tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-175541272024-03-23T12:55:00.738-05:00And Dancing WatersNot quite sure what I'm hoping to do with this. I guess you could say I'm experimenting. Now where did I put that alchemy spell?SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.comBlogger293125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-78135699095373572952011-07-12T11:30:00.001-05:002011-07-12T11:30:56.421-05:00The TropicsGeesh! It's been forever since I posted anything here.<br /><br />Since last I wrote, I sold my house (finally!) and moved in with my mom in Houston. Most of my life is now in storage. *chuckle* Still seeking that new church God has called me to. Fought my old cranky laptop to a well-earned rest and now have a new computer that I've been busy figuring out. Change! Love it. Hate it. But it's a constant, so I'm doing my best to learn to live with it.<br /><br />Last year about this time, I commented that I'd noticed that I wasn't quite as hypersensitive to the potential threat of hurricanes as I had been in the previous years. Instead of constantly being sure I was near a tv for The Weather Channel's Tropical Update and wandering through the National Hurricane Center's website multiple times a day, I had found that I could even skip an entire day without feeling edgy.<br /><br />This year, I've found myself at least roaming the National Hurricane Center's site 2-3 times a day, but for an entirely different reason.<br /><br />It's DRY!<br /><br />Much of Texas is under severe drought conditions, and the weather prognosticators in the area keep saying things like "When it gets like this, about the only thing which will break the drought is something tropical." I silently add "depression, just a nice, gentle depression, would be just fine". But I've found that their comments have once again put me a bit on edge and I'm straying back toward a mild obsession of keeping up with the tropics, wanting something to come, but being really picky about what that something is.<br /><br />"Rain, rain" that some other day has arrived. It's okay if you want to come and visit for just a little bit and give this parched earth some much needed moisture.SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-60386140089551393842011-03-15T18:44:00.002-05:002011-03-15T18:48:42.972-05:00Happy Dancing!Just got some wonderful news!<br /><br />My friend and his wife from the previous post are well and together and busy helping their community by providing pizza and coffee for adults, popcorn and sweet tea for kids from their coffee shop. <br /><br />Would that all of our prayers were answered in a similar manner. One of those questions for face-to-face with God, though.<br /><br />In the meantime ...<br /><br />Happy Dancing!SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-3311992297630833612011-03-14T12:24:00.002-05:002011-03-14T12:46:26.840-05:00DevastationIt's hard to imagine the effects of earthquake and tsunami on Japan, just as it is hard to imagine the effects of any natural disaster on a community. The pictures are mind-boggling and the continuing reports each strike a blow to the caring heart.<br /><br />I have a friend who moved to Japan and got married last year. Initial (second-hand) reports were that he was (1) in a safe building on the 3rd floor before the tsunami hit, but was cold, hungry, and thirsty; and (2) he had made it to the coffee shop that he and his wife had opened at the end of last year. Unfortunately, his wife wasn't there and reports were that she was out driving in the flood waters looking for him.<br /><br />That's the last we've heard from any of them.<br /><br />Of course, they could be completely safe and back together, but unable to make contact with the "outside" world. That's not where the mind immediately jumps. It's frightening to be watching and waiting from the outside with no specific news to inform one's fears. I'm sure that my friends are just as frantic about getting news to family and friends as we are to hear it.<br /><br />When I think back to Hurricane Rita and Hurricane Ike, major disasters of my own personal experience, my head says that it may take more than a week before contact is restored at an individual level for everyone. The question becomes one of finding ways to cope emotionally during that time of limbo.<br /><br />Limbo in the midst of devastation.<br /><br />Isn't that what the followers of Christ experienced after his crucifixion? Shock. Fear. Cowering in the upper room. Stunned. At sea. I <em>hate</em> being there in that emotional uncertainty.<br /><br />Yet there was Good News! for those disciples, and for us. While I appreciate and rely on the certainty of God's grace for life after life, I also selfishly want to experience the good news of life in this life for my friends, and for all of those whose lives have been devastated, even if I don't know any of them.<br /><br />And in the meantime, prayers arising! for the survivors and victims' families, for rescue workers, for those trying to restore order in the midst of chaos, for those awaiting news, for those who need hope, for those who are hungry, cold, thirsty, at risk, for all of these and more ...SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-9191702489509596782011-02-25T09:37:00.002-06:002011-02-25T09:45:43.566-06:00Alarm ClockI have a very strange alarm clock.<br /><br />When I'm snoozin' and cruisin' and don't necessarily need to get up at a certain time, the thing religiously chirps, just once, at 8:28am. It doesn't buzz or make its usual alarm sound. Just a quick chirp. Just enough to break through my slumbers and startle me into awareness.<br /><br />Now, if I happen to come to awareness at 8:26am and pretend to sleep until 8:28, it doesn't make a sound. I've tested this over a several day period and awareness = no chirp, slumber = chirp.<br /><br />I haven't the foggiest idea of why it does this. Like most electronics, I understand them just enough to be dangerous and not enough to make any sense of them whatsoever.<br /><br />It would even make a bit of sense if the clock was actually set to go off at 8:28am and it made the noise whether it was actually set to "alarm" or not.<br /><br />But no.<br /><br />The darned thing's set for 8:45am! (Don't remember why I set it for that time, but that's what it says.)<br /><br />Any suggestions? I'm totally perplexed by this phenomenon!SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-54034433311275638812011-01-30T19:03:00.002-06:002011-01-30T19:57:44.042-06:00SkatingFor many years, I skated and taught artistic roller skating. You know, like the Olympic ice skating. I did the compulsory figures and, whenever I had a partner, dance. Never did better than regional championships, but I enjoyed it.<br /><br />So, of course, over the years I watched ice skating regularly, attending all the local ice shows and goading the stars into doing their more difficult jumps, judging competitions from the comfort of my couch, and so on. <br /><br />Then everywhere you turned, there was some kind of ice skating competition on tv. Fakey professional competitions. Nationals. Worlds. More fakey pro/am competitions. Overkill!<br /><br />At that point, I quit watching anything more than an occasional glimpse of a competition here and there. Over the years what I saw was mostly average with little spark or excitement.