For some crazy reason, I'm volunteering in this kitchen, it's around lunch, and I'm hungry.
Oh is that grated cheese?
Yes it is. Hmmm it is on this cart, probably they are going to use it for the pizza.
mmmm yummy it looks like parmesan, and it’s around lunch time. Is anyone around? Good, that lady over there just left. A small piece would be nice, no wait, how about a handful. Yeah that’s better. O.k. quick I am going to shove it in my mouth now inconspicuously.
Oh my goodness it’s spoiled. . Warm, nasty…sweet! Gross. gross. How long has this been sitting here. All night? I've got to spit this out where is a trashcan. Oh no, people are coming I have got to be subtle. Yuck. They can’t see me spit this out. Pretend to smile. Keep mouth closed. Look busy. Look occupied. I am occupied with a huge dilemma. This cheese is going to kill me. Get me to the trashcan. Ohhh a paper towel. Yes, I’ll spit it in there. Hide by the sink yes that’s right. Don’t swallow. Rinse swish spit...rinse swish spit.
For some crazy reason, I'm volunteering in this kitchen, it's around lunch and I’ve lost my appetite.
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a whim of variety, an impulse of miscellaneous, an assortment of notions, and a varied fancy of yonder impressions
About Me
- RS
- I live in this state, down the street around the corner, on the right, in the neighboorhood with the tree lined street in my peach colored house with the lawn and the flowers and the small car in front. If you happen to pass by you may find me out watering and if this is so feel free to wave hello and I'll probably offer you some cold lemonade and oatmeal cookies and we could talk about the weather and such.
Thoughtful Thought of the Moment
It requries a grander heroism to stand and wait and not lose heart and not lose hope, to submit to the will of God, to give up work and honors to others, to be quiet, confident and rejoicing, while the happy, busy multitude go on and away. It is the grandest life "having done all, to stand".
From J.R. Miller in Streams in the Desert
"It isn't the thing you do, dear
It's the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you the bitter heartache
At the setting of the sun;
The tender word unspoken
The letter you did not write
The flower you might have sent, dear
Are your haunting ghosts at night.
The stone you might have lifted,
Out of your brother's way,
The bit of heartsome counsel
You were hurried too much to say;
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
The gentle and winsome tone,
That you had no time or thought for,
With troubles enough of your own.
These little acts of kindness,
So easily out of mind,
These chances to be angels,
Which even mortals find-
They come in night and silence,
Each chill reproachful wrath,
When hope is faint and flagging
And a blight has dropped on faith.
For life is all too short, dear.
And sorrow is all to great,
To suffer our slow compassion
That tarries until too late.
And it is not the thing you do, dear,
It's the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you the bitter heartache,
At the setting of the sun."
-Adeladie Proctor
From J.R. Miller in Streams in the Desert
"It isn't the thing you do, dear
It's the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you the bitter heartache
At the setting of the sun;
The tender word unspoken
The letter you did not write
The flower you might have sent, dear
Are your haunting ghosts at night.
The stone you might have lifted,
Out of your brother's way,
The bit of heartsome counsel
You were hurried too much to say;
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
The gentle and winsome tone,
That you had no time or thought for,
With troubles enough of your own.
These little acts of kindness,
So easily out of mind,
These chances to be angels,
Which even mortals find-
They come in night and silence,
Each chill reproachful wrath,
When hope is faint and flagging
And a blight has dropped on faith.
For life is all too short, dear.
And sorrow is all to great,
To suffer our slow compassion
That tarries until too late.
And it is not the thing you do, dear,
It's the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you the bitter heartache,
At the setting of the sun."
-Adeladie Proctor