It seems Sundays are our day for "bad things to happen." I was zooming along with my household chores yesterday, pulling my last load of laundry out of the washing machine. It was the quilt I made some years ago - hand-stitched and everything - and there was something.... Not Right... about it. It felt gritty. And the color was, erm, Alabama-clay-orange?
So I called the philosopher in, and he took a single look and headed for the bathroom. ("Hmm - it looks really bad, but not bad enough to hurl," I thought!) When I walked to the open doorway, he was running the bathroom faucet, and nasty orange-brown, thick, silty water was pouring forth. We've had a lot of rain the past week or so, and it looks like our 30 year old well may have gone to meet its maker (driller?) at last. We think there's a crack in the iron sleeve, which may result in either re-sleeving the existing well or the odious task of drilling a new one. And that, my friends, is not a cheap repair either way.
According to a well-drilling guy we talked to, there's a chance it will improve when the water table gets back to normal, but that cannot be a permanent solution regardless. So we're praying that it clears enough for showers and dish cleaning (we have a 3-part filter on the kitchen faucet for drinking water, but we can't even use that until the silt stops flowing), because otherwise it could be several weeks before we have usable water again, as it would take at least that long to get a repair (or new well) completed. There's also a slight chance we can get annexed into the small town we're adjacent to, but that still means at least 800 yards of city water line which have to be laid first, and I am sure we would have to pay for that too. Cylla and Charybdis, right?
This serves as a stark reminder of all the less fortunate around the world who don't have running water, or even access to clean water. It is an inconvenience, and an annoyance, and a huge outlay of money we really don't have in a time when we need to be saving instead of spending, but it could be worse. We have food and shelter. We have friends and family. We have faith and trust in a God who gives us Living Water to drink. And really, do we need anything else?
Still, I ask for prayers for patience, and for a firm reliance on God. Otherwise I might just start crying in frustration, and who likes to see a bawling librarian?
Monday, January 12, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Early Morning Escapade
Or should I say Escalade? (No, wait... it was a Lincoln Navigator. Never mind!)
But it was Sunday morning. And it was definitely Early. I woke up sometime before five - you know how you jolt out of a deep sleep for no apparent reason? As my eyes started to focus, I noticed a Very Bright Light shining on the bedroom wall. Which was odd, because no lights in the house were on, and there are no streetlights on our tiny slip of a road. I quickly deduced - despite my sleepiness - that it was Something Strange. So I staggered into the study, sans glasses, and peered owlishly out the window. I saw what looked like a car at the top of the neighbor's driveway, sitting there motionless but with its bright lights shining in though the window. I stood there for a minute or two, and decided to step back into the bedroom to get my glasses. As I did so, the lights went out. I went back to the window anyway, and looked again. I didn't *think* I saw anything, so I decided it was someone - very lost - turning around. I had no sooner gotten comfy again in my nice warm bed that... ZOOM... the light was back!
Out of bed I jumped, with glasses in hand this time, and went back to the window. The lights were much closer. Much, MUCH closer. And attached to a vehicle. A Lincoln Navigator, to be precise. A shiny white one, even. In fact, they were... in our yard??!? Not sitting calmly in the driveway, mind you, but sunk to the wheel wells in the muddy abyss that is our front yard.
Now, here's the curious thing. We don't know anyone who drives a Lincoln Navigator. And even if we did, anyone we knew would be kind enough to park it on the concrete, not in the mud atop our sceptic tank. I walked calmly back into the bedroom, and announced loudly "THERE IS SOMEONE DOING DONUTS IN OUR FRONT YARD." Which immediately propelled the husband out of his own pleasant dreams and into the hall where I was standing, still a bit startled at the events unfolding before me. He picked up the phone, about to call the cops. (We live in a quiet area, but there are some unsavory folk not too terribly far away. If these mud doggers were looking for them the police would have been a prudent first call.)
As we watched, a woman got out and sloshed around the vehicle. (Did I mention we'd received almost six inches of rain in the previous 24 hours??) So the philosopher decided to turn on the front lights and open the door.
"Excuse me, WHO ARE YOU? And what are you doing in our yard??!?"