<br /><br />I did notice a couple of things. Ice dancing was rapidly becoming pairs skating with slightly lower lifts and men's singles had become a race to see who could do the most sloppy quads. Nope! Not for me!<br /><br />This weekend the boredom factor around here was so high that I paused for longer than a few seconds on the televised National Ice Skating competition. And I was just in time for the inane spotlight pieces where each competitor rambles on in front of a camera for 2-3 minutes. YUCK!<br /><br />Then the routines began. Ladies short program. Not bad, at least not the competitors I saw.<br /><br />Next there was a special piece on the people who stand behind the JUDGES and tell them what each of the program elements are and whether they were completed correctly.<br /><br />HUH?!?!?!<br /><br />There's this part of me that understands the desire for a bit of objectivity in a sport that is largely subjective. But really? Shouldn't the judges KNOW what the competitors are doing and whether they've done it well or not?<br /><br />I almost fled the scene in horror.<br /><br />Remember me commenting on the boredom factor at my house yesterday afternoon? <br /><br />Yep. Stayed around a bit longer. Just in time to see what they've done to ice dancing. Adding freestyle to the compulsory dances? Twizzles? SPINS??? GAH!!! <br /><br />I think I'm declaring a permanent moratorium on watching ice skating.<br /><br />(Probably not. I suspect there'll come a day when the boredom factor around here hits double digits again and I'll get suckered once again.) <br /><br />But I sure do miss the good old days of ice skating!<br /><br />You know, I'm really not completely averse to change and progress. But this doesn't feel like progress at all. *sigh*<br /><br />(And, yes, I'm allowed to be contrary. Lifts on <em>Dancing with the Stars </em>and <em>So You Think You Can Dance </em>are just fine. Just leave the pairs skating out of ice dance, thank you very much!)SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-25047909772630680762011-01-28T12:45:00.002-06:002011-01-28T13:05:04.941-06:00WeirdnessWell, at least a little bit of weirdness.<br /><br />The past three Fridays I've gone out to the mailbox at the usual time, lifted the lid, swished my hand around inside (it's too high for me to just look), and come out with ... nothing! Just to be sure, I've gone back and checked later, closer to sunset and ... nothing! (Well, not today on the sunset thing. It's still lunchtime.)<br /><br />Has someone declared a Friday mail moratorium? I'd think that'd be a dumb day for a moratorium. Saturday makes more sense than Friday. At least, then, there'd be a whole lot of businesses closed and not awaiting mail.<br /><br />Maybe someone's just trying to drive ME crazy by not delivering mail on Friday. I know I haven't dropped completely off the map, because I've continued to get mail on other days, usually.<br /><br />Weirdness.<br /><br />Now yesterday's mail came with some treasure. In God's unending comedy, I won a "date night". Yes, happily single, solo me won a date night. Pretty nice shekels for it too. So, I'm planning to take me and myself for a spa day/overnight somewhere. Not sure where yet, but I've some research to do.<br /><br />Weirdness.<br /><br />It's also shorts weather today. All right! I'll admit that far Southeast Texas doesn't tend to get particularly cold during the winter months. But shorts?! I'd turn on the a/c, but I'm not especially uncomfortable and don't want to waste the energy.<br /><br />Weirdness. <br /><br />All in all, I'm feeling just a bit off-kilter. Nothing radical. Just not quite normal, if that makes any sense at all. I'm ready to move, take on new tasks, meet new people, get things going again. And, yet, I feel "flat", not three-dimensional in an emotional sense. I'm looking forward to the day when I figure out where God's calling me to be and start the new work ahead of me.<br /><br />Then, maybe in the midst of the weirdness to come, I won't feel so weird!SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-88964170603765011422011-01-21T11:15:00.003-06:002011-01-21T11:20:18.686-06:00Hate When That HappensThis morning, as I was slowly returning to consciousness, I had a really nice little blog post plotted in my brain. Then the brain got distracted by other thoughts. Now I can't for the life of me remember what I was going to post.<br /><br />Hate when that happens!<br /><br />Wonder if going back to bed would help any.<br /><br />Nah! Probably not, but it's worth a try. See ya later!SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-69253624326947814332011-01-10T16:50:00.002-06:002011-01-10T17:23:03.177-06:00Greedy BanksIn today's mail, I got a letter notifying me that, starting next month, my free checking account will now have a $9/mo fee attached to it, unless I have a direct deposit of $300/mo or more or maintain a $1500 average balance each month. <br /><br />So I jumped online to see what else is out there. The best rate I could find was $5/mo, free with direct deposit or that pesky $1500/mo. Other banks are tying their free accounts to a certain number of debit card purchases per month. Sorry, but the Luddite in me comes out big time with debit cards. They don't have the protections built into them yet to encourage me to risk my limited funds.<br /><br />Now, if you have plenty of buckos to leave laying around a bank, there's no fee involved. Banks stumble over each other with offers of this, that, and the other.<br /><br />Yet those whose financial situations are already precarious must now scrape up additional income to maintain some security in dealing with their money. <br /><br />Changing banks may not be an option, either. If your credit rating isn't pristine, banks may refuse to open a new account for you. Doesn't matter if your financial situation may be the result of the sagging economy and persistent unemployment levels.<br /><br />And what if your employer doesn't do direct deposit? That will likely be the case once I receive a call to a new church. How many of those on the fringe financially are able to maintain a $1500 average balance?<br /><br />Banks received a major boost on the backs of all Americans with the TARP supports. Now they're climbing once again on the backs of those least able to afford it through increasing use of fees.<br /><br />*sigh* Yes, I understand that banks are businesses. Doesn't ease the frustration involved in trying to make ends meet and survive with limited income, nor eliminate the sense that the people with most of the money in the first place are trying to gather even more onto their already full plates.SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-19262041414765492742011-01-05T12:35:00.002-06:002011-01-05T12:52:33.750-06:00Is It Just Me?I've had my house on the market for a year now with nothing more than quick nibbles. The most frequent reason the potential buyers tend to say no? They want wood floors, not carpet.<br /><br />Excuse me! I didn't particularly like the carpet or the wall colors the house had when I bought it, but that didn't stop me from buying the house. I liked the floor plan and the neighborhood and the price. I figured that if I didn't like something about the decor I could change it. And that's exactly what I did when I had the chance!