Posted in party

The party’s not over yet

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I passed this impressive inflatable waterslide several times over the weekend. This one is a beast, taking up an entire front yard. I think I first saw it on Friday night, the party was on Saturday, and here it is pre-dawn Sunday morning. It’s not only still inflated, but the water’s running, too.

Maybe it’s just me, but that seems like a long time to leave the power on and the water running. I always thought that you’d want to turn everything off once the party was over. At least overnight. But maybe the rental people told them to just let it stay as is.

The inflatable party rental business is huge. I see them in yards every weekend. It’s a lot of work, too. These monsters must weigh a ton, requiring delivery, set up, tear down, and removal. I’ve watched. It’s impressive. And it’s fun. Few things light up kids’ faces like a big waterslide. It gets a little rough, and sometimes someone gets hurt. Not to worry. A few minutes later, they will be right back in there.

When I checked out local rental websites, I saw some that were thirty feet tall and twenty-six feet long. Wow! It’ll set you back about $600, but you’ll all have a blast!

Posted in cookies

More sprinkles

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It’s not a celebration until the sprinkles come out!

In preparation for our nation’s semiquincentennial, the three granddaughters went all out with cookies, icing, and sprinkles. Once we baked the star and USA-shaped cookies, they got to work with red and white icing and patriotic sprinkles.

The best moment of the decorating was when one of them heaped on a 1/2-inch stack of red, white, and blue sprinkles and asked, “Is that enough?”

A cardinal rule of cookie decorating is that a cookie cannot have too many sprinkles. If you think you do, you need more. Sprinkles falling onto the floor? You must need more icing! And then more sprinkles.

Posted in neighbor, neighborhood

Shorty-short mailboxes

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Okay, this will be my last mailbox piece. At least for a while.

Today’s topic: short mailboxes.

I chuckle every time I walk by these two mailboxes. They are short. Really short. They struggle to max out a two feet. USPS indicates a height of 41 to 45 inches to the bottom.

So why have a shorty-short mailbox?

The gracious answer: the person is in a wheelchair or scooter. That’s what they can reach. Their house has lower counters and lower shelves, to accommodate their limited reach.

Or perhaps they are just short people. One doesn’t use the word midget any more. So maybe it’s a little person or person with dwarfism. For them, a mailbox like this works.

Bad installation? Maybe. Someone didn’t buy a long enough 4×4. Or got carried away pounding one into the ground. They were too lazy to change it, so they just cut it off and made it fit. Who cares? It’s mostly junk mail anyway.

It could have been a former mailbox casualty, fixed and restored. After discarding the broken pieces, this is what was left. Good enough.

I’ll try not to chuckle too much when I pass these homes. Short mailboxes have feelings, too.

Posted in neighborhood

It’s not easy being a mailbox

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It’s been a rough week for mailboxes in our neighborhood. Every morning I notice new ones that have been attacked and left for dead.

A few years ago, it looked like someone drove down the street with a baseball bat, taking out a whole row of roadside mailboxes. I’ve seen the latest rash of violence in front of random houses. Whoever it was didn’t just take a swing at the mailbox, but intentionally knocked down whole posts.

I suppose this is how some have fun late at night. I don’t know who they are, but they are bold. When most houses have doorbell cameras, someone is going to see you. You’re going to get caught.

I know most mailboxes are just plain ugly. Even brand new ones only look attractive for a few months. The Florida sun and heat quickly takes its toll.

My mailbox is intact. For now.

Posted in preaching

Too political? I hope so!

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Chase Kennedy on Unsplash

The other day, I heard about a pastor who refused to preach on topics he deemed “political.”

Really?

I’d expect his sermons to be very short since our culture has politicized everything from choosing a state insect to off-shore power generation to dog licenses. Never mind issues about beginning and end of life, marriage, immigration, and homelessness.

Plus, Jesus was political.

The angel Gabriel told Mary that her son would have the throne of his father David. If we’re talking about a king, we’re talking politics.

Jesus’s first sermon was, “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand” (4:17). A kingdom? We’re talking politics. By the way, John the Baptist preached the same message.

Jesus went throughout all Galilee proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom (Matthew 4:23). He sent his disciples out with the same message (10:7).

On Palm Sunday, Jesus was hailed as king as he rode into Jerusalem. He advocated paying taxes to Rome. He told governor Pilate about his kingdom. The sign over his head on the cross hailed him as the king of the Jews.

If Jesus was anything, he was political.

  • Do you want to talk to Jesus about that unborn baby? Go ahead. He knit that infant together in his mother’s womb. Give it your best shot.
  • Do you want to talk to Jesus about end-of-life pain and suffering? Go ahead. Better yet, do so while he’s dying on the cross.
  • Do you want to talk to Jesus about all the undocumented immigrants? Don’t forget he came from out of town.
  • Want to talk to Jesus about homelessness? Fine. He had no place to lay his head. Tell him all about it.

Please don’t portray Jesus as apolitical. He’s right there in the mix. You don’t have to agree with him. You don’t have to like him or his opinion. But don’t avoid the discussion.