It was obvious she was, erm.... "drunk as a cooterbug"? Yeah, that would be a nice way to put it. She wailed "I can't get my car out of the mud! I was going to cuss out my ex-fiance and I got stuck here! I am SO SORRY. I promise, I'll fix your grass!"
So eventually we invited her in while we waited for her ex-husband and his wife to come pick her up (it's better not to ask, we learned). We made coffee. We listened to her (slightly incoherent) tale of woe. After she left, we got ready for church, still a little dazed and disoriented at the extremely early start to the morning. Before we headed out, the ex-husband was back with a towtruck, and they winched the beast out of the mud. And left a slew of despond where our tidy lawn used to be.
We haven't heard back from her yet, but we have her contact info (and that of her ex, who works for the sheriff's department) and we will call if we don't hear anything by Friday. I suppose we should be glad that she ended up stuck in the mud, unable to drive. She could have driven into the large drainage ditch at the top of the hill, or wrapped around one of the large trees in our yard. Or smashed into the side of our house. Or worse still, she could have caused an accident that resulted in injury or - God forbid - a death.
So the moral of the story, kids, is Don't Drink and Drive. Especially if you feel the need to cuss someone out at 5 am.
But it was Sunday morning. And it was definitely Early. I woke up sometime before five - you know how you jolt out of a deep sleep for no apparent reason? As my eyes started to focus, I noticed a Very Bright Light shining on the bedroom wall. Which was odd, because no lights in the house were on, and there are no streetlights on our tiny slip of a road. I quickly deduced - despite my sleepiness - that it was Something Strange. So I staggered into the study, sans glasses, and peered owlishly out the window. I saw what looked like a car at the top of the neighbor's driveway, sitting there motionless but with its bright lights shining in though the window. I stood there for a minute or two, and decided to step back into the bedroom to get my glasses. As I did so, the lights went out. I went back to the window anyway, and looked again. I didn't *think* I saw anything, so I decided it was someone - very lost - turning around. I had no sooner gotten comfy again in my nice warm bed that... ZOOM... the light was back!
Out of bed I jumped, with glasses in hand this time, and went back to the window. The lights were much closer. Much, MUCH closer. And attached to a vehicle. A Lincoln Navigator, to be precise. A shiny white one, even. In fact, they were... in our yard??!? Not sitting calmly in the driveway, mind you, but sunk to the wheel wells in the muddy abyss that is our front yard.
Now, here's the curious thing. We don't know anyone who drives a Lincoln Navigator. And even if we did, anyone we knew would be kind enough to park it on the concrete, not in the mud atop our sceptic tank. I walked calmly back into the bedroom, and announced loudly "THERE IS SOMEONE DOING DONUTS IN OUR FRONT YARD." Which immediately propelled the husband out of his own pleasant dreams and into the hall where I was standing, still a bit startled at the events unfolding before me. He picked up the phone, about to call the cops. (We live in a quiet area, but there are some unsavory folk not too terribly far away. If these mud doggers were looking for them the police would have been a prudent first call.)
As we watched, a woman got out and sloshed around the vehicle. (Did I mention we'd received almost six inches of rain in the previous 24 hours??) So the philosopher decided to turn on the front lights and open the door.
"Excuse me, WHO ARE YOU? And what are you doing in our yard??!?"
It was obvious she was, erm.... "drunk as a cooterbug"? Yeah, that would be a nice way to put it. She wailed "I can't get my car out of the mud! I was going to cuss out my ex-fiance and I got stuck here! I am SO SORRY. I promise, I'll fix your grass!"
So eventually we invited her in while we waited for her ex-husband and his wife to come pick her up (it's better not to ask, we learned). We made coffee. We listened to her (slightly incoherent) tale of woe. After she left, we got ready for church, still a little dazed and disoriented at the extremely early start to the morning. Before we headed out, the ex-husband was back with a towtruck, and they winched the beast out of the mud. And left a slew of despond where our tidy lawn used to be.
We haven't heard back from her yet, but we have her contact info (and that of her ex, who works for the sheriff's department) and we will call if we don't hear anything by Friday. I suppose we should be glad that she ended up stuck in the mud, unable to drive. She could have driven into the large drainage ditch at the top of the hill, or wrapped around one of the large trees in our yard. Or smashed into the side of our house. Or worse still, she could have caused an accident that resulted in injury or - God forbid - a death.