<br /><br />Now, I'm looking at renting the house. A property management person just came through and gave me an estimate for what I might be able to get. You know what she said would cause problems with renting the house? You've got it! The color of the carpet!!<br /><br />Excuse me! You're <em>RENTING</em>! What difference does it make what color the carpets are (or the apparent age of the kitchen cabinets, for that matter)? Does the floorplan work for you? Is the property in good shape? Is the house in a good neighborhood? Are you getting good value for the rent you're paying?<br /><br />GAH!!<br /><br />Is it just me? Or are people becoming more irrational about wanting others to fix things to their liking before they're willing to even consider making a move? It just doesn't make sense.SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-39089457878979636522010-11-21T10:55:00.002-06:002010-11-21T11:23:42.915-06:00Casting About and Other ThingsFirst, the sad news. <br /><br />On Friday, as I looked at The Penster, she gave me this pleading look and I could no longer in good conscience keep her at home as she slowly lost her dignity and became less comfortable. So I called the vet. At about 2:45 Friday afternoon, Penny Penelope Penny-lope peacefully and quietly returned to wholeness. <br /><br />On the way to the vet's, she gave me a couple of patented Penny smiles and absolutely insisted on walking into the building and back to the room. I was with her the entire time. It was probably the first time ever that a vet was able to listen for her heartbeat without having to chase her around the table.<br /><br />I sure miss you, my faithful, flop-eared friend!<br /><br />But life goes on and I'm continuing to live into new experiences.<br /><br />Earlier this week, I went to the orthopedist about my non-cooperative ankle. It's been paining me for months and the first treatment option for my acute tendinitis didn't do diddly for me. <br /><br />The next plan of attack? Total immobilization for 4 weeks. <br /><br />EEP! I now have a bright purple cast on my left leg. Good thing it's my left ankle. Driving would be a real problem if it were my right one.<br /><br />I've never had a cast before, and would just as soon not ever have another one. It's a walking cast, so there's this boot to attach whenever I plan to walk around. Plus, I never realized just what being lopsided does to a body. My right ankle is grumping about all the extra work it's having to do. Hope it doesn't end up wanting a cast too.<br /><br />Taking a shower and getting dressed has a whole new dimension to it, as well. Fortunately, I'm quick in the shower. One short shower a day was what the doctor said. To make up for it, it takes most of the day for the cast (well, the lining inside the cast) to dry out and quit soaking whatever it's up against.<br /><br />Finding a comfortable position for foot/cast and body, whether seated or in bed, is a real pleasant experience, too (she said sarcastically). I'm beginning to wonder if I'll have a permanent cast imprint on my right leg, since crossing my leg over at the knee is one of the resonably comfortable options available to me. Even wrapping the darned cast in a towel doesn't seem to circumvent the dents.<br /><br />Well, I guess I'll quit grumbling for now and see what I can do to enjoy the lovely day we seem to be having.<br /><br />There's this really ambitious squirrel who keeps looking in my sliding glass door, wondering if there's a good place on the other side to stash the nut s/he's carrying. Nope! Don't think I'll let him/her in. But it is fun to watch her/him scurrying around on my patio.<br /><br />Wonder what's next on the horizon ...SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-30924099094231040082010-11-17T11:04:00.003-06:002010-11-17T11:51:54.067-06:00To Penny<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizWmb4Wx4958zHwgFVAn8Z4jSAyt-BnXWZy4E2QEI8R6HNA9kOLquibfuXKdVytVmb-f7pAlWuQv8P3AeeDVlJXQJLOR2aToqkgfKeJW-l7Q_oZ0VVSmk0DUFrv3VDXHJrh7gh/s1600/Penny.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizWmb4Wx4958zHwgFVAn8Z4jSAyt-BnXWZy4E2QEI8R6HNA9kOLquibfuXKdVytVmb-f7pAlWuQv8P3AeeDVlJXQJLOR2aToqkgfKeJW-l7Q_oZ0VVSmk0DUFrv3VDXHJrh7gh/s320/Penny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540577154417358354" /></a><br />On Saturday, when The Penster and I returned from an overnight trip, I was a bit worried about her, since she hadn't eaten hardly anything at all in almost two days. I managed to pique her appetite and Penny ate her evening meal and her favorite dog biscuit.<br /><br />That night, she had quite a bowel problem. Poor dear! I cleaned up the mess and worried about her some more. Then, while I slept, she threw up everything she had eaten earlier and on Sunday she wasn't even able to keep down water. Ever since, Penny has refused all food and only drinks when I offer water to her by hand. The vet gave her medicine to calm her innards, which seems to have worked, but I think she has decided it's time to let go.<br /><br />My dear friend still gets up and totters to her usual resting places, depending on what room I'm in, and responds to noises and touch. We've also managed a few short forays up and down the street in front of the house. But I don't think she will be with me much longer.<br /><br />We've had 15 marvelous years togethers. She's the dog of my ordination and has seen me through good years and rough ones. Her favorite pasttimes were stealing used kleenex, eating used socks and underwear, and walking together through the neighborhood. Penny never was much of a snuggly dog, unless there was a thunderstorm banging around. Then she wanted to sit on your lap and climb as high as possible!<br /><br />But life has become difficult for her in the past six months or so. She no longer leaps up on furniture and her problems with the few spots of linoleum in the house have grown exponentially. Those old bones and joints just aren't working like they're supposed to. For the past month or two, eating hasn't been on her high priority list either. Her hearing and eyesight are about what one might expect of a grande dame of 105 dog years.<br /><br />And so ... I've been letting her go over the last few days. Petting her, doing whatever she feels up to, crying copious tears, telling her I love her and it's all right to let go and be at rest in a place where she is once more whole and vigorous and young. <br /><br />Life won't be the same without her. It never is. But I'll remember the good times: the stolen lunch meat, sitting side by side on the recliner, playing "foot", the time she actually caught the squirrel, and hours spent in friendly companionship.<br /><br /> <strong>To Penny Penelope Penny-lope</strong><br /> Black and white puppy<br /> Faithful, quirky, brown-eyed friend<br /> Furry little thief!SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-10433518528750052202010-11-07T14:00:00.002-06:002010-11-07T15:06:42.669-06:00The End of an EraWell, sort of.<br /><br />Daylight savings time has ended once again ... and will be starting up again sometime next year.<br /><br />This is the "fall back" one. I usually have much better luck with this one, except for the time I set the clock <em>forward</em> an hour instead and arrived at church TWO hours early. Fortunately, I lived across the street from the church and could slink back to the house without anyone noticing.