Good morning Kim and everyone else.
At my age, you wold think it doesn’t matter.
But it literally sickens me to see what is happening to our nation.
We are becoming ungovernable.
We are electing a man who can’t govern.
We have lots to answer for, but we are still the greatest nation on earth.
But if the Bidens get in, we will be behind China when it’s over.
I just have this weird feeling that our country is slipping away.
Is there such a thing as a “counter riot””? A million prayers might help.
Franklin Graham is advertising for Jesus on FoxNews. I pray that good will come of this.
It is sad, Chas. The many younger people I know, who do see what is going on, is heartening to me. Especially heartening is that they are teaching their children to love and serve the Lord. He is faithful to help us through whatever comes. He is our hiding place as I read this morning once again.
Chas, I hurt along with you. But God is with us in this suffering. He never wastes suffering of His children. No matter how old we are, we are His children. He has told us in His word that we would have troubles. He wants us to remain faithful and hopeful in Him. The devil gets a stronghold when we take our eyes off Jesus and sink into only what our physical eyes and ears receive as being the unchanging reality. When we forget the many But God moments in the Bible and believe He can not overcome, that is where the true defeat by the evil one lurks. Ask God to help you rise up and praise Him because He is victorious and our praises of God win territory for God on earth.
Morning! Well I took a look at that header photo and thought to myself that those things will be rolling soon if we don’t get a handle on this chaos in our nation! 😢
While we as believers in Christ trust Him in all matters, it remains concerning the state of affairs we are facing. To realize there are so many who have lost their way, spewing hatred, rioting, lying, cheating, committing vile acts against neighbors. I pray for my loved ones who know our Lord…that their faith will be firmly planted, unwavering no matter what might come against them. For they know in whom to place their trust and care. For those I love who know not our Lord, that they would wake up and choose this day in Whom they will place their trust. He is our fortress and our deliverer…in Him will I trust ❤️
Bonne Anniversaire to DJ today. It is Bonfire Night, also known in England as Guy Fawkes Day, marking the anniversary of the failed plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament in England in 1605. In England it used to be celebrated to be celebrated by creating effigies of the principal plotter Guy Fawkes and going about asking for “A penny for the guy”. Then, in the evening, bonfires would be lit, fireworks – bought with the pennies got for the guy – set off, and the guy would be burnt. There is a rhyme for the day:
“Remember, remember!
The fifth of November,
The Gunpowder treason and plot;
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!
Guy Fawkes and his companions
Did the scheme contrive,
To blow the King and Parliament
All up alive.
Threescore barrels, laid below,
To prove old England’s overthrow.
But, by God’s providence, him they catch,
With a dark lantern, lighting a match!
A stick and a stake
For King James’s sake!
If you won’t give me one,
I’ll take two,
The better for me,
And the worse for you.
A rope, a rope, to hang the Pope,
A penn’orth of cheese to choke him,
A pint of beer to wash it down,
And a jolly good fire to burn him.
Holloa, boys! holloa, boys! make the bells ring!
Holloa, boys! holloa boys! God save the King!
Hip, hip, hooor-r-r-ray!”
The anti-Catholic sentiment is because the plot was the final attempt in English history by the Catholics to seize back control of the English crown. It failed horribly and the fate of the plotters was grim indeed. The funny thing is that, according to Eldest in-law, Bonfire Night was celebrated in the province of Newfoundland when he was growing up, and the province is filled with the descendants of Irish Catholic immigrants, including Eldest in-law, and he knew the rhyme. I think any reason to have a bonfire during the darkest time of the year was good enough no matter the origins of it. The Second are planning on some observations this year, and the little ones are looking forward to it.
Other than 1812 when the British burned it. Dolley Madison escaped with important papers and George Washington’s painting cut from its frame. She almost got picked up by the British on her way out. One plucky Virginian and the First Lady to have her photograph taken!
Nightingale got home last night after I was asleep, and she was off to work before I got up this morning, so I don’t know how her date went. But the fact that she wasn’t home earlier seems to point to them getting along well.
This man (I’ll call him Guy Friend for now) works with Nightingale’s friend Beth at the local hospital (I think he is an x-ray tech). Beth has been trying to fix them up over the past several months, inviting both of them to her parties (she likes to have themed parties throughout the year). There was also a double date a couple months ago with Nightingale, Guy Friend, and Beth and her husband.
But the man has not pursued Nightingale, even though he has mentioned to Beth that he is interested. Beth says he can be quite awkward, and Nightingale has seen that, but she likes him anyway.
At Beth’s Halloween party last weekend, he suggested that the four of them go on another double date, this time for Mexican food. No concrete plans were made right then, but a couple days later, via texts, it was turned into plans for a date, just the two of them. Beth told Nightingale that he was telling everyone at work about his upcoming date, and he seems excited.
The one little thing that may be a concern is that he is 18 years older than she is (49 to her 31). She is not against the age difference, if they get along, and if he is right for her. I guess I’m not against it, either, but I realize that it pretty much guarantees that if they marry, she may be a youngish widow. Then again, there is no guarantee that a younger man will live into old age, and this older man may end up living into his 90s. Who knows?
So anyway, as with the other boyfriends she has had (and he is not officially her boyfriend yet), I will pray that if he is not God’s will for her, they will not “click” and any feelings they have for each other will fade.
By the time I finished typing this comment, I received a text from Nightingale. She said that it went very well, and felt more natural than most dates.
Thanks Roscuro, you reminded me that my BD is, indeed, this week — but not until the 7th which is what day? Saturday? Honestly, I’m not one to even remember it half the time but it does tend to fall right on or around Election Day every 2 and 4 years.
It also reminds me I get a day off for my birthday, I may take that soon (we have a month before and after to take it) for a long weekend. I also need to sing up for a couple full weeks here before the end of the year.
The tree crew should come again today, I think, to apply the 2nd of the three treatments. It’s supposed to be warm today (84 degrees) but then drop down into the mid 60s with wind tomorrow with a 70% chance of rain on Saturday!
I know folks from my church who have moved to Colorado over the past decade, they’re conservative and are pretty heartsick that their new state is now electing more Dems. But don’t blame all Californians for that, many conservative Californians have moved there to escape the liberal politics in their home state.
