When I went to work my kitchen looked like it has for quite awhile. He's been working a little here and there...last week was the first big hint that change was on the horizon. Drywall was removed, some old section of a wall followed and the central air ducts were attached to the ceiling. Then the raw ceiling joists began to disappear under fresh new drywall.
But picture one shows the first big change today. Some cabinets and the dishwasher disappeared while I was at work. And that was just the beginning. I'm tasting drywall dust and the very close reality that this kitchen thing just might happen this summer!!!
Picture three is the skeleton of my pantry closet/cupboard. That's what I'm talkin bout.
Made infamous by Napoleon Dynamite, decroded was used to describe a piece of -rap. This went on to become even funnier when a friend who drove a minivan which needed yet another multi-Franklin visit to the mechanic used "decroded piece of cr--" to describe said minivan.
Slither.
Not my favorite. I believe you might know why. SHUDDER!
Discombobulated. (as pictured)
This is just fun to say. And it feels a little onomatopoeia-ish don't you think?
Onomatopoeia.
Fun. Who doesn't like words that sound like what they mean? I always think of the 60's era Batman with the cartoon words splashed across the tiny television screens during the fights. Pow! Bam!
Next not so favorite.
Drama. Really. Life is just tough enough to make it any more complicated by insisting on writing our own scripts and parts for others. And then punishing others for not picking up on the cues.
Sleep is a great word. And even though this will post automatically while I'm sleeping early Thursday morning, I am writing it late Wednesday night and I'm tired. So off to sleep I go.
In order to understand today's post, you need to scroll down and read The Winds Will Blow below.
This Hurricane situation is an interesting study in human nature.
First. The lengths many of us will go to to make peace or find solutions is fascinating. The majority of our Hurricane smoothie think tank was willing to compromise the original intention of the design. The Hurricane was an ice cream based fruit smoothie. But in order to avoid some work, or discomfort we were willing to call something else "The Hurricane." I don't like the idea of taking this into the spiritual realm (because it's convicting), but we do this with huge spiritual matters and life and death decisions as well, don't we?
Then there was the "my way or the highway" kind of thinking. "I won't bend over and make this drink" and the "if it's on the board, it better be available" mindset. Hmmm. Do we ever have those attitudes within our families or church?
Yikes.
The next thing that jumps out at me...reactive vs. proactive thinking. Reactive...not my job... "Someone needs to erase The Hurricane." Someday and someone else. Until it's done just keep covering up the issue with whatever sounds the best.
Proactive. When the drink is a dud, erase it.
But then what would we debate?
Finally, and maybe the most interesting. The loss of The Hurricane as an option suddenly made The Hurricane a focal point, an item that made our mouths water, something we never knew we needed now gone from our lives, and something we all of a sudden miss or need.
Why is it we sometimes want only items not available to us? Grass is greener syndrome? Grass smoothie? Hmmm. I wonder if I should run that through the think tank?
Here's to a hurricane-free day. In all senses of the word. Unless someone comes up with a brilliant Hurricane idea and then climbs up on the ladder and writes it back on the board. Don't see that happening any time soon. Seeing that the erasure of The Hurricane era took nearly three years.
23 works in a coffee shop and an old menu item has become a hot signature object for a handful of people.
The shop offers delicious smoothies of various flavors and combinations. On the artistic and eye catching sign board there was a simple statement that the new Hurricane flavor was now available.
But that was then and this is now. The Hurricane started out being an ice cream smoothie. But the shop began making homemade ice creams and The Hurricane just wasn't a big seller. So when people came into the shop and looked at the smoothie sign, they were told, "Don't order The Hurricane. It's not available." That's when the questions begin and the occasional hankering for The Hurricane.
Then came the recent flashpoint. The Hurricane must have been catching more eyes and causing more hankerings than ever before and this story of the legendary but unavailable Hurricane had been told a few too many times. The sign could simply be erased but no one took the time to erase The Hurricane off the menu board. They just redirected. One new customer, though, took it upon himself to push the issue. He didn't want a Hurricane but insisted that it really needed to be a real and available drink if it was indeed on the sign.
