This Valentine’s aisle in Walmart is impressive. And it’s not the only one. there are three more like it, stocked with baskets, stuffed animals, heart-shaped balloons, t-shirts, hats, cards, socks, centerpieces, and just about anything you can think of.
How much money is spent on Valentine’s day? The National Retail Federation reports Americans will spend around $25.8 billion this year. Of course we spend more on Christmas, Easter, and Mother’s day, but that is an impressive number.
When did this holiday become a commercial success? When I was growing up, it was mostly cheap little valentines we gave to class mates at school and the little candy hearts with cute saying printed on them. I think my dad used to give my mom a big box of chocolates, which we gladly helped her consume. But that’s about it.
We spend most of our valentine money on cards and candy for our grandchildren, along with treats and small toys. They have the most fun with the holiday.
It’s a gorgeous afternoon to sit outside at Starbucks waiting for Winston the Westie to be groomed. The entrance into this shopping center is always busy. And then this guy pulls in.
Yikes. I couldn’t help but ask out loud, “Where are you going to go with that thing?” It’s hard enough getting in and out with a compact car, never mind a pickup towing a forty-foot fifth wheel.
The parking lot is about 90% full. This guy isn’t going to find a place to pull over with a camper. I wasn’t sure he’d be able to get out of here at all. I’ll bet he had a few interesting comments once he saw what he had driven into.
I watched him as he turned left towards Hobby Lobby. Somehow he was able to loop around. He didn’t waste any time getting out of here. He knew it was a losing battle. No iHop or Jersey Mike for him today.
I had enough trouble maneuvering a trailer half that length through crowded gas stations and rest stops. I didn’t envy his task at all. I guess I just needed more practice.
I parked the car about one hundred yards from the front entrance of the church yesterday morning. After I dropped off my wife, I had to drive the entire length of grassy overflow parking area, past senior and guest parking spots, to find a spot.
I guess that’s what happens when your arrive ten minutes after the service starts. Worship was at 9:00, but we arrived for the bible class that starts at 9:15. Hey, I don’t mind the walk.
In fact, I used to pull my car into in the most remote corner of the parking lot on Sunday mornings. It was, unofficially, my designated parking spot. Why did I do that? Well, I figured my day would come and I would need a handicapped spot. Until then, since I was able to walk the distance, I would take the furthest spot.
What about rainy mornings? Yeah, they were a challenge. But once I got to the first building, I could use the covered walkway. If my car wasn’t there, everyone knew to welcome a guest preacher that day.
Who doesn’t like to see a church parking lot filled past capacity? On my way in, I commented to another walker, “I think I’m going set up a table about halfway to church and give out free water. We both chuckled. But you know what? When the summer sun is beating down, I’ll bet a lot of people would appreciat that.
When I went to the church where I used to be pastor, I saw that my spot was empty. I don’t think people were avoiding it in memory of me. Instead, worshipers are simply looking for the closest spot.
If the day comes when I guest preach at my old church, I’ll be sure to park in my spot.
I didn’t just hear it. I felt it. A huge whomp shook the entire house. Just imagine an elephant (or a hippo) jumping off the roof and landing in the front yard. It was that kind of a whomp. Dogs barked inside and outside of the house. Knick-knacks rattled on the shelves. A voice from the other room called, “What was that?”
Great question. The last time I felt such an impact was during a hurricane when a thirty-foot pine tree fell in the lot next to us. It missed our house and fence but sounded like an explosion.
When I stepped out front, I saw immediately what was up. Even though it was only 7:30 in the morning, a crew had arrived at the construction site just a few lots up the street. I watched as an operator “eased” the other half of a giant excavator off of a trailer with a second impressive whomp. I don’t think they knew how to put the ramps down. The rental company loves it someone uses their equipment with the finesse of the previously mentioned elephant (or hippo).
At first I thought it was the crane to raise the roof joists into place. But it was an oversized excavator trenching out space for the water main. After those initial whomps, we were treated to an hour of backup beeping as they dug the hole.
An hour later they were gone. But another behemoth will shop up this week for the roof work. Whomp!
It sneaks up on you. It gradually takes more effort, more finesse, a stronger touch. But you barely notice it. Until one day you think, “I’ve got to fix this thing.”
I’m talking about the kitchen faucet. Ours is five years old. I installed it when we redid all our floors and kitchen cabinets. It’s a single handled, burnished nickel beauty with a three-function built-in sprayer. (Who knew the description of a plumbing fixture could sound so sensual?)
About a year ago, I noticed an occasional drip after washing a dish or filling a pot with water. Not a problem. I just pushed the handle up an extra millimeter to stop the drip. In time, it took an extra nudge with a twist to get the drip to stop. I heard the words, “Do we need to get a new faucet?”
No. A cartridge inside the handle, probably made of plastic, had worn enough to let a few drops of water through the turned off faucet. It wouldn’t be hard to replace it. The thing is, there are hundreds of different parts to fix faucets at the big orange home improvement store. Which one did I need?
I couldn’t remember the brand of faucet I purchased five years ago. I came up empty-handed when I looked through accounts and emails to find a record of what I bought. I was going to have to take the handle off, take the part with me and find the right replacement at the store.
After turning off the water, removing the handle, and unscrewing the faucet, the cartridge came right out. I took it to the store and easily found the exact same part.
The hard part was cleaning out all the mineral deposits before I put it back together. Vinegar took care of most of it. A little CLR (calcium, lime, rust) remover handled the rest. I popped in the new cartridge, screwed everything back together, turned on the water. There were no leaks, so I reattached the handle and congratulated myself on a job well done.
