Do It In Your Bunny Slippers!

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Daily Proverb:

If you shout a pleasant greeting to your neighbor too early in the morning, it will be counted a curse!

 

Today’s proverb comes fully loaded with an exclamation mark at the end!

And it should.

Have you ever had to deal with an annoying neighbor?

Picture it…Sicily 1954… (just kidding)

It’s early, still wearing your pj’s, you open the front door to retrieve the newspaper.  Your neighbor spots the crack in your door and hollers jovially from across the street, “Good morning neighbor!  How are you this fine day?”

Keep in mind, this is early…as in PRE-coffee early!

Whatta ya do?

Always the Southern Belle, even in your bunny slippers, you fake a smile, wave and mumble “Bless their heart,” while making a b-line for the coffee pot.  OR if you’re from New England you give your best evil eye, flip them a good morning bird, and head towards the coffee pot, bunny ears flapping in the wind.

Hey Y’all, God knew what he was doing when he told Soloman to write this one down!

Don’t you just love the simplicity!

Since I’ve started this Proverb series I’m amazed at how simple they are.  It’s like you want to bop yourself on the head and say, “Why didn’t I think of that!”

I said it before and I’ll say it again:  Simple but profound.

***

Summation:

Boundaries Matter!  Don’t cross them!

I don’t give a “good dag-gone” how nice you try to be…Don’t!

***

Don’t be Preposterous…show some Respect!

FOWC=Preposterous

Word-A-Day=Respect

A few boundaries that come to mind:  (Feel free to add your own in the comments.  This should be fun)

  • Respect personal space.  If you can see my nose hairs, you’re too close.
  • Don’t drop by unannounced.  I may open the door naked to teach you a lesson.
  • Don’t let your pet poop in my yard, but if shit happens, clean it up.
  • Don’t cram your religion down my throat.  I have my own church for that.
  • Respect your side of my fence.  The other side is booby trapped.

***

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Remember What I Have Told You

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Sometimes it’s just too easy to forget, and the older I get the more this becomes my super-power.

I feel confident my friends over fifty can relate…hmmm…unless, of course, they have forgotten how often they forget.

It’s true, I walk into a room and forget my reason for being there.  I stand blank-eyed, trying to remember what I was just thinking about before I entered the room.  My reasoning is this, perhaps my last train of thought is what led me to this room, so if I can remember that then maybe that would jog my memory as to why I am standing helplessly looking at the contents scattered within the four walls.

One time I got out of the car, closed the door, and realized I had forgotten my phone.  Knowing I would need it later, I asked my daughter…(on the other end of the line) to wait a moment while I retrieved my phone.  (true story)

Another time, again with my daughter, I found myself stuck in the snow.

I was in the midst of helping her move just outside of Boston.  We finally finished unloading the truck and hauling her stuff up three flights of stairs, and now it was time to go out and grab a bite to eat.  Beth jumped into the passenger seat and I got behind the wheel, we were sooo tired but happy the hard stuff was over.

Well, if you’ve visited Boston in the mid of winter, you know, more than likely, snow will be upon the ground, and it was on this particular day. Thinking about a cheeseburger I cranked up the old girl (my truck), put her in drive, and proceeded to exit the parking space; however, the wheels would do nothing but spin in place.

Two hungry women on a mission would not be deterred…so I told Beth to get out and push.

When that didn’t work we dug the snow from around all four tires and tried it again…me at the wheel and Beth pushing as hard as she could.

When that didn’t work we searched for something to slide under the wheels, hoping it would give some sort of traction for the spinning wheels.  We finally found a scrap of cardboard and I put it under the left front tire, as we were parallel-parked.  We assumed the familiar position, me at the wheel and Beth, outside pushing with all her might…still the wheels did nothing but spin!

Beth, exhausted from pushing, finally stopped and came to sit beside me in the passenger seat.  We were now two hangry women.

Frustrated, I smacked my hand against the steering wheel of the truck and noticed the small red light that illuminated the word brake.

That was the last time Beth has ever asked me to help her move.

Thank God, enough time has passed so that now we can at least laugh about it.

These funny stories came to mind as I read my morning meditation.

The meditation had taken me to John chapter 14.  Here, I found Jesus talking to his friends/disciples saying,

“Remember what I have told you:  I am going away, but I will come back to you again…I have told you these things before they happen so that you will believe when they do happen.”

