November 30 – “Christmas Attack”

Well, the big time Christmas Attack has officially occurred.  I was assigned my usual endeavor … put up the outside lights.  We have the strands all marked, so it’s easy to remember where they go.  The issue, however, was the same one encountered by virtually everybody who attempts such Yuletide frivolity.  Two of the strands had stretches with numerous bulbs that were refusing to light up.  Now in the olden days, all you had to do was replace a burned out bulb or two and you were good to go.  Nowadays, with these hangy-down, sparkly, icicle things, it is almost impossible to track down the infringing tiny bulb that causes all the trouble.  And to make matters worse, it shuts down not the entire rest of the strand, which would make perfect sense.  Oh, no.  It just selects a random stretch of perfectly good lights and shuts them down, then allows the rest of the strand to light up again.  No particular reason other than to add to the frustration of the Christmas hanger-upper (that would be me).  On a more positive note, Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus are all good.  Their lights were replaced by some old colored ones that I scraped off the paint from.  Old school all the way.

I think Chris has finished the interior of the house.  I even got some décor in my office.  I’m pretty excited about that.  No Scrooge-ing for this old boy.  She did give me leave to make room in the garage to store the boxes for the season, so there is that.  We did run into one problem, though.  When she went to put away the Fall/Thanksgiving/ Halloween stuff, it didn’t all fit back into the bin.  She somehow accumulated just a bit more.  We did make a trip to WalMart, so two more strands of lights are in hand.  And dog food.  And fruit.  And Cheetos.  Umm.  No plastic tub though.  Guess we’ll have to go back.  Imagine that.

The cable guy came and replaced our cable remote.  Now we have to get used to a different placement of all the buttons.  Not sure why they do that, other than it has to look different to give them an excuse for development.  It does do what it’s supposed to, though.  As the guy was leaving he made a crack about the fact that the cable had been stuck on ESPN.  Could have been worse, I guess.

Psalms 8:9 says, “O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!”

Father, I guess the lights officially announce the beginning of the season.  Kind of like the star did the first time around.  Excitement all around.  Amen.

November 29 – “A Tushka Tag”

I was tagged on a FaceBook post last night.  Oh, it’s happened before, but this one was really sweet.  It was posted by Mrs. Cox, the teacher of the third graders in Tushka, Oklahoma, who were involved in sending us hurricane relief supplies along with some great words of kindness in their own handwriting on index cards.  We just sent them a return gift to express our thanks.  Each of the students received a beach bucket with Galveston salt water taffy and a homemade Christmas tree ornament filled with Galveston beach sand and shells.  Let me share Mrs. Cox’s post with you.

My students and I received the sweetest gifts yesterday from Seaside Church in Galveston, Tx. (The church that received the donations my class collected for Hurricane Harvey).  They were so surprised by the sand buckets, ornaments with Galveston sand, shells, and saltwater taffy from the island.  They were even more surprised that each bucket contained a handwritten note from church members and children thanking them for their donations and prayers.  We spent the last part of our afternoon reading each one out loud for everyone to hear.  My heart melted as I watched the excitement in their eyes as they read each note.  Especially, my little boy who read his note from Pastor Kelley Vaughan, I could tell how special he felt because he jumped up while I was showing the class pictures of Seaside Church and said, “Hey, that’s the person that wrote my note!”  This outreach experience has turned into a blessing not only for the hurricane survivors, but also for my students.  They’re wanting to write back and have pen pals now.

Those little guys and the notes they sent were a breath of fresh air in the beginning stages of hurricane relief around here.  We were sorry to have missed seeing them on our way back from Branson, Missouri back in October.  For some reason they weren’t at the school when we stopped by.  Something about not having school on Saturdays …

Psalms 8:1-2 says, “O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!  You have set your glory above the heavens.  From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise.”

Father, once again, would you bless those youngsters and their families.  And bless Mrs. Cox for including us as the “middle man” for this project.  Amen.

November 28 – “a spoonful of sugar”

Yesterday was one of the most productive work days I have had in quite some time.  Sunday is the First Sunday in Advent, so the teachings and the preparations thereof start to get more and more fun.  The theme this week is Hope, and I kind of like that whole premise anyway …

Since the kids got our tree up and the decorations down from the attic, and even helped decorate a bit (at least the level of where a four or five year old can reach), we now have boxes littering our entire den and kitchen.  Chris spent her day yesterday juggling dealing with Bethlehem Street Market vendors and trying to make a dent in decorating the house for Christmas.  Maybe that’s a good thing, you know.  Mix a tedious, sometimes difficult task with one a little more light-hearted and fun.  Like … a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.  Thank you, Mary Poppins.  And yes, I did just sing that little ditty in my mind.  Bet you did, too.  If not, then you need to watch Mary Poppins again. 

