The good citizen

When we were all in elementary school, there was an award for good citizenship. An award that was given to students who thought of and helped others. In the adult commercial world, one just doesn’t see the good citizens like they used to. I have indisputable evidence, however, that they do exist.

Every day during my lunch hour I drive 10 minutes to my home to eat a cheap and fast lunch while watching the second half of Law and Order. Tuesday of this week was no exception. I left work at 1:00, drove to my house, fixed lunch, watched the show, cleaned up, set the alarm, grabbed my phone and locked the door. As I took the three steps from the door to my car I realized that in my hands where a pink phone and keys were to be, there only resided the gleaming hot pink phone…alone…no keys. Yes, if you scan the list of deeds in the above sentence, you will find that getting the keys from the key rack was not included.

So I took inventory. The alarm was set. The door was locked. I have no spare keys for the house nor the car. I am in 4 inch heels and a dress. I begin to think of all openings in the house that I might be able to slip through, but all of the windows are set high on the walls of the house and I would definately need a boost to reach them. I remembered that I had opened my bedroom window last night (my roommate can only survive if it’s at least 75 to 80 degrees at night!). I walk to the front of the house where my bedroom window faces and pushed open one side. Good, now for a stool. Ladies and gentlemen, I walked my happy self over to the very full trash cans, dumped all the trash on the yard, toted the empty can to the window, kicked off my heels, turned the garbage can over and proceeded to stand on it in order to crawl through the window.

I had succeeded in getting my head and one leg through the window (yes, I am flashing the entire neighborhood) when a mocha colored Crown Victoria approaches my house. I hear an elderly woman’s voice screaming at me…”we are going to call the police if you don’t get out of there!” Yes, I was being chastized for “breaking into” my own home. I stuck my head out the window and leaned back to see the car and screamed back, “it’s my house, I’m not breaking in!” The woman’s response was “oh! we didn’t think you looked like a robber, but you never know!” I smiled and waved as they drove off.

I did make it into the house, although it ended up being more of a climb, drop, fall process into my bedroom. I ran down the hall and turned off the alarm while it was still in the warning beeping sequence.

There are still good citizens out there, it just takes acts of uncommon and blatant ridiculousness to pull them out.

Small quiet places

Today I received a small devotion book from my mother which she surprised me with by sending to my work. The book is entitled “Jesus Calling” by Sarah Young. I have only read the devotion for today and yet a yearning has arisen to find the small quiet places in my day where, like the spinning ballerina referenced in the devotion, I can look to Christ as my spotting image. Looking at our own struggles, issues and complicated lives can dizzy the mind of any Christian. My prayer today is to look to my constant spotter when the day becomes a blur.

Psalm 102: 27 – “But you remain the same, and your years will never end.”

Hebrews 12: 2 – “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and protector of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Turtles

In the past few days I have done two things that I never thought I would do.  On the way to work on Thursday or Friday of last week I am enjoying a chat with my sister over the phone when I pull onto the road my firm is on and spot, horrors of all horrors, an abandoned, helpless, HUGE turtle.  Now to my sister all I had to say was, “I’m on Charlie rescue here, hang on.”  For those of you unfamiliar with ‘Charlie rescues’ let me enlighten you.  When we were growing up in Anniston, AL, Jennifer had a fetish for catching turtles and naming them Charlie.  I believe we were up to Charlie 17 at last count before we moved.  Anywho – I am on the rescue so I pull the car over, turn on my hazards and in a pink skirt suit and 3 inch heels I bend down to pick up my endangered reptilian friend when he promptly shoots at least two quarts worth of turtle pee onto my legs and shoes.  First reaction – chunk this horrible peeing creature!  Unfortunately I followed my first reaction and may have cracked the poor thing’s shell.  BUT HE PEED….ON ME!!!!!  A word to the animal lovers of us all – there will be some that do not want to be loved or helped.  Note to self (when rescuing HUGE turtles expect HUGE amounts of urine!)  But according to my eldest sister – Ur-ine-ice girl!  (get it your a nice girl?!)

First posting!

Ok, so now that there are too many balls in the air and not enough phone minutes to farm them out, I decided to create my own blog.  There will be more to come, but I wanted to get something posted before I go to my Kentucky Derby planning party this evening.  While you’re waiting for me to post again (you know you don’t have anything better to do…check out my sister’s postings: mixonitup.wordpress.com !  Enjoy.