Fat Tuesday

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent in the Christian Church. Lent is the time leading up to Easter when the church members are encouraged to take time in reflection and self-examination. Many have made it their tradition to "give up" something during Lent in an act of self-denial. Others, like myself, have used the Lenten time as an opportunity to "take up" a new discipline in an area we find ourselves to be lacking.
Fat Tuesday, which coincides with the end of Mardi Gras, is the last hurrah before the self-deprivation of Lent begins. Many communities used to have pancake dinner on Fat Tuesday. Of course, they did not call it Fat Tuesday as that has such a negative connotation. Mardi Gras attendees, however, probably don't worry about the negative connotation from what I see on Cops: In New Orleans. If they were worried about the negativity, they would have stayed home.
As a child, I had a Catholic friend who gave up chocolate for Lent. I was amazed by her willpower as chocolate is a staple of most childrens' diet. Apparently, she had found a loophole in the Lenten rules, because she ate chocolate on Sundays. The Sundays in Lent are not counted in the 40 days of Lent, so she got a reprieve from the self-deprivation once a week. I don't agree with that philosophy, but I have never given up chocolate for Lent either.
Every Good Friday, our clown team does a remembrance of the Passion week. It is, in my humble opinion, amazing. We work for weeks before Good Friday practicing to capture the emotions and sacrifice of that special time. This year, we are completely redoing our Passion Remembrance with new music, new scenes, more scripture study and more crowd interaction. In the past, I have played Jesus for this Passion Remembrance. Part of the Remembrance finds Jesus being lifted up on the cross by the guards. It wasn't until I was being prepared to be lifted up in our practices that I gave thought to how much of me needed to be lifted. I'm not obese, but I'm not petite and it gave new meaning to my love for sweets. If I eat this, they are going to have to lift it.
Lent finds me back on "Jesus training." When I look at a menu, I wonder, "What would Jesus eat?". I really think that Jesus would have eaten a beautiful patty of angus beef nestled ever so cozily under a slice of cheddar with a side of crunchy potatoe wedges. God would not have given us dominion over the animals if did not mean for us to roast them over a fire!
As you enjoy Fat Tuesday, keep in mind that Lent is a journey that, with some effort on our parts, can make the Easter joy even sweeter. Oh, sweeter -- like chocolate!

Plugged In and Turned On

This morning, I was visited by two very special people. They were strangers to me until this morning, and we will probably never bump into each other again. However, the time they spent in my home will be remembered for a very long time! Who were they? The satellite television installation technicians.
I made the leap from cable television to a satellite dish for one compelling reason -- it was cheaper! Bundling my services gives me a giant discount on a service that, in my opinion, is highly overpriced. I don't watch a lot of television. I am not home much in the evenings and the weekends are spent in worship, rest and catching up from the week. Living alone, I like to have some noise in the background and the radio just isn't the same.
I parted ways with the cable company early in January as a promise of an early installation date deluded me into believing I would have a dish on my roof in mere days. Alas, the installation appointment was postponed until March due to, what the lady at the call center called "weather" in our area. I informed her that the weather she was referring to was called "winter" and it could last a good long time yet. I've been on a television fast ever since. I'm also without internet at home at the moment and feel completely cut off from the outside world at times. Is it going to snow? Probably. Look out the window. Who won the game last night? One of the two teams playing.
I had to invite myself over to someone else's house on Super Bowl Sunday to watch the game. No complaints from the hosts as they are good friends and too polite. Following the rules of guest spectators, I tried to refrain from yelling my instructions to the players on the field from their couch.
Yesterday at five o'clock, just as I was packing up to leave work, the technicians called to tell me they were going to be in the area tomorrow. If I was willing, they would do my installation two weeks early. Willing? I would make them breakfast if they wanted!
Two strapping young men showed up this morning dressed for cold weather. They didn't even seem put off by my 100 pound puppy greeting them in her tradition manner which is rolling over on her back and waiting for a belly rub. The technicians set off with ladder in hand to scale the house and mount the dish on my roof. Two hours later, I was presented with a remote control that looks like something out of Star Trek. The gentleman patiently explained how to use the remote control. He lost me after "now you push the power button....". I am pretty sure that I can reprogram the satellites in orbit to dance a chorus line if I can figure out which buttons to push.The other gentleman, a trainee I learned, showed me pictures of his dogs from his cell phone.
After they left, I set to turning off the television and getting ready to leave for work. I felt a little sadness as I hit the power button. Wednesday is church night for me and I will not arrive at home until about 9 p.m. Exploring the universe with my trusty remote will have to wait until tonight. For a while, the world is safe until I start channel surfing.