Speaking of needing a spoonful of sugar ... we didn’t get any mail service again yesterday.  Guess Kel wasn’t assigned our route as his required “bonus” work.  That’s a pretty weird system they have going there.  Mail carriers are supposed to deliver their assigned route and return to the post office by 4:30 to turn in any parcels they have collected to be delivered.  Sounds great, right?  Good time to head home and hang out with the family?  Well, not exactly when it comes to the U.S. mail service.  See, then they are expected to pick up an entire other route to be delivered.  They rarely get home before 7 or 8 in the evening.  Well, maybe it’s a little earlier now that it gets dark earlier.  They can’t deliver what they can’t see.  And don’t even get me started on their picking up the contract to deliver for Amazon.  That means they now also have to deliver on Sundays.  Seven days a week.  Come on.  Even God took a break.  So, folks, if your mail hasn’t arrived, don’t blame the postman.  Blame the system.  So, I guess if they don’t come this morning I’ll have to make a post office trip, or at least a mailbox trip.  The first half of our property taxes are due by Thursday. 

The cable TV repair guy is supposed to be here today between two and four.  Guaranteed.  Hmm.  Wonder what happens if he’s late.  What exactly is guaranteed?  Anyway, I found a way to at least change the channels.  I downloaded an app to my phone that has the ability to communicate with the cable box.  It worked fine until an error message came up on the screen to “Press the exit button on your remote.”  There was no “Exit” button.  So the big blue error message made itself at home.  Fortunately we were watching Netflix anyway.  I did try to access the programs we have saved to the DVR.  I could see them listed on the phone, but couldn’t access them.  Some kind of “Tuning error.”  Guess they haven’t worked out all the bugs.  Or, more likely, our cable box is an antique and doesn’t completely understand modern technology.  Sigh.  I guess the old guy is living in the right house. 

Psalms 7:17 says, “I will give thanks to the Lord because of his righteousness and will sing praise to the name of the Lord Most High.”

Father, watch over the mail carriers throughout this crazy season for them.  Amen.

November 27 – “Chocolate Chip Gremlin: A Dog”

We had an unusual visitor last night.  A knock at our door interrupted viewing of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.  We had been working to finish decorating the Christmas tree, but even Chris was ready to just sit down for a while.  It would have been the perfect time for one of those cheesy Hallmark movies, right?  Well, here’s the thing.  The whole reason we were watching Deep Space Nine was because our TV remote died.  Not battery-died, mind you … just died.  Brand new batteries didn’t help.  I even called up the help line on the computer for some assistance.  After thirty minutes or so of trouble-shooting he informed me that … hold onto your hats for this one … “Your remote appears to be broken.”  Well, thank you.  I told you that when I first logged in.  Anyway, looks like the remote for sure and maybe the entire box will need to be replaced.  Has anything changed since 2009?  That’s when we got the one we have.  Guess we’ll find out.  The repairman will be here Tuesday afternoon.  Between now and then?  Netflix or channel 11. 

But I digress.  Back to the visitor.  Since it was a lady and a child, both female, Chris went to the door.  When she didn’t come back right away I joined her.  There was a lady and her two children and … a yorkie dog.  An extremely tiny, very shaggy, very pretty, obviously someone’s carefully tended pet yorkie dog.  They had been going door to door trying to find the dog’s owner.  The daughter was holding on tight, hoping beyond hope that the dog was not ours.  Mom was just as insistent, however, that the owner was somewhere to be found.  Teenage son didn’t appear to care one way or the other.   He just wanted to do what he could to make the problem go away so he could get home.  I decided to walk around with them a bit.  We knew of one neighbor who had a dog kind of like this one.  The neighbor wasn’t home, but his little dog met me at the front door yipping, so no luck there.  The finders hadn’t had much luck, either. 

Finally Mom decided that enough was enough.  They had to get home … to League City.  They had just been visiting when they found the little guy.  But she was insistent that the dog was not going with them.  The daughter was just as insistent that it was.  She even used the old, “But I’ve already named him.  I’m going to call him Chocolate Chip.”  Didn’t work with this Mama, though.  “No.  You are not naming the dog.  We are not keeping the dog.”  About that time, brother in the back seat made eye contact with me.  A pleading, desperate, “help me out here” eye contact.  I guess my eyes must have revealed a softy spot, because he suddenly sat up in his seat and declared, rather than asked, “We can leave the dog with him.”  There it was.  I had been thinking this might be the inevitable end of the evening.  Mom tried to back track him away from imposing on me.  Daughter reiterated that she wanted to take the dog home.  I finally agreed to be the local intermediary, and if no owner was found I would call and let them know.  It took some doing, but the daughter finally turned the little creature over.

Back at the house Chris and I discussed all our options.  We finally decided that the best step would be to take him to the vet and see if he was chipped.  I took a picture of him and sent it to Nathan and April to see if Abby (their boxer) would like a playmate.  April is quite the resourceful one.  Within seconds she had the photo up on Lost Pets of Galveston.  Seconds following that it popped up on our Gulf Village FaceBook page.  And milliseconds after that April began getting response after response from the owner.  I texted the lady and said we would walk the dog down to their house, but she said she was already out looking for him, so she was almost to our street anyway.  We grabbed the little sprite and started out walking.  Before we made it even halfway down our street, here came the lady we had made contact with.  And following close behind her was the pup’s actual owner, the lady’s mother.  And sure enough, when the dog saw the mother he nearly leapt into her arms.  I asked what the dog’s name was so I could tell the family that found him.  Nope.  It wasn’t Chocolate Chip.  How about Gremmy?  Short for Gremlin. 