<br /><br />My grandpa, who was a farmer, didn't particularly have anything good to say about daylight savings time. From his perspective, the cows wanted to be milked at the same time each day and it didn't matter whether the clock said 5am or 4am.<br /><br />When I lived at my mom and dad's house, we had a wonderful cocker mix named Little Bit. Regular as clockwork, she ate her half can of Pard with a two dog biscuit reward for completion at 5:00pm. It would take us about two months to get her to wait until the new 5pm. Once "trained", at fallback time, she would eat at what was now 4pm (to her little mind) and then come back for a second meal at what she was convinced was 5pm. <br /><br />Confusing stuff! <br /><br />I know my body wrestles with the time change in each direction. True, it's worse when we "lose" an hour; however, whichever way the clock changes, I end up out of sorts for about two weeks. <br /><br />Doesn't help any that the clock on my microwave won't adjust to the new setting no matter what machinations I've tried (short of turning the power off, that is). Guess I'll have to wait until the next power outage, random as they are. Won't stop me from grumbling about it though.<br /><br />*grumble grumble grumble*SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-5694600749391277722010-10-10T15:05:00.003-05:002010-10-10T15:21:00.711-05:00HumanQuite an interesting morning at worship today. While I'm in between churches, I've been doing occasional pulpit supply and have a regular service with a nearby church on the second Sunday. They don't have a pastor and I lead worship and celebrate Communion with them. It's a cool, neat little group and I really like being able to celebrate Communion.<br /><br />This morning I added an unusual twist to the service ... I almost fainted.<br /><br />It was a bit hot up in the pulpit and I almost lost it once before the sermon. But my worship assistant turned the ceiling fan up and I managed to cool off and made it through the sermon.<br /><br />Then came Communion.<br /><br />I made it about 1/3 of the way through the Communion Prayer when I started getting really hot again and began to wonder if I could stand up through Communion. I found a place to sit and attempted to carry on. Didn't make it too much further before I decided that, Nope! This isn't going to work and worship came to a screeching halt.<br /><br />What a wonderful group of people!<br /><br />They brought me cool cloths and water. Wouldn't let me move. One of them had a glucose test meter, so we checked to see if that were the problem. <br /><br />We finished Communion and worship with me sitting on the floor and everyone in a circle around the Communion table.<br /><br />Then, one of them drove me home while her husband followed us.<br /><br />I've always known I was human, but this is the first time it's physically (as in my health, not one of my fabulous bloopers) gotten the best of me during a worship service. <br /><br />And now I'll go down in history as the pastor who fainted in worship. *chuckle* The Spirit at work, huh?SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-76555429324437877412010-10-06T11:35:00.002-05:002010-10-06T12:00:08.480-05:00Negative SpaceI seem to be in negative space at the moment. You know, that area around and between objects in art where there just "isn't". <br /><br /><a href="http://0.tqn.com/d/painting/1/0/d/W/1/NegativeSpace-Vase.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 427px; height: 253px;" src="http://0.tqn.com/d/painting/1/0/d/W/1/NegativeSpace-Vase.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />I'm between positions ... and have been for almost a year and a half. I'm sort of between homes, since my house is on the market and it is and isn't mine.<br /><br />I am neither fish nor fowl nor ...<br /><br />Negative space is an odd place to be. You are part of groups, but tend to feel disconnected from them. "Let's get together sometime." But sometime never seems to materialize. There is an element of non-belonging which makes your ideas and contributions a bit suspect, no matter how valid they may be.<br /><br />It's part of why my poor little blog has been ignored recently. It's hard to focus on negative space.<br /><br />But when you do, there may be something incredible to discern. I've always been able to see both the faces and the vase, or the hag and the beautiful lady, or the people and the moth. <br /><br />Maybe I just haven't found what I'm supposed to see yet. I've never been any good at drawing, but you often hear the art teacher tell the students to draw what isn't there. For example, color in the space around the legs of the chair, until what's left is what you were trying to draw - a chair.<br /><br />Negative space isn't necessarily a bad place to be, but I'd really like to find my way to something positive for a while. Yes. I think I'd like a metaphorical "chair". Not to sit on, mind you, but to stand on and shout to the world, "WOOHOO! I'm not just the outlines anymore!"SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-85938276808766275672010-08-30T11:14:00.002-05:002010-08-30T11:40:08.948-05:00Perception vs. FactFact: I'm seriously directionally challenged. North. South. East. West. Yeah, right! Isn't east on your right-hand side, west on your left, north to your front, south to your back? (I know! I know! Don't remind me about sunrise and sunset. It just doesn't work.)<br /><br />I've only lived in one place where my directional sensibility tended to match fact. In Austin, if I knew where the river and I-35 were, I could orient myself without too much trouble. The directions "felt right".<br /><br />I've lived in my current house for (more or less) six years. In my mind, south has been out the front door (and, NO! I don't have to be consistent!), north out the back, east has been to the right as I face the door from inside the house (please note prior statement about consistency) and west to the left. It took a great deal of time and many evenings with the sun glaring in my face as it set for me to be cognitively aware that right equals west. It still doesn't "feel right".<br /><br />I've watched incredible thunderstorms out my back door and wondered how friends were doing in Silsbee and Lumberton, to the north of Beaumont, and then been perplexed when they hadn't the foggiest idea of what I was talking about.<br /><br />It's only been recently that I've begun to suspect the facts: The back of my house is <em>south</em>, the front of my house is <em>north</em>, right equals <em>west</em>, and left equals <em>east</em>. It does make figuring out the current radar on The Weather Channel a bit more precise. <br /><br />How'd I begin to make this shift? It happened when weather.com made their "Weather in Motion" app interactive and you could see the weather coming at you based on the neighborhood streets. If you start with the long view where, for example, a storm is coming off from the Gulf of Mexico, and move it in closer and see that it's heading toward your house from Interstate 10 and College, then that makes the storm a phenomenon headed your way from the southwest! AMAZING! Still doesn't "feel right", but it's fact.