So I see there seems to still be no decision regarding who won the election. And I saw on the news last night that there were issues with party reps being able to watch, as they are allowed to by law, some of the counting and recounting. It’s important to allow party spotters in to observe all of these counts, especially in this environment. Problem is, emotions are now so high that I’m afraid it can lead to arguments or worse in those settings.
I have no issue, either, with the Trump administration asking for recounts or challenging some ballots. The Dems would and will do the same. But in an election this close, the nation needs to have as much assurance as it can that all is on the up and up, to the best of our ability to know and confirm that.
So this will go on a while …
It is startling to see the White House barricaded (but probably a wise idea considering this atmosphere) along with the boarded up business districts in cities throughout the country.
What is God up to, I wonder? Surely something — as a friend likes to say (and he even bought the T-shirt) when things become tense and even unfathomable to those of us with limited, earthly vision, “Aslan’s on the move.”
Surely ‘something’ serious and perhaps historic seems to be taking place in the US, we just can’t see exactly what yet.
Kizzie, my mother’s eldest sister married a man who was 19 years her elder and it was a very happy marriage. Our family all consider home of the best people we have ever known, kind, gentle, and wise. The only sad part was when he passed away quite suddenly from pancreatic cancer in his 70s and she was still in her early 50s. She had a bit of a hard time at first, because she had married younger than Nightingale is now, and did not have more education than high school. She cleaned houses for several years to support herself. Eventually she remarried and is very happy in her second marriage.
Forgot to mention that as well as praying what I mentioned above, I also pray for the boyfriend’s salvation whether or not they stay together. So please pray for Guy Friend and his family. (I think he lives with his father, but I’m not sure if his mother is still alive or if he has siblings.)
When we moved to Washington State in 1989, they called it the “Californication of Washington.”
Very sorry.
I’m just in from seeing the doctor for the first time since COVID, an excellent follow up from a Telemed appointment last month. I enjoy chatting with the (male) nurse and I’m afraid I told a ribald joke–but only a medical/submarine one–and I’ve been snickering ever since.
Meanwhile, the EMT is trying to get home on United airlines. She’s sending me texts, and her father as well who went to pick her up.
As they were landing at SFO, the plane suddenly zoomed straight up and circled around, the pilot announcing “it’s too foggy to land at SFO.”
They were running out of gas, so they made an emergency trip to San Jose (60 miles south), where they are sitting on the ground, so she texting me.
Meanwhile, a plane beside them on the tarmac had a medical emergency. I asked if she volunteered to take it (since this was her payback flight for the Philly emergency she handled in January) and she reminded me she couldn’t get off the plane! LOL
I told her I’d just bought the bell peppers to stuff them for dinner and she said she hoped she’d be home in time for dinner. Her father has an appointment at work this afternoon, so I’m sure he’s hoping the same thing!
I know I prayed for her flight this morning . . . safety, right? 🙂
Just like I wrote the other day, as I typed along, I was suddenly overcome with the grief from that horror of being told they were losing my baby. I sobbed and sobbed remembering.
If he had died because of my negligence, I’m not sure how I would have survived.
Well MIchelle, I must have needed a good cry or maybe it is because of any number of reasons, but tears streamed down my face as I read that and my chest hurt. As I am typing the keys on my computer are wet.
There have been several times in my life when that “ribbon of thought,” a whisper from the Holy Spirit, changed my life. I’m so thankful the Lord care enough for us to send it and that I caught it.
I was so furious that day and stressed, yet, I recognized the voice. “My sheep know my voice.”
If Jonathan had been killed, I doubt I would have had any more children and there would have been losses to the world in so many ways without those two. I have such an over-sense of responsibility, I shudder.
But the Lord had mercy on all of us and I learned an enormous lesson about his tenderness, grace, and mercy. I was a basketcase for months after that. I drove over a mile around so I didn’t have to cross the divider line for the left turn up the driveway.
Squadron sent a message CO’s eyes only, and the CO did not tell my husband. He only learned of the accident three weeks later when they pulled into Scotland.
The boat wives were apoplectic. You like to think the Navy takes care of its own, but that didn’t happen here. The entire incident was difficult for many.
And then my husband nearly died himself on the trip home when the boat foundered in the Irish Sea. He was the one who saved the submarine and they awarded him a medal upon the boat’s return.
I think on these things quite often, realizing that Hubby’s death was not only God’s will for Hubby, but it was also His will for me, and that He has a purpose in my widowhood. And wondering still about all of that.
Michelle, that story reminded me of the close call I had Monday coming back from the dentist’s. The route that I take has a lot of gravel trucks on it due to widespread construction in the region. I was followed by a large gravel truck – longer than the average dump truck – for a number of kilometres, and having stopped at a couple of intersections and gone through a few small communities on the way, I knew this truck was driven by an impatient driver who didn’t like to slow down in a timely way, so I made sure to signal well before slowing down to make my left turn at a T-intersection. I had to come to a complete stop because there was traffic coming the opposite direction. To my horror, I saw in my mirror that the truck wasn’t slowing down enough to stop in time. I could see the truck was aiming toward the side of the road, so I tried to wheel closer to the centre, even as the cars going the opposite direction went past. The truck passed me on the right shoulder of the road, and an SUV that was behind the truck did the same before the opposing traffic cleared to allow me to make my turn. This was out in the country and the shoulders are only gravel. The weight of that truck could have caused the shoulder to collapse, tipping the truck into the ditch, or could have taken the right side of my car off. It is only a matter of time before someone gets killed at that intersection – my parents and I a few years ago were nearly hit by a similar truck when trying to make the same turn.
Lest you think it was all a nightmare, ridiculously funny things happened, too. Here’s one I just wrote. You’ll only see it here! LOL
It’s long.
But before that, we had more adventures. (Why not?)
The drizzle began the night before, a dark Friday evening with nothing happening. By Saturday morning, flakes began to fall and it looked like our usual Saturday Disney matinee at the Subase would not happen—at least not for snow-driving-shy Michelle and her boys.
I baked cookies and was folding the laundry when Christopher joined us in the family room. “The bathroom smells nasty.”
No wonder, the shower had raw sewage in it.
Was there a plumber in the house?
I found the plumber’s helper, and applied it to the smelly situation.
No luck.