The next day, I marveled at how well the handle worked. Who knew I would get so much joy from a faucet that moved smoothly and easily? Life is filled with little joys like this. Embrace those moments.
I’ll admit, I was a little worried. Our new Great Dane pup didn’t want anything to do with walking on a leash. Unlike our other dog, who is always ready to go a mile or two, the noob just “muled.” She sat there looking at me, She wouldn’t budge.
A walk around the block would have been great exercise. There are so many people and dogs to get to know in the neighborhood. We needed to lawyer this skill before she got too big.
I tried different collars. I tried a harness around her chest. I tried laying out a trail of snacks up the block six feet apart. No luck. She wouldn’t leave her beloved backyard.
Of course I read all I could about her hesitancy. Most said to just give her time. And that was good advice.
As she grew, she became more curious. So I clipped on the leash and let it hang. She didn’t mind running around with it loose. When I sat on the ground, she couldn’t resist coming to see what I was up to. Or to crawl in my lap and lick my face.
After that, I sat in the garage, then the driveway, and then in the neighbors yard. Slowly but surely she ventured farther from the house.
But our Westie was the one who saved the day. Where he goes, she likes to follow. Along the garden wall to chase lizards. Into the dishwasher to lick dishes. Into the bathroom to pull out the toilet paper. And down the street for a walk.
To the neighbor’s house. Then to the curve in the road. To the end of our street. And yesterday, around the block! Our walks ate part of our daily routine again.
It’s been eighteen months, but it felt just like yesterday. I haven’t taught a class since my retirement, but the scheduled teacher was sick, and they asked me to fill in. Why not?
Over the past year, I’ve gotten to know the couple of dozen men who meet to study the bible and pray each Wednesday night. A team of teachers has taken turns leading the group through books of the bible and a few books on prayer and leadership. We’re currently in the gospel of Mark, and my task would be to lead a discussion of chapters eleven and twelve.
That’s a lot of ground to cover. In those two chapters Mark takes the reader from Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday to the clearing of the temple to a widow giving her last two coins. Rejected by every religious leader, Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion is just around the corner. There is much to talk about in these few pages.
I promised myself I would take in the moment and reflect upon my ninety minutes in front of a bunch of guys who only know me as Bill. The class was great, with lots of participation, discussion, and questions. Though it’s nice to not have to prepare and teach several times a week year round, I enjoy teaching and am more than glad to fill in from time to time. It helps to know the group, what makes them tick, and what gets them going.
One of the things I’ve enjoyed in retirement is the transition from teacher to learner. True, you learn a lot when you teach. But there is also much to be learned from others equipped with a variety of training and experience.
This mailbox has been bent, twisted, and zip-tied for over six months now. I pass by on dog walks and can’t help but wonder, “How is it still standing? Why haven’t the residents repaired it or straightened it up?” I tell myself, “I’m sure they’ll replace it soon.” But months have gone by and nothing has changed. Why not?
Those are hand-painted flowers decorating the side. This mailbox is one-of-a-kind. You can’t just go out an buy another one at Home Depot. It’s irreplaceable. It stays.
Maybe it’s not their house. “Not our problem.” Some tenants leave every repair to the landlord. And some landlords rarely come by the property to make repairs.
Perhaps a neighbor backed into it, nearly knocking it over. Or a stranger sideswiped it. Did a kid’s bike crash into it? Did an over-zealous mail carrier pull away too quickly? They broke it; they’re going to fix it!
This mail box is close to where a tornado touched down. It could be a testimony to the power of those winds. The storm came and went in a moment. But the memory of it remains.
I’m not sure anyone lives in that house. Some empty homes do not have a for sale sign out front. Maybe something happened to the person who lived there. Maybe he’s in the hospital, or worse, he’s dead.
Or, the people who bought this mailbox just aren’t that good at putting something together. Just about everything comes with assembly instructions. But not everyone is adept at following those instructions. So this is what you end up with.
All of the mailboxes in our neighborhood look different. Some are brand new. Others are weathered. Many stand straight and tall. A few, like this one, are precariously leaning. Very few actually look good out in front of a home.
With Valentine’s Day a week away, it’s time for decorating cookies! My wife made a nice selection of cut out sugar cookies which we packed up and took to my daughter’s house along with a nice selection of sprinkles. She made a batch of royal icing and her girls helped us decorate them.
Royal icing, made with confectioner’s sugar, meringue powder, water, and vanilla is a little different that the buttercream icing we’ve used before. It’s a little runnier at first, but then hardens nicely in less than an hour. While it’s still kind of liquid-y, you can dot it with another color or shape it with a toothpick for special effect. The sprinkles sink in nicely, too.
We had four colors of icing to work with: white, light pink, dark pink, and purple. The girls, aged five and three (the one-year-old was taking a timely nap), were more concerned about quantity than quality. They piped on plenty of icing and heaped on piles of sprinkles. Along with traditional miniature hearts and pink sugar, you’ll notice we had some unicorn heads.
Not every cookie that we decorated is pictured above. Some were eaten as soon as they were decorated. A few broke, so I had to eat them. I have no idea how that happened. A whole bunch of those teeny tiny little decorating balls rolled onto the floor. I have no idea how that happened either. But I know the family dog quickly took care of them.
We popped most of these cookies into the freezer to make sure the icing was hardened. Separated by sheets of wax paper, many but not all of them will make it to Valentine’s Day.
Part two of Valentine’s cookie decorating is coming up next week. The grandsons are up next. I have a feeling they’ll have a little less patience but a much bigger appetite.
Waite for it... 