Posted in waste

A wonderful (misdirected) stream of water

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Twice in two weeks I’ve come across a water sprinkler doing nothing more than spouting water onto a driveway in my neighborhood.

The first time was in the predawn hours of a Sunday morning. On those days I take the dogs out before sunrise and getting ready for church. I heard the sound before I saw it. The dogs’ ears perked up as we came around the corner and heard water pounding on a driveway. Since the outside lights were on, I got a good shot of the stream arching onto concrete.

The second time was tonight, on our pre-sunset tour of the neighborhood. It’s a different house, but the scene is the same. Irrigation water arches across the driveway, completely missing anything that might grow.

I know it’s not that big a deal. Each probably has a well, so we aren’t wasting city water. I’m just amazed no one notices – except me and the dogs.

First of all, it’s loud. I can hear the sound of water splashing across the driveway about fifty yards away. No one hears that from inside the house?

Also, nothing in that zone is being watered. No one notices the sad spots in the lawn?

And doesn’t anyone notice the puddles in the driveway?

I don’t have an irrigation system, so I’ve never experienced the challenge of maintaining sprinklers. When the grass looks thirsty, I pray for rain. From what I’ve heard, the sandy Florida soil constantly clogs irrigation systems. This upkeep battle never ends.

Having written this, I feel guilty. I should be the one who lets my neighbor know that his sprinkler heads need attention. If I can, I promise I will.

Posted in helping

Can you get me a bag?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Mediamodifier on Unsplash

The Sam’s Club parking lot wasn’t crowded when we stopped for a big box of K-cup coffee pods. As we walked in, I heard a voice, “Sir, could you get me a bag?” We turned and saw a young lady around the corner from the main entrance, standing by a suitcase.

Assuming she was homeless, I turned and said, “A bag of what?”

“No,” she answered, “Just a bag. A Sam’s Club bag.”

“You mean a shopping bag?” I glanced at my wife, we both shrugged, and I said, “Sure. We’ll be back out in a few minutes.”

Of course, you never come out of Sam’s with just one thing. I grabbed the coffee and some peanut butter while my wife found a pack of snack crackers for the grandkids. After glancing around the checkout area, I asked an employee, “Do you have any Sam’s shopping bags?”

She said, “No. We have lots of boxes. But we don’t sell any bags.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I wasn’t surprised. I kind of knew were this was going anyway. She was looking for a handout. We decided to get something she could easily eat, in this case a box of beef jerky strips.

She was still there when we walked out of the store. My wife offered her the food and said, “They don’t have bags here.”

The woman said, “I asked and they said they did.”

“Well, here is some food.”

“No thanks.”

Our grandson likes these, so they wouldn’t go to waste. My wife said, “She probably wanted some money.”

“Yeah, I know. But we’re not doing that.”

The topic came up in bible class. Helping the poor and homeless often comes up. The best way to help isn’t obvious. Someone said, “That guy with a sign on the street corner? He’s not poor. He’s got a cell phone and a big wad of cash in his pocket. My friend gives him rides all the time. He’s doing just fine.”

Another person added, “I was talking to the sheriff and asked him about helping people like that. Never give them money. Instead, support the organizations that feed, house, and help them get jobs.”

We encounter it every day. What’s the best way to help? The answer is rarely obvious.

Posted in dogs, Travel

Dogs are welcome at the Hampton Inn

Posted on by William Douthwaite

When we drive to Dallas to visit my son and his family, we typically spend the night at the Hampton Inn in Richland, Mississippi, a few minutes south of Jackson. It’s about two-thirds of the way there, so it’s a long first day. But day two is a pretty easy drive across Louisiana and east Texas.

On our last trip at the end of March, we stayed in a first-floor room all the way at the end of the hall. Walking back to get things from the car, I did a double take as I passed by the elevator alcove. I saw what looked like a bowl full of dog bones. When I went over to get a closer look, I found a dish filled with Milk-bone dog biscuits in a dish on a small table. They were the good ones, too, the big five-inch large breed variety. A sign on the table announced they couldn’t wait for your dog to spend the night there.

