I came to sit on our balcony on this fine day, equipped with four books to cycle through (I’ve only made forays into two of them so far). Across the street, there are major “doings” going on. The house and property there were purchased by the city about four years ago and although we heard rumors about what the city might eventually do with it, nothing has happened so far except that the city uses it to dump the excess winter snows.

Continue reading “Monday, August 23, 2021 Balcony Day” →

I usually offer up a short fiction piece on Fridays, but I’m behind on fiction and ahead on true stories – the course of action here seems obvious to me.

This is not my story, but I’ve received permission to share it. I have a friend – we’ll call her Sara – and back when we were in college, she found herself the main character in a morality tale. Much to her dismay, she was unwittingly cast as the antagonist. Shall we begin?

Sara entered a bathroom on campus on a cold winter day in Minnesota. She went into one of the stalls and saw a beautiful knitted hat had been left there. It appeared that fortune had bestowed upon her a lovely gift and she promptly put it in her knapsack.

She exited the stall and was washing her hands when another student rushed in and went right to the stall she had just left. The young woman asked Sara, “Did you find a hat in here? I just left the bathroom and realized I put it down and came back right away to get it.” And at that moment, Sara was faced with a choice: she could own up to the fact that she’d taken it, or she could lie. She was embarrassed to have been caught with the goods, however, so she took the second path. “Nope – I haven’t seen it,” she said. The young woman was suspicious, asking, “Are you sure? I haven’t even been gone five minutes – it had to have been in here when you came in.” Sara, having begun with a lie had to keep it up, although this interrogation had significantly shaken her. “No, it wasn’t here – sorry! I hope you find it!” The student glared at her and they exited the bathroom together.

By this time, Sara wanted nothing to do with the hat and decided that she would wait until the girl left and then return it to the bathroom. But the girl didn’t leave. She stood there watching and waiting, so Sara had no choice but to go on her way. Her new plan was to walk around campus and circle back to the bathroom and get rid of that blasted hat. She started out and turned around, just in case. The student was following her. This was starting to take on a nightmarish quality.

Sara continued on her way, trying to effect an innocent meander so as not to arouse more suspicion, while at the same time looking for a way to dodge the dogged pursuit being given by this determined young woman. No one wants to be the mouse in a cat-and-mouse game, but here she was – definitely the mouse.

At the earliest opportunity, Sara ducked into one of the buildings on campus and quickly maneuvered her way through hallways and around to the back where she exited and then entered another building where she watched from the door. She saw the girl exit the back door of the first building and look around, clearly exasperated that her prey had vanished. The girl stood for a moment waiting and watching, but eventually gave up and went on her way.

Heaving a big sigh of relief, Sara made her way back to the bathroom as quickly as she could. The hat had become a bane and she couldn’t wait to get it out of her bag and off her conscience. No one was outside the bathroom when she got there, so she went in and carefully laid it in the stall right where she’d found it. What an ordeal! She’d never do that again, that’s for sure.

She opened the door to leave the bathroom and there stood the girl, waiting with a smirk on her face. The girl knew what Sara had done and Sara knew that she knew. Nothing was said and Sara walked away, thoroughly humiliated – a sadder, but wiser gal.

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

It should be said that “Sara” gave me the freedom to tell this story with some embellishment. The basic bones of the story are accurate, but I have added some creative detail to flesh it out a bit.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning unless you follow me around waiting for me to do it.

In a marvelous bit of serendipity, my husband and I took a different route on our walk recently and had the pleasure of encountering a couple of enterprising young ladies (in the 8-10 age range) with a table out in their driveway by the street. We assumed it was a lemonade stand, but oh no, nothing so plebeian and ordinary for these two. They were selling items to benefit their “Fun Club.” We informed them that we hadn’t a penny on us to spend, but this was no problem for them. “We have free cups of water for you if you want!” said one of them brightly. We looked over their wares, which included a somewhat rickety book about sharks, some sticker sheets (with some of the stickers missing) and a few other items no doubt dredged from the household. As we stood chatting with them, one of them asked, “Would you like a ticket for our concert?” Just when we thought this little tableau couldn’t get any better, it rose to new heights. When we enquired about the cost of the concert, it turned out to be free. What a country! I got my ticket, which charmingly said, “Consert ticket,” on it.

