Fresh Market

The Fresh Market is a wonderful chain of smaller grocery stores that sell baked goods, prime meat and seafood, prepared foods to take home for dinner, and organic produce.

I don't shop Fresh Market as a routine practice, but stop in at the one nearby Mom's when she is in town. We meander around commenting on the giant artichokes, or the lovely little organic cucumbers, or whatever catches our fancy at the time.  

Yesterday, I was in with Mom to pick up some Revolution Earl Grey Lavender tea which is perhaps the best tea EVER.  So many gourmet and unusual foods abound that it is hard to take everything in at one time.

Yesterday Mom and I saw cucumber soda, blood orange soda, and lavender soda!  We picked up the lavender soda to give it a try. Both of us delight int that sort of thing, so I guess I came by it naturally.

One of Fresh Market's unique features are little "rooms" that they have up high near the ceiling.  Conventional markets often display lawn chairs and coolers or other seasonal items in such spaces.

Here is Fresh Market's take on it:

The produce is amazing...

Happy Independence Day

Pics taken during a recent drive to Richmond.

Our National Anthem - Second Verse

And thus be it ever

Where free men may stand

Between their loved homes

And the war's desolation

Blessed with victory and peace

May the heaven's-rescued land

Praise the Power that hath made  

And preserved us a nation 

Then triumph we must

For our cause it is just

And this be our motto

In God is our trust

And the star spangled banner

In triumph will wave

O'er the land of the free

And the home of the brave

LET FREEDOM RING

Leave Things Better Than When You Came In

Okay...full disclosure.  This pic I took has nothing to do with the post whatsoever.  However, it is a very gray day as I type this, so I added this as a little pick-me-up. I took this shot on a weekend drive.  I'm not positive, but I think these flowers were in Smithfield, VA.

My grandmother used to say that you should leave a room better than you found it.  What she meant was that you should do a quick visual sweep of the room to see if you could throw out the Hartford Courant that everyone had already read or pick up your sneakers and leave them on the landing to go upstairs.  My father would sarcastically remark about this idea, "And some people make the room better just by leaving it."

Anyway, I always remember that and her admonition to keep the sink clear of dishes because this was a key  to keeping the whole house clean.  To this day, I cannot leave the house or go to sleep with dishes in the sink.  As New Yorkers say, "It skeeves me out."

The other day, I was making a visual sweep of the dining room on my way upstairs. I had left my Bible on the dining room table. I felt the Lord speak to my spirit quietly saying, "Take your Bible upstairs with you and it will leave you better than if you left it here."  Which reminds me of the old saying that if your Bible looks spiffy on the outside, you don't look so good on the inside.  Conversely, those with the underlined, booked marked, highlighted pages and the spine taped with duct tape (a la my Papa) looked pretty good on the inside.

I will delight in the law of the Lord, I will meditate day and night.  Then like a tree, firmly planted I'll be - grounded it Your word.

Daddy Can We Hop, Daddy Can We Skip?

I was thinking this morning about the difference between the bloggers with sixty eleven gazillion followers and folks like Debra of As I See It Now and Judy of Anybody Home.  I'm not sure what kind of blogger you'd call either of these two wonderful ladies, but I guess they could be categorized as "Christian Lifestyle Bloggers" or something like that. 

Then there is Alex of Living the Small Life.  She's not a Christian Blogger, but she blogs about thrifty living and keeping fit.  So what's the difference between these three wonderful women and the glitzy bloggers with the perfect, ethereal-looking pictures of the charmingly-worn pitcher with the artfully arranged wildflowers and the curtain blowing ever-so-slightly in the breeze?  They're real.

And when I really think about it, these are the three that I read day after day.  All three have been plugging along for years, sharing their lives, and giving wisdom to a world of strangers they may never know.  They chronicle their lives, reflect, share their mistakes and idiosyncrasies and sometimes less-than-perfect pics that would make BlogHer peeps hair stand on end.

The other difference is that many of these bloggers, the glitzy ones that we sometimes envy...well, they burn out.  When every entry has to be a work of complete perfection, they run out of ideas, because life isn't perfect. 

One of my favorite, gorgeous ethereal blogs hasn't been updated in months.  The sweet girl who writes it let all of us know at Christmas that the perfect-looking life that I envied once upon a time was an illusion that she couldn't keep up any longer since real life crept in.

Another wonderful blogger is perpetually tied up in knots both because of life's truly difficult circumstances and a constant need to tweak, refine, and play with the blog that results in hard crashes of the site that already looked amazing.

