And now, for my next trick . . .

As I was making my lunch today, I felt as if I should make a hash mark . . . one meal down, who knows how many more to go! Like a prisoner counting off his days. It's not that I do not enjoy this life, and take full advantage of it, thanking God for every day and every good thing He gives me, it's just that I yearn-long-ache for the days when I won't have any anxieties about the future, about my health, about getting old; all that to say that I do so look forward to Heaven, when love's purest joys will be restored. This is not my home. It never has been and never will be. I can paint it the color I want, and decorate it, and make dear friends on earth, but "my citizenship is in Heaven." Jesus paid for my passport with His blood, and I look forward to the day when I will turn it in to Him in Heaven, and will need it no more.
Meannwhile, back on earth, I give my fears and anxieties to God, and His name calms my fears and bids my sorrows cease.

Flaneur

I think this may best describe me at this time. "One who strolls about aimlessly, a lounger, a loafer." In my current self-employment as a city-watcher, a casual observer of the comings and goings of people, trends, ways of thinking, (myself included), and also making a photographic record of my findings, I find interest and solace, and plenty of room for reflection and introspection. I have made a list (in no particular order) for others of you out there who are observers of the daily human person. These are the the things I do on a regular basis:

exercise
listen to music
read (The Bible, classic literature, educational material, something in Spanish, health, biographies)
write
think of dumb lists to post on my blog
pray
watch TV
dine out
go to church
socialize
take Rufus the dog for a walk
use rare vocabulary so as to appear smart
dole out home-made advice, wit, and humor
answer the doorbell

So there is a glimpse into my life. Enjoy!

Fffffffffttt!

Rufus is scared of his own farts. Sometimes I will hear the faint whisper of the aforementioned fart and then watch him frantically turn around to see if something is behind him, and then he'll run across the room, sometimes into my lap for protection from the small whisp of gas. Other times, I'll just hear his feet screeching on the tile, and see him whiz by at high speed; those times, I just know what happened. It's a good thing he doesn't eat many beans! Then again, my little dog may be pioneering the next fitness craze. If we all jumped up and ran across the room everytime we let a little gas pass, we'd all be in better shape.

Something of mine was stolen.

I know, I know, it happens to everyone. It just makes me really, really mad. Those were my CDs. I went to the store, and I bought them. So I thought I lived in a safer neighborhood. So I thought I had kinder neighbors. I didn't think I needed to lock my car every night. Well, my neighborhood (CD stealing aside) is NOT safe. There is no peace of mind on my quiet little suburban cul-de-sac. I have to lock my door during the day, when I'm home. You see, the safety and peace of mind in my neighborhood is dependant on one person-who happens to live next door-taking his medication. If he misses a dose, your'e likely to see an unwelcome grown man in your back yard in the middle of the night and you, of course will call the police, who will handcuff him and then unhandcuff him when his mother comes running out of the house, yelling, "He didn't take his meds! He didn't take his meds!"
The morals of this story: This world is full of sin and evil, even in cute little communities. Be safe; as unfair as it is to you and your freedom, lock your doors, and don't trust anyone . . . or just trust a few.