Jesus was telling his friends that soon he would die.  He loved them and was worried about how they would feel when he was killed.  He worried they would feel confused, abandoned and afraid all of his promises had been a lie.  So, over and over again in the four gospels, he tells them,

Remember what I have told you…”

Friends, I believe Jesus, rich in his compassion, is telling us the same thing…

“Remember what I have told you…” 

When things go wrong and people hurt us…it’s so easy to forget he is with us.  Feelings of hopelessness, loneliness, and utter despair draw us down into those dark places we created as a child to keep us safe.

How easy it is to return to that lonely stomping ground.

Jesus knew this for his disciples and presently, he knows it for us, as well.   If we could but be still in those moments and just breathe…we would hear his voice gently telling us…

“Remember what I have told you…” 

I can write this with confidence because He has put his Holy Spirit deep within us and his Spirit abides with us even our in our darkest moments.  Jesus gave us his Spirit because he loves us so much, and he doesn’t want us to be alone or feel alone.  (It’s possible to be with people but feel alone…been there done that.)   In this world, our most loved friends and family may leave us, but Jesus never will.

“…know that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you…the Father sends the Counselor…and by Counselor I mean the Holy Spirit, he will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I myself have told you.” 

“Remember what I have told you…”  (Jesus)

His Spirit moves within us…be still, breathe, and listen.

***

 

 

 

 

 

A Day In The Life of Bagsby Jones: Bull Dog P.I.

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Bagsby Jones, Bull Dog Private Investigator, was on the case!

He wrinkled his brow, sniffed the air, and vigorously kicked his hind legs.  He rarely took the time to relieve himself while on the job, but, this particular deposit had been necessary.  Call it an emergency that couldn’t wait, or, an accident waiting to happen; either would be true.  Feeling his tummy rumble, he grimaced, and vowed to pass by the next road kill.  Bagsby surmised it must have lain in the sun for too long.  He vowed the next time he came by such a find, he’d take it home to the cat.  He snickered at the thought.

Bagsby scanned the busy street, and was relieved to find that his target had yet to round the corner of Big Bills Butcher Shop.  He was so thankful the poop stop had not hindered the mission at hand, that he sent up a silent “thank you” to Pooch Heaven.

All four of Bagsby’s short, but muscular legs, carried his stocky, body towards the perfect hideout.  He had spent weeks watching and calculating the moves of the big guy, and Bagsby was confident this was the perfect place for the ambush.

Stifling a bark of laughter, Bagsby began back into a small space between two large trash cans.  This maneuver proved difficult, as the space was quite small.  He grunted a cuss word, or two, and wiggled his booty back and forth, until he finally squeezed into the tiny opening.  Had it only been yesterday that he had been able to back in with ease?  Bagsby was baffled, until he remembered the road kill, and realized the tainted stuff must have given him given him gas.  A repetitious rumble, sneaked out his back door, giving credence to his assumption.  The confined space captured the ripe fragrance, and wafted it to his nose.  Bagsby curled his upper lip, scowled, and cursed the road kill, but then he thought about the cat, and smiled.

His mischievous day dream, of poisoning the cat, dissipated at the sound of a distant whistle.   Harmonious whistling had always preceded the big guy’s approach.  Bagsby, reigned in his thoughts to the task at hand.  He knew his target was close, so he tensed his body, and readied himself for the ambush.  Sure enough, the whistling grew louder as the target rounded the butcher shop.  After a moment he could hear the big guy’s footsteps, so he hunkered closer to the ground, in preparation for the attack.  Bagsby could barely contain his excitement.

“Wait for it…wait for it…not yet,” he chided….wait for it…wait… ”

Then it happened!  Shoe leather, and blue fabric entered his field of vision.  Without hesitation, Bagsby lunged his bull-dog frame forward, but his bloated body wedged to a halt.  The noise startled the big guy dressed in blue, and when he caught sight of Bagsby ricocheting between the two trash cans, he screamed, and ran down the busy sidewalk, dodging the passerby’s.

Bagsby feared his target would escape, but adrenalin and another slippage of gas propelled him forward, toppling over both trash cans.  He hit the ground running, booking it in the direction of the fleeing man.  When he was within striking distance he jumped with teeth bared and jowls flapping in the wind.

Bagsby came down on all fours, with a mouth full of leather.  Proud of his conquest, he vigorously shook the leather bag, spraying a cascade of stamped envelopes to the wind.  Bagsby dropped the satchel, sat on his haunches, and smiled.  He enjoyed watching the array of colors fall all around him.

After they had settled, Bagsby knew it was time for his finishing touch.  He waddled over to the leather bag, and for the first time, he noticed it had the big guy’s name stitched on the front.  Bagsby saddled up close, lifted his hind leg, and christened Mr. Newman’s mail bag.

Afterwards, he kicked his hind legs, and happily headed towards home, after all, he had a cat to feed.

 

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