“The concert is at 6:30 tonight,” the other girl said with a certain amount of pomp. Then she looked at her watch and exclaimed, “Oh, it’s 6:30 right now!” I asked what kind of concert it was going to be and she informed me that she’d be singing. It seemed like a win-win situation to stick around for the event, so we said we’d stay for it. “Well,” the singer started out confidently, “Do you have any songs you’d like to hear? I might not know it, but you can ask.” At this point, I was completely smitten with these girls and the whole experience. “How about ‘My Country ‘Tis of Thee?” I suggested. Her face brightened. “We sang that in school,” she said. And the “Consert” began.

“My country ‘tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty
Of thee I sing.”

So far so good. She had a very nice voice, but the tune was sort of random and unrecognizable.

“Land of the pilgrim’s pride
Land of sweet liberty,
Of thee I sing.”

She finished it there, having forgotten the rest of the lyrics, but she did a fine job on the spot of cobbling together a second verse from the bits that she knew. We clapped enthusiastically.

They introduced their huge dog to us – a big black mastiff Great Dane mix named “Sully.” “He’s the sweetest dog – he would never hurt you,” they both reassured us, when the dog came over to greet us. He was indeed a very friendly and laid back dog.

I asked if they wanted their concert ticket back, now that the concert was over, but they said I could keep it. “We’ll be here again tomorrow night,” they promised. As we were leaving, one of the girls called out about something else they had that cost $5.00, perhaps noticing that they hadn’t actually made any money during their encounter with us. We didn’t have any money, so we said our farewells and walked on, greatly encouraged by this old-fashioned display of ingenuity and entrepreneurial spirit.

I’ll probably delete this during the next morning “consert.”

This used to be called “Watercolor Wednesday,” but due to the lack of watercolor projects in my life at this point, I’m making an executive decision to call it “Workshop Wednesday” instead. I can do that because I don’t have to consult anybody about these things. And I like alliteration.

So, short and sweet today – more photos, fewer words. I’ve started the next felt animal in the book of patterns that I have. It’s a fox named “Mr. Oak.” Mr. Oak’s set of accessories called for little felt balls. I took a look at what JoAnn’s had to offer – big bags of garishly colored synthetic balls. Yuck. So I consulted with my friend Mr. Google and he directed me to the Guru of Craftiness – none other than Martha Stewart. I don’t want to hear your jokes about Martha – she’s a genius when it comes to making things beautiful and making beautiful things. I was able to use some of my yarn (following her instructions) to make exactly what I needed.

Here’s what Mr. Oak is supposed to look like when I’m done.

See that cute beret with the felt ball on the top? Anyway, this is how far I’ve gotten.

I made the beret but there are certain “fit” problems that I’ll have to fix.

Ha ha! It looks like a very strange chef’s hat!! I still need to add the ears to the beret as well, which seems like an odd kind of circumstance for Mr. Oak. “I’m sorry, but I can’t hear you – let me put my beret and ears on.” Also, Mr. Oak has a “cravat,” and I discovered when I tried to put it on that I don’t know how to tie one. Another consultation with Mr. Google will be required, I think. By next week, I hope to show a photo of the finished project.

And here’s the next one in the Psalm Project that I started back in the day.

I was definitely in Zentangle mode when I made that one. I’m getting fired up to keep going – I’ve done six already and have started roughing out the plans for Psalms 7-10. This clearly will keep me out of trouble for quite a long time. You know what they say about idle hands…

Well, so much for the promise of fewer words. Wordy people like me should never make promises like that.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, but only if the sun comes up looking like a beautiful felt ball.