Grace [the dental corpsman who lived with us upstairs in rented rooms. Grace saved me so many times during those years!) was awake. “The toilet won’t flush.”
“Ah, yes.” I called Roy (our friend)
“When was the last time you had the septic tank pumped?” he asked.
A long pause. “I don’t know anything about septic tanks, Roy. I grew up in suburban Los Angeles. I have no idea.”
“Well, that’s probably what you need to do. Pick someone out of the phone book and have them come out. This happens to people all the time.”
It was a Saturday in December. Did I mention it was snowing?
The tank pumpers all knew. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. They’re all out.”
Finally, I got a woman. “I’m sorry, my husband is already out. It’s a Saturday and it’s snowing. He only works half days and in emergencies.”
I took a deep breath. “Ma’am, there are two adult women in this household. We really need a bathroom this weekend. I have two little boys and my husband is out to sea. I really need help.” I didn’t know what else to do. Camp out at church? Rent a hotel room for the weekend? Did I have enough money to pay for a hotel room?
A soft heart, even though she didn’t want to admit it. “Well, I’ll call him. But you’ll need cash and you’ll need to dig up the septic tank.”
“I’ll do it.”
I called Roy back. “What does a septic tank look like?”
Dear, sweet patient Roy. “What do you mean? It’s just a septic tank. Do you know where to find it?
W and R had discussed this and I had a schematic left in the house notebook. It showed distance from the northwestern corner of the family room into the grass area of the back yard. That was promising and Roy breathed a sigh of relief.
“Just follow that chart and start digging. I’d come help but we have an engagement.”
“How far down do I dig?”
A pause. “It’s usually three feet. I’m so sorry I can’t help.”
We put on our jackets on that bitter cold morning and trooped into the yard. I thrust the garden spade into the yard in several places, following the schematic. Nothing. The soil was hard, albeit it hard rained the night before. The shovel followed, the sons-of-an-engineer, made for a job like this, triumphantly ran for their Tonka trucks.
Grace joined me a few minutes later. “What are you doing now?”
“Digging up the septic tank, grab a shovel.”
“Why?”
I explained and then told her, “I’ll have to raise your rent if we don’t get this dug up.” She picked up a shovel.
About 18 inches down, we hit cement. Triumph! We had to keep the eager boys at bay, but Grace and I vigorously dug and soon uncovered a few square feet of cement. Back to Roy.
“What am I looking for?”
“The cleanout valve.”
“Roy! What does it look like?” I could tell he felt badly about not being there to help.
Grace and I, and the boys, of course, ended up digging up the entire top of the septic tank—the cleanout valve was the last thing we uncovered, just as we heard the rumble of a large truck on the driveway. Triumph again!
The flakes were thicker and starting to stick.
“Hullo!” We welcomed two men—one ruddy-faced and rotund with a grin and the other a tall thin wisp of a man in overalls and a Deere hat. “What have we here?” The stouter man was obviously in charge.
I wanted to hug them, instead, I explained.
“Why did you uncover the whole thing?”
“The woman I spoke to said you wouldn’t come if I didn’t.” I handed them the schematic. “I didn’t know what I was looking for.”
“Ah, you shouldn’t listen to Marge. This looks like a submarine schematic.”
“A submariner sold the house to my husband—another submariner.”
Mr. Ruddy Cheeks elbowed his employee. “Only a Navy wife would dig up the whole tank.” They went right to work. Their hose barely reached the valve, but soon it was filling up while the boys danced about clapping their hands and laughing.
By then we were close friends. “Go try it, Grace!” Then sent her inside to flush. Success!
She returned with fresh baked cookies. I picked up the shovel to now cover the tank.
“Ah, we’ll help you. You’ve done enough today.” With four shovels and two Tonka trucks, the tank was covered in no time. I handed over cash which I had scraped up from all over the house, they rolled up the hose, and trundle home with little boys waving hands and grown women’s happy cries following them down the driveway.
Grace and I hugged each other. It’s the little things that matter, isn’t it?
One more and then I’m done. Does anyone have as ridiculous a life as I do?
Somewhere in here, I returned home from a boat wives function and noticed our cat peering through the glassed-in fireplace. She’d never done that before, so I crouched beside her, trying to imagine what she was staring at in such a fixed way. Nothing.
The next morning when I rose, I found C sitting cross-legged next to the cat staring into the fireplace. “What are you doing?”
“There’s a squirrel in there.”
Sure enough, there was a young squirrel running around inside, up and down the walls, and speeding around again. The cat watched avidly, as if viewing a television program.
Was there a wild animal expert in the house? How do you get a squirrel out of your fireplace?
We’d had a similar incident earlier at the house when R was actually present.
That time, he’d lit the first fire of the fall to make sure the chimney worked. Before it got started, a bird flew down the chimney, singing its wings. He managed to capture it, run to the front door not twenty feet away and toss it into the front yard. It stood on a granite slab in the middle of the grass for a week waiting for the feathers to heal.
The boys had enjoyed watching out the front windows until one day it flew away. We were relieved; we’d feared a wild animal creature might catch it and eat it.
But now it was a squirrel and there was no way I thought I could catch a squirrel with my bare hands even if I wanted to. Besides, rabies?
Grace came downstairs shortly thereafter and the four of us plus the cat, contemplated what to do next. The boys voted for letting it live in the fireplace, but that wouldn’t work, of course.
I finally picked up the cat and locked thrust her into the bathroom. She immediately began yowling. The sympathetic four-year-old went to let her out, but we were able to stop him. I didn’t want the cat to kill the squirrel.
Using cardboard boxes, shrouding towels, and the back of the couch, we erected a sort of tunnel leading from the fireplace to the door. The plan was to crack open the fireplace door and direct the squirrel in a straight line toward the open front door. I had a horror of the squirrel jumping the open tunnel and spinning around the living room walls.
Grace held the mop, and the boys lined the tunnel, I held the broom. I’d sweep the squirrel out the door. I eased open the fireplace door and the squirrel sprang through the crack, scurrying any which way with me, frankly, brandishing the broom, and screaming.
Somehow, I don’t know how, we got it headed in the correct direction and it bounded out the door. I slumped onto the couch. How did these things keep happening to me?
“Why couldn’t we keep the squirrel?” Cr asked. J jumped up and down and Grace joined me on the couch.