<br /><br />I wonder in what other ways I let my perceptions skew the facts. Do I use them to prejudge people and situations? Do I take "fact" and continue to discount it because my "perceptions" contradict them? I certainly hope not, but it's obvious that the potential is there, since north, south, east, and west (and variations thereon) are clearly fact as humanity has established that fact. Sure does open possibilities for reflection, doesn't it?SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-22746618597160790982010-08-27T12:16:00.002-05:002010-08-27T12:50:10.214-05:00HealingFive years ago, not today but close to it, disaster entered my life. While my home was not directly affected by Hurricane Katrina, Katrina was the storm that led the way. As the storm barrelled toward the eastern Gulf Coast, I was preparing for a much needed vacation. My plans were for some time at Mom's, followed by a visit to some friends in Austin. Gasoline prices were heading upward and money was tight, so my goal was simply a break from the ordinary in a fiscally responsible way.<br /><br />Thousands of people were fleeing westward, and my church members were helping as best they could with the organizations that were helping the evacuees. With so many people flooding into the Beaumont area, it didn't make sense for me to come home and add to the confusion. So I ended up watching in horror as Katrina hit the Gulf Coast, causing massive destruction, and then as the people of New Orleans were in a life and death struggle with the floodwaters from the levee system breach. I aided as best I could from my perch in Houston; however, it could never be enough.<br /><br />Still stunned by the devastation Katrina left in her wake, a few weeks later, I left on a trip to a meeting in California. From my Sacramento hotel room, I made phone calls to church members, talked with Mom as she debated evacuation and what to do with my two critters she was critter-sitting, and watched helpless and in shock as Hurricane Rita came to shore, ripping through our community and causing more massive destruction.<br /><br />Upon returning all the way home, I found my house had been visited by one of my friendly backyard trees wanting to get away from the whipping winds. Restoration took almost two years, more because I couldn't get contractors to bid on the work than because the damage was that severe or that the insurance company wasn't supportive.<br /><br />From the point when Her Horribleness (Rita) came ashore, one of the characteristics of PTSD has been prominent in my life: during hurricane season, I've been hypervigilant about tropical waves, tropical depressions, tropical ANYTHING, and have found myself constantly checking the National Hurricane Center website and the Tropical Update on The Weather Channel during every waking hour.<br /><br />That is, until this year. Don't get me wrong. I still check the National Hurricane Center daily. I still watch the Tropical Update on The Weather Channel. However, if I miss one, I don't get antsy. If there is something to report in the Atlantic tropics, I can calmly assess it, see what the projections are, and then go about my business ... mostly.<br /><br />There is healing in this. It is completely appropriate to watch for and be prepared for potential hurricanes. Yet it's good to know that watching for hurricanes in the Gulf is not the only thing I want/need to do. Recovery from disaster takes time. I just never realized how much time. <br /><br />Five years! And I believe I'm just really beginning to get on the other side of the chaos. True, there have been two hurricanes in the area since Her Horribleness roared through town, one of them a rather nasty character. It's certainly given me a better perspective on how we deal with catastrophic change and how long it may take for true healing to begin.<br /><br />Oh! Gee! It's almost 50 past the hour! Guess I'd better get today's fix of the Tropical Update. But then, I'll probably be good to go until tomorrow.SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-24885690081558754562010-08-08T17:12:00.002-05:002010-08-08T17:50:42.729-05:00So Much Has Happened ...so little has changed.<br /><br />Geesh! It's been about six weeks since I last posted anything here. Part of that time I was out of town. Part of it - well, my computer and I have been engaged in battle. I'm still not certain who won.<br /><br />In any case, a six-week saga.<br /><br />First up, I attended our denomination's biennial meeting on behalf of a national committee I served on for seven years. The denomination has undertaken the task of rewriting a portion of our Book of Order, which provides the polity our denomination operates under. It has been a major work and much that is good has been done. <br /><br />The committee I served on had some concerns that particular issues related to diversity and inclusiveness had not been adequately addressed, however. I was invited to do some work for the committee which required me to attend our main meeting and basically do some politicking. New territory for me. We didn't get everything we wanted (who does?), but we accomplished most of the really important things. 'Twas good!<br /><br />That was followed by a quick whirlwind trip for an interview in Michigan. Wonderful congregation doing really good stuff. Not call. That's ok. It's good to check these things out. "Call" is such a difficult thing to discern sometimes. Face to face is the only way to do it. I wish them all the best in their search for a new pastor.<br /><br />Once home, I got clipped by a nasty stomach virus. Must have picked up something on one of those flights I took. YUCK! And I've preached at a couple of local churches. And I've continued to search for a new church to serve, while trying to find some way to earn buckos in the meantime. And I've done local committee work, while trying to sell my house. Plus, I was felled by what turned out to be a slow-dying modem keeping me from making contact with the rest of the universe, while battling my computer which decided that I needed to reinstall the hard drive ... twice!<br /><br />And I'm still basically back where I was before all these important, busy things happened.<br /><br />Still job-hunting. Still trying to sell my house. Still living in faith.<br /><br />This morning's epistle lesson was a good one for me today. Hebrews 11:1-16. "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for; the conviction of things unseen." Then there's the reminder that Abraham and Sarah did some serious wandering in faith. They weren't sure where they were headed. They just went the direction God pointed.<br /><br />Feels pretty familiar at the moment.<br /><br />Then, when everything seemed really lost and hopeless, the ancient and barren Abraham and Sarah had their lives filled with "laughter" - Isaac.<br /><br />I needed that message. <br /><br />Doesn't stop me from feeling impatient. Abraham and Sarah wandered through impatience as well. Maybe something has been accomplished afterall. I'm sure it'll be easier to see in the rearview mirror.<br /><br />In the meantime, I'll continue to live by faith and not by sight, and rest in the assurance of things hoped for; the conviction of things unseen.SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-76997289276133225982010-06-26T12:04:00.002-05:002010-06-26T12:26:22.712-05:00Go Away, Alex!For many reasons, I'm hoping that Tropical Storm Alex disintegrates as it goes over the Yucatan Penninsula. Of course, I wish no harm to those who live on the penninsula. I just want that puppy to fade away into nothingness before it hits anyone.