It's 7:20 a.m. and I've been up for...a long time. I need to go out and feed the goats, but my brain is in full ADD mode so I'm going to throw down some misc. nonsense first. I'll add to this pap as the day proceeds and time allows.
As I listen to The Count of Monte Cristo (I'm almost done) I've decided I like the names Haidee (high-DEE) and Mercedes.
And the word nabob.
If I had it to do over again I'd do some pastor things differently, including sermons. I'd preach on stuff people really wonder about, and that I think the Bible speaks to, if only indirectly. At the risk of excessive self-disclosure:
- Are we culpable for our dreams? Do they have any relationship to our waking selves, are they indicative of our true moral character, fears, ambitions, etc.? Was Freud right? Or are they just random and meaningless synapses?
- When we choose what music to listen to should the composer's/performer's life have any bearing on that choice. Assuming the lyrics are neutral enough, does listening to Elton John, or Michael Jackson, or (heaven forbid) Cher carry any burden of responsibility vis a' vis my commitment to biblical standards in life? Am I in any way endorsing their self proclaimed positions on basic moral issues? And if so, does the passage of time make any difference? Because some well known and widely respected classical musicians lived lives of total debauchery. Same goes for authors and visual artists.
- Where's the line between wanting more/better and greed? Does being content with my circumstances mean I can't wish for better ______? Is fixing up MoHo OK, or does it represent discontent with what God has given us? Where's that line?
OK, the goats are going to revolt if I don't get out there and give them their morning ration of grain and alfalfa.
As threatened, I'm back. Two hours later the goats are fed, I'm shaved & showered, and MoHo is passably clean. I've vacuumed and mopped, and in naive optimism put the wood stove up for the summer. That means a final emptying of ashes, wiping down the exterior, and vacuuming up all the wood sluff that accumulates around it. The fan we have behind it to move hot air is now cleaned and moved to the bedroom for cooling. Because vintage (a much nicer term than stupid old) single wides don't have 8' ceilings, never mind the requisite wiring, ceiling fans aren't an option. So without AC I built a fold up/down base as high on the wall as possible that the fan sits on. We discovered last summer that it does a decent job of cooling us on hot summer nights.
Yeah, I'm assuming we're done with the need for heat and will soon want cooling.
Pam gets home late this afternoon and then leaves next Friday for a week in Michigan. Her mom (94) is moving from her condo to a ... I'm not sure what to call it. She'll have her own small apartment, eat her meals in the dining room, and can get additional help and care as her needs develop. Pam's going back to help her younger brother, who lives there, go through the condo and deal with a huge amount of stuff my MIL has accumulated over the years. Very little can go to her new residence. None of it will come back here (we've agreed that makes no sense), not enough will go into the trash, and the decisions on it all are their worry. This SIL is going to seriously miss his wife, but is grateful to be 2,300 miles away during this process.
The sixth commandment, "Honor your father and mother," is too often misread as "obey your father and mother." That error leads to reasonable questions like, "When am I no longer responsible to obey?" and, "What if their orders are bogus?" The Hebrew word means something like, "give weight to" with no connotation of obey. It says we're to treat our parents as important people, give them the honor and respect their significance warrants. And that has nothing to do with age or status, the parent's or the son/daughter.
Our culture increasingly devalues the old while glorifying youth, which makes honoring parents something that requires intentionality. Add to that the disrespect of their parents that too many young children are allowed to display.
At any stage of life we're called to consider our parents weighty, important, worthy of honor. That's why Pam's going back to spend a week helping her mom. It's a given. Do I want her gone for a week right after having been gone? Nope. But it's the right thing.
At 8 p.m. we're back from the Portland airport. Almost five hours round trip. Before leaving I got 40 1x6x6' cedar fence boards that will serve as siding on the barn extension. I'll start installing those tomorrow and get the roofing Monday. Based on her appearance there's no way Sundae is making it to July 11. I'm not sure she's going to make it to June 20, but I want the barn ready well before that point.
The Marion berry vines are loaded with buds so I think we'll have a good crop. The rhubarb plants aren't looking so good, but it's their second year so I may be too optimistic, or it's too early in the season for significant growth. It's going to be in the 70's and 80's for the next week with lots of sun and no rain so that may kick all the garden goods into high gear. But it also means I need to finish getting the irrigation well up and running so everything gets watered as necessary.
I've got too much to do.
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