I closed my eyes and shook my head gently. I sat up, ran my finger down his rounded cheek, and said, “The squirrel belongs to God and lives outside.”
“Okay.” The boys ran outside to keep an eye for the squirrel, but we, gratefully, never saw it again.
When I was your age, we didn’t have TV.
I read a lot and we talked with each other until we caught up on whatever was happening. I usually played outside until dark. Even in the wintertime.
In those days, mother spent a lot of time in the kitchen.
Dad would listen to the news on the radio.
What Chas said, but dad did not listen to the radio, he read newspapers. But left for the woods early and got home in time for a bath before dinner, then off to his papers. Mom listened to Paul Harvey so she knew the rest of the story.
I played outside until it was dark, too. We rode bikes everywhere, played baseball, pioneers. My parents read the evening paper. And yeah, they watched the evening news before whatever cowboy show was coming on that night.
And that was how it was in the civilized homes of everyone I knew. We had dinner at the table at a specific time (with a God is great . . . blessing) and we would see the evening news on television. My father would read the blue streak Atlanta Journal newspaper. The blue streak was the last edition of the day. In the summer we played outside until dark. We did not do that in the winter or on school nights when we had homework.
We listened to Paul Harvey. He would tel us what to think about the news.
There used to be a commentator called Walter Winchell. Dad listened to him, but he was even before my time.
And that was my upbringing…playing outside til the streetlights came on. We never wanted to be inside! Parents read the evening newspaper (back then we received the morning and evening editions) We had dinner together unless there was a favorite show on. We then pulled out the TV trays and headed to the living room after prayer…God is great God is good….
Also what Chas said. We didn’t have television. We played outside until dark – in the winter we played outside in the moonlight or starlight many times. I read whatever I lay my hands on and we talked to each other. My mother spent a lot of time in the kitchen – when we were sick, she would make a little bed in a corner of the kitchen so she could keep an eye on us while she worked. And we listened to the news on the radio in the evenings when Dad was home.
I am still working on my thoughts.
While on the one hand I think we have gotten the president we deserve on the other I think we have lost something priceless. The belief in our system.
My mother listened to Paul Harvey while she washed our lunch dishes. We never used tv trays but my best friend’s family down the street did. That makes sense because her dad was a camera man for a tv station. Television was not as important to my family’s life as it was to others in my peer group.
My Dad’s hobby was TV and radio repair that turned into a side business. He set up shop in our Sears garage out back. We had many TV’s and radios and he used to let me test the tubes on his tube tester 😊 (I was supposed to be his “boy” after all….I ended up being the prissiest of his three girls
My Iowa-born mom made dinner every night, Iowa-style. Meat, potatoes and a vegetable, usually corn.
But I remember getting a “treat” once in a while when I was teen-ager and inherited the family’s old, tiny black-and-white TV for my bedroom — a TV dinner on a tray to eat in my bedroom! Now that was living.
Kim, I’m feeling much better, under the circumstances, that the Republicans are holding the Senate AND have gained some seats in the House — and some of the newer Dems in the House are centrists.
It could have been SO much worse.
But, barring any hard evidence of election fraud that actually could have changed the outcome, we also need to accept the results, pray for the new president, and remember we’re all Americans.
There was no “blue wave,” the Dems didn’t get the clean sweep they anticipated.
And for all his faults, Biden, at one time in his life, in the 1980s (?), did have centrist instincts. Praying he has the strength and courage to now follow some of those in what is a divided government
We did not watch the tv news. Ever. That was considered not a valid source of information. But my grandparents watched tv a lot, including tv news, and ate on tv trays. We preferred their kitchen dining nook with the slide in benches. My dad has probably never watched a tv news show. But he watches CSpan so there you go.
My father built a “breakfast room” back behind our kitchen where we had most family meals when we were young. The dining room was saved for company. As we got older, I suppose we outgrew the breakfast room and started having all meals in the dining room.
DJ – Nightingale insists that corn is not a vegetable, but a grain.
My mom served corn, peas, green beans, or beets – all from cans – for our supper vegetable. Sometimes we had a treat of asparagus, also from a can. In later years, after I was grown up, she used more frozen veggies, such as broccoli.
I used the word “supper” there intentionally, because that’s what we called it when I was growing up. I don’t know when I transitioned to referring to it as “dinner”.
Nightingale is right about corn. It is a starch, like potatoes as far as dieting goes. It is good and nutritious, but in the bread and potato category for a diabetic diet.
When my children were in school they learned that there is no “vegetable” category of food. Plants we eat are leaf, grain, flower, root and fruit. I think I might have missed one or two.
Wandering Views 
Good Morning
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Good morning Kim and everyone else.
At my age, you wold think it doesn’t matter.
But it literally sickens me to see what is happening to our nation.
We are becoming ungovernable.
We are electing a man who can’t govern.
We have lots to answer for, but we are still the greatest nation on earth.
But if the Bidens get in, we will be behind China when it’s over.
I just have this weird feeling that our country is slipping away.
Is there such a thing as a “counter riot””? A million prayers might help.
Franklin Graham is advertising for Jesus on FoxNews. I pray that good will come of this.
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This is the first time in history that the White House has to be reinforced for protection.
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It is sad, Chas. The many younger people I know, who do see what is going on, is heartening to me. Especially heartening is that they are teaching their children to love and serve the Lord. He is faithful to help us through whatever comes. He is our hiding place as I read this morning once again.
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Chas, I hurt along with you. But God is with us in this suffering. He never wastes suffering of His children. No matter how old we are, we are His children. He has told us in His word that we would have troubles. He wants us to remain faithful and hopeful in Him. The devil gets a stronghold when we take our eyes off Jesus and sink into only what our physical eyes and ears receive as being the unchanging reality. When we forget the many But God moments in the Bible and believe He can not overcome, that is where the true defeat by the evil one lurks. Ask God to help you rise up and praise Him because He is victorious and our praises of God win territory for God on earth.