Still others blog for a short time, with gorgeous pics and wonderful content, only to burn out later because everything cannot stay perfect all the time.

Hence, the imperfect pic above, which I would have discarded a few months back.  I'm done with not expressing myself because I can't live up to standards which I imposed upon myself, yet cannot meet.

I was waiting for some prescriptions at the Portsmouth Naval Hospital last night, a healing place I am truly grateful for.  A young Naval officer and his daughter were walking through the corridor hand in hand.  I suspect that Mommy may have had a new baby.  You can see her in the less-than-perfect pic in the little pink t-shirt.

"Daddy, can we skip?," she said, looking up at him with a smear of chocolate something across her upper lip.

He hesitated for a moment and looked around.  Then with an "oh what the heck" look to all of us,  Daddy skipped down the corridor with her.

"Daddy, can we hop now?"

And hop along to the parking garage they did. 

Somehow I think that kids would have better lives if more Daddies hopped and skipped with them, regardless of looking ridiculous.  To me, he looked like a hero, not ridiculous.

My firm belief is that kids already know the Lord at birth,  As Helen Keller famously said when Annie Sullivan spelled the name of God into her hand, "I always knew He was there, I just didn't know what to call Him,."  That's why kids skip for joy before the world tries to take it away from them.

Luke 1:14  The Message 

You're going to leap like a gazelle for joy, and not only you, but many...

Almost Time for Sugar Hill Blackberries...

Sugar Hill is a neighborhood behind mine, down Booker Street,  Sugar Hill is Portsmouth's last vestige of the "40 ares and a mule" promised to Southern blacks following Emancipation and the end of the Civil War.

Once there was a thriving black community  there, two little groceries, some churches, a "buttery," and a candy store as residents have told me.  Urban renewal in the 1960's decimated this community as a road was cut right through the middle which serves as an approach to the Mid-Town Tunnel under the Elizabeth River to Norfolk,

Did you ever notice that any street called "Martin Luther King" anything always seems to be around an area where African American's are exploited?  One never sees MLK Blvd near an elegant area.  I don't think this practice represents what Dr. King lived and died for.

In this case, the MLK Freeway was built right over Sugar Hill's graveyard.  Yet, the quiet community still lives on in a few houses and the old folks' memories former days.  One of them is my buddy, Mr. Curtis, a gardener and disabled Vietnam vet whose wife was born in the house they reside in.  He tells me that many of Sugar Hill's residents were porters for the Norfolk Southern railroad, black elite in their white gloves and uniforms helping customers in the sleeping and dining cars during days of posh railroad travel.

I still hear the trains chug past Sugar Hill, but the porters are gone and CSX halls freight instead of people.  Scotts Creek, part of the Elizabeth River, flows around Sugar Hill as it always has, endangered green herons nest in its trees as egrets stand feeding on one foot and Cooper's Hawks circle above.

As I ride through Sugar Hill, I always check this time of year to see if the blackberries are ripe yet.  As you can see from the pic above, they are not quite ready.  The blackberry blossom's intoxicating has me stop my bike on the way past to check.  Honeysuckle blooms there, some kind of purple flower, and Queen Anne's Lace which I gather and take home.

I'll check out Sugar Hill next weekend when I know I can gather some ripe berries in a white enameled pail with a red wooden handle, sharing my bounty with the little red foxes that live on the banks of Scotts Creek and the birds that swoop down to feed there.

Teeny Tiny Town Hall Near Eastville VA

Is this not the cutest municipal building EVER?

Apparently this is the "civic center" for a tiny town on Virginia's Eastern Shore.  I thought I'd remembered it as "Eastville."  However, when I Googled Eastville VA Town Hall, it was another (also adorable) brick building which looked like the Chrysler Building in comparison.  

I should have written the name down, because those civic-minded folks deserve recognition for the loving way this little spot is maintained.

This pic and hundreds of others I've taken over the years is why I have such a passion for exploring and driving on Virginia back roads.

Just because I don't want this post to be too short and because I think it is so pretty, here is another pic from later that day:

Gatsby Eyes

Mom and I saw The Great Gatsby after some awesome guacamole and chips at La Parilla not long ago. The two of us are discriminating guacamole girls; in fact, she makes some of the best guac this side of Mexico.  La Parilla prepares guacamole fresh at the table to order and we judged it sublime.

This version of Gatsby was breathtaking in terms of the costuming, the cinematography, the direction...it blessed my Art Deco heart.  Mom thought it was even better than F. Scott Fitzgerald's book.  Since I believe that movies often ruin adaptations of books, this was high praise.