So the moral of the story, kids, is Don't Drink and Drive. Especially if you feel the need to cuss someone out at 5 am.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
My First Tag
A fellow blogger (Billy Ockham) tagged me. It's something I've assudiously avoided until now, but what the heck. ::grin:: I may not be able to come up with SIX PEOPLE to tag myself (who wouldn't shoot me dead if they saw me later) so I'll have to ponder that very carefully.
Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you. (Done, above.)
2. Post the rules on your blog. (You're reading them!)
3. Write six random things about yourself. (Look below)
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them. (Look even farther below.)
5. Let each person know they've been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
Random bits:
1. I really love to build things with Lego - Notre Dame Cathedral is my crowning achievement to date.
2. The only time my husband and I talk about philosophy is when we go on long walks or hikes.
3. My favorite coffee is Barnies' Cinnamon Butter Cookie.
4. I once climbed a water tower, just because it was there.
5. I saw Pope John Paul II when I was in Rome in 2000.
6. My husband is a college football widower every fall. (Go Seminoles!)
And I will tag....
1. Blondie
2. Frick
3. Librarian
4. the Jones
5. Gratia Domini
6. Jenny
Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you. (Done, above.)
2. Post the rules on your blog. (You're reading them!)
3. Write six random things about yourself. (Look below)
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them. (Look even farther below.)
5. Let each person know they've been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
Random bits:
1. I really love to build things with Lego - Notre Dame Cathedral is my crowning achievement to date.
2. The only time my husband and I talk about philosophy is when we go on long walks or hikes.
3. My favorite coffee is Barnies' Cinnamon Butter Cookie.
4. I once climbed a water tower, just because it was there.
5. I saw Pope John Paul II when I was in Rome in 2000.
6. My husband is a college football widower every fall. (Go Seminoles!)
And I will tag....
1. Blondie
2. Frick
3. Librarian
4. the Jones
5. Gratia Domini
6. Jenny
Monday, December 15, 2008
Prayer Request!
The philosopher in my life just found out he has a job interview for a tenure-track position at a small liberal arts college! Please pray for him as he prepares for the interview, that he may clearly present himself and his abilities. Pray for the interviewers' discernment. Pray for safe travels to Philadelphia, as the interview will take place at the Eastern APA meeting on December 30. Finally, pray that we follow God's plan - not ours - and that if this is meant to be the path forward becomes clear.
I'm trying not to be too excited, because I know that this is just one step among many. But the field of philosophy is very competitive right now, and going from one-in-300 to one-in-ten is a huge step forward.
Blessed Advent!
I'm trying not to be too excited, because I know that this is just one step among many. But the field of philosophy is very competitive right now, and going from one-in-300 to one-in-ten is a huge step forward.
Blessed Advent!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
My name is Alabama, and I am schizophrenic.
It's Alabama. It's December. As the saying goes: if you don't like the weather, wait a few minutes!
Well today we're waiting, and watching, and praying. Tonight severe thunderstorms and tornadoes are predicted. (Yes, Alabama actually has TWO severe weather seasons: one in the spring and one in late fall.) Double the pleasure, double the fun! Dewpoints are in the 60s, and so are the temperatures. Other weather-nerd info says that winds aloft are very high, which is another indicator of a possible severe weather outbreak. My favorite weatherman (and his station) go to 24/7 uninterrupted coverage if there is a tornado warning in the tv coverage area. And for a weather junkie like me, that is way cool. I always learn a lot (if I'm not cowering in the laundry room!)
We don't actually have a weather radio, but the news station set up a weather text alert that will go to your cell phone. You pick the county, and you'll get a text message as soon at the National Weather Service announces the alert. Often my cell phone goes off before we hear the sirens! So even though the professor laughs when I tuck my cell phone under my pillow on those potentially nasty nights, I know that if a tornado is coming I can make sure we go to a safe place.
Tomorrow should be blustery and damp, unpleasant, but not alarming. Then on Thursday, temperatures will drop dramatically and SNOW is predicted Thursday night. Snow. Give Me a Break. Well, as long as it holds off until I get home from work I can live with it.