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Morning! Well I took a look at that header photo and thought to myself that those things will be rolling soon if we don’t get a handle on this chaos in our nation! 😢
While we as believers in Christ trust Him in all matters, it remains concerning the state of affairs we are facing. To realize there are so many who have lost their way, spewing hatred, rioting, lying, cheating, committing vile acts against neighbors. I pray for my loved ones who know our Lord…that their faith will be firmly planted, unwavering no matter what might come against them. For they know in whom to place their trust and care. For those I love who know not our Lord, that they would wake up and choose this day in Whom they will place their trust. He is our fortress and our deliverer…in Him will I trust ❤️
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I don’t know why I am anonymous today…I suppose I need to go search for a setting or something…. NancyJill
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Does this work?
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Bonne Anniversaire to DJ today. It is Bonfire Night, also known in England as Guy Fawkes Day, marking the anniversary of the failed plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament in England in 1605. In England it used to be celebrated to be celebrated by creating effigies of the principal plotter Guy Fawkes and going about asking for “A penny for the guy”. Then, in the evening, bonfires would be lit, fireworks – bought with the pennies got for the guy – set off, and the guy would be burnt. There is a rhyme for the day:
“Remember, remember!
The fifth of November,
The Gunpowder treason and plot;
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!
Guy Fawkes and his companions
Did the scheme contrive,
To blow the King and Parliament
All up alive.
Threescore barrels, laid below,
To prove old England’s overthrow.
But, by God’s providence, him they catch,
With a dark lantern, lighting a match!
A stick and a stake
For King James’s sake!
If you won’t give me one,
I’ll take two,
The better for me,
And the worse for you.
A rope, a rope, to hang the Pope,
A penn’orth of cheese to choke him,
A pint of beer to wash it down,
And a jolly good fire to burn him.
Holloa, boys! holloa, boys! make the bells ring!
Holloa, boys! holloa boys! God save the King!
Hip, hip, hooor-r-r-ray!”
The anti-Catholic sentiment is because the plot was the final attempt in English history by the Catholics to seize back control of the English crown. It failed horribly and the fate of the plotters was grim indeed. The funny thing is that, according to Eldest in-law, Bonfire Night was celebrated in the province of Newfoundland when he was growing up, and the province is filled with the descendants of Irish Catholic immigrants, including Eldest in-law, and he knew the rhyme. I think any reason to have a bonfire during the darkest time of the year was good enough no matter the origins of it. The Second are planning on some observations this year, and the little ones are looking forward to it.
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I still have my head in the sand. Nanananananan I can’t hear you.
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Kim, the ostrich approach is very appealing♡
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I see where the people who ruined California are tired of the outcome of their politics. so they moved to Arizona.
To Make it like California.
That, in another way, is happening in North Carolina.
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Other than 1812 when the British burned it. Dolley Madison escaped with important papers and George Washington’s painting cut from its frame. She almost got picked up by the British on her way out. One plucky Virginian and the First Lady to have her photograph taken!
https://www.michelleule.com/2013/05/31/amazing-internet-research-dolley-madison/
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Chas those CA folk are stopping off in CO first. Our state is so blue it doesn’t even blush red!!😞
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Nightingale got home last night after I was asleep, and she was off to work before I got up this morning, so I don’t know how her date went. But the fact that she wasn’t home earlier seems to point to them getting along well.
This man (I’ll call him Guy Friend for now) works with Nightingale’s friend Beth at the local hospital (I think he is an x-ray tech). Beth has been trying to fix them up over the past several months, inviting both of them to her parties (she likes to have themed parties throughout the year). There was also a double date a couple months ago with Nightingale, Guy Friend, and Beth and her husband.
But the man has not pursued Nightingale, even though he has mentioned to Beth that he is interested. Beth says he can be quite awkward, and Nightingale has seen that, but she likes him anyway.
At Beth’s Halloween party last weekend, he suggested that the four of them go on another double date, this time for Mexican food. No concrete plans were made right then, but a couple days later, via texts, it was turned into plans for a date, just the two of them. Beth told Nightingale that he was telling everyone at work about his upcoming date, and he seems excited.
The one little thing that may be a concern is that he is 18 years older than she is (49 to her 31). She is not against the age difference, if they get along, and if he is right for her. I guess I’m not against it, either, but I realize that it pretty much guarantees that if they marry, she may be a youngish widow. Then again, there is no guarantee that a younger man will live into old age, and this older man may end up living into his 90s. Who knows?
So anyway, as with the other boyfriends she has had (and he is not officially her boyfriend yet), I will pray that if he is not God’s will for her, they will not “click” and any feelings they have for each other will fade.
By the time I finished typing this comment, I received a text from Nightingale. She said that it went very well, and felt more natural than most dates.
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Good morning. Tychicus cheered me up.
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Re- Californians moving away and taking their Liberal politics with them: The Babylon Bee has the story on the emigration to Texas. Texas Passes Law Banning Californians From Voting After They Move There
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Yay Nightingale. 🙂
Thanks Roscuro, you reminded me that my BD is, indeed, this week — but not until the 7th which is what day? Saturday? Honestly, I’m not one to even remember it half the time but it does tend to fall right on or around Election Day every 2 and 4 years.
It also reminds me I get a day off for my birthday, I may take that soon (we have a month before and after to take it) for a long weekend. I also need to sing up for a couple full weeks here before the end of the year.
The tree crew should come again today, I think, to apply the 2nd of the three treatments. It’s supposed to be warm today (84 degrees) but then drop down into the mid 60s with wind tomorrow with a 70% chance of rain on Saturday!
I know folks from my church who have moved to Colorado over the past decade, they’re conservative and are pretty heartsick that their new state is now electing more Dems. But don’t blame all Californians for that, many conservative Californians have moved there to escape the liberal politics in their home state.
So I see there seems to still be no decision regarding who won the election. And I saw on the news last night that there were issues with party reps being able to watch, as they are allowed to by law, some of the counting and recounting. It’s important to allow party spotters in to observe all of these counts, especially in this environment. Problem is, emotions are now so high that I’m afraid it can lead to arguments or worse in those settings.
I have no issue, either, with the Trump administration asking for recounts or challenging some ballots. The Dems would and will do the same. But in an election this close, the nation needs to have as much assurance as it can that all is on the up and up, to the best of our ability to know and confirm that.
So this will go on a while …
It is startling to see the White House barricaded (but probably a wise idea considering this atmosphere) along with the boarded up business districts in cities throughout the country.
What is God up to, I wonder? Surely something — as a friend likes to say (and he even bought the T-shirt) when things become tense and even unfathomable to those of us with limited, earthly vision, “Aslan’s on the move.”