As she and I discussed the movie on the way home, we both felt it was a morality tale with many applications to the excesses from which America is trying to recover.

The fleeting nature of fame and adulation depicted in Jay Gatsby's fall from grace has a number of parallels to the Paula Dean Witch Hunt.  I'll digress just a moment on that to say that Paula apparently said something offensive and ill-advised 20 years ago.  Now she is losing the business she worked years to build while rappers repeatedly use the same word to the delight of all their fans.

One of the themes in Gatsby is a faded billboard advertising the services of an eye doctor. The "eyes" keep watch over an area on the wrong side of the tracks between posh "East Egg" on Long Island and New York City.

Many literary critics believe that these eyes represent the eyes of the Almighty, observing all the transgressions which occur below. Ultimately, the eyes bear witness to a vehicular homicide committed by an idle rich woman, distraught and drunk after an afternoon of excess in a swanky Manhattan hotel.  I've been thinking about those watchful eyes ever since I saw Gatsby.

Dr. R.E. Titcomb, who practices in Cape Charles on Virginia's Eastern Shore, must be a Gatsby fan.

We saw this optometrist's office during a drive last weekend.

The eyes of the LORD are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good.
Proverbs 15:3

I have a friend, Snow Jade, who chronicles everything in her life.  If she takes a package to the post office, it is entirely possible that the postal worker will be featured in her Facebook the next day - or the waiter at the Chinese restaurant or the hula dancers downtown (she lives in Hawaii)...you get the idea.

So without further fanfare, following is my evening last night because pictures are worth 1,000 words.

I left those lovely people about 1 a.m. and returned home to rest on the couch and look at this

My Little Sweetheart is Gone

My sweet little kindergartner next door has been evicted, along with her family. To say that my heart feels like it has been ripped out of my chest is putting it mildly.  Somehow I feel the need to say that I did everything I knew how to do to prevent this without enabling harmful behavior.  Not only did I do everything I could, but an entire neighborhood tried to help, including the landlord.

What could I do when she knocked on the door with 45 minutes available, but take her for cake pops at a favorite place, watch her wiggle her loose front tooth, and listen to what Miss Kinchlow told them all at school today?

I hope that during the year we had this sweet little girl with us, along with her three other siblings, we were able to pour in all the love we possibly could.  I cannot explain the desolation which swept through me to hear her say matter-of-factly, "I guess we are going to a shelter tonight."  No child should ever have to say that, never mind experience it.  What do you do but hold her close and remind her that you will pray for her every day?  You remind her how amazing she is and that God has a special plan for her.

How do I walk in the love that Christ wants us to having for a hurting world when I want to strangle the adults in her life for putting her in this position? What would Jesus do?  The shortest verse in the Bible says, "Jesus wept" when he learned that his friend Lazarus had died.  So I guess Jesus will understand that I sit here crying and second-guessing myself, but most of all praying that He will suffer these little children to come unto Him and find a place for them and healing for their mother.

When I came inside just now they were running barefoot in the grass between our two houses,catching lightning bugs, and waiting for a ride to God-knows-where. I pray that they will stay carefree and untouched by this adult chaos. My heart is broken.

Walks

I've taken some amazing walks lately.  While traveling through North Carolina, I stopped to walk the dog in a little park in Zebulon, NC. The woods were cool and green - all you could smell was springtime.

 The little play house below was along my walk in the Ghent section of Norfolk, in the backyard of a stately house.  Some treasured little girl must play there.

Despicable Me

To say that my husband has an unusual job is putting it mildly.  Sometimes he sends me pics or quips during his work day.  I sometimes wonder if he's kidding around or being serious.  I got a pic via a smart phone which was entitled, "Despicable Me" yesterday.

When I first saw the title of the message, I wasn't sure whether he was trying to tell me that he forgot to take the garbage out to the street, he was having one of those days (as we all do) when he was REALLY doubting his self image, or he was thinking of the movie of the same name.

As it happens, it was none of the above.  Who knew that there was a Despicable Me blimp promoting the next Despicable Me movie (Despicable Me 2) and that it needed a little TLC?  That's what the company he works for does and so, here it is in the hanger.  You can get a good idea of the scale by checking out the white pick up underneath.  It is one of those big pick ups with a "back seat" before the truck bed.

I should add that the company he works for does a lot of things other than fixing "ole Despicable" including military and communication applications.  Bruce works on that side of the house.