I texted the finders and let them know the owner had already been found and the little Chocolate Chip Gremlin was safe and sound back where he belongs.  I also thanked them for letting us play a part in the rescue and return.  They were grateful to hear the news and thanked me for my help.  So, thank you April.  Thank you whoever that was who shared the photo on the Gulf Village page.  Social media wins again.

Psalms 7:10 says, “My shield is God Most High, who saves the upright in heart.”

Father, thank you for that family who took so much time out of their schedule to search for a home for a little lost dog.  And thank you for the successful conclusion to the story.  Amen.

November 26 – “A Turkey Bowl Upgrade”

We had a major upgrade to the Turkey Bowl this year.  Instead of playing in the street in front of the house, we all went over to Jones Park, just across Jones Drive from us.  As it turned out we were the only ones there, so we had the whole thing to ourselves.  Swings, playground equipment, and of course a large swath of open field for the most important portion of the day … football. 

And it was a pretty good, inter-generational game, too.  All three of our sons were there.  Cory and Sarah came.  Jachin brought a friend, so we had some teenage-style athleticism (And that friend was already talking smack before the game even began.  Jachin and I were talking about the upcoming game, and Austin interrupted.  Looking at me and pointing hesitantly, he asked, “Wait, are YOU playing?”  Ouch.  Now them’s near fightin’ words, you young whippersnapper).  Micah and Zakary played, too, so the eleven-year-old, younger generation was well-represented.  Four-year-old Luke made an appearance.  Took me to the ground quite easily.  Caleb played for a while.  He is a baseball player, so he said he felt out of his element on the football field.  Not to worry.  His Dad assured him that he would tell him exactly what to do.  And so the instructions began.  On the first play from scrimmage I was the quarterback.  Caleb was rushing.  And when the dust cleared, my shoes were untied.  Yep.  That’s what he was instructed to do.  In an effort to slow his rush down a little, Josh told him to count to ten first.  On the next play I heard, “One, two, ten,” and he was off to the races.  The one command I never heard carried through was when he was told to sing the entire Happy Birthday son before rushing.  So the next time I was on defense, that’s exactly what I did.  Oh, and I forgot to mention … Ezra ran through a play or two as well in his Daddy’s arms.  He certainly had the football scowl going. 

It was a back and forth offensive battle all the way.  In fact we lost track of the score.  There was that one unbelievable defensive gem, however.  That one play that strikes fear into the hearts of offenses everywhere.  It came late in the game.  Josh was leading his team in a March down the field.  Suddenly it became evident that that they were going for all the marbles.  Josh dodged a rusher, he faked to his left, then to his right, then back to his left, then to his right.  Finally he reached back to the very core of his being and let fly a bullet of a bomb to his receiver way downfield.  The toss, however, was woefully short of its target, and more of a line drive than a towering spiral.  It was rocketing right toward the free safety, DadDad (Free safety is the catch-all term for the old guy who couldn’t really cover anybody so he stood around in the defensive backfield and wreaked havoc upon all who entered his domain … for the second and a half they were usually there).  But this time all eyes were on the free safety.  The ball was coming right at him.  Uh oh, this would be a problem.  The ball’s trajectory was rapidly diminishing.  He could still make a play on it, though.  All he had to do was dive at just the right moment.  Wait.  This was DadDad, right?  No diving was happening in his neck of the woods.  So the tension eased a bit on the offense.  An incomplete pass they could handle.  Some even dropped their heads and began the slow trudge back to the huddle for the next play.  But those who did that missed the most magical play of the day, of the year, of the decade, nay, even of the entire revival years of the Turkey Bowl itself. 

The ball continued to drop.  DadDad decided early on against the foolhardiness of the dive, but he had one ace up his sleeve.  Well, maybe in his shoe.  For as the ball arrived, he casually lifted his left foot right into the path of the flying orb.  There was the crunch of leather on leather.  The ball abruptly stopped its forward movement.  For an agonizing second it remained in contact with that foot. Forever enshrined in instant replay history (Well, it would have been if anyone had been filming).  And then came the impossible.  Instead of flying off in haphazard fashion as expected by all, the ball lazily lifted off the shoe … and right into the waiting arms of a grinning DadDad.  Oh, there was no attempt at a further runback.  None was needed.  He merely bowed to his left and to his right, acknowledged the gift from the passer (poor Josh), and set up for the next play.  What a play.  What a clinic of defensive secondary work. 

In fact, the play was so extraordinary that when the group gathered after the game for the media photo session, a decision was made.  See, we decided to reinstate the idea of an MVP trophy.  Aunt Christi will have one made before next game (Can you get it done in a year, Christi?  Better than the fifteen minutes we were going to give you).  And in honor of this year’s player of the game (a close winner over “the girl.”  Great game, Sarah) the name of this new trophy will be The DadDad’s Foot MVP Award.  Can’t wait to see that one. 

Psalms 5:12 says, “For surely, O Lord, you bless the righteous; you surround them with your favor as with a shield.”

Father, thank you for family football games and parks to play them in.  Amen.