Surely ‘something’ serious and perhaps historic seems to be taking place in the US, we just can’t see exactly what yet.
Keep the faith.
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DJ, for some reason I thought it was the 5th, but I must have got you mixed up with a couple of other people I know with their birthdays near mine.
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Kizzie, my mother’s eldest sister married a man who was 19 years her elder and it was a very happy marriage. Our family all consider home of the best people we have ever known, kind, gentle, and wise. The only sad part was when he passed away quite suddenly from pancreatic cancer in his 70s and she was still in her early 50s. She had a bit of a hard time at first, because she had married younger than Nightingale is now, and did not have more education than high school. She cleaned houses for several years to support herself. Eventually she remarried and is very happy in her second marriage.
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DJ is going to sing for two weeks soon. That should be interesting.
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I caught that, too, Mumsee. She should send us a video.
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Forgot to mention that as well as praying what I mentioned above, I also pray for the boyfriend’s salvation whether or not they stay together. So please pray for Guy Friend and his family. (I think he lives with his father, but I’m not sure if his mother is still alive or if he has siblings.)
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I panicked because I had the 7th written down for DJ. 😳
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When we moved to Washington State in 1989, they called it the “Californication of Washington.”
Very sorry.
I’m just in from seeing the doctor for the first time since COVID, an excellent follow up from a Telemed appointment last month. I enjoy chatting with the (male) nurse and I’m afraid I told a ribald joke–but only a medical/submarine one–and I’ve been snickering ever since.
Meanwhile, the EMT is trying to get home on United airlines. She’s sending me texts, and her father as well who went to pick her up.
As they were landing at SFO, the plane suddenly zoomed straight up and circled around, the pilot announcing “it’s too foggy to land at SFO.”
They were running out of gas, so they made an emergency trip to San Jose (60 miles south), where they are sitting on the ground, so she texting me.
Meanwhile, a plane beside them on the tarmac had a medical emergency. I asked if she volunteered to take it (since this was her payback flight for the Philly emergency she handled in January) and she reminded me she couldn’t get off the plane! LOL
I told her I’d just bought the bell peppers to stuff them for dinner and she said she hoped she’d be home in time for dinner. Her father has an appointment at work this afternoon, so I’m sure he’s hoping the same thing!
I know I prayed for her flight this morning . . . safety, right? 🙂
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I finally got through the 1985 chapter last night, indeed, it was so long and complicated it took two chapters.
The final story of that horrible year was this one: https://www.michelleule.com/2012/11/29/who-deserves-mercy-most/
Just like I wrote the other day, as I typed along, I was suddenly overcome with the grief from that horror of being told they were losing my baby. I sobbed and sobbed remembering.
If he had died because of my negligence, I’m not sure how I would have survived.
God is merciful and I’m thankful for much.
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One more and then I’m back to work. (EMT is #2 in line for takeoff).
This is my take on My Utmost for His Highest today:
OC warns not to get in God’s way with sympathy, but being able to understand helps us to minister with empathy.
“When it comes to suffering, it is part of our Christian culture to want to know God’s purpose beforehand.”
We think we can endure it better if we know it is for a purpose.
All suffering has a purpose: to build our dependency on Christ.
That should be sufficient.
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Well MIchelle, I must have needed a good cry or maybe it is because of any number of reasons, but tears streamed down my face as I read that and my chest hurt. As I am typing the keys on my computer are wet.
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Amen, Michelle.
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Mercy indeed
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I stopped breathing as I read your post Michelle…..then cried thanking our Lord for His tender mercies shown to us ❤️
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Amen, NancyJill.
There have been several times in my life when that “ribbon of thought,” a whisper from the Holy Spirit, changed my life. I’m so thankful the Lord care enough for us to send it and that I caught it.
I was so furious that day and stressed, yet, I recognized the voice. “My sheep know my voice.”
If Jonathan had been killed, I doubt I would have had any more children and there would have been losses to the world in so many ways without those two. I have such an over-sense of responsibility, I shudder.
But the Lord had mercy on all of us and I learned an enormous lesson about his tenderness, grace, and mercy. I was a basketcase for months after that. I drove over a mile around so I didn’t have to cross the divider line for the left turn up the driveway.
Squadron sent a message CO’s eyes only, and the CO did not tell my husband. He only learned of the accident three weeks later when they pulled into Scotland.
The boat wives were apoplectic. You like to think the Navy takes care of its own, but that didn’t happen here. The entire incident was difficult for many.
And then my husband nearly died himself on the trip home when the boat foundered in the Irish Sea. He was the one who saved the submarine and they awarded him a medal upon the boat’s return.
Wow, maybe 1986 will be a long chapter, too.
🙂
Text: my daughter just landed at SFO!
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God’s will. Purpose.
I think on these things quite often, realizing that Hubby’s death was not only God’s will for Hubby, but it was also His will for me, and that He has a purpose in my widowhood. And wondering still about all of that.
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YA outdid herself today in arrogance, insult, and self-righteousness. 😦
My heart aches for my Chickadee being so heavily under her undue and ungodly influence. May God give her eyes to see His truth, and to see through YA.
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Michelle, that story reminded me of the close call I had Monday coming back from the dentist’s. The route that I take has a lot of gravel trucks on it due to widespread construction in the region. I was followed by a large gravel truck – longer than the average dump truck – for a number of kilometres, and having stopped at a couple of intersections and gone through a few small communities on the way, I knew this truck was driven by an impatient driver who didn’t like to slow down in a timely way, so I made sure to signal well before slowing down to make my left turn at a T-intersection. I had to come to a complete stop because there was traffic coming the opposite direction. To my horror, I saw in my mirror that the truck wasn’t slowing down enough to stop in time. I could see the truck was aiming toward the side of the road, so I tried to wheel closer to the centre, even as the cars going the opposite direction went past. The truck passed me on the right shoulder of the road, and an SUV that was behind the truck did the same before the opposing traffic cleared to allow me to make my turn. This was out in the country and the shoulders are only gravel. The weight of that truck could have caused the shoulder to collapse, tipping the truck into the ditch, or could have taken the right side of my car off. It is only a matter of time before someone gets killed at that intersection – my parents and I a few years ago were nearly hit by a similar truck when trying to make the same turn.