Sometimes it is embarrassing to admit that your husband plays with balloons for a living. - and he he isn't even a clown!

A Heart Drawn on the Window

There are a million reasons why children have less-than-perfect childhoods.  Some of those reasons stretch back generations and others are due to selfish choices made by grown ups today. I’m not called to judge those issues or reasons, but I frequently find it painful and sad to view the effect on the kids.

Sometimes those situations tear my heart out.  I was engaged in a discussion on the front porch of a house that shelters four children aged 2 to 11.  The adults in their lives are broken, as I am, fragmented both by choices they have made and situations beyond their control.  The discussion was stressful.  The three smaller ones were sent in to watch Tom and Jerry.  Mom was seated facing the big living room window, as I was, while another child had her back to it.

A little face with huge green eyes appeared as the six year old wiggled her body under the curtain at the living room window.  The weather was warm and the window had fogged from the air conditioning inside.  Very carefully and very seriously she drew a huge heart in the condensation, looked solemnly out at her mother and pointed an index finger toward her.

If only we could do that.  If only we could try to pour love over the stress and the chaos, as she tried to do.  Right now, all I think that my little sweetheart should have to worry about is going down the slide.

“And a little child shall lead them.”  Isaiah 11:6

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."     Mathew 19:14

Dolphins – God’s Most Intriguing Creatures

Years ago, I took one of those quizzes in a woman’s magazine. This quiz had the reader consider  choices if one only had six months to live.  I mentioned to my man that I would want to swim with the dolphins.  His response was, “Why wait until you know you’re going to die?”

I must have gotten Flipper on the brain from grade school when Flipper was a favorite in the Galvin household.  Flipper Intro

This is how I found myself a few months later at Dolphins Plus in Key Largo learning about dolphin behavior prior to diving into the lagoon with the dolphins. http://www.dolphinsplus.com/

Dolphins at this location are not captive. They stay there because they choose to. They are free to leave at any time.  Dolphins which perform in amusement parks are not given food until they complete the required task.  They no doubt find both this and unprotected behavior from humans highly stressful, because they die much younger under most captive situations than they do in the wild.  Dolphins at Dolphin’s Plus have a longer life expectancy because they are fed regardless of behavior. Any humans who attend programs there are educated about dolphin behavior and removed from the lagoon if they do not comply.

Dolphins travel using echo location which is accomplished via the rostrum (the bulbous part) of their heads.  Essentially, they are living, breathing ultrasound machines.  As such, they can “see” inside human beings.  The behaviorists who work at Dolphins Plus told us that in recent weeks the dolphins had eyed the mid-section of a woman repeatedly.  She called them a month later to advise that she had been in the early stages of pregnancy at the time and did not know it. They also paid close attention to a gentleman who had a knee replacement.

After the orientation, I sat on the small dock and considered that while Flipper was really cool, what was directly in front of me was a group of wild animals weighing around 800 lbs each.  I got nervous and was trying to talk myself into jumping in. Bruce, who is usually patient and kind, also knew we had only a short amount of time to be in the lagoon and unceremoniously pushed me in.  Don’t worry, I’m a good swimmer. I was just being Wilma Wimp Girl.

Once in, I had to orient myself to the strange humming and almost electrical buzzing underwater, which is the sound of the dolphins communicating with each other.  We had been told that they like to amuse themselves from time to time by “freaking out the human.”  Sensing my nervousness, they had some fun with me. 

They swim up to you at full speed, stop very suddenly directly in front of you, in a vertical position, and open their mouths, showing all their teeth.  This is not biting behavior, mind you, but simply trying to get a rise out of you.  They’re playful.  After they did this to me, there was plenty of dolphin “talk”…”Hey Mildred wasn’t that hilarious when she swallowed lagoon water down her snorkel?”- you know, typical dolphin high jinks.

The whole experience was one of those things one remembers for a lifetime.  I was honored that one of the dolphins allowed me to touch her. Dolphins feel like a hard-boiled egg with the shell removed, wet.  Made me think of nothing more than making a bunch of deviled eggs for a bbq.

This all brings me to today’s post and video.  A professional photographer and diver, Keller Laoros, who routinely dives with manta rays and takes pictures recently had an amazing experience in Hawaii.  A dolphin fouled in fishing wire approached him.  It was clear that the dolphin was in distress.  He stopped a short distance from Keller.  Keller made a “come here” gesture under water and the dolphin did so.  Keller used a diving knife to remove some of the fishing line.  The dolphin surfaced for air and returned to allow him to continue removing the fishing line.  When the man was done, the dolphin swam away.  A wild animal.  