Hey, preacher, your flock wants to know what Jesus has to say about all of these things. Don’t deny them. You don’t have to take sides. Just preach the word.

Posted in dogs, noticing

Just slow down

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by LOGAN WEAVER | @LGNWVR on Unsplash

I used to time myself.

I would crank up Map My Run on my phone and time my walk. I would check my pace, elapsed time, and my route. Could I walk under 16 minutes per mile? Let’s see! Pick up the pace, big dog!

But lately, I’ve left that all behind. I’ve started slowing down to notice what the big dog notices.

For her, it’s all about the squirrels and bunnies. I can barely see my way down the street, and she sees the bunnies on the side of the road. She never misses a squirrel scampering across the street. My eyes aren’t that good. Not in the early morning light.

She sees other walkers and dog walkers from hundreds of yards away. She catches them way off in the distance. Little dogs, big dogs, couples, joggers, and one older guy who walks by. Now I see them coming, too.

Surprisingly, she also picks up on hawks, airplanes, and drones. Somehow she knows where there are interesting things overhead. She glances up and follows them flying by. I stop and look up, too.

When I’m moving slower, I notice the colors in the sky. Mostly pinks and oranges at dawn. They only last a moment, so I have to pay attention. And I’m glad I do.

She remembers, too. She remembers where every other dog in the neighborhood lives. As we approach and pass each house, she gets excited. I forgot; she remembers. That spaniel. Or that chihuahua. The pretty golden retriever. The sheepdog mix. The woofing mixed breed. She remembers.

Singing birds? She hears them. Cardnals. Bluebirds. Mockingbirds. Crows. Hawks. Sparrows. They all start singing at the same time. They all got the memo. They wake up the morning (and me) with their song.

The big dog jumps when a dumpster bangs, an engine backfires, a key fob beeps, an air conditioner starts up, or a garage door opens. What? What’s that? She hears everything.

So now I notice, see, and hear everything. And you know what? It’s worth slowing down.

Posted in dogs

Spa day

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Somehow he knows.

I didn’t say a word. He can’t see my calendar. Even if he could, I don’t think he can read.

But Winston knows when it’s grooming day. And he loves grooming day!

He laid on the floor in the bathroom and stared at me while I took a shower. After I dressed, he sat by the back door, impatiently waiting for me. I didn’t even have to leash him. Winston runs to the van, jumps in shotgun, and looks out the window, tail vibrating with excitement.

As we head down the street, I open the window and let him enjoy the breeze. I think he feels like a superdog with the wind whipping through his hair, flooding his nose with scents. He watches people in their cars with curiosity. He jumps out of the van and pulls me to the door of the groomer, tail wagging ten times a second. He jumps up to lick the front desk person. Jumps up onto the washing station.

Winston loves his spa day!

Posted in animals, zoo

Baby elephants

Posted on by William Douthwaite

We usually go to a zoo when we visit the grandchildren in Dallas. The Dallas Zoo isn’t far but the Fort Worth zoo is an hour’s drive. Since it had been a few years, we made the longer drive with a van full of unusually quiet grands occupied with their books.

The zoo’s entrance announced the newest additions: a baby elephant! Since he was only a month old, he was only on exhibit for a few hours each day. So we headed there first.

It was worth the drive. Sam Houston was born on April 1, weighing in at 285 pounds. He didn’t wander far from his mama, Bluebell, pausing frequently to nurse. 8 month-old Lady Bird was wandering around with her parent, too.

Elephant Springs is a fantastic zoo habitat. These endangered Asian elephants have a safe place to live, wander, and reproduce. I could just stand and watch them for a long, long time.

Posted in selling

Going, going, gone

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash

I’ve been selling stuff I don’t need online, which can be profitable or creepy. Yesterday’s sales were entertaining.

Each buyer responded to my listing, agreed to the price, and stopped by a bit later in the day.

I watched out the window as a silver pickup truck stopped in the street. Two young ladies jumped out and I met them in the driveway. One said, “I’m here for the pack-and-play.”

“Sure. Do you want to see it put together.”

“No. Did my mom pay you for it?”

“No, she didn’t.”

She poked at her phone. “What the hell?” I tried not to listen to the whole conversation. “It’s a good thing I’ve got cash with me!”

After pushing her phone into her pocket she said, “How much?”

“Twenty.”

She handed me a twenty, loaded up the pack-and-play, and they drove off.

I texted the mom: “You owe your daughter twenty bucks.”

She replied, “I cash-apped the money to her. She’s a monster!”

I just chuckled. I thought, “I should have told her mom it was forty.”

A few minutes later, another pickup appeared to pick up a stand-mounted circle light that many use for social media.

“Here for the light?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I walked it out to him. I had posted pictures of it working, but I asked, “Want me to plug it in for you?”

He chuckled, “No. This doesn’t look like the kind of house that would scam me for a few bucks,” and handed me $15.

As he drove off, I said, “This is fun. This is the way it’s supposed to be.”

It’s not always like this. Some inquiring buyers stupidly low offers. Others want to mess with payment methods. Like I’m an idiot. I’ll negotiate. A little. Cash in person. Period.