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Oh, no! Thanks be to God for your protection, too, Roscuro! 6 Arrows told a story about a similar incident recently, too.
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Lest you think it was all a nightmare, ridiculously funny things happened, too. Here’s one I just wrote. You’ll only see it here! LOL
It’s long.
But before that, we had more adventures. (Why not?)
The drizzle began the night before, a dark Friday evening with nothing happening. By Saturday morning, flakes began to fall and it looked like our usual Saturday Disney matinee at the Subase would not happen—at least not for snow-driving-shy Michelle and her boys.
I baked cookies and was folding the laundry when Christopher joined us in the family room. “The bathroom smells nasty.”
No wonder, the shower had raw sewage in it.
Was there a plumber in the house?
I found the plumber’s helper, and applied it to the smelly situation.
No luck.
Grace [the dental corpsman who lived with us upstairs in rented rooms. Grace saved me so many times during those years!) was awake. “The toilet won’t flush.”
“Ah, yes.” I called Roy (our friend)
“When was the last time you had the septic tank pumped?” he asked.
A long pause. “I don’t know anything about septic tanks, Roy. I grew up in suburban Los Angeles. I have no idea.”
“Well, that’s probably what you need to do. Pick someone out of the phone book and have them come out. This happens to people all the time.”
It was a Saturday in December. Did I mention it was snowing?
The tank pumpers all knew. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. They’re all out.”
Finally, I got a woman. “I’m sorry, my husband is already out. It’s a Saturday and it’s snowing. He only works half days and in emergencies.”
I took a deep breath. “Ma’am, there are two adult women in this household. We really need a bathroom this weekend. I have two little boys and my husband is out to sea. I really need help.” I didn’t know what else to do. Camp out at church? Rent a hotel room for the weekend? Did I have enough money to pay for a hotel room?
A soft heart, even though she didn’t want to admit it. “Well, I’ll call him. But you’ll need cash and you’ll need to dig up the septic tank.”
“I’ll do it.”
I called Roy back. “What does a septic tank look like?”
Dear, sweet patient Roy. “What do you mean? It’s just a septic tank. Do you know where to find it?
W and R had discussed this and I had a schematic left in the house notebook. It showed distance from the northwestern corner of the family room into the grass area of the back yard. That was promising and Roy breathed a sigh of relief.
“Just follow that chart and start digging. I’d come help but we have an engagement.”
“How far down do I dig?”
A pause. “It’s usually three feet. I’m so sorry I can’t help.”
We put on our jackets on that bitter cold morning and trooped into the yard. I thrust the garden spade into the yard in several places, following the schematic. Nothing. The soil was hard, albeit it hard rained the night before. The shovel followed, the sons-of-an-engineer, made for a job like this, triumphantly ran for their Tonka trucks.
Grace joined me a few minutes later. “What are you doing now?”
“Digging up the septic tank, grab a shovel.”
“Why?”
I explained and then told her, “I’ll have to raise your rent if we don’t get this dug up.” She picked up a shovel.
About 18 inches down, we hit cement. Triumph! We had to keep the eager boys at bay, but Grace and I vigorously dug and soon uncovered a few square feet of cement. Back to Roy.
“What am I looking for?”
“The cleanout valve.”
“Roy! What does it look like?” I could tell he felt badly about not being there to help.
Grace and I, and the boys, of course, ended up digging up the entire top of the septic tank—the cleanout valve was the last thing we uncovered, just as we heard the rumble of a large truck on the driveway. Triumph again!
The flakes were thicker and starting to stick.
“Hullo!” We welcomed two men—one ruddy-faced and rotund with a grin and the other a tall thin wisp of a man in overalls and a Deere hat. “What have we here?” The stouter man was obviously in charge.
I wanted to hug them, instead, I explained.
“Why did you uncover the whole thing?”
“The woman I spoke to said you wouldn’t come if I didn’t.” I handed them the schematic. “I didn’t know what I was looking for.”
“Ah, you shouldn’t listen to Marge. This looks like a submarine schematic.”
“A submariner sold the house to my husband—another submariner.”
Mr. Ruddy Cheeks elbowed his employee. “Only a Navy wife would dig up the whole tank.” They went right to work. Their hose barely reached the valve, but soon it was filling up while the boys danced about clapping their hands and laughing.
By then we were close friends. “Go try it, Grace!” Then sent her inside to flush. Success!
She returned with fresh baked cookies. I picked up the shovel to now cover the tank.
“Ah, we’ll help you. You’ve done enough today.” With four shovels and two Tonka trucks, the tank was covered in no time. I handed over cash which I had scraped up from all over the house, they rolled up the hose, and trundle home with little boys waving hands and grown women’s happy cries following them down the driveway.
Grace and I hugged each other. It’s the little things that matter, isn’t it?
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A true bonding experience, Michelle! Nothing like digging up a septic tank together to make for lifelong friendship! I am impressed♡ LOL
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One more and then I’m done. Does anyone have as ridiculous a life as I do?
Somewhere in here, I returned home from a boat wives function and noticed our cat peering through the glassed-in fireplace. She’d never done that before, so I crouched beside her, trying to imagine what she was staring at in such a fixed way. Nothing.
The next morning when I rose, I found C sitting cross-legged next to the cat staring into the fireplace. “What are you doing?”
“There’s a squirrel in there.”
Sure enough, there was a young squirrel running around inside, up and down the walls, and speeding around again. The cat watched avidly, as if viewing a television program.
Was there a wild animal expert in the house? How do you get a squirrel out of your fireplace?
We’d had a similar incident earlier at the house when R was actually present.
That time, he’d lit the first fire of the fall to make sure the chimney worked. Before it got started, a bird flew down the chimney, singing its wings. He managed to capture it, run to the front door not twenty feet away and toss it into the front yard. It stood on a granite slab in the middle of the grass for a week waiting for the feathers to heal.
The boys had enjoyed watching out the front windows until one day it flew away. We were relieved; we’d feared a wild animal creature might catch it and eat it.
But now it was a squirrel and there was no way I thought I could catch a squirrel with my bare hands even if I wanted to. Besides, rabies?
Grace came downstairs shortly thereafter and the four of us plus the cat, contemplated what to do next. The boys voted for letting it live in the fireplace, but that wouldn’t work, of course.