Hello, my name is Alabama, and I am schizophrenic!
Well today we're waiting, and watching, and praying. Tonight severe thunderstorms and tornadoes are predicted. (Yes, Alabama actually has TWO severe weather seasons: one in the spring and one in late fall.) Double the pleasure, double the fun! Dewpoints are in the 60s, and so are the temperatures. Other weather-nerd info says that winds aloft are very high, which is another indicator of a possible severe weather outbreak. My favorite weatherman (and his station) go to 24/7 uninterrupted coverage if there is a tornado warning in the tv coverage area. And for a weather junkie like me, that is way cool. I always learn a lot (if I'm not cowering in the laundry room!)
We don't actually have a weather radio, but the news station set up a weather text alert that will go to your cell phone. You pick the county, and you'll get a text message as soon at the National Weather Service announces the alert. Often my cell phone goes off before we hear the sirens! So even though the professor laughs when I tuck my cell phone under my pillow on those potentially nasty nights, I know that if a tornado is coming I can make sure we go to a safe place.
Tomorrow should be blustery and damp, unpleasant, but not alarming. Then on Thursday, temperatures will drop dramatically and SNOW is predicted Thursday night. Snow. Give Me a Break. Well, as long as it holds off until I get home from work I can live with it.
Hello, my name is Alabama, and I am schizophrenic!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Eucatastrophe
Last night in Wheaton, Illinois, a group of orthodox Anglicans laid the foundation for a provisional Anglican Church in North America. My small little corner of the Anglican alphabet soup is not a part of this (yet?), but it gives me hope. It gives me hope that Biblically-based Anglican Christianity is still alive and well in America, and will continue with the Great Commission. It gives me hope that our fractured world does have the ability to come together and begin to heal - if us raucous Anglicans can agree to disagree on things like women's ordination and which prayer book is appropriate, just think what might happen in other areas where we live and work.
Do you see what I mean? We are so used to getting our own way in today's society. It's "me, me, me, me" everywhere you go. Here's an example of folks willing to set aside the "me" and work for the better of "we." The quote "preach the gospel at all times; if necessary, use words," is attrbuted to St. Francis, and it applies to us. Regardless of where we are and what venue we are functioning in, our actions are visible to those around us. So now maybe a town council, or a Baptist church, or a board of directors will see how this group of Anglicans set aside their differences to work together for the greater good. Indeed, maybe some of the Anglicans involved in this new province WORK in some of those other groups, and will not only impact the "group dynamics" but bring souls to Christ at the same time.
It's not a solution to all life's problems - of course not. We are fallen human beings and will continue to struggle with sin for the rest of our lives. But at this part of the story, we are experiencing our own eucatastrophe. And I will weep and rejoice as I watch the events unfold.
Do you see what I mean? We are so used to getting our own way in today's society. It's "me, me, me, me" everywhere you go. Here's an example of folks willing to set aside the "me" and work for the better of "we." The quote "preach the gospel at all times; if necessary, use words," is attrbuted to St. Francis, and it applies to us. Regardless of where we are and what venue we are functioning in, our actions are visible to those around us. So now maybe a town council, or a Baptist church, or a board of directors will see how this group of Anglicans set aside their differences to work together for the greater good. Indeed, maybe some of the Anglicans involved in this new province WORK in some of those other groups, and will not only impact the "group dynamics" but bring souls to Christ at the same time.
It's not a solution to all life's problems - of course not. We are fallen human beings and will continue to struggle with sin for the rest of our lives. But at this part of the story, we are experiencing our own eucatastrophe. And I will weep and rejoice as I watch the events unfold.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
It's a fiesta (without the radioactivity)!
No, actually we're not having a non-nuclear party. ::grin:: (Well, dad and I are having one this Saturday for the SEC Championship game, and that might go nuclear, but that's another thing entirely.)