November 25 – “Taking Thanksgiving Action”

Thanksgiving Day Two.  This one began early when Josh and Zak and I got up early and went fishing.  That’s what I remember doing back in those days of yesteryear when we lived in Mansfield or Denver or even Houston and came home for the holidays.  So how could I say no when Zak was determined to continue the tradition?  It was a pretty good day, too.  We didn’t catch a lot of fish, but what we did reel in was outstanding.  Zak led us off with a speckled trout while Josh played with his fly-casting rod and reel.  Then I caught a nice red fish.  And that’s when Zak began to feel concern for his poor Dad.  On more than one occasion Zak asked Josh if he was ready to give up the folly of his fresh-water fishing gear and do some real fishing.  Josh finally agreed, so I handed him the rod I had just casted (Like I would do for any of the little kids who want to catch a fishy) and went to bait up another.  Sure enough before I could even get my line in the water, Josh had a fish on the hook.  Nice one, too.  Large black drum.  Those were the only three we caught, but Zak was convinced they weighed eight or ten pounds at least.  Josh wanted to help him get a sense of how much they really weighed, so when we got back to the house I pulled out my scale.  4 pounds each on the red and drum and a couple on the spec.  Not huge in the salt water scheme of things, but it will help him when he tries to estimate those lake fish he catches in Waco.

After an incredible lunch of turkey enchilada pie (no leftovers … sorry), we enlisted eight of our ten grandkids to join us in an excursion.  See, we selected a family of five children from the Giving Tree at church.  The ages ranged fairly closely to the ages of our kiddos, so we asked for some help selected a toy or two for each of them.  Luke did a bang-up job as the selector for the 3 year old boy.  Cailyn and Noa took the two girls in the family, and Jachin, Micah, Zak and Josiah helped out with the other two boys.  Chris and I grabbed a basket and went with the four guys.  Josh took Luke.  Nathan had the girls.  The boys we had knew exactly where they wanted to go.  Legos.  Oh, and Nerf guns.  And they were tossing everything they saw into the basket.  Chris finally got their attention long enough to explain that they had to work together and actually make a selection.  They finally came through.  Nathan said it was quite the different story with the girls.  They would make a selection, then rethink it and return that toy in favor of another.  Very meticulous and incredibly thoughtful process.  The difference between guys and girls rears its obvious head yet again.  And I love it.  Makes things way more fun.  Thanks, Vaughan kids, for all your help.

Psalms 5:11 says, “But let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy.  Spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may rejoice in you.”

Father, thank you for the sweet hearts of our grandkids.  Amen.

November 24 – “Frantic fractured”

Ah, Thanksgiving Day 2017 at the Vaughan house.  And what a full day it was.  It began like many other Thursdays.  Rising early.  Quiet time with God.  Read the paper.  Munch on fruit.  And frantically type out a blog post.  Wait.  Why frantic all of a sudden?  Has that become my attitude and approach to this whole communicate with my 20 or 30 regular readers?  Well, not usually, I guess.  But frantic was a pretty good word for yesterday.  As I recall it ended up being a rather fractured piece of work.  Sorry about that, but fractured is just sometimes a good word for our life around here.  Frantic fractured. 

Any why so?  I left the house around 7 a.m. to begin my holiday trek to the six fire stations in town.  Chris helped me load up an ice chest with turkeys, and I was off, headed West.  My first stop was Pirates Beach.  They were preparing a scrumptious smelling breakfast.  I was invited to stay, but sadly my fruit and frozen waffles had sufficiently filled me up.  I prayed for the guys there and headed on to Sea Isle for my next stop.  Those guys also had some breakfast cooking.  Well, bacon.  I guess there might have been something else, but who can smell anything else when there is bacon?  They were watching one of the Home Alone movies.  Classics, for sure. Prayed with them, too.

From there I headed East.  Way East, out to right near UTMB for a visit to station two.  I have no idea what those guys were watching when I arrived.  They paused it immediately (either didn’t want me to catch them or they were consummately polite.  I’m pretty sure it was the latter).  One of them did make an effort to summarize the contents of the show for me.  Fascinating commentary.  All made up for sure, but fascinating.  I think he’d still be explaining that “training video” if he hadn’t received a call from a chief.  They joined me for prayer before I left.

As I headed back West toward home my next stop was Central, the downtown station.  And for a holiday morning in between calls, that place was a flurry of activity.  Several of the guys were outside in the sunshine.  Not catching a tan, though.  They were basking in the sun’s warmth (It gets cold inside that station when it’s cold outside).  I prayed with that batch of guys and headed upstairs to say hi to anyone else I might run into.  And up there I found not just the rest of the crew, but also an entire EMS crew.  Some were in the recliners, some were gathered around the table.  It was good to touch base with the medical guys, too.

Next stop was station five, on Broadway by the Justice Center.  They were already hard at work preparing their noon meal.  Well, I guess one of them might have been working hard.  Another was relaxing in his chair and occasionally stirring the contents of a big pan.  Hey, somebody has to do it, right?  Those guys were watching the Macy’s parade.  Guess that makes them classy?  They were OK with tearing their eyes away from the dragon balloon to pray with me, though. 