They met at a public speaking class in college. His introductory speech included a statement about the importance of his relationship with Jesus Christ, which made her cringe and inwardly roll her eyes. She gave a speech touting the Equal Rights Amendment; he gave a speech about waxing cross country skis. They were from two different planets. But a public speaking class has a way of binding all the participants together in a shared sense of fear at exposing your weaknesses and vulnerabilities to each other. It was a small class and by the end of it, they all more or less knew each other and rooted for each other. And then they went their separate ways.

Continue reading “Tuesday, August 17, 2021 God, The Matchmaker” →

Do you remember the story of the Three Sillies? I remember hearing or reading this one when I was young. Here’s my version of it:

A family of three, parents and son, live in a modest cottage. One day they receive an unexpected visitor and as is their custom, invite him to stay for supper. The parents send junior down to the wine cellar to get a bottle of wine to add to the table. He enters the cellar, grabs the bottle of wine and turns to leave, but notices with sudden horror that an axe had been thrust up into the wood above him and was hanging from the ceiling right over the door. He contemplates what a close escape he has had from instant death, for what if the axe had fallen on him? But now he dare not leave, for he does not know how securely the axe is implanted in the wood – any movement he makes could jar it loose! So he sits in the cellar afraid to move.

Continue reading “Monday, August 16, 2021 The Three Sillies (Actually Four)” →

I’ve gotten far enough along in the Martin Chronicles and there’s enough time between entries that it’s probably going to be confusing to those of you who either haven’t read all the installments or have forgotten what came before. My apologies. If you are curious enough, you can either go back into my blog to find previous posts about Martin and Beulah, or you can ask me and I’ll send you the PDF’s. As a reminder, I started this story earlier in the year as an example of what an epistolary story looks like (one told through letters). I’ve come to the point where telling this story through letters is becoming limiting, so I’m planning to branch out after this and transition to using an omniscient narrator. Thanks for hanging in there with me, those of you who have, anyway. And now, here’s the next installment:

The Journal of Beulah Bartimaeus.
This morning, I sent Martin Anderson an intra-office email requesting that he come to my office at his earliest convenience. I used the word “Query” in the subject line, hoping that would be sufficiently vague. He showed up almost right away, which was gratifying. After he closed the door behind him, I went right to the point. “Why did you ask me that question about the squirrel clip art on the poster for the time management seminar?” This seemed to catch him off guard – his face was smirkless and he took his time answering. Naturally, his answer was in the form of a question, “Why do you ask?” What the heck?! I thought it was a really straight-forward question that would have a straight-forward answer, but no. We were evidently going to have to do this the hard way. (Ha ha – sounds like I was planning to get out my collection of torture tools and lay them out in front of him while doing the whole villain speech.)

“Let’s just say that it was an odd question to ask in light of the materials I had just presented. I don’t know you, Mr. Anderson, but I suspect you weren’t just being flippant.” I left it at that, hoping this oblique compliment would flush out the goods.

“Why, thank you, Miss Bartimaeus – I am encouraged by your faith in my character.” Not only did the smirk return, but I was affronted by the use of the title “Miss.” Apparently this guy completely missed the Modernity Train, either that or he chose to watch it go by – I’m not sure which of those options makes him look worse.

And then, awkward, uncomfortable silence. At least it was awkward and uncomfortable for me. I wondered if he was trying to decide whether or not to take me into his confidence. Or maybe this really was just a practical joke and he was contemplating how to take it further. Meanwhile, I was fidgeting with my mechanical pencil, pressing the button to lengthen the lead piece and then pushing it back in. Nervous habit. I’ve never been good at staring contests – I always break first. I couldn’t stand it and finally blurted out, “Do you know anything about the BOII?”

But amazingly, he broke at the same time and asked me, “Have you ever heard of the Bureau of Interesting Ideas?”

We had spoken over each other, but each of us got the gist. And just like that, we went from being somewhat adversarial to being like members of a club so secret that we didn’t even know each other was on the membership roll…until now.

