friend. I don’t want to draw too much of a line from this to the gospel, because it’s a bad analogy at best. But I still see it there, in seed form, in shadows grasping at reality.

But then again, maybe I’m all washed up. Thoughts?

I’ll probably dream about deleting this in the morning.

As you can tell by the title, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so let’s get going.

If you like doing crafty things, find yourself a crafting friend like mine. We’ll call her “Barb.” (Mostly because that’s her name, but it looks more mysterious to have it in quotes.) I found a photo of some cards that I liked and sent it to Barb with the comment that I thought we could figure out how to make them. The next thing I knew, we had ourselves a card-making date with her supplying nearly all the materials from her own crafting shelves (and she even made a trip to JoAnn’s to get additional supplies – above and beyond the call of duty!).

The cards required the use of the hot glue gun. If your fingers began hurting reflexively the moment you read that, it’s a sign that you’ve used one of these handy little torture devices. Hot glue is really a great adhesive except for the fact that it’s impossible to use without burning your fingers and getting strings of the glue all over everything. We were a little worried that at one point we might accidentally glue ourselves together, but managed to avoid that.

Crafting with a friend makes the whole experience more fun. Thanks, Barb!

We didn’t end up using my hot glue gun, but when I got it out to bring it just in case, I was flooded with memories of the Amazing Eggstractor, the box of which now houses my glue gun.

My parents-in-law bought this for me over 20 years ago, having succumbed to the allure of it on the shopping network. I was thrilled, having many times been frustrated by trying to peel hard-boiled eggs and ending up with something that looked like it was trying to be a hard-boiled egg but which had lost a lot of its parts. As it says on the box, “It peels eggs for you!” Count me in.

I boiled up the first batch according to the instructions and eagerly put the first egg on the little stand provided. I pressed down on the accordion-style thingy and had to exert a fair amount of pressure. Finally the egg shot through…or at least part of it did. The yolk had parted company with the white. Probably just a fluke, I figured. I put the next one in and tried again. The egg came out at about Mach 2 and went flying around the kitchen, ricocheting off various cupboards before coming to a resting place that it took me awhile to find.

I never could get that thing to perform as promised. I gave it away ( ha ha!) but kept the box, which turned out to be the most useful part of it.

I’ll probably eggstract this post in the morning. Thar she blows!