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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Monday, April 09, 2007

Scribbles and Scrambles - Holiday Snippets

For the want of anything of value – let me ramble on about nothing. Maybe something will gel, fall out and bounce off the floor. Then if it does, I can pick it up and run with it.

Conversations yesterday with my fabulous family and friends netted some tiny fragments of ideas that could be twisted and misaligned into possible entertaining anecdotes for your perusal.

The idea for a deaconess cart was brought up at church – it quickly went downhill from there and now the entire deaconess committee is hoping to get a golf cart aka the deac-mobil to transport communion supplies back and forth. Yes, I agree. This is a sad picture of American Christianity. But did that stop me from participating in the banter? And I am not going to enter the debate or conversation regarding the title – deaconess. Let me just say that our denomination does not use pom-poms or lead cheers.

Speaking of gluttony – served with three full meals yesterday. And as my insane F and F are wont to do, we found a different twist on the whole “a starving child in a ____________ (insert third-world country here) would love to have what’s on your plate” guilt trip. One location served a tweak on the traditional ham…corned beef. A teen person left a chunk on her plate. Her father said. “Hey, there’s a starving Irishman who’d love to have that.” (Said person was Irish – so it’s okay to share – no comments about unfair comments).

Finally, conversation turned serious and even a little sinister as a cousin shared a recent hunt for art. His hair-stylist has great paintings on his walls. Cousin asked where they’d come from. The stylist looked both ways, leaned in close, and whispered. “I’ll tell you sometime.”

Weeks – maybe even months (I wasn’t paying close enough attention to the real details) my cousin received a cryptic phone call. “This is Agent X, (okay, it was really the stylist’s name – but it was still weird) meet me at the unmarked warehouse on the waterfront. Park in the alley, walk around front.” They found the unmarked building and a man standing outside, he held six different leashed of six dogs who were in various stages of doing their doggy duty. The guy jerked his head toward the building…so they entered.

My cousin left with some sweet deals on original art, and the instructions to tell no one the location of the building.

Hey, I warned you.

If I don’t get targeted by Agent X – I’ll be seeing you around.