Dolphin video

Animals are filled with the grace of God, in my humble opinion.  I know that every day when Lulu snuggles with me in bed.  I knew that over the weekend when a pygmy goat sat in my lap out in the sunshiny backyard.  The Bible says that all creation gives God praise. 

Let heaven and earth praise him,
    the seas and all that move in them, Psalm 69:34

In the memorable words of radio Bible teacher Chuck Swindoll, “Anyone who believes that they are correct theologically by stating that there will be no animals in Heaven are going to have a surprise when they see that big white horse Jesus rides up in.”  Just sayin’.

Iron Lady 1925 - 2013

She was nicknamed Iron Lady by the Soviets.  I believe that her guts, grit, and determination were among the many reasons the Berlin Wall fell, not the least of which was the service of submariners like my man.  She served the longest of any post-war British Prime Minister.  Daughter of a grocer, world changer, Lady Thatcher.  GIRL POWER!

This and That Post

It seems that maybe spring has finally shown itself in Portsmouth.  I took these pics with my cell phone camera during a walk the other night.

I've mostly been walking inside the extremely huge Portsmouth Naval Hospital.  This was the first evening that it has been comfortably warm enough this season to walk outside in beautiful Olde Towne in the early evening.

I tore into a new book by Ken and Joni Eareckson Tada.  You may know Joni as the quadriplegic evangelist, author, radio broadcaster, and painter (by mouth).  She's written many inspirational books that I've enjoyed over the years.  Learn more about Loni at www.joniandfriends.org.

Joni and Ken is a hard look at marriage in the midst of suffering.  Not only is Joni paralyzed, but she also battles chronic pain and recently has had Stage 3 breast cancer.  This book is an honest, not sticky sweet look at how she and her husband of 30 years have coped with the challenges that disability and cancer have brought to their relationship.  I couldn't put it down and highly recommend it.

http://www.amazon.com/Joni-Ken-Untold-Love-Story/dp/0310314690/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365199407&sr=8-1&keywords=joni+and+ken+an+untold+love+story

My New Rock Band -Lulu and the Goat Boys

Let me introduce you to Gizmo, one of the pygmy goats in the backyard. He's devilish in a cute sort of way with his little horns and markings over his eyes.  I luvs me some Gizzie goat.

This is Blanco.  He is much bigger, but I love him, too.

Blanco sort of looks like a lamb in this shot because someone at some point removed his horns  I don't get that, just like I don't get cropping dog's ears.  I think it is baaa aaaa aaaaad, to quote a goat.

So why are they there?  Just my little protest on government tyranny.

My neighbors, John and Aimee, across the street, belong to Gizzie and Blanco.  Both goats are neutered males and the size of dogs.  However, some zealous city employees judged them as "livestock" and cited their owners.  Actually, they are beloved pets.

Goats are great lawn mowers.   So they are on the uhhhh lam, so to speak, in my back yard with the six foot high privacy fence until the heat is off their owners. My dog, Lulu, has totally taken it in her stride.

Really, we have murderers and folks selling drugs to high school kids, I think we have more important things to spend time on than hassling miniature goats.

We're going to the next City Council meeting...repeat with me, "Save the Pygmy Goats, Save the Pygmy Goats!"

Cesar Chavez' 86th Birthday - Are You Kidding Me, Google?

I admire Cesar Chavez as much as the next person.   I sympathize with the plight of migrant workers.  A San Diego Red Cross program I was affiliated with for 5 years served migrant workers. Such workers are exploited by farming operations both large and small which make a great deal of money from their efforts.

While living in San Diego, I often considered the cruelty of circumstances which gave me, born on one side, such advantages over folks born a quarter of a mile to the south.  Their education, immunization status, medical care, and life expectancy are all much poorer than we enjoy in the United States.  I understand why women in labor cross the border illegally so that their children will have a better life.  I don't approve, but I understand.

My late sister-in-law met Bruce's brother, Eric, when she was a migrant worker on the family farm.  I know her life was very hard before she met him.  Margaret was gorgeous.  Our niece, Heather, inherited her mother's stunning looks.  As an ardent watcher of The Big Valley, I always thought it interesting that she named her son "Heath," the name of the character played by Lee Majors.  Heath was the youngest son of the land owner, Victoria Barkley, just as Eric was my mother-in-law's youngest.

