Hoarding

Warm days.  Need shorts.

Rather than doing the usual quickie clothes-switch, I did it right this time.  No grabbing a couple of things out of the boxes here and there.  I pulled everything out of the drawers and closets, sorted through everything in storage, and pulled out only enough clothes to be reasonable: several outfits for work, a couple that can be worn to church but wouldn't be allowed at work, and play clothes for only three days per week.

Thrown away:

~ A sweatshirt that was so stained that even *I* was ashamed to be seen it.  Even in the garden.  Same for a pair of shorts that were too small, too-often mended, and horribly stained.

~ My favorite pair of shorts!!  (Eventually cotton simply disintegrates.)

~ Pantyhose full of snags but not actual holes yet.

~ Socks that have two quarter-sized holes (per sock, not per pair) in the soles.



Put away:

~ Wool socks that weren't worn during winter because I wore my flipflops that make my feet feel wonderful in spite of the cold.

 ~ Jeans that are too tight -- because I intend to fit into them again.

~ Sweatshirts and other warm sweaters that were necessary before middle-aged hormones warmed me up. 

~ Same for the CuddleDuds.

~ Lovely dresses that crowd the closet, but are otherwise fine and will be hauled out another year.

~ Same for the T-shirts that bring back memories, but there are too many.

~ Same for the excess jammies.

~ A couple of beautiful skirts for which I have not yet found matching tops.


Brought out:

~ A couple of sundresses.

~ Shorts.



What was removed greatly outnumbered what was added.  I can [gasp!] open & close my dresser drawers without cramming clothes down into the drawers.  I can find what's in the drawers.  And I can look through the closet. 

"They" say I should get rid of the stuff I put away.  "They" say I won't lose weight and be able to wear it again.  "They" say that you should get rid of something that you haven't worn in a year. 

I say I'm not ready.  Who knows when I'll get the perfect hand-me-down top to go with that skirt I love so much?  If I had enough money to buy an all-new wardrobe every season, it would be different.  If I had enough fashion sense to want to wear up-to-date clothing, it would also be different.  But I know what I like, no matter how frumpy I look.  And I really like "shopping" in my basement instead of heading out to the mall and forking over cash. 

So there. 

(When I'm ready to move into a one-bedroom condo, maybe I'll have the sense to change my hoarding ways.)

Jelly Legs

It's been about three and a half years since I stopped jogging every day.  Gaining weight and changing shape is one result.  But what's far more important is that I've become weaker in every way.  I keep determining that I will get back in shape.  But between time constraints and physical pain, I don't.

So with good intentions I set off today on a mini bike ride.  Baby steps, y'know.  I planned for a whoppin' mile-and-a-half.  Today I almost had to get off the bike to walk it up the hill in front of Luecks' house.  Good grief.  Came home to a heart thump-thumpin' away and legs that felt like jelly.

And it crossed my mind that I really have empathy for Maggie now.  Not sympathy.  Not instructions.  Not cheerleading.  But empathy. 

And I'm wondering if the cysts and the misshapen foot bones and the leg pain, all of which combined to end my jogging regimen, were gifts from God.  Maybe these things put Maggie and me at the same point.  Maybe if we are equally out-of-shape, equally inept, equally weak, we can make our feeble attempts together. 

Or maybe I'll continue in my discouragement and physical weakness. 

I hope not.  I gotta try again tomorrow.  We gotta.

Penance and Prayer

 "So why would a priest give out the Lord's Prayer for punishment?"


-- Asked by Maggie today as we were reading chapter 37 in Ivanhoe, where the head of all the Templar knights was assigning penance to the guy in charge of the local group of Templars.  The penance was 13 Our Fathers at Matins and 9 at Vespers, plus six weeks fasting from meat.


Assigning prayer as punishment.  Excellent point.
Is praying really that distasteful, that you only do it when you're trying to ingratiate yourself with God?

Gath

In one of our Bible stories this week (1 Samuel 5) the ark of the covenant was captured by the Philistines.  All sorts of bad stuff happened in Ashdod, where the Lord's ark was.  Then the ark was taken from Ashdod to Gath.  The same bad stuff happened in Gath – plague and tumors.  The Philistine people concluded that Yahwah was zotting them.