My Favorite Part of the Super Bowl

I spent my Super Bowl yesterday at a friends' house, perched on a comfy couch calling the plays the boys on the field. It must have been effective, as the Steelers snatched a most triumphant victory from the hands and hearts of the Arizona Cardinals. It was a very exciting game, made even better by the fact that I was the only Steeler's fan on the premises. I did display my sportsmanship by not saying "I told you so" at the end of the evening.
I used to live in Wisconsin were being a Packer's fan was a state law and the most popular religion. Many people bowed to St. Favre, wearing their green and gold to church so they wouldn't have to waste time changing when they got to the game watching desination. Occasionally, our pastor's yellow "G" would peek out from under his white robes when he stepped in to the pulpit. It was in Wisconsin that I learned the art of adoring your football team. This was in the mid to late '90's when the Packers were undefeated at home and the football players would leap into the crowd when they scored a touch down. We loved our Pack!
I soon found out why so many people loved football - the food. It gives you yet one more reason to eat stuff that isn't good for you, but tastes amazing -- wings, pizza, little weinies in BBQ sauce and for some, beer by the barrel!
The year the Packers won the Super Bowl, we were feasting on subs and shrimp. We did get a chance to catch a few minutes of the game in between trips to the buffet, while our cheeseheads were firmly fastened to our heads.
I have been to some amazing Super Bowl parties with dips to die for, veggie pizza (a healthy twist, but OK), chili, hot dogs, sandwiches, chicken wings - you name it! I don't remember who played in most of these Super Bowls, but the food was unforgettable.
This year, I invited myself to a friends' house as I am currently without cable while waiting for my satellite to be installed (a subject for another blog!). We started the evening with two different hot crab dips - very good. Sloppy Joes, chips, veggie and dip and a pasta salad followed. All quite exceptional! Dessert was a tribute to our local culture - raspberry kuchen. Scrumptous! I didn't miss any of the game as I would pop into the kitchen during the dreadful commercials to get some chips.
I love that our culture has found yet another event that requires a hefty spread and a cardiologist on call. I guess if your going to have a coronary during a sporting event, it's better to do that eating than collapsing on the field while exerting yourself. The only effort I hope to expend is making my way to the Tums at the end of the evening. Fear not - the bottle has a childproof cap and I will get some exercise trying to it open.

Please say "NO' to Quality Time

I have a special affinity for women's magazines. I don't really take all of the advice they advertise, but it's interesting to read another point of view. I love to read about the latest ways to save money on my groceries, although I often find only condiments in my refrigerator when I do decide to cook a meal. Designing on a dime is always fun, but I just put stuff where I think it looks good and that's free! Make-up tips are always great, except that I haven't deviated from my beauty routine in years. All of those recipes intrigue me -- I love to read them while eating!
I came upon an article a couple of years ago entitled "How to get 365 more things done every day". It gave such helpful hints as exercising or balancing your checkbook while you are one the phone. A great idea if you are on hold, but... if I am on the phone with a friend, I'm sure they would appreciate a little more of my attention. The author also suggested doing other things while driving. I live with the belief that for most people, driving alone is quite enough of a challenge without adding extemporaneous activities such as talking on the phone, text messening, putting on make-up, eating, smoking or doing aerobics. I talked with an acquaintance who used his drive time to read! Wow! There is a talented man!
I am a busy person who is always looking for ways to get less busy. I say no to obligations that overextend me. I hate to feel like I'm on a treadmill. Now you want me to do 365 MORE THINGS every day. No Way!
Magazines and trendy therapists often talk about scheduling "quality time" for your children and spouse. This time would be devoted solely to them. I guess you couldn't do aerobics or balance your checkbook while you were having "quality time". My vet asked me if I spend quality time with my pet. Lucy is a Golden Retriever whose sole purpose in life is to be with me every waking and sleeping moment. Quality time for Lucy is every minute that I am with her. (By the way, I did tell the vet that, yes, I did spend quality time with Lucy. I actually take her shopping. Subject for another blog.)
I lost a friend about a year ago. It seemed like a blink of eye from her surprise diagnosis of cancer, treatments, remission, relapse to earning her angel wings. Even now I am still can't believe that she's really gone. I am left with some regrets -- conversations I wanted to have, questions I wanted to ask, advice I needed to solicit. We have all lost friends and family members quickly, too soon.
As I thought about this concept of quality time, the I shook my head and thought, "no". We shouldn't have to schedule quality time with our loves ones, friends and even pets. Because every minute you spend with them should be quality time. We should be fully present for every conversation, every event ~ every time. I need to sit down, put away the checkbook, remote control, women's magazine and listen. Little children should be looked in the eye when they speak to you. Let them now that they count. Go out of your way to take the opportunities to spend time with your family. Those chances won't come around again. Give that hug. Say "I love you". At the end of my life, I want to look back and have no regrets. A lofty goal, but certainly one worth working toward.
Now, if you will excuse me, I need to have some quality time with the cupcake on my desk. It does deserve my full attention.

