Author: Sandy

Moving Pictures

On By SandyIn Doing things differently, Growing Older But Not Up, Love2 Comments

I have a sink full of dirty dishes waiting for me, but MyTallerHalf (MTH) insists that I need to head over to Life in Pixley to talk about his stellar selections of movies this weekend. I am happy to oblige.

I should mention first off that Pixley does not have a movie theater, though an old marquee downtown shows that wasn’t always the case. When we want to see a movie in a theater, it involves crossing county or state lines. Usually, we watch films at home,

I should also mention that our tastes in movies vary quite a bit. We are of one mind that The Lord of the Rings — both the books and the movies — is vastly superior to all other choices. Otherwise, I tend to prefer romantic comedies, light fantasy, and science fiction if it isn’t too bleak,. I don’t mind a bit of violence if it is necessary and the ending is uplifting. I love The Patriot, Braveheart, and Gladiator. I hate Pulp Fiction. I tend to become emotionally involved with a movie, and when I’m watching, I get pulled into the story. I don’t like distractions or interruptions. I also don’t enjoy sad movies. Life is hard, and I do not need reminders. I can take a little of the bittersweet — think Steel Magnolias — but most of the time, I think bittersweet is best left to chocolate.

MTH loves the darkly emotional. He revels in the poignant. He enjoys a good tragedy. This makes him a deeper, more complex individual than I am. I like The Secret of Roan Inish. Nothing lifts the spirits like seals, selkies, Irish music, and a couple of nice kids fixing up the cottage for their grandparents. That’s entertainment!

Watching movies with MTH is not a passive activity. This was one of the most difficult hurdles I have had to face in being his wife. He watches a movie with his iPad opened to IMDb. He sometimes stops the movie to tell me some anecdote about the making of it or something about the actors. Sometimes, he asks me to back it up to look at some obscure detail. The topic of whether the actors are still alive is always addressed. We are at that age where obituaries are beginning to get a bit personal.

To be honest, I hated this at first. But after a few years of this, I find myself asking the questions for Mr. IMDb to research. I learn a lot from him. Instead of viewing something quietly side by side, we are engaged with both the movie and each other. MTH makes watching a movie an interactive event.

This weekend, we watched two movies, both of his choice. The first was Stalag 17. I’ve heard about it all my life, but I have never watched it. War movie. Ick. He was right. It was a terrific film, though not at all like Hogan’s Heroes as I expected. Five stars!

Tonight, we watched Hoosiers in memory of Gene Hackman. I was not happy at the prospect. Sports movie. There are a lot of great sports movies, but rarely would they be a top pick. He already convinced me to watch Field of Dreams, and I liked it, but Slap Shot was depressing. I was not optimistic, but MTH was right again. I thoroughly enjoyed it and was cheering the team on throughout the film. Underdog overcoming adversity, decent guy helping others, a budding romance — what’s not to like?

I love watching movies with MTH now. I love his passion and perspective. I love the way he catches things I miss. I am even slowly, grudgingly learning to appreciate a few movies outside of my comfort zone. Just spending time with him is a pleasure.

Epilogue

I woke up at 4:00 a.m., and MTH was not beside me. I padded out to the living room, where he sat staring at his phone.

Are you okay?

Yes, I’m just watching this movie with Buster Keaton in it. It’s amazing.

Buster Keaton? Oh, brother!

But I sat down and he screencast it to the television. We both spent the next hour talking and laughing while watching a film made 100 years ago. In those moments, all was right with the world … or at least, in Pixley.


Snow Day Part Deux

On By SandyIn Doing things differentlyLeave a comment

MyTallerHalf (MTH) was trying to reach our local StuffMart to see if his prescription was ready. He tried and tried but couldn’t get through, so he thought he would get some news from the Pixley PD. He called PPD and was forwarded to the county sheriff’s office and was informed that the roads are fairly clear but PPD is closed today for snow. Five inches of snow. And we’re the county seat!

I love this place.