A brainstorming session consisting of two employees, Mr. Customer and myself took place. I insisted that they just make up a drink and call it The Hurricane. How about multiple fruit stripes drizzled down the sides of the clear cup and a splash of tropical flavoring like coconut and macadamia nut or pineapple. Voila. A Hurricane. 23 told an innocent and uninvolved customer, the day before the big Hurricane think tank, that The Hurricane was all fruit flavors blended into one delicious drink. He bought it, she made it and the solution was almost found. Mr. Customer was a bit cynical and made a few snide comments as he sipped his strawberry smoothie. But the other barrista said she'd flat out refuse to make a Hurricane with all the fruit flavors. She's very tall and the fruit purees are kept at the bottom of a small refrigerator and her complaint was that she "hates to bend over."
Imagine my surprise when I received this picture today. A sign without The Hurricane. Situation resolved. Mr. Customer got it, too. 23 took care of the problem.
And this whole situation has me thinking....but there's not room for it here and now. Come back.
A friend sent me a link to Plinky which provides a questions/prompts to write about. Some are lame. But this was one I thought I could make lame magic with so here you go.
Write a haiku about the last meal you ate.
French toast, omelet, fruit dinner party, under vent air cold, dinner fine.
Sometimes I wish people were as easy to figure out as canines.
Canines are so out there.
Example. 23 is dog-sitting a little black Pomeranian. Now. This little guy is cute...looks a little like a bow-legged bat, actually. And he's sweet. He'll come out of nowhere to curl up next to me and maybe give some exposed skin a little lick. Cute.
However, he does bark. And I mean bark. As little as he is you'd think it would be a tiny bark. Oh no. It is NOT. It is intense. And it sounds often. Rob has been going in and out of the house frequently while working on a project. Every time the door opens and closes our little temporary burglar system sounds. But that's beside the point.
Last night we went on a group walk. 4 dogs, a toddler and 7 women. Lily decided that she was going to dominate poor, timid Riley who is exactly her size. 23 had to make sure she watched Lily's body language so Riley could have a good time.
But that's what I love about dogs. Their body language tells the truth. If something has happened while we are gone, something that might make a human unhappy, we will not be greeted at the door. When they are happy to see us, we know it, our calves and shins are bruised by their happiness. When they don't feel well, well, it's written all over their faces. And when they have an issue with someone or something, they let that ring loud and clear. Fear? Broadcast for the world to hear.
Humans are just so much more involved. Maybe that's why dogs are man's best friend. You never have to play games. Okay, beyond the tug of war, fetch and chase the dog.
Even though I've got a stack of books that I have got to get read and reviewed and I really have no business agreeing to read others I had to make an exception. The story of the Hutterites is new to me. I had never heard of this people group so I agreed to add it to my pile. When I saw the mini-documentary about them, glimpsed the black and white polka-dotted kerchiefs on the women, I moved the book to the top of the stack.
Those of you who love religious memoirs or the idea of a simplier life really need to get your hands on a copy of this fascinating, poignant and rich memoir. This is a story of a unique journey. Mary Ann Kirkby knew only life in the colony until days before her tenth birthday when her world drastically changed.
My family spends many hours a week with our church family and we consider them an extension of our natural families. In the Hutterite colonies this concept is carried to the extreme. The Hutterites model their lives after Acts 2: 42-47 where scripture states that personal possessions were shared or sold for the good of the community and communal meals/togetherness was the rule and the life of the early New Testament church. The Hutterites share everything and live in a small village of people who care for one another. As idealic as that sounds, and there were passages in the book that sounded almost like paradise and made me wistfully want to find my own group of Hutterites and beg to join the community. But as with most things good and all things tinged with humanity and its inherent selfishness, the heaven on earth of living with loved ones and sharing life with them became torturous for the parents of Mary Ann and their family. A stubborn family member, old grudges, unforgiveness, and a rules trump people mindset became too much and Mary Ann's family fled.The story wends through a fascinating, though utilitarianly written, account that dips into poignancy many times throughout the decades of Mary Ann's life as a Hutterite and one who is on the outside looking it.
skeleton of my pantry closet/cupboard. That's what I'm talkin bout.