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

Dear Bucky,
How are you and Suzanne and the little bruiser? That’s enough small talk – time to catch you on on what’s been going on at work. I decided to go to the Time Management seminar being given by Beulah Bartimaeus and realized when I saw her that she was the HR person who interviewed me for the job. I was the only one who showed up for the seminar, so I felt kind of sorry for her. She seemed nervous and the information she presented was rather dull. Must be an awful job to have to do that kind of thing. When she asked if I had any questions, I know I probably should have shown some interest in the time management strategies she presented, but I’d only attended the seminar because of the squirrel-infested poster she put up. So that was the question I asked – why did you use squirrel clip art for the poster? Right after the words left my mouth, I realized I shouldn’t have asked – she must have thought I was just making fun of the whole seminar. She looked somewhat stricken but rallied and told me that the company that asked her to put on the seminar provided the poster for it. Very curious. I thought about asking something else, but figured I’d already cemented myself in her mind as a great dolt, so I thanked her and left. I heard her muttering something after I closed the door – no doubt an insult I deserved.

Over the next couple of days, she kept showing up in accounting to go use the copy machine. She’s probably done that before, but I never noticed. She’s one of those sort of nondescript people that you forget right after you’ve seen them. But now she was on my radar and it appeared that I was on hers. I kept catching her looking my way and then she’d turn away in embarrassment when I’d catch her. It was kind of fun, actually. Maybe she has a crush on me! Don’t laugh – stranger things have happened. On the other hand, it seemed unlikely after the last impression I made on her. I couldn’t figure out why she seemed interested in me.

This morning, I got an email from her asking me to come to her office at my earliest convenience. Believe me, by this time, “earliest convenience” was as soon as I got done reading the email. When I got into her office and closed the door, she started right off by asking me why I’d asked that question about the squirrel clip art on the poster. Directness is a quality I really admire in people, but I was still somewhat cautious about divulging the information about the BOII. What if no one else is supposed to know about their secretive correspondence with me? So I didn’t give her the direct answer she deserved – I took the indirect approach and said, “Why do you ask?” She looked quite annoyed by my non-answer. Can’t say I blamed her. She went on to say that she thought it was an odd question and then paid me the compliment, however small, of saying that she didn’t think it was because I was being flippant. I thanked her for her faith in my character, which, now that I think about it, may have come across as mocking instead of gentlemanly. There’s really no hope for me, is there?

After a brief moment of thinking through the options, I decided to go ahead and ask her if she’d ever heard of the Bureau of Interesting Ideas. At the exact same time, she asked if I knew anything about the BOII. As they say, the plot thickens!

I hate to leave you hanging with that surprising revelation, but I need to get going. More details to come and all that.
Love,
Martin

As a final note, I’ve always been fond of the idea of being able to look at events from the different perspectives of the characters involved. This installment allowed me to explore that with Martin and Beulah’s telling of the same story from their own viewpoints.

This has been Fiction Friday with your host, Lynniebeemuseoday.

I’ll probably do the thing that I always talk about, at the time that I unusually mention. Better not divulge any more detail than that.

We are becalmed
On these windless days
Like hapless boats upon the seas
We wait for a breeze

The dew’s embalmed,
Suspended in a haze
While the highest leafy boughs of trees
Catch the only breeze

Wind chimes are silent
The heat has us ablaze
Humidity brings us to our knees
Come along, fresh breeze

Ah, LORD God,
Your church seems becalmed
Suspended in a haze
She sits unmoving upon the seas,
Spurning Your Holy breeze

She is silent –
While truths are set ablaze
The world and culture she seeks to please –
‘Tis a stagnant breeze.

Yet, not all’re embalmed
The faithful church still obeys
O unquenched Spirit, bring us to our knees
Move us with Thy breeze.

This has been Thursday Verse Day with Lynniebeemuseoday. Today is a beautiful, breezy day, but I promise you that when I wrote this poem, you could hardly move through the oppressively hot and windless humidity. Think about those kinds of days as you read this.

I’ll probably sail off toward the Seas of Deletion in the morning.