Snow Day

On By SandyIn Faith, Growing Older But Not Up, Storms, WeatherLeave a comment

The excitement has been building for days. Forecast models began showing the possibility of snow across the Gulf Coast. I have been dreaming of experiencing a really good snow since I was a little girl. I wanted White Christmas complete with sleigh bells. I wanted to build a snowman, to ride on a sled, to throw a snowball, and make snow angels. Every corny Christmas movie scene was attractive to me, and I wanted to experience it all — just once. But as the decades rolled by, I was becoming resigned to the fact that I probably would not.

MyTallerHalf (MTH) is less enthralled with snow than I am. He has seen it. He has experienced it. The sound of snow crunching under his feet sets his teeth on edge. Be sure to make the snow angel first thing, warning me by his tone that it is the last thing I should do. Apparently, they never tell you in the movies that the snow melts, and your back ends up cold and wet.

Our dog shares MTH’s sentiments. I had imagined her barking and leaping to catch snowflakes on her tongue. Instead, she did her level best to avoid any contact with them. Not everyone sees the wonder.

I have been glued to James Spann’s YouTube channel, worried about my citrus trees and the strawberries I had just planted, yet expectant. Day by day, it seemed more certain that it would snow clear down to the beaches. At first, it was half an inch, then one inch, then two. When they reported an improbable six to eight inches, the excitement was palpable.

Yesterday afternoon, it began. It started with a few flakes so small they reminded me of dandruff. I am not completely new to snow. I have seen a few flurries. I remember it snowing in Orlando in 1977. It melted when it hit the ground, but I made a tiny snowman on my mother’s car. I was in college during Snow Jam ’82. The amount of snow on campus was disappointing, but Atlanta was shut down for days. I have seen snow in Montreal when I visited a cabane à sucre with friends. A few flakes fell, and there were mounds of dirty snow frozen solid along the edges of streets and paths. No snow angels, snowmen, or snowball fights were to be had, though we did ride in a wagon pulled by a horse with sleigh bells. That was lovely.

The snow kept coming, faster and harder, with fat flakes easily seen. At first, they dusted the ground, then there were patches of white, and after a couple of hours, there was a proper blanket of snow across our yard. It was so quiet. So perfect. The snow continued to fall.

The world was not completely silent. The birds were frantic. They seemed to sense the oncoming storm and continued to chirp and to empty our feeder as the snow fell. Neighbors, young and not so young, trampled the snow in the street in front of our house. Occasionally, the silence was interrupted by sounds of conversations, laughter, or an excited shout. Some had never seen snow in their lives. Some were reminiscing of past snows. There were no traffic sounds. Everything closed for the storm.

It was still snowing when I went to bed. When I woke up in the middle of the night, it was no longer snowing, but the ground was a thick blanket of white. Inside, it was cozy and warm. Outside, our lilies were covered in snow. MTH said it looked like 4-6″, and that seems about right. It will be a cold day. The snow will not melt right away. I thought of snowmen, snowballs, and snow angels. These are things I will probably not experience in my life, but I am content.

I experienced a really good snow, in Pixley, no less, and like every good and perfect gift, I know it came from our Father. I am still smiling, and I am sure He is smiling, too.

Heaven Bound

On By SandyIn FaithLeave a comment

Sean Dietrich (Sean of the South) is one of my favorite writers. Today, he shared a fan letter that asked why he talked about Heaven all the time but never about hell, so he shared a story of the DMV and an anecdote from his grandfather. It made me want to share my view and an anecdote as well. Maybe it’s because the DMV in Florida, in my experiences over the years and in many parts of the state, isn’t really a horrible place.

Hell is horrible. I don’t know if I would call it a place. The intricacies of time, space, and matter are tough enough to comprehend from an earthly perspective, but to attempt to understand it from an eternal perspective is impossible for me. I don’t know if it is a fiery pit, or if a fiery pit is the closest description that the human mind can grasp. I don’t think you can describe hell without first understanding Heaven.