There's A Monster Under My Bed!

When I was a little girl living in Minnesota, the land of 100,000,000,000 mosquitoes, I was pretty convinced that there was a monster under my bed. During the day, the monster lay quietly under my bed while I played happily with my Barbie Dolls and Baby Alive. At night, however, the monster rustled around making noises and waiting for me to jump out of bed so it could grab my ankle and pull me under the bed, never to be seen again! My parents were never able to locate the beast and I had no proof of it's existance except my own keen child perception.
I'm a few years old and now I know without a doubt that there is a monster that lives under my bed.
There are several that will tell you this is a myth; there really is no cat. Few have seen her and to this day she comes and goes as she pleases. She has the markings of a seal point siamese and a tail in the shape of a "z", obviously the evidence of a tragic accident involving a door. She was adopted from the pound after being captured at my place of business. After picking her up at animal control, I took her to the vet to assure her health. The kitten was terrified and when released from the box shot straight up into the air and tried to climb up the wall. The vet, vet technician and I just stared at her for a minute as I have never seen anything like that in my life and we've had lots of cats! They needed a name for the veterinary records and, being reassured that it could be changed later, christened her Monster.
Monster was a study in patience. For the first several week, I only saw evidence of Monster. She was eating, using the litter box and mowing down my live plants. Monster never made an appearance while I was in the house and, I have to say, I was a little disappointed. I had visions of her nestled snugly on my lap on cold winter evenings next to a cozy fire. OK, so I don't own a fire place, but you can dream, right? Monster would not come anywhere near me. After a month or so, she would venture into the living room, but all it took was the blink of an eye and she would scamper back to hiding spot. I learned that when she made a celebrity appearance I just ignored her. It was really hard, but over time her appearances became more frequent and longer in duration.
Christmas came about two months after she joined the household. The tree was assembled and decorated and all was readied for the holiday. I can only imagine Monster's thoughts as she walked into the living room and saw the tree. Perhaps it was something like, "Finally, something I recognize. What a nice gesture! The tree will be just the thing to provide a hiding place from the dog." Monster climbed up the tree and remained there until January. She would pick a nice spot near the top and lay in wait for the next poor soul (person or dog) that would pass by. The unsuspecting victim would walk by and she would leap out at them!
Monster and I have developed some trust and I can actually pet her without holding her down and sedating her. She crawls into bed after the lights are out and curls up next to me. She'll stay there all night, purring and sleeping. Monster is still a stray at heart. She is very scrappy and doesn't buy into any sort of coddling. She'll jump into your lap, purring and nudging against your hand. You think, "Oh, what a sweet kitty" and start to pet her only to be surprised when she turned around and bites at your hand. Then you remember why her name is still Monster.
My mother is fascinated by Monster and want to hold and pet her. Monster doesn't think too much of that; not that my mother has ever caught her. My father wants to know why I can't get a cat that wants to be petted and cuddled. I see the progress that Monster and I have made. I know that Monster will never be a pet at heart. However, I believe that someone needs to love Monster and God has chosen me to be that someone. Sure, she still drives me crazy, especially when I bring fresh flowers into the house and she destroys them in 7.2 seconds. I really dislike how she feeds Halloween lollipops to the puppy (no, I'm not kidding!). I'm not real keen on her digging in my purse for the pens to carry around in her mouth. But she's my Monster and her place is under my bed!