I'm always fascinated with the clever things Google does to recognize special dates on their opening page.  They make the Google logo move or light up or create a graphic in the style of Monet or Picasso to recognize an artist's birthday.  However, sometimes their political correctness is so extreme that they appear moronic. Easter was one of those days.

Yesterday, Google recognized the birth date of Cesar Chavez, union organizer, and champion of the rights of migrants.  That's fine, Cesar was in important figure in US labor relations.  However, Google failed to recognize the date as Easter, when Christians throughout the world celebrate the resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ.  Not only is it short-sighted and, quite frankly, demented - it just makes Google look dumb.

Whomever you believe Jesus was and is, there can be no denial of his influence over the course of human history.  In fact, we divide time based on the birth of Jesus Christ, despite this BCE (Before the Common Era) nonsense.  AD, as in 2013 AD, is an abbreviation of the Latin phrase meaning, "Year of our Lord."

I find it fascinating that tolerance is extended in our present day world to everyone BUT Christians.  We are tolerant of Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, gays, and lesbians -  as well we should be.

However, in the name of tolerance and political correctness, we Christians are not allowed now to use the term "Easter eggs" or "Christmas tree" at school.  This semantic nonsense is just absurd, especially considering that Easter eggs and Christmas trees actually have nothing to do with either holiday. Religious tolerance should be for everyone, even the Christian majority in this country.

I wonder sometimes if Jesus is looking down saying, "Yeah, Google, not so much..."   Kinda like when I go to small group and we put a DVD on the TV to sing praise songs to the television set.

Jesus said to them, "Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation."  And they did, 12 uneducated, erratic, flawed men who deserted Jesus at the crucifixion went on to change the world after they witnessed the Resurrection - never mind how much Google would like to ignore it.

I had a doll house like this once long ago when I went to St Mary Star of the Sea School and lived in the ranch house next door to Major Hart and across the court from Colonel Frank.

My father used to say that Jane Hart talked breathing in and breathing out.  It was true.  She wasn't a large woman, but a chair once broke underneath her and she was still telling a story when she picked herself up.  I can still hear her calling her son into dinner, my little friend Chipper, in her honeyed Deep South voice, "Chippa, Chippa Hart!"  My doll house was made of metal, just like this one and was populated with a little family.

It came the same Christmas that Santa also brought me an easel with a green chalk board on one side, a place to clip white paper on the other, a chalk trough, and a covered area which held paint jars.  I had a sailor suit with a swirly skirt and purple curtains in my room.  My mother made those curtains; they had silhouettes of black cats on them.

That's when Rose came to help us and made butter-flavored hard candy on a cookie sheet.  When the candy cooled, she would smash it into bits with a hammer and store it in a cookie tin.  Rose liked to watch her stories and would sometimes assemble puzzles with us.  She was also known to occasionally say, "Don't be back-sassing. Rose."  I'll let you guess whether she said that to me or my brother, Reid.

Major Heatherly kept his boat in our backyard while he was in Vietnam with Dad   Reid and I took many voyages in the grass on that boat, with Space Food sticks and Hi-C for sustenance.  We would catch lightening bugs in mayonnaise jars and watch Flipper when we came inside.

I saw this doll house in an antique mall near Richmond, up on top of a tall bookcase.  The sight of it brought back every one of these memories. Now it is at home with a much older Annie who still back sasses from time to time.

The Real Easter Bunny and His Assistant

Horrible Day

Yuck.  Thursday was a horrible day.  As usual, I found two typos in my blog post after it was up.  Hate that.  I proofread it three times. 

I got in to trouble at work yesterday.  Now, everything turned out just fine.  I am not in trouble now.  However, it just gives me the shivers for anyone at work to think that I’ve done something wrong.  In fact, I don’t want anyone anywhere to think I’ve done something wrong.

I try very hard to do the right thing.  However, there are many gray areas in the division I work in.  Actually, there are many gray areas in law enforcement in general.  That’s where what is called “police discretion” come in.  Every single possible scenario cannot be covered in an SOP, so one must use educated judgment.

There are 39 other people in the state who do my job.  All of us work with a law enforcement officer who is more seasoned than we newbies.  Not everyone in my organization supported the idea from “on high” that created our unique positions.  Change is difficult in any big organization.  Heck, change is difficult for individuals, never mind hundreds of individuals at once.

My more senior colleague and I had not communicated effectively about an issue.  It was nothing deliberate on anyone’s part and certainly not that we were being slackers or trying to do the wrong thing.  However, when I got the speaker phone call from my direct supervisor and the officer, I was filled with dread.  I literally got sick to my stomach.  I fretted, worried, castigated myself, second guessed how I handled it, fumed…basically put myself through the wringer. 