How the world has changed! I vividly remember driving from Iowa to Florida to start my new job there. Michael our chocolate Labrador Retriever rode in the back seat, tranquilized for the long ride. I don’t remember how far I got the first day, but I remember sneaking him up the back stairs after dark to a second-floor motel room. I didn’t ask, so I don’t know if dogs were permitted or not. We left before sunrise the next day so no one would see him. However, I’m sure that he left plenty of dark brown hair on the bed for someone to find.  

Back to the Hampton Inn. I didn’t see any details about extra charges for a dog. I saw no size limitations, either. I would just love to check in with my Great Dane. King room? That should work. Breakfast at 6? I hope you’re serving bacon tomorrow morning! I can imagine her catching a whiff of the bone bowl, knocking over the table, and scattering bones across the lobby before eating them. How would you like to ride the elevator with us?

Chihuahuas and poodles stroll the aisles of Home Depot. People lined up in Walmart to take a picture of a guy with a mastiff in the meat section. They enjoy sitting under outdoor tables at restaurants. Pet stores have always welcomed them. I know our dog would enjoy a night at the Hampton Inn.

Posted in noticing, Travel

I should have been paying attention

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Why am I taking this exit?”

It was too late to change my mind. I was already on the interstate exit ramp. But it was the wrong exit. I wasn’t going to a grandson’s baseball or soccer game. I was on the way to church, two more exits down the road.

It wasn’t a huge deal. I had plenty of time. And my alternate route only took five extra minutes. But why did my autopilot malfunction? I’ve been to these two places so many times I don’t even think about it. I just go. Maybe it was because we had just been to two games in the past week. Maybe I got distracted by conversation with my wife and the two boys in the van with us. Who knows?

I’m usually paying attention to where I’m going. I’m aware of my surroundings and what’s going around me. I hear the weather on the radio, catch the silly chattering of grandkids in the back, and pay attention to every little noise the van makes. I don’t know if I’ve ever gotten so absorbed in work or a project that I lost track of time.

My detour reminded me of a story from some friends in Iowa. They were on their way to some city west of Des Moines on I-80. They chatted about all kinds of things, making the drive seem short. Then they noticed a sign “Omaha – 10 miles.” I know, it doesn’t seem possible, but they drove about one hundred miles too far that day. That’s losing track of time!

How many things do I do each day without thinking about them? I can brush my teeth, tie my shoes, and sign my name without a thought. I can ride a bike, catch a ball, play guitar chords, and eat a donut without engaging my mind. It’s fascinating that my body just knows what to do.

So I remind myself to pay attention. I don’t to be that guy in the middle of the grocery store aisle, oblivious to other shoppers. Or the person ahead of you at the intersection, unaware that the light has turned green. (Although I confess that I have been that guy.) Or the worshiper who says the Lord’s Prayer or the Apostles Creed while thinking about what you want to eat for lunch. (Been there; done that.)

Posted in fitness, neighbor

Bonus benefits from walking around the block

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Vlad B on Unsplash

As the dogs and I finished up the first of two daily walks, I thought to myself, “I’ll bet some of my neighbors have never walked around the block.”

I’ve always had dogs that needed lots of of exercise. If we don’t want them constantly zooming around the house, we’ve got to put in the miles. I’ll bet we walk every street in our section of the community at least once a week.

But some have never even been around the block. They back out of the garage in the morning and drive off down the street. When they return home, they pause at the mailbox to collect all the daily junk, and pull back into the garage. Once the garage door lowers, that’s it. They’re in for the night. It’s kind of sad.

Some are out there no matter what. There’s Mr. McNulty, one of the few neighbors who has lived here longer than us. He has to use a walker, but he gets in his steps going up and down the street. The man across the street from him is blind. He’s out there once a week sweeping his white cane in front of him. I see many children walking to and from school bus stops in the mornings and evenings. I often pass Morris who always wears a bright orange shirt on his walks.

What do you miss if you never go for a walk?