Jobs I Wouldn't Want to Have

This will not go down in the books as the best week I have ever lived. Tow truck on Monday. Snow on Tuesday, Jump start on Wednesday. Jump start on Thursday morning in 33 below weather (without wind chill) and a new battery. (Thanks Ar VEE - you were right!) I have been fortunate in each circumstance to have someone to help me and those people were surprisingly pleasant. (See previous blog)
My gratitude for the tow truck guy made me look around at others who have occupations that are made harder by weather conditions, the people they serve or the very nature of their jobs. Here are a couple of jobs I would NOT want to have:
Postal Route Personnel - They are out delivering the mail in every kind of weather - freezing cold, blistering heat, rain, sleet, dark of night. You deserve every penny.
Crossing Guard/Playground attendent - Little kids don't seem to notice the cold. I can stand outside for approximately 2.76 seconds before my finger start to go numb.
Garbage Collection People - See Postal Workers.
Daycare Providers - I do children's ministry. I love children. However, my sister-in-law did daycare for three years. I need adult conversation. I like to get out and about during the day and see other people. God Bless you!
Massage Therapist - 99.752 percent of the population look better with their clothes on. My massage therapist is amazing. I couldn't do what you do.
Police Officers - I actually went to school for a short time to be a police officer. Whew! Dodged a bullet there. These people put up with all kinds of obnoxious, intoxicated, angry people every day in all kinds of weather. Thank God someone wants to do it!
Telemarketers - I can't take that much rejection!
I have worked several jobs, especially in my post-high school years that were not ideal. I cleaned dog kennels for a while. I worked at a retail store at Christmas time. I worked at a domestic violence shelter with women whose abusers were so violent they had to be moved from shelter to shelter so they couldn't be found. Each of these jobs taught me something that I still apply to my life today.
When you are tempted to be short-tempered with a customer service representative who seems to be moving at the speed of dark, remember that they are just trying to pay the bills. This probably isn't their dream job either. Thank them for their time. Praise great service. Be generous to an ambitious server. Be thankful there are those who will do these jobs so we don't have to.

Thanks Mr. Tow Truck Guy!

This week's Monday started out like any other day. The alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. - two hours before I was ready to get up. I had cleaned at home all weekend dejunking closets, disinfecting counters and trying to determine the cause of my vacuum's decision to blow instead of suck. Sunday was my day of rest and worship, so I napped just to keep with the whole "rest" theme.
Monday morning dawned cold. The sun doesn't rise hear until about 8:25 a.m., so it seems even earlier than 7:30 a.m. when I opened the garage door and attempted to get the car out of the driveway. I say attempted because I was not successful in actually getting out the driveway. My car got stuck in the middle of the wasteland formerly known as the driveway - a passageway from garage to alley. No amount of alternating between reverse and drive would dislodge the car. It only succeeded in burying the front tires into ruts. After about 30 minutes of shoveling and resisting the urge to speak in cursive, I gave up and called the tow truck to rescue me from my driveway.
This has been a busy season for our tow truck techinicians. They told me I would have a two hour wait, to which I responded, "I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere until you get here." They commented thankfully that I was very understanding compared other customers they had encountered that day. There's no point in being tough on these guys. You have to wait your turn. Didn't they teach us that in kindergarten?
The tow truck driver guy came - earlier than estimated - and within 10 minutes had my car winched out of the hole I had created and ready to back out into the alley. He was polite and pleasant. I wouldn't have been happier.
As I jumped/crawled into his truck cab to write out the check, he told me that he had been at the scene of an accident at 1 a.m. and hadn't slept since that time. He was on his way south to Fort Rice and Cannonball (quite a jaunt from Mandan) and hoped to get some sleep soon. He apologized for the cost of his services, it was quite a steep bill. However, I wasn't in the market to shop around AND I keep roadside assistance on my car insurance for just this reason.
As he drove away, I said a little prayer for him. Here'a young man who works out in the elements at all hours of the day and night. He often gets called out to terrible accidents, apparently works with many disgruntled customers and has to pull people out of bad decisions that ended up being accidents.
As I drove to work, my mind was already trying to devise a plan to remove the snow from my driveway to avoid crossing paths with another tow truck driver. Many wonderful people have pitched in to help out since Monday and I have a bobcat coming on Saturday to work on the back area of my house. I guess winter does bring out the best in some people. Maybe it's that I live in a state that still believes in helping out their neighbor. When you stop giving each other a hand, you have to pay someone to give you a tow.