In the Old Testament, people couldn’t be in the full presence of God without dying. Even when God came down to be with Moses, His full presence was hidden. God does not allow sin in His presence because His very nature will not allow it. Sin cannot exist in His glorious light. It burns away. We cannot carry a speck of it with us to Heaven. This is why we need the Savior, someone to take away our sin, someone whose act paid for our sins. Because of Jesus, we can spend eternity in the unveiled presence of Almighty God.

My Taller Half (MTH) and I talk about Heaven frequently. The prospect is getting closer every day. One way we talk about Heaven goes something like this.  When I get to Heaven, I want God to explain why X. The other will say, But when we get to Heaven, I doubt we will remember or care about X.  Or, I really want to see this truly evil person stand before God and get what is coming to him. The other will reply, But we are sinful people, too, and if not for Jesus, we would get what was coming to us. When we stand before God, we will be faced with the reality of our own sin and the price paid for them by Christ. After our sorrow, our minds and hearts will be filled to bursting with love, gratitude, and joy for His grace and mercy.

Hell is the opposite of Heaven. We cannot carry a speck of God there. It is a place where souls will be separated forever from the eternal light. Everything good will be gone. No rest. No food. No enjoyment of earthly pleasures. No kindness. No love. No amusements. No comfort of any kind. Only things that are not of God can be there. Just darkness. Emptiness. Loneliness. Anger. Bitterness. Hate. I was going to say regret, but I don’t believe there will be regret. For regret, you need to have at least an inkling of some better, brighter situation, better choices you could have made — some idea of good. Even the memory of good will be gone, because all good comes from God, and hell is complete separation from God. If hell is a literal fiery pit, the fire will shed no light nor bring any warmth — only endless burning.

Now for the anecdote. There once was a man. He was a good man in many ways — heroic, self-sacrificing, hard-working, generous, and compassionate. He had a very hard start in life by our standards, and one way he coped was to drink. When he drank, he lost the ability to control his violent emotions, and he said and did things to the people he loved that left terrible scars.

When he was in his mid-50s, the man had a serious heart attack. He nearly died, did die for a time, meaning his heart stopped while he was being treated. Once his situation was stable, his doctor told the family that if he didn’t change his ways, he would be dead within the year. His family, knowing his nature, began to consider his funeral.

But to their surprise, he did change. This is not to say he was suddenly perfect. He did not go to church before the heart attack, and he did not go after, but he stopped drinking. He stopped smoking, though he had smoked for over 40 years and failed attempts to quit many times. He stopped his brutal ways. He suddenly began to pay attention to religious television and radio, and he read his Good News for Modern Man. In his last days, decades later, a pastor visited him regularly and spoke with him about Christ, and he understood and believed.

But why the change? The man shared with his wife why things were different. During the heart attack, he had a near death experience. But the experience wasn’t of bright light and loving family members greeting him at the Pearly Gates. It was hell, and it scared the hell out of him. I don’t know if he shared any of the details with her, but he believed he was in hell or had a vision of hell, that he was hell bound, and he didn’t want to go there. On the surface, the changes were simply out of fear of death and what comes after. I believe it was grace. God offered the man favor he did not earn and answered the prayers of his wife and children in a Dickensian way.

I don’t spend a lot of time thinking of hell. I have no fear of going there, because I have God’s promise of salvation through his Son. I’d rather share the light and love of heaven than the fear of hell, though maybe some people need a vision of what hell might be. C. S. Lewis wrote a novel called, The Great Divorce. It is not about marriage or the ending of one. The title is a response to William Blake’s Marriage of Heaven and Hell. Lewis’s story is not scripture nor meant to be an authoritative commentary on heaven or hell, but there are truths to be found in his tale. It is short, it is thought provoking, and it is one of my favorite books. I highly recommend it.

Take it with you on your next trip to the DMV.

Thanksgiving

On By SandyIn Faith, Food, Love, PeopleLeave a comment

It is popular to tear down traditions. People do it with glee. There isn’t a holiday on the calendar that hasn’t been derided by some group or another. Thanksgiving is a popular target. From PETA to groups that decry the cruelty of colonialism to atheists who claim there is no One to thank, people love to tear it down. They even love to tear down the family. “A real family is made of the people you love.”