I finally picked up the cat and locked thrust her into the bathroom. She immediately began yowling. The sympathetic four-year-old went to let her out, but we were able to stop him. I didn’t want the cat to kill the squirrel.
Using cardboard boxes, shrouding towels, and the back of the couch, we erected a sort of tunnel leading from the fireplace to the door. The plan was to crack open the fireplace door and direct the squirrel in a straight line toward the open front door. I had a horror of the squirrel jumping the open tunnel and spinning around the living room walls.
Grace held the mop, and the boys lined the tunnel, I held the broom. I’d sweep the squirrel out the door. I eased open the fireplace door and the squirrel sprang through the crack, scurrying any which way with me, frankly, brandishing the broom, and screaming.
Somehow, I don’t know how, we got it headed in the correct direction and it bounded out the door. I slumped onto the couch. How did these things keep happening to me?
“Why couldn’t we keep the squirrel?” Cr asked. J jumped up and down and Grace joined me on the couch.
I closed my eyes and shook my head gently. I sat up, ran my finger down his rounded cheek, and said, “The squirrel belongs to God and lives outside.”
“Okay.” The boys ran outside to keep an eye for the squirrel, but we, gratefully, never saw it again.
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You needed AJ’s military tank for that job, I’d say.
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When I was your age, we didn’t have TV.
I read a lot and we talked with each other until we caught up on whatever was happening. I usually played outside until dark. Even in the wintertime.
In those days, mother spent a lot of time in the kitchen.
Dad would listen to the news on the radio.
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What Chas said, but dad did not listen to the radio, he read newspapers. But left for the woods early and got home in time for a bath before dinner, then off to his papers. Mom listened to Paul Harvey so she knew the rest of the story.
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I played outside until it was dark, too. We rode bikes everywhere, played baseball, pioneers. My parents read the evening paper. And yeah, they watched the evening news before whatever cowboy show was coming on that night.
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I was the evening channel changer as we had no remotes back then. 🙂
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And that was how it was in the civilized homes of everyone I knew. We had dinner at the table at a specific time (with a God is great . . . blessing) and we would see the evening news on television. My father would read the blue streak Atlanta Journal newspaper. The blue streak was the last edition of the day. In the summer we played outside until dark. We did not do that in the winter or on school nights when we had homework.
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We listened to Paul Harvey. He would tel us what to think about the news.
There used to be a commentator called Walter Winchell. Dad listened to him, but he was even before my time.
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And that was my upbringing…playing outside til the streetlights came on. We never wanted to be inside! Parents read the evening newspaper (back then we received the morning and evening editions) We had dinner together unless there was a favorite show on. We then pulled out the TV trays and headed to the living room after prayer…God is great God is good….
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Also what Chas said. We didn’t have television. We played outside until dark – in the winter we played outside in the moonlight or starlight many times. I read whatever I lay my hands on and we talked to each other. My mother spent a lot of time in the kitchen – when we were sick, she would make a little bed in a corner of the kitchen so she could keep an eye on us while she worked. And we listened to the news on the radio in the evenings when Dad was home.
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I am still working on my thoughts.
While on the one hand I think we have gotten the president we deserve on the other I think we have lost something priceless. The belief in our system.
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NancyJill – My family often ate dinner on TV trays in the living room, too. 🙂
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My mother listened to Paul Harvey while she washed our lunch dishes. We never used tv trays but my best friend’s family down the street did. That makes sense because her dad was a camera man for a tv station. Television was not as important to my family’s life as it was to others in my peer group.
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My Dad’s hobby was TV and radio repair that turned into a side business. He set up shop in our Sears garage out back. We had many TV’s and radios and he used to let me test the tubes on his tube tester 😊 (I was supposed to be his “boy” after all….I ended up being the prissiest of his three girls
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My Iowa-born mom made dinner every night, Iowa-style. Meat, potatoes and a vegetable, usually corn.
But I remember getting a “treat” once in a while when I was teen-ager and inherited the family’s old, tiny black-and-white TV for my bedroom — a TV dinner on a tray to eat in my bedroom! Now that was living.
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Kim, I’m feeling much better, under the circumstances, that the Republicans are holding the Senate AND have gained some seats in the House — and some of the newer Dems in the House are centrists.
It could have been SO much worse.
But, barring any hard evidence of election fraud that actually could have changed the outcome, we also need to accept the results, pray for the new president, and remember we’re all Americans.
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There was no “blue wave,” the Dems didn’t get the clean sweep they anticipated.
And for all his faults, Biden, at one time in his life, in the 1980s (?), did have centrist instincts. Praying he has the strength and courage to now follow some of those in what is a divided government
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We did not watch the tv news. Ever. That was considered not a valid source of information. But my grandparents watched tv a lot, including tv news, and ate on tv trays. We preferred their kitchen dining nook with the slide in benches. My dad has probably never watched a tv news show. But he watches CSpan so there you go.
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I wish I had a breakfast ‘nook.’
But would I use it? I don’t know.
When I moved into this house, I had a particular image of eating breakfast, lunch or dinner on the sun-splashed back patio, living “the life.”
I don’t think I’ve ever done that.
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My father built a “breakfast room” back behind our kitchen where we had most family meals when we were young. The dining room was saved for company. As we got older, I suppose we outgrew the breakfast room and started having all meals in the dining room.
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DJ – Nightingale insists that corn is not a vegetable, but a grain.
My mom served corn, peas, green beans, or beets – all from cans – for our supper vegetable. Sometimes we had a treat of asparagus, also from a can. In later years, after I was grown up, she used more frozen veggies, such as broccoli.
I used the word “supper” there intentionally, because that’s what we called it when I was growing up. I don’t know when I transitioned to referring to it as “dinner”.
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Nightingale is right about corn. It is a starch, like potatoes as far as dieting goes. It is good and nutritious, but in the bread and potato category for a diabetic diet.
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We had supper. But here, we have dinner at lunch time and supper at dinnertime. And we had the canned veggies. I do not like canned peas.
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What!? Corn isn’t a vegetable?
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When my children were in school they learned that there is no “vegetable” category of food. Plants we eat are leaf, grain, flower, root and fruit. I think I might have missed one or two.
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And this is the second day in a row I can say “First”, though I didn’t yesterday.
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