I’m so Godly, right?  Not.  The Godly thing would have been to leave it in His capable hands.  As the Word says, “and having done all, stand.” Nope, I had two glasses of wine while out to dinner, my hands shook all night, and I didn’t sleep.  Jeepers.  Not that I think having a glass of wine is a bad thing, but drinking to calm down from being upset is not a good idea.

Where and when did I decide to leave out that part of the Word which promises, “There is now therefore no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus?”  Why is it that I think God’s promises apply to everyone except for me?  God knows the cure for every situation, which we can discover in His Word...except for poor, pitiful Annie.  She’s in trouble at work and she’s gonna get it!

After sleeping about an hour during the entire night, I got up and went to work.  My more senior co-worker called my cell phone and my stomach lurched.  I let it go to voice mail to give myself time to think briefly.  I was really angry that he had gone over my head to my supervisor before he ever talked to me.  I thought of being cold and distant for a second, you know, to punish him.  Of course that would make any interaction SO MUCH BETTER…not!

Golden rule, baby.  Treat him as you would want to be treated.  Love justice, seek mercy, and walk humbly with your God.  I forced my voice to be cordial when I called back.  He had several items for me to take care of. I took all the information down.  I took a deep breath and apologized to him for the trouble yesterday. You can always say that you’re sorry for a misunderstanding or a stressful situation.

Do you know what?  I’m not in any trouble. He told me that I didn’t need to apologize and that he was sorry, too.  We reviewed what happened.   We brainstormed strategies for better communication.  We realized that there were two issues that were a bit confusing for both of us, so we agreed to get clarification from our mutual supervisor.  We both hung up feeling like we could work together better

What would have happened if I threw a fit?  What would have happened if kept my voice cold – men hate that!  Would I have had a good outcome if I went to complain to my supervisor?   I don’t think I would have had such a positive result, do you?

Maybe I don’t immediately handle this kind of thing well, but thank God I was able to hear Him by the next day.  Thank God I listened to that still, small voice telling me what to do this morning.  Thank God I listened and I obeyed.

I swore I would never do it again, but I did.  I let go of updating the blog for what seemed like one day and now it has been three months.

Where to begin? Bruce started a wonderful new job just over the border in northern North Carolina.  He loves what he does and they love him.  If you told me a few months back that he would be working putting spy and communication equipment on aerostats, I would have said you were crazy.

Okay – what (you are asking) is an aerostat?  I’m glad you asked. A dirigible is a lighter than aircraft.  An aerostat is a kind of dirigible which doesn’t fly around like the Good Year Blimp does. Instead, aerostats are tethered to the ground to stay in place to hoist something aloft and keep it there. A blimp has just an outer shell and is filled with helium. 

The Hindenburg, of “oh the humanity” fame, is not a blimp, but actually a rigid airship.  If you recall the famous picture where the Hindenburg falls to earth in Lakehurst New Jersey, you can see the frame as the outer shell and the helium burns.  The Goodyear Blimp doesn’t have that shell.  There will be a test on this later.

After applying for so many jobs, this one came to him via a headhunter.  He never applied for it.  As a submariner, I’m sure that he never thought he’d be qualified for such a thing.  God has such a sense of humor.  There were 5 possible offers on the table.  Four of them involved the military contracting world.  Then the aerostat company came in out of left field.  I discounted it, but told God that I was open to whatever he had for us.  This was it.

I continue to love my job in the Sex Offender Investigative Unit of the state police agency which doesn’t like us to mention it directly in social media.  Valor, Service, Pride…that’s all I’ll say, you can figure it out!

People are often surprised that I find my job so rewarding.  They cite the kind of folks they imagine that I work around and the danger involved.  While I suppose there is some danger, the folks would surprise you.  Most of them are pretty much like you and I are.  They are also sinners, many of whom are now reformed and redeemed. 

What I didnt realize was that sex offenders are the lepers of modern society.  They are never forgiven by others and wear a stigma which makes their lives difficult forever.  And I do mean forever.  Offenses vary from the very minor to terribly heinous, but all of the offenders appear on the same Internet list with their picture, home, and work addresses disclosed. Not only are they stigmatized, but their entire families often are, too.

I received a touching Christmas card from one of them; “Thank you, Officer Bremer, for treating me like a human being.”  The job is not what I thought it would be and affords me many, many opportunities for ministry.