My mom has had some dinnerware in storage that I've coveted for years. Some of the pieces were my great-grandmother's, even. She'd already passed on her Lenox china (saying she never used it) so I didn't want to ask for anything else. But this Thanksgiving the opportunity arose... I was helping her clear out some cabinets and such, and she asked me if there was anything I wanted. So I mentioned the boxes of Fiestaware stored in the attic. It's a mixed assortment - cinnabar dinner plates, ivory salad plates, shamrock dessert bowls, some random serving pieces, and a gazillion small coffee cups/saucers in two different colors. (OK, that's an exaggeration. There's more like 14, but everything else is in multiples of 8, so that counts as a gazillion in dish-math.) Our "walmart china" was on its last legs, so this gift/early inheritance was a boon to our pocketbook too. Thanks, mom!!
Aesthetically, it will take some getting used to - I'm all about things matching, and now none of our dishes match. But there's a wierd freedom to that too. Our stone cottage in Virginia had a definite "Italian" theme going, with olive colored dishes and such. With the Fiesta, we are no longer tied to keeping up a color theme. The philosopher is going to build a display shelf for some of the pieces - a beautiful evergreen platter, the sugar/creamer set (blue and... er... pink-ish, I think) and the small disk pitcher, which is bright yellow. It also goes well with our new kitchen, which has light, neutral wood/tile tones. So the new dishes add a bit of spark that our Italian-color pieces didn't quite do.
Some of the pieces, like the sugar/creamer and yellow coffee cups, were my great-grandmother's (bought when they first came out in the 30s). Mother added some of the other pieces when the line was re-introduced in the 70s. So not only do I have some excellent dinnerware now, I have a little piece of my family history too. As an only child, that's really important to me (and thanks go here to my hubby for understanding that!) I have some furniture from my father's parents - a walnut dining room table and a bedroom suite - and a rocking chair from my mother's mother. Now I have something from one of my "greats," so how cool is that?
Now, those of you who are familiar with Fiestaware have heard about the radioactive red plates from the mid-20th century. You know, the ones where the red color came from depleted (or natural!) uranium. Fortunately, we don't have any of the "radioactive red," so you are completely safe if you come to have dinner with us!
My mom has had some dinnerware in storage that I've coveted for years. Some of the pieces were my great-grandmother's, even. She'd already passed on her Lenox china (saying she never used it) so I didn't want to ask for anything else. But this Thanksgiving the opportunity arose... I was helping her clear out some cabinets and such, and she asked me if there was anything I wanted. So I mentioned the boxes of Fiestaware stored in the attic. It's a mixed assortment - cinnabar dinner plates, ivory salad plates, shamrock dessert bowls, some random serving pieces, and a gazillion small coffee cups/saucers in two different colors. (OK, that's an exaggeration. There's more like 14, but everything else is in multiples of 8, so that counts as a gazillion in dish-math.) Our "walmart china" was on its last legs, so this gift/early inheritance was a boon to our pocketbook too. Thanks, mom!!
Aesthetically, it will take some getting used to - I'm all about things matching, and now none of our dishes match. But there's a wierd freedom to that too. Our stone cottage in Virginia had a definite "Italian" theme going, with olive colored dishes and such. With the Fiesta, we are no longer tied to keeping up a color theme. The philosopher is going to build a display shelf for some of the pieces - a beautiful evergreen platter, the sugar/creamer set (blue and... er... pink-ish, I think) and the small disk pitcher, which is bright yellow. It also goes well with our new kitchen, which has light, neutral wood/tile tones. So the new dishes add a bit of spark that our Italian-color pieces didn't quite do.
Some of the pieces, like the sugar/creamer and yellow coffee cups, were my great-grandmother's (bought when they first came out in the 30s). Mother added some of the other pieces when the line was re-introduced in the 70s. So not only do I have some excellent dinnerware now, I have a little piece of my family history too. As an only child, that's really important to me (and thanks go here to my hubby for understanding that!) I have some furniture from my father's parents - a walnut dining room table and a bedroom suite - and a rocking chair from my mother's mother. Now I have something from one of my "greats," so how cool is that?
Now, those of you who are familiar with Fiestaware have heard about the radioactive red plates from the mid-20th century. You know, the ones where the red color came from depleted (or natural!) uranium. Fortunately, we don't have any of the "radioactive red," so you are completely safe if you come to have dinner with us!
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