The family is God’s creation. God commands us to honor our parents. He doesn’t say to honor our parents if they deserve it. God says children are a blessing. Yes, even the ones that drive us crazy! God gifts us with our family. Sometimes He gifts us with new people, friends and neighbors, giving those who have no one a place where they are appreciated and belong. That’s a good thing. But that does not mean we can abandon father and mother, sister and brother. Yes, every family has a member or two who are difficult, perhaps even more than difficult. Some of them may be (and I am beginning to hate this catch word) toxic, and in some cases, distance can be helpful for a time. Perhaps that difficult person is you. Or me.

But God created the family. He created it for our good. He created it to be a place where people look out for each other, where the unlovely are still loved, where the unkind are shown kindness, where charity and mercy are practiced daily. Everyone loves people who are nice to them, who agree with them, who are easy and fun and supportive. Family is the training ground where we learn to love the unloveable, to forgive what seems unforgivable, and to spread God’s grace and mercy and peace to flawed humanity.

Thanksgiving is a time of gathering. We gather as friends and family. As neighbors and congregations. Thanksgiving is a time of working out differences. Of good-natured arguments over food or football. Of sharing with and caring for those in need. But mostly, Thanksgiving is a time to count our blessings and to be grateful to God for all His good gifts. And while we should be thankful every day, the food and the customs of this day connect us as a nation, connect us to past generations and to the future.

So yes, we can talk about conspicuous consumption or the value of the turkey as a main dish or pumpkin as a dessert. We can argue about politics or climate change. We can bluster about Commanders or Cowboys. But then we can bow our heads and spend a few moments thanking God for all that He as given us, to ask His blessing on those in need, on our nation, on friends and neighbors, and on the flawed people He has gathered together called our family. We can thank Him for His faithfulness when we were unfaithful, for being a Father to the fatherless, for loving us and forgiving us when we were unlovely. We can thank Him for sending His son Jesus to atone for our sins and for adopting us into His family by grace through faith.

My Taller Half and I wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving from Pixley. May the Lord bless you today and always.

Extraordinary moments

On By SandyIn Faith, Love1 Comment

Tall Cat wanted to go outside, but when I opened the door, he stopped, looking out to see if there were any threats, looking in to see if there were any treats. I couldn’t stand there all day, so I shut the door. My Taller Half (MTH), who was busy making breakfast in the kitchen, called out “he’s only window shopping.”

By the time I turned on my computer in the office, Georgy Girl by The Seekers was playing in my head.

You’re always window-shopping
But never stopping to buy

I was just getting up to go thank MTH for the ear worm when I heard him whistling Georgy Girl from the kitchen. The song popped into his head, too, without him realizing why.

We share a common song bank from the ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s. Nothing surprising. It was just a simple moment. Nothing out of the ordinary. But in that instant, we were on the same wavelength, and I felt a rush of contentment, knowing there is no one else for me, no where else I would rather be. I was home.

People are always chasing the Big Thing — important jobs, fat bank accounts, faster cars, bigger houses, monumental events, over-the-top romance. More, more, and more. But people on the whole aren’t that happy. And because they aren’t happy, they chase the Next Big Thing or turn to alcohol or drugs or some other substitute to dull the pain.

The secret is to understand that life is a gift from God. When you know Him, when you are grateful for His good gifts, your eyes are opened to the extraordinary all around you. Those who seek Him have the opportunity to find joy everywhere. Alone or in marriage. In poverty or prosperity. In perfect health or in a sick bed. You can even, like the Apostle Paul, find freedom in a prison cell.

It is a simple concept but not easy. It takes discipline to look for those ordinary extraordinary moments of joy and contentment and thank God for them. In His grace, God sends a Helper through Christ to strengthen and encourage us in our faith. The more you look for things for which to be grateful, the easier they are to find. Reach for your inner Pollyanna and find reasons to be glad.