My final stop was station four, at the airport.  That’s the one closest to our house, so we have to take care of those guys.  After all, they are the ones who take care of us.  Oh, and did I mention that Nathan was on shift yesterday?  That’s his station now, so I got to see him.  And of course he was elbow deep in preparing for dinner there already.  I watched him slice one of those big hams and then cover it with brown sugar and cinnamon.   And I mean cover it.  He was pouring mounds of sugary brown.  That surely made some serious glaze.  One of the guys there mentioned that he had never tried fried turkey before.  After brief discussion, Nathan grabbed the bag I brought and offered him a slice.  That bag was no sooner opened than everyone in that station was on the spot, reaching for a sample.  “We were just waiting for someone to be the first to open it.”  After I finished my cup of coffee, we prayed together and I bid them Happy Thanksgiving. 

Just have to say that I am really proud of those guys.  Some of them got to see their families later in the day when the feasts were all prepared.  The department is really good about allowing families to come to the stations on occasions like this.  Some guys were there to work so that others on shift could take an hour or two and run to their own homes and have a meal with their family there.  Others wouldn’t see family until they got off shift the next day.  Appreciate your first responders, my friends.  The sacrifices they make include more than just running into burning buildings.

Psalms 5:3 says, “In the morning, O Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.”

Father thank you for the care provided by first responders.  Bless them on their working holidays.  And watch over their families.  Amen.

November 23 – “Reader’s Digest version …”

Here’s the Reader’s Digest version of yesterday’s events.  I’m heading out to make a round of all the fire stations today to wish the guys on shift a Happy Thanksgiving.  Gotta try to get back by noon since we have a boatload of people coming over to the house. 

Did some computer-oriented work yesterday.  Checked on our order for Spanish-English New Testaments for the Alvin Ministry Christmas gifts.

Texted the Bee Guy to see if he is still coming to get rid of our bee problem at church.  Yep, he still hasn’t made it out.  Hope we can clear it out before Bethlehem Street Market on the 9^th.

Worked on some Dad gifts (Those spectacularly personal gifts I give to the adults in my immediate family.  They are “Dad gifts” because Chris refuses to allow her name to be associated with them in any way) while Chris cleaned house for our impending Thursday influx of people.  Aaaand … then I helped Chris clean house.  How did I think I was gonna get around that, anyway?

Noa came over for a while.  She surprised us.  Out of the blue she started a pillow fight.  One would think that child has four brothers.  Oh, wait.  She does …

She finally settled back into somewhat normal stuff.  She worked really hard on a letter to Santa.  But she addressed it to his elves.  That was, in her words, “in case he is busy sending some stuff to me or something.” 

Psalms 4:6-8 says,

“Many are asking, ‘Who can show us any good?’

Let the light of your face shine upon us, O Lord.

7 You have filled my heart with greater joy

than when their grain and new wine abound.

8 I will lie down and sleep in peace,

for you alone, O Lord,

make me dwell in safety.”

Father, watch over our first responders and hospital personnel in particular today.  Amen.

November 22 – “Frying ‘em up”

We woke up to two not-so-wonderful morning sounds yesterday.  One was the pitter patter, swoosh, boom of a really hard rain.  Not so good when we had 13 turkeys waiting in the fridge to be fried (Lots of family and friends coming over.  And some will go to my kids at the fire stations).  And then there was the chirping.  That annoying beep that could only be the battery going out in a smoke detector.  In our bedroom.  At 4:30 a.m.  I didn’t even try to get back to sleep.  Chris buried her head under the pillows and made it until 6:30 or so.  Once she was up I went ahead and changed out the batteries, so the racket finally stopped.  So did the rain, for the most part.  Well, except for a shower or two throughout the day.  But we handled that situation with the first time use of our canopy tent.  Fortunately, by the time the next wave of rain came through, Nathan was already here.  They use their canopy extensively, so he helped me set it up.  Velcro and buttons.  Not too confusing, even for my weak mind.

So let me back up a little bit.  Since I was up so early anyway I decided to assemble the new fryers we just got on sale at Academy.  How hard could that be?  Well … they decided not to put anything together.  I mean down to parts of the guts of the operation.  Tiny screw goes here.  Slide through that hole there.  Make sure that piece is close enough to touch the flame.  Leave the last three threads open (Yep, it really said that.  I could barely see the threads, much less count them).  I got it all done, though.  And the second one was much easier to assemble than the first.  My only issue with the construction was, and always has been, the built-in timer.  You have to make sure it has been turned or the flame won’t light.  And then it automatically shuts everything off after fifteen minutes.  I guess that’s supposed to be a security measure to make sure somebody checks on it every so often.  But fifteen minutes?  On a turkey fryer?  It’s going to take at least an hour to cook just one turkey.  And when you are doing 13, a timer is just annoying.  Our answer to the timer issue is … duct tape.  Wrapped it up solid so there is no way it could advance. 

So Nathan and Cailyn came over around nine or ten.  April followed later when she woke up (She worked the night before).  It was a huge help to have Nathan around to help lift the turkeys in and out of the pots.  I managed to last through carving all but the last two.  Cailyn worked really hard, too.  She helped Chris with all the baking for Thanksgiving.  I saw a pumpkin pie, an apple pie, a pecan pie.  Saw some made from scratch chocolate chip cookies, too.  I may or may not have snuck one of those, just to make sure they were edible, of course.

In case you were wondering … lunch on Thursday starts around noon.  Come join us!