During this transition to a new year, I’ve spent some time in thought and prayer to figure out what I need to work on in 2013. Opportunity to seize more of what God has for me stretches before me. While there is room for much improvement, I have narrowed my focus down to a few areas of concentration which center around mindfulness and avoiding rushing.  I’ve come to realize that nothing, absolutely nothing, is accomplished when I rush.

I am also choosing to stay focused on people when I am with them.  I want to be engaged with and on people, whether loved ones, neighbor children or the public I serve.  Often, I am trying to multi-task or rushing through what folks are telling to get on to the next thing. 

I realized in December that I was doing that to a child.  I stopped myself.  That day after Sandy Hook, I realized that she was only there in front of me, eyes expectantly locked on mine, a beautiful 6 year old, for that moment.  She was more important than my cell phone, the garbage that needed to be emptied, and the hundred things that press me in at the holidays.

This year I will slow down.  I will fully engage with everything around me. I will see the beauty in the small things.  That’s my choice.

Knee Mail

This sign was food for thought while taking a walk Sunday.

The name of this church, Monumental Methodist, cracks me up.  The church is over 200 years old, so the naming of the church is back deep in history. Every time I see it, though, I hear Ed Sullivan's voice saying, "It's a reaallly reaallly big, HUGE, giant, MONUMENTAL church. Actually, this old church is a normal size. My guess is that the church's name has something to do with a monument, although there is no monument there now.

Maybe if we spent more time sending knee mail instead of email, we'd have more productive lives.  I know I would!

Red Barns

I was wondering about my obsession with red barns this morning when the Rolodex in my brain flipped the cards back to my Grandfather Dunn reading a pop-up book to me about a farm. I recall being amused that the book was a "pop up" book and I called this grandfather "Pop."

Each page had a tabs on the side that you pulled, causing the chickens to lay eggs or the horse's tail to move.  The center pages popped up a red barn in the middle.  That was back when I was learning to read and the letter "J" looked like a soup ladle to me.

My mother and my Pop, her father, were teachers.    They both read to all of us often; wonderful books like Hide N Seek Fog and the Lonely Doll series.  Christmas and birthdays always involved stacks of books like Little Women, Island of the Blue Dolphins, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and other edifying books.

I would sit in a blue patterned wing chair in the living room for hours transported to New York City at the turn of the century or Massachusetts during the Civil War.  I am so glad that my niece, Piper, carries on this tradition...despite Facebook and other electronic enticements.

So Saturday was a red barn kind of day. I find that weathered silo very beautiful.

If I could have staged this pic below, I would have added a pair of worn cowboy boots.

National Coffee Day

Today is National Coffee Day.  Do you ever wonder who makes up "days?" I get Columbus Day. Mother's Day,. Father's Day, etc.  Such days came about by tradition.  However, some of these "days" I kinda wonder about.  "Thank a Police Officer Day"....clearly I have no problem with that, but we also have "Wear A Skirt Day"...also okay, but what for?

I found this list of National "Days" as follows:
Real List of National Days

January 10 is Peculiar People Day...finally, a holiday just for me.

So about O'Doodle Doo's....This is an incredibly cool little doughnut cafe out in the "toolies" as we say in my family, in the country area of Suffolk.  The building has been a used car lot, an ice cream shop, and several other incarnations.

I adore the big billboard-type sign along the side of the road.  I've noticed it for about a year.  I keep telling myself that I'm going to go, but I never get around to it. Today, I got around to it.

Love at their posted hours, "5 a.m. til 2'ish or until the doughnuts sell out."  Love that. I would, however, like to change "everyday" to every day.

So today, to celebrate National Coffee Day, I finally went to O'Doodle Doo's.  I became a cliche of a law enforcement officer as I got a light sweet coffee to go and two doughnuts.  I had a pumpkin velvet and a banana nut.  Bruce had a pumpkin velvet and a "vanilla eyeball."  In where the doughnut hole should have been, there was a bloodshot eyeball in honor of the ghoulish season.  We sat under an awning at a picnic table, sat companionably sipping coffee and hot chocolate over "ooooh this is so GOOD." We gazed at this across the street.

Bruce told me this joke. A trooper pulled over a man and said, shining a flashlight in his eyes, "Sir, your eyes are bloodshot, have you been drinking?"  The man peered at the trooper and said, "Your eyes look glazed, Officer, have you been eating doughnuts?"  Why, yes, I have been.

It might be raining this morning,but life is good.

Learn more about this cool-lio place here:
O'Doodle Doo's