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 1 Thessalonians 5:16–18 (ESV)

This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24 (ESV)

Wishing you joy and contentment this day.

692

On By SandyIn Business, PeopleLeave a comment

It has been a while since our travels took us by the lumber mill. Unable to contain his curiosity, My Taller Half called the mill to check on the men and women working there. The receptionist was happy to chat with him and informed him that, thanks to everyone working together, they have enjoyed 692 days without an accident. Both MTH and I are all smiles. Well done, folks! Well done!

Snakes Alive!

On By SandyIn Animals, PeopleLeave a comment

My Taller Half (MTH) and I were snuggled down to watch the ending of a gripping mini-series we’ve been watching for a while. We stopped a couple of months ago because we were getting close to the end. MTH doesn’t like endings. He likes to make it last. My memory isn’t as good as his, and I like to get lost in the story. A couple of months is a bit too much of a break for me.

But we watched the next to the last episode, and I didn’t want to stop. It was a rainy evening — no wind, no thunder and lightning, just a nice rainy evening — perfect for a movie night. We decided to finish it. We made it to the exciting part at the end when MTH muttered What do they want? before heading out the door.

I didn’t know who “they” were. I didn’t see or hear anything but the movie. But then I heard MTH’s booming voice talking to someone, and I thought I’d better pause the video and go check. There was a car in front of our house. It was running. The headlights illuminated something in the road. I was afraid it was a cat.

Is everything alright?

Honey, go get the snake hook.

Then I looked closer, and I saw large open jaws and fangs. I heard the word moccasin as I ran to the house. I was relieved it was not a cat, but a water moccasin is not a welcome guest.

You may wonder why we have a snake hook. MTH used to own a lawn care business, and on more than one occasion, having a snake hook came in handy. It was one of the things he kept when his business closed. He even brought it here, and it came in handy with my ball python a few times. When a friend of ours gave our ball python a new home, I felt a little bad that we didn’t give them the snake hook, but MTH said you never know when we would need one.

MTH ordered me to stay away from the snake. He took the hook from me.

Be careful! I’m pretty sure MTH thinks he’s invincible. It’s my job to remind him he is not.

He approached the snake. The man in the car had run over it two or three times, but the snake was still moving, and those jaws were looking for something to bite. After a couple of tries, MTH got the hook around the snake’s neck and with difficulty maneuvered him so the head was in front of the tires. The snake had already experienced the tire, and he didn’t want to be there. He even tried to bite the tire. But a couple of rolls back and forth on his head ended the snake.

Go check on Little Boy.

Little Boy is an adorable Manx cat who lives with us now. We’re like his grandparents. I found him, took him into the house, and looked for signs of bites. I held in my arms and looked for injuries. I turned him on his back and he purred. That is a good sign, right?

I went back outside and told MTH that Little Boy looked okay. He said he would be gone if he had been bitten. The snake was a bit of a mess, but it still looked like it wanted to do some damage. There is venom all over him — go get a couple of bags.

MTH knows his stuff. He used to live near a naval base further south, and he killed two water moccasins in his yard in one year. Neither of us are overly fond of killing snakes. They have their rightful place in the ecosystem. Water moccasins, also called cottonmouths, have a reputation for being aggressive, but mainly, they just want to eat frogs and small mammals. They are potentially deadly, yet they account for only 1% of snakebite deaths. Our university extension office says that there are about 7,000 – 8,000 venomous snakebites each year in the U.S. and only five or six deaths. So their reputation as a killer snake may be unwarranted. But they can kill you or, more likely, cause long-term injuries, so when one is trying to strike you or someone you love, it’s good to stack the odds.

Some neighbors came over and offered to bring some bags, but I was already on it. When I came back, a neighbor helped MTH and I double-bag the snake and dispatch him in the dumpster. Where did he come from? He needed to be near a pond, right?

There’s a pond behind our house, said a neighbor.

MTH said that the man in the car saw Little Boy trying to go fight him, and he got Little Boy out of harm’s way and hit the snake.

