I don’t like it when the dish water piles up in the sink because something is clogged in the bottom where the only resolution requires a hand plunge into the unknown past murky chunky water, down to the depths of slimy bacteria colonies into the garbage disposal where the culprit, whether it be an egg shell, a misguided spoon, or a piece of old watermelon lies comfortably.
I don’t like driving in a 40mph zone or any speed zone in that case, when a spider seems to appear out of no where from some hidden corner of the car and starts crawling from the dash over in the direction of the steering wheel and sets pose ready to spring board off into my face.
I don’t like it when a quick errand needs to be accomplished to Ralphs or Target and I sprint out of the house with bushy hair in a bushy bun, old saggy work pants, a well wrinkled and stained shirt, with my retainers still in my mouth and happen to run into old friends as I’m leaving the toilet paper isle who claim they haven’t seen me in “years” and that I “look so different” and have “changed and grown up so much” since I was a little girl.
I don’t like a lot of things...
I don’t like earthquakes. I don’t like feeling like things are out of my control when the world is rumbling. I don’t like people seeing me jump up out of my chair and perform a panic parade to the nearest door way.
I am not completely negative though.
I like a lot of things....
I like fresh watermelon and the look of a smooth running garbage disposal, I like driving in an insect free car, and I like running into people at the store. I also like the fact that God is always there to take care of me no matter how much the world rumbles and shakes.
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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