<br /><br />Doesn't look like that's going to happen, though.<br /><br />Besides my real concern over the current oil spill recovery operations and what effect a tropical storm or hurricane will have on the environment, hurricane season is a weird time for me. At some level, there's a bit of excitement. Hurricanes are somewhat unpredictable beasties and I like trying to outguess where they're headed and what they are going to be like. Don't want to be anywhere near anything stronger than a mid-range Category 2, but do find myself drawn to watching them.<br /><br />They also scare me. I find myself being hypersensitive to everything about what might happen, especially since Hurricane Rita sent a tree through my den and kept me out of the house for about 2 years. I'm not panicked. I'm certainly not really ready for staying in the house if a hurricane hits, although I do have some things to help me through. And it won't take too long to toss together an evacuation box and some clothes and things for the dog to head out of town, if needed. Nice thing about hurricanes is that you can see them coming and have time to prepare.<br /><br />What's making this a more anxious time for me is that I'm supposed to head out of town while my mom watches The Penster. Last time that happened while a tropical storm was barely forming many miles away, it turned into Her Horribleness and I was stuck 1500 miles away from home, while Mom and the dog were caught up in evacuate or stay or what mode. <br /><br />As one might expect, the dog really doesn't like major storms, which upsets Mom. Before I left the last time, Mom said, "You aren't really going to leave, are you? There's a hurricane coming." It was an itty, bitty tropical storm, just barely named at that point, so I left. Mom was right. <br /><br />Don't know what Mom will say about this one, and I <em>really, really </em>need to be at the meeting I'm headed to.<br /><br />So ...<br /><br /><br /><br /> <strong>GO AWAY, ALEX!</strong>SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-51035339011999472402010-06-20T22:08:00.002-05:002010-06-20T22:32:45.422-05:00In Remebrance of DadToday is Father's Day in the United States. It's always a bit of a bittersweet day for me. My dad died about 11 years ago, and he always was a bit of an enigma.<br /><br />I don't really remember this myself, but the family stories tended to be along the lines of me following my dad around like a puppy when I was young. He was a scientist, and an inventor. I do kind of remember "helping" him with his experiment to pull clean water from the air. I'm not sure he ever got it to do exactly what he wanted it to, but that's the kind of stuff he worked on.<br /><br />Dad was a mathematical physicist and worked most of his employment life with NASA on the Apollo and Skylab programs. He retired about the time the shuttle program got going, partly because NASA was giving incentives for employees to retire early and partly because he disagreed with the direction NASA was taking. I never knew it at the time, but Dad had several patents to his name, government stuff but still in his name.<br /><br />Dad was a nuts and bolts kind of guy. If he couldn't see it, feel it, hear it, taste it, smell it, then it probably didn't exist. Feelings were never an option around Dad. I recall being quite mortified the day Dad marched out onto the field to claim me from drill team rehearsal because we had gone over the alloted time. He even went up the food chain to the school board, so the teacher saw him coming and called me off the field. Devasting when you're a bit of a dorky teenager, just barely at the fringes of being part of the cool crowd. Didn't matter. It was time to go, so we went.<br /><br />Yet there came the day when my marriage collapsed into a puddle, and I called home, and the first words out of Dad's mouth were, "We're on our way. What do you need us to do?" <br /><br />Dad didn't really go in for saying "I love you", or much of anything along those lines. It took me years to realize that he <em>did</em> "I love you", rather than saying it. If there was something that needed fixing, and Dad was around, it got fixed. And there was no escaping the regular weekly call to find out how the week had gone.<br /><br />The man could be absolutely infuriating about some things, had a dry sense of humor that you had to watch out for, and was far from perfect even though he did the best he could, but I miss him.<br /><br />Happy Father's Day, Dad!SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-33237536380351568402010-06-19T10:44:00.003-05:002010-06-19T11:23:58.185-05:00Maunderings on a Saturday MorningIt's been a while since I've posted anything, so I thought I'd just ramble a bit. Just so the poor dear hasn't thought I've forgotten it, you know.<br /><br />Today's going to be a scorcher. When I let The Penster out at 9:30 this morning, the heat and humidity was almost a solid wall hitting me in the face. Even the dog wasn't her usual energetic self when returning to the coolness of the house after the heat got hold of her. I have a feeling that our evening ramble is going to be closer to midnight than we ordinarily venture out. It's a good neighborhood, though, so it should be okay.<br /><br />The house is beginning to look barren and no longer mine. It's not sold yet, but I'm continuing the process of emptying the place. Last weekend, it was suggested that I paint the entrance foyer something other than its exuberant yellow. I've known for some time that I'll probably have to paint the walls some blah color, but was hoping to not actually be living in the house when that happened. My son's coming home next week to provide the labor, and I already have the paint, so that's not a problem. I could do it, but can't bring myself to color over the walls I so carefully painted after Her Horribleness roared through and made a mess of my house.<br /><br />But the painting's why the house is beginning to actually <em>look</em> barren. So far, much of what I've removed to storage has been hidden in cabinets. Now the rogues gallery has come down off the walls and many of my pictures are in boxes waiting to be hauled off to a drab and barren little room filled with other boxes. I haven't pulled them all down. Don't have enough boxes of the right size for that. But it is still a bit of a jolt to look at the places where the pictures have been and see only blank wall.<br /><br />And then, what if there's a hurricane before I get everything to wherever my new place ends up being? ACK! I have no way of burrowing through the boxes to find my boxed up picture albums and framed pictures. All I can do is hope that they survive in storage. Now, of course, this may be a ridiculous fear. After all, I wasn't able to do anything before Her Horribleness came through town in 2005 and nothing happened. Loss of life is obviously much more devastating than losing some pictures, yet there is a sense of continuity which goes with having them around to look at from time to time. When I move from one place to another, it's nice to have my rogues gallery and other art (pictures my son made in elementary school, of course) to make the new place "home". <br /><br />I'll live. But I'm not happy about it at the moment!