Psalms 4:5 says, “Offer the sacrifices of righteousness, and trust in the Lord.”

Father, thank you for Nathan and Cailyn’s help yesterday.  Bless them for that.  Amen.

November 21 – “The Annoying Game”

Good news on the Fritz front.  He has no intestinal parasites.  No worms of any kind.  All negative.  The creepy crawly things Chris saw were just some simple little maggots that got “deposited” before she found the pile.  Thank you, Mother Fly, for that unnecessary scare.  It would have been nice had the vet’s office just called us with the results.  But oh, no.  They needed to see him with their own eyes.  Had to get in that extra $50 for the vet to listen to him breathe.  Add to that the heartguard medicine we were out of, and it became quite an expensive little pile of poop.  But in the end, Fritz is doing well … for a 77 year old.

Cailyn came over and spent the day with us.  She joined us on a jaunt to Walmart to get some last minute supplies for Thursday.  I pushed the basket and she rode in it.  I have to say, it made for an exciting combination.  Between us we “helped” Chris “remember” several items that looked really good to us.  Of course every now and then Cailyn would get overly ambitious.  She started grabbing whatever she was close to in the aisle and trying to put in in the basket.  It was like shopping with a two year old (Not that I was encouraging her or guiding the basket closer to “certain items”).  Good ol’ Nani stayed very calm through the whole thing, and patiently made Cailyn return the unwanted groceries.  At one point she threatened to make Cailyn eat whatever she put in the basket.  That was after some strange-looking noodles showed up. 

At one point when Chris was away from the basket getting something we really needed, Cailyn leaned forward and whispered to me, “Let’s be very annoying to Nani.”  Well, I wasn’t sure how much more annoying she could take, but, hey, I was in.  In fact, I started.  She came back to the cart and I asked, “Do we need some sugar?”  Chris replied “No.”  I countered, “Well, I do,” and puckered up for a kiss.  She glanced up at me and rather icily replied, “No.”  Ouch.  The Annoying Game didn’t look like it would go very well for me.  So Cailyn took over, and I have to hand it to her, she was, well, masterfully annoying.  One would think she had done this before.  “Hey, Nani, are we done yet?  Hey, Nani, hurry up.  Hurry up.  Hurry up.  Hey, Nani, can we get that?  Hey, Nani, hurry up.”  And on and on.  She even got other shoppers chuckling at her antics.  One lady even stopped and told her she shouldn’t tell an older woman to hurry up like that.  Of course the admonition lost its strength when the lady grinned and winked.  And Nani?  Totally impervious to it all.  That’s one amazing woman.

Last night we had to take another quick field trip.  We have been putting together gifts for the children in Tushka, Oklahoma, who sent us relief supplies after Hurricane Harvey.  The last thing we needed was some salt water taffy from LaKing’s on the Strand, a place here that pulls its own taffy right where people can watch.  Yesterday we got word that the folks who are taking the gifts are leaving today for Oklahoma.  That meant a fast run downtown to try to get there before closing time.  Chris didn’t know if we could make it, but Cailyn encouraged her to give it a try.  Cailyn’s words?  “You just have to believe in yourself, Nani.”  How can we not try after a Hallmark urging like that?  We raced to the car and drove carefully down the fastest route to LaKings.  And the road was blocked.  Construction.  A block further away.  Two blocks.  Finally, an opening.  The lights are still on.  That much is encouraging.  But where will we stop?  No problem for Chris.  She pulled up in front of the store and stopped in the middle of the street.  Cailyn and I leapt from our seats and raced to the door.  And … we made it.  Two minutes to spare.  Chris found a parking space and made her way in (I’m not sure, but I think she either had to bribe the doorman or sneak in when some other customers left).  Cailyn and I counted out our 125 pieces of candy (well, it was actually closer to 127 pieces, but they sold it by the pound, so what’s two extra pieces in a granddaughter’s belly?).  And we were done.  Mission successful.  The gifts are ready to go.

Psalms 4:4 says, “In your anger do not sin; when you are on your beds, search your hearts and be silent.”

Father, thank you for field trips with eight-year-olds.  Keeps me feeling young.  Amen.

November 20 – “The three visitors”

“The three visitors.”  No, this isn’t a Christmas post about the wise men. 

Once again we had numerous visitors at church yesterday.  Now, most Sundays it is impossible for me to remember the names of all the people I meet.  And of course many times I am meeting someone for the second or third time, and I still can’t recall their names.  Yesterday, though, I finally reached a milestone.  I remembered not one, but three new names of folks visiting with us. 

I struck up a conversation before the service began with one couple and their son, a young man who looked to be in his twenties.  The lady was a real gem.  She was the one who pointed out to me that she was surrounded by two of the Lord’s apostles.  I must have looked a bit confused, because she hurriedly pointed at her husband and said, “He’s Thomas … Doubting Thomas?”  I grinned in recognition.  Then her thumb swung the other direction toward her son, and she introduced him as “John, the Beloved.”  She then said, “The only thing is, John’s middle name is Thomas.”  I stopped her right there.  Way too much conflicting information.  She then introduced herself.  Sadly I cannot for the life of me recall her name, though.  But she continued, “You probably won’t remember me, so just see me as the Alien in the bunch.”  Thomas, John and the Alien.  Got it.

