Sunday

Bounce did well in his crate over night. I'm sure that he's not at all happy about the situation, but he is going to learn who's in charge, and it is most certainly not him.

I was sitting on the porch this morning reading and the birds were going crazy. Quite the racket. When I spied our neighbor's cat sitting about 30 feet up in a tree. I was just about certain that someone was going to have to rescue the darn thing when he politely walks right down the tree and jumped safely into the yard. Not to think this was some herculean effort - the tree is sloped and the jump wasn't any higher than 10 feet.

The dragonflies have been darting here and there virtually all day. One minute they are basking in the sunshine on the sidewalk the next they are on the stump in the yard. They look like miniature airplanes taking off and landing here and there. Sometimes barely stopping, only briefly allowing their feet to make contact with a solid surface before they are off again to a new place.

Around midday I gathered up the weedkiller and headed out to get rid of various bits of undergrowth and small trees. I've noticed as the tall weeds have died off the back neighbors cat have been retreating into his heavily overgrown yard. If nothing else I am depriving them of their hiding places in our yard. Perhaps before the end of summer they will have withdrawn from our yard for the most part.

Before dinner we caught sight of a Blue Bird enthusiastically enjoying the bird bath in the backyard. With time I do hope to see more and more of him and his other feathered friends.


Email & Newsletter Gleanings:

Thought For The Day: “Even after the recent Super Bowl victory of the New Orleans Saints, I have noticed a large number of people implying with a lot of bad jokes that Cajuns aren't smart. I would like to state for the record that I disagree with that assessment. Anybody that would build a city 5 feet below sea level in a hurricane zone and fill it with Democrats is a genius”. -- Larry the Cable Guy

"Where are the Nail Clippers"

I have the power of attorney for an 88 year old spinster woman who is confined to bed in a local nursing home. She has been a part of our church family for all of the 13.5 years that I have pastored at Westside Bible Church. Amongst my duties as POA (an acronym not far from POW for a reason) is shopping for personal items that she needs brought to the home.

That is how I came to be in the Shoppers Drug Mart this afternoon on a quest of senior proportions. It was my job to hunt down a bottle of Estee Lauder “YouDew” perfume, a mirror small enough to see one’s chin but not large enough to see one’s face, and some large nail clippers.

I was not feeling particularly enthusiastic about doing this shopping because I knew it was going to take me into parts of the store where I was going to have to ask for help. I have never been good at finding specific things in stores and as I get older (I am 44) I can see I’m getting even worse at item specific browsing.

So in full acknowledgement of my weakness I made a beeline to the perfume department and asked the perfume lady outright if they had the particular brand I was seeking. After a long look at every label on every shelf she broke the news to me that they did not. I thanked her and got out of there.

Next on my mental list: the compact mirror. I began to wander aisle after aisle in the hopes that its shiny nature would catch my eye and I would not need to painfully ask for help again. Once I started getting into bleaches and detergents I knew I had gone too far and headed back in the direction I had come. Along my path of repentance I encountered the perfume lady again. From the look on her face it was clear I was projecting a sad demeanor of lostness as she looked at me with an “ahh did you wander away from home and get stuck out in the cold rain without your mommy can I help you (again)” look.

“I’m looking for a small mirror” I said in the best “I’m OK” voice I could muster. She lead me off to the makeup section (which is why I was never going to find a mirror on my own) and pointed to a few on display so I was sure to not miss them. I picked up a small a mirror, made sure I could see only my goatee in it, and hightailed it to a more male-friendly part of the store. Surely nail clippers would be near something more comfortable like tooth brushes, wart remover, or body waxing even.

Alas, my browsing blindness quickly kicked in again and I returned to walking aisles aimlessly as before, but now with the added pressure of not running into the perfume lady again. Once again kitchen cleaners made me realize I was way off track so I retreated to the end of a row a few aisles back. As I stood there listening for the “Here we are!” cry of nail clippers somewhere in the store, I looked around and over to the pharmacy counter where I saw a young woman my eldest daughter’s age working. I thought about asking her where the nail clippers were but then I wondered if she might think I was dumb asking a pharmacy person for directions to something that was neither taken internally nor applied topically.

I continued to stand there, undoubtedly looking lost and alone, as I pondered the vocational appropriateness of asking that girl for help. I glanced over at her thinking that maybe she would offer help and save me the embarrassment of doing so. At that very moment she did look over at me and gave me back a very subtle “I understand your embarrassment” look before returning to the work she was doing. Unexpectedly shunned, I turned and stared blankly at the shelves in front of me.

I was standing in front of the condom display.

Not wanting to appear lost suddenly didn’t seem like the worst impression I could leave on the employees of the store so I went to the pharmacy girl and very clearly stated, “For the life of me I can’t find nail clippers.” She was very nice, pretended to believe me and pointed me back across the store . . . where the perfume lady saw me.

Test Drive

I stopped by the Toyota Dealership yesterday for a look at the new Tacoma. Just for fun, I took it out for a test drive. I wanted to sense that new "feel" before they become extinct...

The salesman (wearing an Obama "change" lapel pin) sat in the passenger seat describing the truck and all its "wonderful" options. The seats were of particular interest. He explained that the seats directed warm air to your butt in the winter and directed cool air to your butt in the summer heat.

Feeling like messing with his mind, I mentioned that this must be a Republican truck. Looking a bit angry, he asked why I thought it was a Republican truck. I explained that if it were a Democrat truck, the seats would blow smoke up your butt year-round.

I had to walk back to the dealership......damn guy had no sense of humor.