Great Show

What a night. What an awesome concert put on by the music camp, crowned with a wildly active thunderstorm. Beautiful.

Everyone is so impressed with my homeschooled son. All the counsellors said he’s such a great kid. They were just as impressed with his personality as his piano playing. The camp director, a professional jazz pianist, and his piano teacher, a professional organist and accompaniest, want to discuss his very promising future with me. I’m looking forward to hearing what they have to say.

When the choir director asked me how he relates to others “at school or wherever,” I was proud to say he is homeschooled. Apparently, he is very socially adept despite his lack of socialization. Imagine that.

Pardon me a little Mamastrut, but I’m so proud of him. He has gone through so much, faced so many challenges, it was wonderful to hear such talented people paying him such honours. Good for you, Bah Bah!

Accident

Was that a racoon? Saw it only for a split second. Smash! Nose to the sky. The road askew. Veer right to go straight. Steer left, car goes right. Pull harder left, car goes right. Road. Grass. Road. Grass. Road. Grass. A field. My body tipping to my right. “Oh God, don’t leave me.” Blackness. Grass. Sky. I duck to avoid the ceiling. Water. Tall grass. Blackness. Water. The car ceiling in my head again. Blackness. Water. Grass.

Breathe. It’s finally over.

Tallgrass in the headlights, growing from the sky. Water seeping in on the ceiling. What if I’m in a pond. “I have to get out.”

Can’t undo my seatbelt. Panic. Kick the horn with my foot. “Help me! Get me out of here! Somebody help!” Wrench at seatbelt. Not coming off. I realize I’m upsidedown. My weight is holding me in. Push my feet against the dashboard to provide some slack. Seatbelt off. I lay in frozen sewage water and ice.

I roll down my window which is in shattered pieces far behind me. So cold, s-s-so so cold. Only a few inches of water. Must be in a ditch. Try to open my door. No room, door won’t budge. Try the passenger side window. Opens a bit then gets stuck. S-s-so c-c-c-cold. Panic. “Help me out of here! Please, God, send someone!”

A woman screaming, “She’s alive! Get her out of there!”

“Oh, thank you God. Thank you.”

Mens’ voices muffled, “All..us…together…pry the door…Unlock the door!”

I pull the lock down, still not sure which way is up. They heave, heave, heave. I push with my back, my feet against steering column, sitting on the ceiling. Push, push, push. The door gives way. I squeeze through. Men pull me by my arms up the steep ditch. I roll over to my hands and knees and stand up and walk.

I stand up.

And walk away.

“I’m s-s-s-o c-c-c-c-c-old-d-d-d.” Led away to a waiting car , upright and warm.

“I’m s-s-sorry, I’m going to r-r-ruin your seat-t-t. I’m soaked and I st-st-stink.”

The woman, finished screaming, says breathlessly, “That’s okay. You’re alive. Doesn’t matter. It’s just a seat.”

“Thank you. Thank for stopp-p-ping and helping. I didn’t know h-how…”

Her son in the back seat. I cry for him. “I’m so sorry you had-d-d to see that, young man. S-so sorry.”

“Thank you, Jesus. “ A mystery to my rescuers, to thank a man-god for corkscrewing in an icy ditch

Reality sets in with the pain. I’m moving in a couple weeks.

When Are We Going to Get It?

How are light bulbs that are filled with mercury environmentally friendly? How are they safe?

But according to Health Canada, they’re safe, if we’re to believe such oxymorons as this taken from the Natrual Resources Canada Office of Energy Efficiency website:

A broken CFL does not pose an immediate health risk because of the small amount of mercury inside, but it should be cleaned up properly.

Huh? If it does not pose a health risk, why does it have to be disposed of in the same way as all other hazardous material?

We know now that paints, batteries, cleaning products, and many commonly used building products are toxic, and we stay away from them whenever we can. It’s not always possible to avoid them altogether, but more and more better options are being offered to us. Yet we’re being pushed mercury filled light bulbs.

I don’t get it.

Didn’t we just have some news stories about all the fish we’re to avoid now that they’re so mercury laden? Have we not banned the use of lead paint because of mercury content? Haven’t we replaced mercury thermometers with other safer alloys due to safety concerns? And who is most susceptible to mercury poisoning? Pregnant and nursing mothers and children. Beautiful.

Oh, but a compact fluorescent bulb has such a small amount of mercury, it won’t hurt you. Just like a raindrop isn’t wet.

Mercury is mercury, and mercury is toxic. Surely we can come up with a better solution than that.