And then I moved across the aisle to greet another couple who had arrived.  This one was a mother and her adult son.  The mom just moved to Jamaica Beach.  The son was visiting her.  Again, I have no idea what Mom’s name was, but … are you ready for this one? … The son’s name was Nathaniel.  Yep.  Three of the apostles right there in church worshipping with us.  Kind of intimidating. 

Psalms 3:8 says, “From the Lord comes deliverance.  May your blessing be on your people.”

Father, would you bless those three guys and the ladies as well?  Give them a happy week.  Amen.

November 19 – “Wait. What wormage was within?”

Well, we couldn’t put it off any longer.  Here it is, the end of November, and what did we find ourselves doing yesterday?  Mowing the grass.  Oh, and working to clean out flowerbeds.  I’m hoping this will be the last mowing event of the year, but I’m not holding my breath.  After all, we do live in a tropical island paradise. 

We did run into a bit of a crisis during our work.  While I mowed and edged Chris did her typical poop patrol run.  Yep, anytime we have grandkids coming over, she heads to the back yard with gloves and an old WalMart bag and does her best to clear out all the accumulated dog poop.  Not a particularly glamorous job, but as she says, someone’s gotta do it.  We can’t have our little ones stepping in piles of poop and bringing it back into the house with them. 

But here’s the thing.  In one of her poop grabs she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.  Could it really be?  Forced to investigate, she opened her hand for a closer look.  Sure enough, the poop was not alone.  It was moving.  To her credit, I guess her nursing instincts kicked in.  She got an old prescription jar and meticulously carved out a stool sample, replete with wormage.  She even brought it out to show me, so I could join her in experiencing this marvel of anatomical discharge.  It was rather disconcerting. 

Now we have been noticing over the last week or so that Fritz has not looked himself.  Combining that with the relative size of the poop pile, Chris discerned that he must be the carrier of the offending parasites.  Since I was still engrossed (and now, even more than ever) in edging the front yard, she called the vet to see what his recommendation was.  He was, of course, quite impressed with the knowledge that we had some of the critters captured and ready for transport.  We were instructed to bring them in for testing, and Fritz was issued an appointment for Monday morning.  Sigh.  There goes a chunk of Christmas money … (Aren’t you glad I didn’t continue that thought to include any appropriate – or inappropriate – allusions?).

Psalms 3:5 says, “I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the Lord sustains me.”

Father, would you help old Fritz get through the next few days so we can get him looked at on Monday?  Amen.

November 18 – “Getting Ready”

We checked on our friends from Arlington yesterday.  The ones who had a moving van load of furniture and clothes and other stuff from 40+ years of marriage catch fire on its way to their new home here in Galveston (It was somewhere near Houston). The trailer had a flat tire, and as the movers were easing to the side of the road, apparently some of the sparks made their way into a tiny hole in the frame.  By the time the movers got over to check out the tire, they could see smoke pouring from the hole.  And of course the hole was right in the center of the van.  Once the fire was out, they changed the tire and continued with the delivery.  They have all the smoke-damaged stuff under tarps in the back yard now.  As it turned out, the moving company had no insurance to cover the contents.  Looked pretty bleak … until our friends mad a phone call and verified that the homeowner’s insurance that they canceled effective, well, today, would indeed cover all their losses.  The moving van people have assured them that they will help with all the deductibles involved.  They assured us that they are doing fine while waiting for all the insurance red tape.  In case their daughter is listening … Larissa, we gave Mom and Dad a hug for you.

On the way home we made our yearly stop at the Moody Methodist craft fair.  That’s the one that co-opted our name.  They call it the Seaside Craft Festival.  We snagged a few books from their library clean-out, but mainly just strolled around looking for things Chris could do.  Oh, and people-watching of course.  We saw Laura and her goat factory soaps and lotions.  And April snuck up on us and said hello.  One of the vendors who has already signed up for our craft show in December (9^th) stopped us and asked if I could figure out the symbolism of one of his new creations.  Lots of pressure, too.  He said he had asked a few people already and no one got it right.  He was excited about coming to our show so he could “ask the pastor what he though.”  I studied the details of the cross he held before me, pondering whatever he could mean.   I even came up with something.  Not what he had in mind, though.  After he showed me what he intended, of course I could see it exactly.  I encouraged him to give it a name to make it easier to see his vision.  Something like, “Christmas Star Cross.”  It is a beautiful item, by the way.  It would make a great Christmas gift.  Come get you one on the 9^th. 

The rest of our errand run involved getting ready.  We went to Academy and got two new turkey friers and some oil.  Once we get some propane tanks that actually dispense propane, we will be ready to do some frying.  Then we stopped by Home Depot to get some more dropped ceiling panels and clips for hanging garland at the church.  We are just about ready for our Hanging of the Greens fellowship after church on December 3^rd. 

Psalms 3:3-4 says, “But you are a shield around me, O Lord; you bestow glory on me and lift up my head.  To the Lord I cry aloud, and he answers me from his holy hill.”

Father, help us to get ready for the things that matter … like loving you and loving people.  Amen.

