An Improbable Daydream

I watched "Dust to Glory" with my nephew the other day. It is a documentary on the Baja 1000. I remembered watching it a couple of years ago, and daydreaming then about forming a women's racing team. I, of course, would be on the team, along with my best friend. My friend Jen would also be on the team along with her best friend. I would also ask my friend, Jen's cousin, to be on the team to remind us that the Baja 1000 is not an ordinary road trip. My improbable daydream was never anything more than that, and probably never will be. Still, thinking about that dream brings tears to my eyes. Who would have thought a documentary about a 1000 mile race through the desert would be a tear-jerker?

Newest Happenings at the Homestead

Relatives coming today. SO EXCITED!! HOWEVER, our kitchen is scheduled for demolition bright and early Monday morning. I'm glad we'll be getting a new kitchen that much sooner, but I don't really think our guests will appreciate the boxes of pots and pans and other sundry kitchen stuff piled throughout the house, nor the makeshift kitchen in the guestroom. (Have you ever tried preparing an english muffin on the counter of a guest bathroom and then doing dishes in the bathroom sink?) So much for the alarm clock we bought for our guests. Who needs it when the jackhammers and nailguns start their demolishing work at dawn? Our guests will love it, I'm sure.

Last night was a gran fiesta for una amiga buena. It was a super fun, amazingly themed, Mexican party, complete with Lucha Libre wrestlers in the front yard.

3 PM today the relatives come and the mayhem begins. Tomorrow, Mr. M is playing some Latin percussion at church. Monday will mark the commencement of the demolition. Bring it on!

A Dog Obituary Written by My Sister

This is an obituary for a well-known and much-loved dog of Ventura, a golden retriever named Luke. The beloved and constant companion of Jim B., Lukey died suddenly and unexpectedly, but peacefully—without stirring or making a sound—during a short car ride on Friday, November 6. He was in the prime of his life at five and a half years of age.

Many in Ventura have thrilled to see Luke as he pranced about town. He and his elderly owner, Jim, were a perfect team and went everywhere together. Jim would ride on his red electric scooter, alongside of which Luke loved to prance as if on his tiptoes, with his beautiful coat swinging from side to side. Wherever the duo went, people young and old were magnetically drawn to Lukey’s joyful spirit and happy heart. “Can I pet your dog?” was often asked, for Luke’s big smile and gentle eyes held the promise of all that is good. Lots of love and happiness were exchanged between Lukey and his many well-wishers, always, it seemed, to the great benefit of both parties.

When let off his leash at the park, Luke would suddenly dash off running in great, exuberant figure eights, an expression of pure joy that was contagious to anyone present,
as he seemed to know quite well. He was a great dog.

My Friend Nichole

I remember my first car well. It was a yellow Dodge Caravan, given to me on the day of my high school graduation. My grandpa wasn't going to be needing it. So I inherited it. It may not have looked cool, but it was the very definition of teenage independence. I had started attending church a few years before I got the car. At church, I met a girl, one year younger than I (nothing now, but in high school, a year's difference and someone may as well be an alien or a person living in a different country.) Nichole and I became fast friends. We both enjoyed the normal teenage stuff-burgers and fries, boys, studying for math tests, etc.-but we also loved drama and making other people laugh at any expense, and we loved long theological conversations. Nichole was a candle-lighter in my wedding; I was a bride's maid in hers. We remained friends for 17 years. I spoke at Nichole's funeral last week. She was only 33. I have every confidence that we will be friends again someday, maybe even driving around in Heaven on streets of gold.

Adventures in Cooking

Mr. M and I are remodeling our kitchen. We have decided we are going to become culinary experts, too. As you may or may not know, we at the M house eat out 7 nights a week. HOWEVER, we plan to change that. Our first at-home dining experience was to eat out, and then come home and watch a DVD about our new mixer. (We are starting out slowly.) Our next foray into the fabulous world of food consisted in measuring the surface temperature of the artificial grass in the back yard, the surface temperature of our dog's tail, plants, carpet, our feet, and various other objects lying around. Then I went to a birthday dinner for a friend, and Mr. M made himself an amazing steak. We finally had an evening at home together last night, and Mr. M made some great mashed potatoes with goat cheese and some steak. Aside from the small fire inside the oven, it was a perfect culinary experience.

Content To Remain Complacent

I've been helping in a 3rd grade class. I am constantly consternated at the kids' apathy, and their complete lack of any desire to take advantage of the wonderful opportunities to learn that are available to them. This makes me think of The Church. Are we so foolish as to be content with mediocrity and lukewarmness when we have so many opportunities to get to know and love our God better? Are we content to get in to Heaven by the skin of our teeth? Do we want to do only the bare minimum?

Another Day of Loss

"He was just a dog," some may say. True enough, but the beautiful 80-pound golden retriever was my dad's only companion since my mom, his wife of 52 years, died. My dad and Luke drove down to take me to breakfast. Nothing was different. Luke was running around the yard just like always. We all got in the car to go. We drove for 5 minutes and then parked in front of the restaurant. My dad opened the back door to let Luke out again, but he was dead. That was it. Not a sound, not the faintest idea that anything was amiss.
Death seems to be a constant companion in my life these last few years. As I write this, a good friend of mine is "on Heaven's front porch", not expected to live more than a week. I pray that when my friend takes her last breath, it will be as painless as uneventful as Luke.

More Money in My Pocket Thanks To Scary Creepy Guy

Yes, I do realize that might not be the kindest and gentlest way to refer to someone. But let it be known now and for always that I am not the only one who refers to him by that moniker. A friend that works in a shop adjacent to the Starbucks that Scary Creepy Guy frequents knew exactly who I was talking about when she asked me why I was so obviously stalling for time in her shop.

An Adventurous Life

I am an unashamed story collector. Nothing makes me happier than telling a good story. The laughter of my friends is something I cherish. I go about my life, doing this and doing that, and usually it all ends up as a good story to share with my friends. The absurd and the absolutely ridiculous situations I find myself in don't bother me; contrariwise, they offer great fodder for a good story. I live the life of a story teller, not shying away from odd and ridiculous scenarios. This is my form of art, and boy do I sometimes suffer for my art! But that's OK, it will be a good story and end with my friends' laughter, so all the crazy people I meet serve to make my life more interesting. And for me, that's what it's all about.

My Favorite Member of the Early Church

"In Joppa, there was a disciple named Tabitha (which, when translated, is Dorcas), who was always doing good and helping the poor. About that time she became sick and died, and her body was washed and placed in an upstairs room. Lydda was near Joppa; so when the disciples heard that Peter was in Lydda, they sent two men to him and urged him, "Please come at once!" Peter went with them, and when he arrived he was taken upstairs to the room. All the widows stood around him, crying and showing him the robes and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was still with them. Peter sent them all out of the room; then he got down on his knees and prayed. Turning toward the dead woman, he said, "Tabitha, get up." She opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up. He took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. Then he called the believers and the widows and presented her to them alive." ACTS 9:38-41

I have always loved the story of Dorcas for many reasons, but mostly because she was just a faithful church member who loved Jesus and loved others. She was always doing good and helping the poor. That is a great thing to be known for. As much as I'd love to be a published writer, what I'd really like to be remembered for is doing good and helping the poor.