<br /><br />Manana, I have an early morning drive up to Lufkin to preach. It's about a 2 hour drive and is through reasonably nice territory, that is, there are trees and hills, not flatland and scruffy stuff. It's a neat congregation. I'm doing something with the kids for Father's Day. Just love it when a congregation picks up on my hinting and comes through! They've always done something for Mother's Day, but Father's Day just seems to slip off the map when it actually comes to doing something for the fathers. When I asked about doing something, my contact volunteered to help provide the 'something'! How cool is that? <br /><br />This church isn't the only one I've encountered to honor mothers, but just gloss over fathers. Since I'm not the pastor of a particular congregation at the moment, I just hint broadly (well, actually say, "You know, we celebrate Mother's Day. What are you doing on Father's Day?") and see how it goes. When I've been pastor, I just boldly say, "What are we doing for Father's Day?" and then hang in there until something definite, and roughly equivalent to Mother's Day, is planned. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it! *chuckle*<br /><br />Ah, well! We're headed dangerously close to afternoon here, and I've a couple of morning things to finish before we get there. Who knows? Someone may decide to look at my house this afternoon ... and I still have last night's dirty dishes to hide, er, deal with and put away!SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-553599401028141982010-06-04T14:19:00.002-05:002010-06-04T15:00:39.131-05:00Inane Plot DevicesOne might say that I watch too much tv. One would be right. Part of my tv watching is professional. That is, I watch some shows to keep up with what's happening in the world culturally and, thus, get some insight into the various groups of the congregations I serve. Part of what I watch is just for fun. The internal illogic of many of my viewing choices, though, could be considered convoluted enough to make the venerable Mr. Spock's Vulcan head spin. (One would probably admit that <em>La Femme Nikita </em>isn't Top Ten material for most pastors under any circumstances.)<br /><br />While I recognize that fictional tv, even based-on-fact tv, operates with an element of unreality and generally has storyline movement that would make any expert in the subject cringe, I'm pretty much able to put such incongruencies aside and enjoy the general flow of the story. Of course, most of McGyver's duct tape and chewing gum problem-solving is unrealistic, but there was just enough element of the plausible to let it slide.<br /><br />Then there's the truly inane.<br /><br />There are two shows that I watch right now where the inane just slaps me in the face. For one, I just shrug and keep watching. The other just irritates me to distraction.<br /><br />Each Tuesday, I turn the channel to <em>Glee</em> and watch the inanity begin. It's built on super-exploded stereotypes and inane plot devices that often lack any continuity, or rhyme or reason. What high school principal would hire a housewife with no degree as the school nurse? LAWSUIT!! (Plus the school board would probably fire him in a snap.) <br /><br />Yet I come back week after week to watch the next episode. It's not my favorite show, but I enjoy the show choir routines. But, even in the midst of such outrageous inanity, when they get that one personal note, that one teaching moment, that one AHA! head nod, I pump my fist and go, "YES!!"<br /><br />Then there's <em>Royal Pains</em>.<br /><br />OK. I willing to overlook the HUGELY inane plot device which got Dr. Hank to the Hamptons. Sort of. The guy comes to the ER on his day off with an emergency patient he began treating on the street, and gets fired, and then blackballed, because he doesn't manage to save the life of a billionaire patient, patron of the hospital, who happens to have some bizarre complication once Hank gets to the hospital? C'mon!<br /><br />While the reviews describe the show as a dramedy, there's more drama than comedy. But it's a light drama and reminds me of <em>McGyver</em>, so I've hung in there.<br /><br />But last night was the second season premiere. Out of the clear blue sky, the love-interest hospital administrator gets hit with this incredible animosity from one of the physicians (special-guesty, award-winning star-type person). Completely out of proportion to anything in the scene. All of the sudden, hospital administrator has a phyicians' mutiny on her hands and her job is in jeopardy? <br /><br />She fired a doctor who was representing the hospital at a charity event while clearly enebriated. Well, d'oh! Her soon-to-be ex-husband waltzes back into the hospital, manipulates himself a job at the hospital, tries all sorts of sabotage to get her to take him back, and, when she doesn't (btw - Good for her! No one should be expected to enter or reenter a relationship under such circumstances), he quits. And it's all her fault? C'mon!<br /><br />I'm not quite sure why this rubs me the wrong way so strongly, but it does. Don't know if I'll hang in there a whole lot longer, though. <br /><br />Maybe I should just get a life, instead.SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-60974426257601265952010-06-01T16:53:00.002-05:002010-06-01T17:13:53.330-05:00The Mysterious ThudI've lived in this lovely house for over six years now. I'm not sure precisely when this started happening, but my best memory of a beginning is sometime after Hurricane Rita.<br /><br />One calm, sunny day I was peacefully sitting in my home, minding my own business, when there was this loud BOOM! and the house quivered seemingly down to its foundation. <em>Something</em> must have hit the roof. I rushed outside and carefully studied the back of the house, where my trees are. All three of them were right where they belonged, no limbs missing, enjoying the sunshine. <br /><br />After scratching my head, I headed to the front yard, where there are no trees, on the off chance that something truly weird had caused a limb to plop down on my house. Nothing.<br /><br />Next stop? Move the car out of the garage so I could get a look at the attic. Nothing extraordinarily weird up there, even though there is weird stuff in the attic.<br /><br />OK. Must be imagining things. Got my local handyperson to come and give things a look. He scratched his head, too, and decided it was nothing to worry about.<br /><br />Over the years since then, I've heard this mysterious thud multiple times. No rhyme or reason to its occurence, except that it's always been during the day, generally in the afternoon, and the weather has been of the sort that doesn't lend itself to loud booms. Each time, I've rushed outside, scanned the roof and surrounding yards, scratched my head in befuddlement, and gone back inside.<br /><br />Then there was today.<br /><br />KABOOM! The house shuddered. Contrary to my usual approach, I ran out the front door to look at my roof and up and down the street. I wasn't the only one standing in my front yard looking perplexed. The gentleman two houses down said, "Did you hear that?! Do you see any trees down?" We both scanned the nearby houses and horizon. No down trees. <br /><br />I said, "I'm going to check the back of the house!" He said, "Me too!" <br /><br />We both ran through our houses and began looking at our homes and at the nearby houses. No down trees. We both shrugged, then went back into our respective houses.