November 17 – “Proving me wrong”

Yesterday was one of those days.  I know, that could literally mean anything depending on who says it.  In my case, in this particular blog situation, however, it means that, well, nothing much happened yesterday.  Now here’s where I try to track our footsteps and prove myself wrong.

We did our walk and exercise regimen after being off for four days.  It was easier to accomplish after all that rest, but I’m kind of sore this morning.  Chris cleaned house for home group, and I even did the vacuuming.  Then after getting cleaned up we headed out to run errands.  Asleep yet?  We stopped by the bank to make a deposit.  Still doing our banking the old school way.  Oh, we are set up to do online stuff, and I do that occasionally, but there’s nothing quite like getting to know a banker.  Never know when it might come in handy. 

Next stop was Randalls for some fruit and to pick up a prescription for Chris.  While in line at the pharmacy an old guy wearing a World War II Marines veteran cap asked the fellow behind me (who was just a bit older than me, himself), if he would mind holding his place in line while he sat down for a few minutes to rest his bad leg.  He assured the old fellow that he would.  Well, Chris and I heard the interchange, so I struck up a conversation with the guy behind us and asked if he would mind if we let the old guy go in front of us.  He was readily in favor of the plan.  As we continued our chat he asked about my fire department hat, and we shared which neighborhoods we lived in.  I told him I was born here in 1953.  He said he arrived on the Island in 1956.  Just a couple of salt between the toes, long-time Galvestonians.  Always good to find a kindred spirit. 

Then we headed to Walmart … of course.  We did have a plan this time, though.  Turkeys.  Next week is Thanksgiving, which means next Tuesday is turkey fry day.  So we had to grab ten of the right sized beasts.  Fortunately we got there just after a bin-stocking, so we loaded up on 14-15 pounders.  Why so many?  Well, we will have the whole family over, plus some Seasiders are planning to join us.  We also freeze as much as we can to use throughout the year.  And we’ll give some away, so it will all find a place by the end of next week.  It took some maneuvering, but Chris managed to find a place for all the birds in the fridge until we can fire up the fryers next week. 

As I was studying for the home group Bible study I got an email from the daughter of some good friends from Arlington.  Her parents are finally making the big move to Galveston and their retirement home here.  But they ran into a problem on the way down here.  One of the two trucks that was hauling their belongings caught fire.  I don’t know how much was destroyed, but everything in there was at least water or smoke affected.  Their daughter was asking if we could stop by their house today and give them a hug.  That sounds doable. 

Bible study went well.  Ten of us talking about manna from heaven (The kind in the Book of Exodus).  After everyone left we crashed on the couch with an orange and watched a Hallmark Christmas movie. 

So there you have it.  We have reached the end of our day.  One of those days.  I guess we did end up accomplishing something, though, didn’t we?

Psalms 1:6 says, “For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish.”

Father, thank you for giving us one more of those days.  Be with the Philpot’s as they sort through their stuff.  Amen.

November 16 – “Dance. Dance. Dance”

I guess I haven’t mentioned much about the conference itself.  The business was all very … boring.  All straightforward maintenance stuff like electing officers and adopting resolutions to thank the venue and the people who worked on the convention committee.  I did hear that they are moving it to Arlington next year.  We did hear a pretty good sermon, though.  It took a while for the guy to get started.  He was kind of intimidated by his preaching professor being in the audience, but once he stopped worrying about “proper style” and just went to preaching, he was really good.  He had three or four lists of points, but one thing I thought was catchy: “When we allow what’s ABOVE us to get IN us, only then can we handle what’s AROUND us.”  Yep.

Before I go any further, just to make things perfectly clear … AnnaGrace did say DadDad.  Numerous times.  Appropriately.  That and her all in style of taking a break (just flopping down on the carpet on her back with her arms out to the side) captured my heart.  Luke showed his creative side.  He was playing with a pirate ship when suddenly a giant whale (I suppose they have a Jonah play set or something) leapt from the depths and landed on the masts of the schooner.  The pirates did their best to fight against him, but to no avail.  Caleb and I had a run-in while playing a card game (The name of the game had something to do with exterminating vermin in a certain northern African country).  Part of the excitement involved being the first one to slap the cards when a double is played (like two jacks in a row).  He leaned way over into my line of attack, so the next time a double showed up, I smushed his face into the ottoman we were using as a table.  Sure surprised him, but we laughed about that all the way up until I did it again.  And again.  And again.  Speaking of card games, Zak displayed his victory dance for us.  His Daddy told him he couldn’t swing his hips in any way, so he figured out a way to compensate.  And he looked like a TV star.  No, not in general.  A very specific TV star.  Remember Erkel?  Picture him.  Hips pushed out in front, head down, arms stiff as a board.  And then the arms move back and forth, allegedly in time to the music, but if anyone is watching the music becomes irrelevant.  It’s too funny a sight to bother with things like timing.  And timing was not really a factor in his other dance move, one he called The Seizure.  No explanation necessary.  The dancing segment was even better when Zak took it upon himself to train Luke in proper techniques.   That we have a video of.  All three of them in dance mode.  Great fun.

Eccl 3:1 & 4 says, “There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven — 

4 A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance.”

Father, thank you for the unbridled fun of three brothers dancing.  Amen.