  • There’s another wave of new roof installations this spring. I had no idea there were so many colors and color combinations of shingles! Some homeowners have waited a year to get new roofs after a tornado passed through. For this, I’m thankful.
  • There’s a new collection of used furniture out on the curb. A lot of folks have been getting rid of old sofas and chairs. I find this entertaining. When I see the fabric colors and patterns, I can’t imagine why anyone would buy something like that for their home!
  • It’s easy to tell who has the good parties. Vacant lots are littered with small liquor bottles. Tuesday’s recycling bins overflow with beer cans.
  • Rental properties have turned over this spring, so I’ve met the new neighbors. I find comfort in knowing which cars belong in our neighborhood – and which ones don’t. When neighbors watch out for each other, it’s a free extra layer of security.

Fresh air? Vitamin D? Get your steps in today? Pet a few dogs? Walking around the block is filled with good stuff.

Posted in DIY, Home improvement

The real never-ending story: home upkeep

Posted on by William Douthwaite

We recently stayed in an Airbnb condo just outside of Dallas, Texas. It weighed in at just under one thousand square feet, with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a well-equipped kitchen, and a really comfortable living room. It was part of a four-plex that this owner had remodeled with nice wood-inspired flooring, new appliances, and a nice deck out back.

As one who does a lot of my own home upkeep, I immediately noticed that all the rocker-style light switches worked, but were incorrectly installed. Some pushed in too far. A few were upside down. Others were crooked. A couple were beginning to crack.

On top of that, a number of the wall outlets were upside down, too. This is easy to spot because the ground is at the top rather than the bottom of each plug outlet. Not a big deal until we moved a nightlight/scented wax plug-in. Upside down, it left a little puddle of wax. Not cool.

Every time I walked in and switched on a light, I thought, “If I had my tools, I could fix this.” I would never start working on someone’s house unless I had broken something. But it would be tempting.

In the master bedroom, the ceiling fan was blowing upwards rather than down. This is great in the winter when you want to circulate hot air down in the room. But not so much once the weather turns warm and you want to feel some breeze. No problem. I stood up on the bed and searched around for the switch that changes the fan direction. No switch.

I saw the remote control on the wall and thought, “Oh, there must be a way to change the direction with that.” I jumped down and fiddled with that for a while. No luck. I looked up the remote online. There was supposed to be a little button on the back to change the fan direction. Nope. Maybe it’s under this little sticker. Nice try. But no button. I gave up on that project.

I always notice these little things. I figure, if you’re going to spend the time and money to remodel a place, you might as well do it or get it done right. The new floors and baseboards were all nicely replaced. The walls were professionally textured and painted. The appliances, fixtures, furniture, and decor was all nicely put together. Why not finish the job?

I’m going to quit now because there is always something in my own home that needs to be cleaned, touched up, straightened, or replaced. Home upkeep is the real never ending story.

Posted in Food

Terrible snacks

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“These jellybeans are terrible.”

Said no one. Ever. Until I did.

As we drove home from visiting my son, we searched every gas station convenience store for circus peanuts. Circus peanuts? Yeah, those sort of pink, half-way orange, stale peanut-shaped marshmallow treat. They have no nutritional value, little taste, and feel weird when you bite in. But some find them irresistible. So we keep searching.

Persistence paid off at a Keith’s Superstore in the middle of rural Mississippi. There they were in the candy aisle. Two for a buck fifty. One pack is enough, so let’s grab one circus peanuts and one…bag of jellybeans. Can’t go wrong with jellybeans.

When I popped a couple jellybeans in my mouth, I knew something was wrong. I was wrong. These jellybeans were terrible. No flavor, strange texture, sickeningly sweet. In a word, blech.

The circus peanuts weren’t much better. “These are nasty.” And very disappointing. Styro-bland. Once again, bleach. We tossed them. At the next stop we found real jellybeans, Brach’s. But sadly, no circus peanuts.