<br /><br />At least I now know it's not my house that has a problem. <br /><br />But just what is that mysterious thud?SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-71779257358788594782010-05-31T15:11:00.002-05:002010-05-31T15:32:53.559-05:00In MemoriamSomehow it seems fitting that today is the one year anniversary of the final worship service of Westminster Presbyterian Church, Beaumont, TX. Admittedly, Memorial Day is a day when we remember those who have given their lives in service to the United States that we might live in freedom. We've not figured it out perfectly yet, but I'm grateful that we have the opportunity to work toward that goal.<br /><br />The life and ministry of Westminster was an expression of our faith in Jesus Christ, one of those freedoms we have, and the ministry of healing the sick, helping the poor, and working for justice for those in need. She was a grand old lady, who touched many lives in her 129 year ministry.<br /><br />I drove by the building today. It seemed appropriate. It hasn't changed a whole lot in a year, but then, it wasn't the exterior of the building that was weak. What was truly surreal was that the signs on the building haven't changed a bit. Worship services are still prominently posted and my name is still listed as pastor. <br /><br />In some sense, I guess I am. I will always be the last pastor of Westminster. There won't be anyone else to take my place, to minister with her members, to share their lives <em>as Westminsterites</em>. <br /><br />It has been a truly strange day. One whole year. Hard to believe it's been that long. Hard to believe it hasn't been forever.<br /><br />Rest in peace, Westminster. Your work is finished, and it has just begun. I'm so glad you were a part of my life!SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-48758253000950512012010-05-29T21:00:00.002-05:002010-05-29T21:23:12.002-05:00Of LanguageFor the umpteenth time, I've heard this commercial for something that I simply haven't the interest in remembering. But there's this one line that catches my ear each time it's on. The commercial insists that the edible product is "made with real ingredients". Well, yeah! Whatever it is it's made of, they're ingredients. And if you're going to put them in your mouth, chew them up, and swallow them, they're real.<br /><br />Oh! I'm not totally dense. I know what they're trying to say. Yet my brain wanders off into the real vs. fake ingredient tangent, so I'm not sure I've ever heard the name of the product being hawked.<br /><br />Then, to amble off in the direction of accents, The Penster and I were taking our evening stroll in the cool(?) of the day. With it being a holiday weekend and somewhat reasonable temperatures, there were quite a few people outside visiting with each other and sharing transient pleasantries with passersby. <br /><br />On the back leg of our circuit, we crossed paths with a gentleman headed to his car. I asked how he was doing. He said he would be much happier if it was cooler. I agreed. On the basis of about 8 words, he asked me if I was from Texas. !!! <br /><br />Now I've lived huge hunks of my life in Texas. We moved here from Ohio when I was 2 and I didn't move to Oklahoma until I was 40. I only sojourned in Oklahoma for about 7 years, so you'd think there'd be a heavy dose of Texas in my accent. Those very early years, plus the fact that my parents grew up in Ohio/Pennsylvania/West Virgina, must have had a lasting effect on my accent.<br /><br />I wonder just what it is that doesn't sound Texan to them?SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17554127.post-73418881313125695512010-05-28T10:43:00.002-05:002010-05-28T11:17:33.997-05:00Appeasement?It's that time of year again. Mother's Day has come and gone. Graduates are graduating. Students are applauding the end of school and dreaming up summer antics. Memorial Day weekend is happening.<br /><br />I dig back into my memories and recall the annual disturbing pattern: day by day, sometimes hour by hour, once you get past Mother's Day, gasoline prices sneak upward. A penny here. A nickel there, and before you know it, gasoline prices are poised to reach their summer peaks and profits.<br /><br />Sure, the companies take advantage of the least little bump or nudge or gallop of potential fiscal chaos throughout the year, whether caused by someone dampening a spigot in a foreign country or the natural calamity of a hurricane. But generally, regular as clockwork, you know when summer's about to start and the companies get ready for people to spend bucks for vacations.<br /><br />But not this year.<br /><br />Over the past week, ten days, it has seeped into my consciousness that gasoline prices haven't been tracing their usual trajectories. Two weekends ago, when I traveled to preach in other cities, I was thrilled to find a couple of stations where the price was less than $2.70/gallon. (Ok - I'm aware that that's really cheap in some parts of the world, and cheaper than it was during 'the great gas price crisis', but for my purposes at the moment, $2.75+ was the norm.) <br /><br />I've been economizing by not driving unless I absolutely have to, so my encounters with gasoline prices have been somewhat intermittent. Over the past two weeks, though, my forays through the community have brought an odd phenomenon to my attention: gasoline prices have actually been headed downward. I went past one of my usual stops yesterday and the price was below $2.60/gallon! The day <em>before</em> the Memorial Day weekend starts? What's going on here?!<br /><br />Seems to me that <em>someone's</em> trying to appease the driving community and keep them from thinking about things like the massive impact of the Deepwater Horizon explosion and oil spill, and potential outrage leading to a desire to develop alternative sources for energy and many of our products made of petrochemicals today. Guess they figure if they take a bit of a hit financially right now, it'll keep us addicted to the petrochemicals that inhabit huge chunks of our lives and ensure their own futures once the immediacy of the ecological catastrophe has slipped from our awareness.<br /><br />Problem is - petrochemicals are not a renewable resource. We're going to be at the end of our ropes someday, even if it isn't within the next 50-100 years (just guessing at a timeline). Yet isn't this the perfect time to seriously refocus our creative resources to develop alternatives to the way we do so much today? <br /><br />Lost jobs in the petrochemical industry? Well, yes. But there will be new jobs in whatever field evolves from research into alternatives to petrochemicals. I truly cannot imagine that whatever the alternative is will ultimately slice the number of jobs available to virtually nothing. New technologies tend to open new opportunities.<br /><br />Don't quite know how to get large numbers of people onto the alternatives bandwagon, but did want to raise for consideration the question of who's to benefit from the recent slippage in gasoline prices and what we might do to avoid similar catastrophes in the future.SingingSkieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01199464266591505722noreply@blogger.com0