Pestilence on the Porch

There are a few things about being single that I don't like and this morning I was reminded of one of them. Pest control. Pest control is a man's job. In fact I daresay men, in consideration for the amount of poo filled diapers women clean up, are by default in charge of all vermin and pestilence eradication. It seems a fair trade.

For the past several weeks my cat has kept herself entertained at night by watching a spectacle on the back deck. I knew something was getting into my flowerpots and gnawing away at my hyacinth bulbs but whenever I turned the light on to see what Mali Meow was stalking through the glass, there was nothing to see. Isn't that the way of it, light shines in darkness and creepy things disappear.

Last night I was on the telephone in the living room and suddenly the sounds of a cat launching herself into the sliding glass door and batting her paws furiously came resounding from the kitchen. The noise was incredible! It caused the dogs to bark, the fur to fly and my conversation companion to ask "What in the world are you watching on television?" I stood in the door between the rooms to see what was going on.

No longer able to contain herself the fabulous Miss Somalia Celeste had lost her mind and decided glass was not going to stop her from getting at whatever it was she saw. She looked like something from a classic cartoon, legs going in every direction at once and suspended in mid air. Unable to get traction her swipes came swifter and harder until she hit the ground. At that point she got traction she hadn't planned on and hit the cabinet by the door. What an amazing sight to behold. Her head stayed in the same position, her laser focus on what she saw outside the door while her body went from south of her head to north of her head all in one quick second. It was all very funny until this morning.

The weather here in Kentucky has been unseasonably warm and this happens to coincide with my back and neck feeling up to doing some maintenance. I went out on the deck to begin cleaning things up and there in the flower pot full of water by the door were two dead mice. Normally my softhearted side would emerge and think, "Poor mice! They must have tread water for as long as they could!" In truth, I am bothered by the way the little rascals met their demise. Surely a quick snap of mouse trap would be better than a long time swimming in cold water. That wasn't my first thought though. I felt sorry for myself first. I couldn't leave their little bodies there and couldn't want to reach in and get them out. Alas, no man in my life to take care of vermin eradication. Sigh.

Sometimes you have to choose between some unpleasant options. I could ignore them and let their bodies ferment in the water risking my dogs coming to investigate and possibly eat them. Ugh! Or icky option number two, dispose of them before the dogs could be enticed. Grabbing an old grocery bag and a trowel I went on a body recovery mission.

It wasn't nearly as horrible as I thought it would be. It was much less gruesome than extricating a smashed rodent from the jaws of a trap. In fact, maybe I will keep the water in the pot for a while longer, just in case any of the dearly departed's relatives come to pay a visit. Nah! Well, maybe.

Character Flaws, Sin and Remediation

I have been thinking about my last post in which I offered to talk about how having a job has shown or magnified my character flaws. Before I do though, I want to distinguish between character flaws and sin. My character flaws predispose me to sin in certain areas more readily than in others. Indulging in my character flaws is sinful. Entertaining the idea of indulging my character flaws is sinful. They are the weaknesses in me where my flesh makes itself known by screaming, "You know you want to!!" Too often I hear Christians lamenting that they "make mistakes" or are victims of their genetic make-up and intimate that they should, therefore, be excused from culpability for being prone to certain activities. Our cultural dependence on a medical model to define our behavior has given many what they see as a plausible excuse for sin. I don't see that caveat in the Word. For Christians, the Word is always our standard. It is the standard by which all will be j

Fear Down, Hope and Peace to Go!

Last night I had the honor and privilege to present some information to the women of my church. I cannot begin to tell you how much I love and appreciate them. The seminar I did was on fear. God is clever and He had me present the information to them because I needed it. It's not that I don't want to study things for my own benefit and growth, but whenever I do a topical study to teach it, I see how badly I needed it and how much more I have to repent of than I realized. Sometimes you don't know what you don't know. That's a topic I want to return to in another post. I want to talk about the ladies for a moment. They are an incredibly loving group of women. Women who seek God and are teachable. They have gone out of their way to include me and love on me, which speaks volumes of their characters because I am not all that lovable. I am not being self-deprecating here. I am a mix of endearing and maddening qualities like anyone else. What I am telling you is

Super Church a song for the Emergent-sy

In the early 70s I was in a youth choir at my church. Our youth pastor was a musician and his way of connecting with us as a group was through the choir and music. Somehow there was an affiliation between him and The Continental Singers, New Hope and Jeremiah People. He was worked with Moishe Rosen of Jews for Jesus too, I think. Are any of these names familiar to you? Though I remember the church fondly I was a profoundly lost and troubled young woman during my years there. That and time have muddled the memories quite a bit. Today I was digging through some old paperwork and one of the books to the musical we did. It's Getting Late For the Great Planet Earth, a folk rock oratorio by Cam Floria. Yes, that's right. Cam Floria put Hal Lindsey to music. There's a lot to laugh about and some to groan about but as I was looking through the songs and remembering, I found this little ditty and I only wish I could sing it for you. Just remember that this is circa 1972 and even th

rambling rosemarie

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