There is no perfect light bulb, true. Halogen is only less toxic, and while Solid State Lighting (SSL), which is glorified LED lighting, looks very promising, it’s not quite there yet. But no matter how you look at it, mercury can never be environmentally friendly.

For more on mercury in products, see Environment Canada’s National Pollutant Release Inventory (NPRI).

Now if I can just get the mercury out of my teeth…

Write, write, write…right?

How to write:
Butt in chair. Keyboard easily accessible. Write.

Been crazily getting ready for the Utmost Christian Writers Novice Christian Poetry Contest. Imagine me, at 46, a novice. Took me a while to get that in my head, that it was okay, no shame, blah blah blah. Gotta start somewhere, huh?

I should be able to post my entries soon.

By the way, just so you know, I rarely publish finished, polished copies of my work on my blog. Don’t know why I needed to say that. Guess since I’m over the novice thing, I’m looking for something else to feel insecure about…

Hope you all had a great weekend!

Think

A lover of learning,
I don’t want to know,
a receiver of discernment,
I don’t want to be shown.
End the epiphanies,
the erudition,
the enlightenment;
block the brain blasting,
the incoming of information,
the undertaking of understanding;
weaken the waves of wit,
the inclination for insight,
cut the cacophony of cognition,
frustrate the fact finding,

I just need to think.

The Black Velvet Gown by Catherine Cookson

I have to say I’m a bit disappointed. As a Cookson fan, I expected another tight, intelligent, heart-wrenching story of a woman suffering and triumphing through difficult times. While the latter expectation was fulfilled, the former was not.

I wasn’t sure, still am not sure, who the protagonist was, and I found the actions of the oldest son, Davey, and his mother, Riah, unreconcilable, unless Cookson felt it was fine for a mother to ignore her son’s claim of sexual abuse. I found the subject of pedophilia unsuitable and distracting to the story and the setting, as though it was a cheap gimmick to sell the book.

That said, it’s still a Cookson novel and worth the read. Much better than a certain HP novel read before this one that was so bad I couldn’t find it in my heart to write a review for it. It’ll be a long while before I’ll be willing to put up with that kind of horrendous grammar and the condoning of snotty-nose attitudes like that. I really cannot understand what all the fuss is about, but good for JKR. If it was going to happen to anyone, I’m glad it happened to a single mom.

There you have it. Two book reviews in one.

Don’t want to write today

Did tons of shopping today, so the neck is giving me some aggravation causing me to shorten my stay at the computer. Want to finish reading The Black Velvet Gown by Catherine Cookson. So far I’m not really sure about it. Will review it here when I’m done.

Job II has finished reading Job

I hereby divest myself of the name dubbed me several years ago. I can longer bear the name of Job II. I have neither suffered as much as Job nor questioned God as much as job. I have suffered greatly, yes. I have questioned God as to why this is my lot, yes. Like Job, I have been judged and condemned by friends and family for that which I have not done, and judged and condemned by the Lord for things I have done. Like Job, I have accepted that we all deserve much more than the hard life some of us were given. But I can no longer be labeled a close second to Job. I am merely Job’s echo, a late afternoon shadow.

May the Lord rescue me from my accuser. I rest on your grace and mercy, Lord, and look for restoration, like Job.

Glass? In the Bible?

Job 28 (King James Version)

12But where shall wisdom be found? and where is the place of understanding?

13Man knoweth not the price thereof; neither is it found in the land of the living.

14The depth saith, It is not in me: and the sea saith, It is not with me.

15It cannot be gotten for gold, neither shall silver be weighed for the price thereof.

16It cannot be valued with the gold of Ophir, with the precious onyx, or the sapphire.

17The gold and the crystal cannot equal it: and the exchange of it shall not be for jewels of fine gold.

18No mention shall be made of coral, or of pearls: for the price of wisdom is above rubies.

19The topaz of Ethiopia shall not equal it, neither shall it be valued with pure gold.

Did you catch that? In verse 17. The “crystal”. Glass. Imagine that. Anyone who knows me knows I love glass. I read somewhere that glass used to be almost as valuable as gold, and here in this book that I’ve read over and over completely missing this, glass is being compared with precious jewels and metals.

See? The Bible has the answer everything.

Get Ready

pillows

sheets

sleeping bag

sunscreen

swimsuit

sunglasses

hat

toothbrush

toothpaste

towels

washcloths

soap

changes of clothes

paper

pens

addressed, stamped envelops

All packed for camp tomorrow.

Now all in our beds,
I get ready for him to go.