I don’t think small town life necessarily involves battles with venomous snakes, though it is a part of living in our state. Honestly, in nearly six decades of living here, I’ve seen water moccasins many times, but I’ve never had one in my yard. That was … disconcerting.

But what makes this a Pixley story is that a stranger stopped to protect a little cat from a snake and worked with MTH to dispatch him safely. And neighbors came out to check on Little Boy and help us clean up the remains. I love how people look out for one another. This can happen in big cities as well as small towns, but it doesn’t happen nearly enough.

With the excitement over, we said our goodnights and went back inside.

I watched the end of the show with my mighty warrior beside me and Little Boy safe at home. I do love a happy ending.


Grace and Gratin Dauphinois

On By SandyIn Faith, Food, GardeningLeave a comment

Ascension Sunday: My Taller Half (MTH) and I had a lovely drive to church this morning. We were happy to be with our church family and to worship the King. Afterward, we did our Bigger City errands, including picking up storm supplies, then we headed back home. We still had a lot of daylight ahead of us. I had plants to tend to and Sunday dinner to make.

The day before yesterday, I found some pole beans ready for harvesting, so I picked enough for a dinner. MTH asked for some pot roast to go with the beans and potatoes. The menu was set.

Today, I made my second attempt at potatoes au gratin. This time, I took Mastering the Art of French Cooking from the shelf. Reading the recipe made me wonder if it could possibly be better than the last one. It was a simpler recipe, less rich, less cheesy. In fact, she said you don’t even need to use cheese! Inconceivable!

But au gratin doesn’t specifically mean covered with cheese. The origins are a little misty, but it seems to mean a dish that is golden brown on the top, usually from browning cheese or buttered bread crumbs or, in this case, milk. One source said that au gratin is also used to describe the “top people” in society in the same way the upper crust came to mean people of worth or high social standing.

The alleged story behind upper crust is that, in the Middle Ages, the most honored guests at a meal would be offered the top crust of the bread. If you can imagine baking in a very unreliable and potentially dirty stone oven, the bottom of the bread would be more likely to be gritty, overdone, and tough. The top would be tender. I write alleged because there apparently isn’t a lot of evidence to support this theory, though it sounds plausible. One potential bit of evidence is John Russell’s, The boke of nurture, folowyng Englondis gise, written in the mid-15th Century.

Kutt ye vpper crust for youre souerayne. (Cut youe upper crust [of bread] for your sovereign)

https://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/upper-crust.html

The idea behind both phrases seems to be that the rich and powerful get the best food. I might argue that “peasant food” is some of the tastiest around, or even argue for the plausibility of the upper crust story, but I won’t argue French cooking with the Julia Child. Julia wouldn’t fail me, would she?

Julia’s recipe called for the dish of potatoes to be put on the burner to bring the milk up to a simmer before putting it in the oven. My Dutch oven would do that, but it was too big and deep for the potatoes. My pretty casserole dishes cannot be used on the stovetop. I was about to give up on the recipe when I realized that my largest cast iron skillet would be perfect. It can go from stovetop to oven, and the dimensions are just right. We fry bacon in it and make great pizza in it, so why not? Is there anything cast iron can’t do? Okay, it can’t go in the dishwasher, but we don’t own a dishwasher, so that is fine!

The kitchen was getting pretty hot by the time dinner was ready, and I was getting tired. MTH said the blessing, then we became quiet as we tested the results.

MTH smiled. Too good for anyone but us. MTH’s Auntie N— use to say that a lot.

Julia did not let us down. The potatoes were wonderfully creamy. They weren’t as rich as the first recipe, not as cheesy, but that wasn’t a negative. It was simply delicious. MTH said everything was perfect. He may have been buttering me up to encourage me to make it again, but I will take the compliment.

As I enjoyed the pleasure of a simple meal with my husband, I looked out the window at the gathering dusk. I love the play of light and dark between the last rays of the sun, the leaves of the trees, and the clouds in the sky. I silently thanked the Father for His grace, for this moment of contentment with my husband, and for Julia Child and her Gratin Dauphinois. Life is good.