Goliath was from Gath.  He would have known this.  This plague would’ve been during his lifetime or maybe shortly before (during his parents’ lifetime).  But still, he shows up on the battlefields a few chapters later, sassing God.  Amazing.

Not Seeing

In Luke 24, we hear about the Emmaus disciples whose eyes were restrained, and they didn't recognize Him.

In John 20, we hear about Mary, weeping in the garden.  When she saw Jesus, she didn't know at first who He was.

I never put those two stories together before.  Huh.
The blind shall see ....  (Isaiah 29)

Gathered to His People

In the Old Testament, when people die, it often says, "He was gathered to his people."  I always thought that meant his soul went to be with the departed saints who had gone before.  But we heard last week in Bible class that it's more likely a reference to burial.  The believers were often buried in the same tomb as the rest of the family, so that their bones were together.  What's more convincing is the stories of those who weren't "gathered to their people" -- like Sarah (who was the first in Abraham's family to die and for whom the family's burial plot was purchased) and Joseph (who was mummified).

The Boss's View of My Kid

It makes me so gosh-darn proud when my kid's recommendation gets somebody a job!

Katie got her job at Burger King because the manager figured hiring any of Philip's siblings would be a good move.

Philip got his job at Borders because Rachel worked there.  But more than that, Rachel's reputation carried enough weight through the whole region that Anthea, Coral, and Maria were hired at other Borders stores.

Tony asked Andrew the other day if he should hire James (one of the guys at church).  Andrew said yes.  Because Andrew had recommended Matthew, and that turned out so well for the boss, the owner decided to take another recommendation from Andrew.

Heeding my kid's recommendation on who-to-hire says a lot about what the boss thinks of the kid's work ethic, reliability, and intelligence!

Looking Professional

There's some standard of what it is to "look professional."  Although I am aware of it, I don't value it.  There is a dress code at work, and I haven't gotten in trouble for looking unprofessional.  I don't have the manicure.  I don't have the spiffy suitcoats.  I don't have the right shoes.  I don't have the make-up.  I don't have the right haircut with the blond highlights.  But I am clean and I abide by the dress code.  And so far that's fine.

I am disgusted by the articles in the "Home" section of the newspaper about staging a house that's for sale.  I realize that the sellers may have to do it.  But I'm disgusted with a society when our decision-making is so heavily influenced by such things.

So when I hear about staging for job interviews, I am likewise disgusted.  I realize that the person applying for the job has to play the game.  But c'mon, really, do we think that having the Right Kind of folder or Right Kind of briefcase or Right Kind of car should give one person an edge in being hired?

Cookie cutters.

We say we value creativity and individuality and open-mindedness and problem-solving.

We lie.

We value rubber stamps and cookie cutters.

Signed,
The square peg who doesn't want
sandpaper to fix me so that I'll fit
the round hole

Hosiery for Tall Girls

"One size fits all."  HA.  Big fat lie.  HA.

I have discovered two possibilities for those of the lanky-leg problem.

First, there's a problem with "knee-highs" that come up to mid-calf, nowhere close to your knees.  I tried the smallest size of "thigh-highs."  I don't know what's wrong with my legs; thigh-highs in my size simply do not work.  My thighs may be too fat; they may be too thin; the band at the top always ends up scootched down by my knees.  So, if I buy the size intended for a scrawny girl of 5'0", the thigh-highs will fit me as just-above-the-knee socks.  And that works fine for skirts that hit well below the knee.

One problem solved.

Second, there's a problem with panty-hose that you take out of the package, and you could swear that this pair of stockings was manufactured for a 6-yr-old.  C'mon, they're stretchy.  But not that stretchy.  I recently bought a package of Leggs Queen-Plus hose.  According to the package I'm too skinny to wear these.  But my rule-of-thumb is to buy a pair of hose for somebody who weighs 50% more than I do, and then the stockings might actually fit.  When I pulled this pair of Leggs Queen-Plus out of the package, they were the most freakin'-long hose I'd ever seen in my life.  It was awesome!  It gave me hope!  I have no idea how a 5'2" and 240# woman would ever ever ever get into these hose, regardless of the claims on the package's sizing chart.  I think the Queen Plus was made for someone 110-160# who's got a 32-36" inseam. 

Second problem solved ... assuming the hose I bought were actually what they were supposed to be, and not some lucky fluke of a mistake that made its way past quality control into my home.