Our county prosecutor and his staff have a tradition of organizing a Thanksgiving dinner at the jail, and this year my husband, who is a county public defender, and I took up the offer to help serve the dinner. I’m so thankful that we did, because it turned out to be the most enjoyable Thanksgiving I have ever had, and I didn’t eat a thing. We served, and the “resident guests” as I call them, took their plates back to their quarters.
Everyone was in pleasant, gracious spirits, and all the resident guests were upbeat and thankful for everything. One fellow even took the opportunity to thank the prosecutor for getting him there!
I was pleased to meet several of my husband’s clients, who very kindly extended to me their appreciation for their attorney. Our resident guests all were pleasant men and women. Had I thought about it beforehand, it would have been difficult for me to imagine such contention-free warmth in a diverse group of 50 people at a holiday event. It would have been difficult for me to imagine being comfortable around so many people. But there it all was: the unimaginable. My best Thanksgiving ever.
There can be no better way to unwind than to cast your line into a pond where a trout will take a fancy to your lure. My husband caught the limit in less than an hour Friday evening, and we headed home with five good-size trout in his creel.
The white setting sun, rocks, and reflections in the water added to the beauty and serenity of the pond, now a favorite place. The Snake River is wonderful, and there’s no catch limit for Crappie, and my husband likes Crappie–but he prefers trout, and the limit of five is sufficient for eating and canning.
I don’t recall specifically when people quit calling, writing, or speaking in person to people, and instead began “reaching out.” Whatever the timing, I cannot help but think that it marked a point of devolution in our language.
As a downhome introvert, the idea of being reached out to is as creepy as bugs. Just call me, write me, or talk to me if we’re in the same airspace. I’m approachable; I’m just not particularly big on socializing, though I enjoy occasional brief forays into social terrain.
If I go into the bedroom when Effie is napping on her hammock, she often rolls over onto her back, hangs her head down over the edge of the hammock toward the floor with her face up, and wiggles around on her back, her forearms stretched out over her head toward the floor. It’s such an adorable greeting that I have long wanted to photograph it. Of course anyone who photographs their cat knows that cats scan their peoples’ brains, detect motives, and thwart them.
And so she did. I went back for my camera, hoping she would repeat her adorable greeting. She began washing her paws and tummy, and then lolled back, one leg reaching outward with claws extended, and her tongue out. I caught her just before she resumed putting her coat and paws in order.
The photo is significant to me. Effie is reaching out while sticking out her tongue. My response to the idea of being “reached out” to, in most cases, is “bleah.”
The second photo is close, but not her perfected form of the Adorable Look.
First Order Klutzes are not rare in the population, but they are trained from birth not to be Klutzes, and to be ashamed of their manifest Klutz gifts. The thwarting of these valiant soldiers of the cast, bandage, and ruined items of property is devastating for the economy, as well as morbid to the Klutz spirit.
I am a Klutz Master, and I am accepting applicants for the High Order of Klutz Apprentice. I figure qualified applicants should not have to work their way up.
Qualified applicants will have been admitted for emergency treatment a minimum of three times in the past five years. It’s okay if they are unable to recall how many times, as long as the minimum is met. Admission will be on account of something unusual or unaccountable. Fault is irrelevant. Family history of the Klutz trait is not necessary.
My qualifications for Klutz Master were cinched when I failed to deploy a bathmat yesterday, causing me to glide onto the ceramic floor, sit down much too abruptly, bruise my sacral spine, and fall backward so that the back of my head hit the ledge of the shower, leaving a rather large bruise and bump, and a considerably upended morning for my husband. The wait in the ER wasn’t overlong, the CT scan was negative, and the doctor was congenial and I think somewhat pro-Klutz leaning.
Take up the Klutz challenge!
I intend to vote this year, but not for President. Yes, voting for our national leader is a privilege; but when I believe that no virtuous choice is possible, I decline to make a choice that will result in an earnest need for repentance.
I find support for my position from two very different thinkers, having read extensively from the work of both. The first is a Christian; the other is an atheist. Both arrive at the same conclusion concerning good and evil, although they have some significant disparities as to what constitutes good and evil.
“Of two evils, choose neither.”—Charles Haddon Spurgeon
“The lesser of two evils is evil.”–Ayn Rand
(Rand also cited “the evil of two lessers.”)
I recently published a post titled “Are all of our Presidents going to be brambles,” citing Jotham’s parable in the Book of Judges, about trees who declined to rule over the other trees because they had higher and better callings–all except for the brambles, who had nothing better to do but rule.
Near the end of his reign, David succinctly and beautifully describes who should rule:
3 The God of Israel said,
The Rock of Israel spoke to me:
‘He who rules over men must be just,
Ruling in the fear of God.
4 And he shall be like the light of the morning when the sun rises,
A morning without clouds,
Like the tender grass springing out of the earth,
By clear shining after rain.’ — 2 Samuel 23:3-4
New King James Version (NKJV). Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
“He who rules” to whom David refers in v. 3 is not running in the upcoming Presidential election–nor is anyone even remotely close.