Back in 2014 I had an idea, an artsy idea. These kinds of ideas occur on a regular basis and are usually beyond the scope of my skills. But this one seemed doable, so I started what I was sure would be an epic journey. Oh, you want to know what it was? Here ya go: I planned do a page of artwork for each Psalm in the psalter. I didn’t want to bite off more than I could chew, so my idea was to make each one somewhat simple, containing the following elements:
1. The word “Psalm” and the number,
2. The Latin phrase at the beginning of each one (we have those in our Book of Common Prayer)
3. The English translation of the Latin phrase (usually part of the first verse),
4. One or two simple illustrations inspired by the psalm,
5. And maybe a verse (or two).

Like that. It seemed reasonable to do one per week. It took me seven months to do six of them and I haven’t returned to this project since May of 2015. Somewhere along the line the sheer number of Psalms involved made it all so unmanageable. As you may know, there are 150 Psalms. In my original plan, it would have taken me 150 weeks, or around 3 years to finish. And then I couldn’t even do one per month, so I gave up.

But now I have more time and I’d like to pick it up again, even if I never finish it. I hear the echo of Winston Churchill saying “Nevah, nevah, nevah give up!” It’s called perseverance. Cheer me on, would you? I’ll share them as I go.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning unless it’s another muggy day.

Back in 2015 I went to New York City with my daughter, two sisters, a brother and a brother-in-law. We’d gone for a Celebration of Life for my aunt who had recently died. One evening found us in Brooklyn for a meal at my uncle’s place and afterward, the six of us went to the subway station to get a subway back to Manhattan where we were staying.

As we waited for the next train back, a couple of men joined us, who looked to be in their early 30’s. One of them spoke loudly and expansively, saying “What’s everybody’s story tonight? Everybody’s got a story, right? Why are we all here in Brooklyn?” Silence from the Minnesota contingent. He looked a little sauced, but harmless. Undaunted, he went on. “Okay, I’ll go first. A buddy of mine just opened a bar so I’ve been there for the last couple of hours. How about you guys? What brought you to Brooklyn? What are you doing here?” He had a very good-natured aspect about him; I suppose you’d call him a friendly drunk.

Continue reading “Tuesday, August 10, 2021 The Guy on the NYC Subway” →

Corn fields are full of mystery. When the wind picks up, corn fields are definitely hiding something, with all that rustling and whispering. I’d rather walk through a graveyard at night than a corn field, but maybe I’ve seen too many movies. Actually, the only movie that completely freaked me out about corn fields was “Signs.” When I saw a trailer for that movie, I knew it wasn’t the movie for me, but I got outvoted on Family Movie Night. It ended up being my favorite movie of that year. Every time I tried to explain to people why it meant so much to me, I got choked up. If you see the trailer, you’ll think it’s a cheesy movie about an alien invasion. But it’s not – it’s about one man’s loss of faith and how he has gone from being angry and bitter against God to the worst state of all: indifference. It’s about the moment when he recognizes that God has been there all along and that He has a purpose in everything.

But the corn field part – that was just creepy. We used to live out in the country when our kids were little and we were sometimes surrounded by corn fields. When the corn was high, I was on alert to make sure that none of our kids wandered in and got lost. It seemed to happen every year to some little kid – they would enter the corn fields and become disoriented. You can lose all sense of direction within minutes and every corn stalk looks just like another. One time when we were finishing up supper, we noticed that one of the twins had slipped away from the table – he was only 2-3 years old at the time. We ran outside and called his name, looking toward the vast corn forest and praying that he hadn’t gone there. I went back in the house to get something and there he was – he had fallen asleep during supper and we hadn’t seen him lying down on the bench at the table.

But I’ll tell you something with more than a kernel of truth, if you’ll lend me an ear. Freshly picked new sweet corn, boiled, buttered and salted, is indescribably good. As you move your teeth down row after row, smearing your face with butter as you go, you need to thank God for this summer gift. O taste and see that the Lord is good!

This has been Monday Meanderings and Musings with Lynniebeemuseoday.

If the corn field ever stops with its rustling and whisperings, I’ll consider deleting this.