Posted in dogs, Great Dane

Everyone has a (Great Dane) story to tell

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Everytime we take a walk around the block, our five-month-old Great Dane puppy, Willow, is a little bit bigger. The puppy food is doing it’s job; she gains about a half a pound per day. She gets a lot of attention from young and old who want to pet her. Once they confirm her breed, many have a Great Dane story to tell.

The latest tale came from Kevin who lives just up the street. He told me that he worked for a telephone company before he retired. He was working on a cable into a home and had to go into the back yard. As he came through the gate, two full grown, frantically barking Great Danes threw themselves against the sliding glass doors in an attempt to either greet him or eat him. He said, “I jumped about three feet back, praying that those two didn’t break through!”

When I take Willow to the veterinarian for a monthly weigh-in and heart worm pill, one of the vet techs always comes out for a cuddle. She’s small, no more than ninety pounds, but has two Great Danes of her own at home. She owns a 130 pound fawn female and a 170 pound black and white male. They aren’t little for very long, so our visits gives her a much needed puppy fix.

While we were watching runners finish a race Jacksonville, we stood next to a young man with a black and white Great Dane. This dog had to have been at least 150 pounds. He told us, “I had to train her to only jump up on me. She can easily knock someone over.” Note to self: work on training her to not jump up at all.

At a rest stop on a drive home from Texas, we met a truck driver with a black and white Great Dane named Chloe. She was gentle and friendly, with just a little gray around her snout. The driver told us he’s always had a Great Dane with him in the cab. He took out the passenger seat and installed a bed for the dogs, who just loved to travel with him.

After meeting Chloe, we began to toss around the idea of getting a Great Dane one day. That day has arrived, and now we are accumulating our own catalog of stories.

Posted in memories, noticing

You remembered!

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

I think I’m pretty good with names. I don’t work very hard at it. I just find them easy to remember. For some reason, people’s names stick in my mind. At least most of the time.

As I started down the pet food aisle at Walmart, I heard a voice behind me, “Pastor.” I turned and without even thinking said, “Hey, hi, Kathy!”

“You remembered my name!”

I had not seen her for about two years, but her name was right there on my lips. I didn’t even hesitate. So was her husband, Bob. We chatted for a few moments, then parted to find the things on our shopping lists.

In that moment, though, I couldn’t remember her last name. It was weird, because that doesn’t happen to me. I knew it started with a “B.” And I knew it was unique in some way. And I knew it was somewhere in my brain. But I just couldn’t pull it out of my memory.

I also knew that it would some to me sometime later that day. It’s happened before. I’ll be doing something completely different, and the name will suddenly come to mind. Sometimes it happens in an hour. Other times it takes a whole day. The information is in my head. I just can’t find it in the moment. So my subconscious works in the background, searching through files in my brain until it finds what I’m looking for. If I can’t remember something, I don’t worry. I know it will come to me. And it did. I think I was taking out the trash, and just like that Kathy’s last name popped into my mind.

This is fascinating. Somehow my brain knows what’s relevant and what’s not. If I’m probably not going to need a bit of information, it stuffs it away somewhere, like an old box full of papers up on a shelf. Or to be a little more twenty-first century, like digital files and pictures backed up to a flash drive.

I really like memory tricks. I use the peg list from Kevin Trudeau’s Mega Memory. I used the Memory Palace technique for many of my sermons. I love coming up with silly acrostics to remember lists. For example, I always recite “The Hippo Just Put Loose Corn in the Elephant Pen” to remember the things we ought to focus on in Philippians 4:8. “Whatever is True, Honorable, Just, Pure, Lovely, Commendable, Excellent, Praiseworthy…think about such things.” And one of these days I’m going to work on memorizing a deck of cards. There are a number of clever ways to do that. I still make a lot of written lists, too. Just the process of writing out a list helps me remember.

Having said all that, I’ve been converting old journals into digital form (I’m taking pictures of the pages). On those pages are things I’ve done, places I’ve gone, and people I’ve met that I don’t remember. I’m glad I wrote them down. I think my mind is aware of this. If I wrote it down, it doesn’t need to take up space in my brain.

Memory is a fascinating thing.