Sunrise Service

6:55 AM.  I am sitting on the lanai, wrapped in a blanket, waiting for the sunrise.  It's already light out, but the sun has not yet risen over the trees.  I'm waiting to see that first shaft of orange sunlight wash across the rooftops. 

I'm having my own Sunrise Service this Easter morning.  Waiting.  Listening. 
A joyful-sounding mockingbird is my church choir, along with assorted other birds singing their own songs. 
(I can see the mockingbird perched on the peak of the roof next door.  A constant stream of ever-changing notes, nuances, and rhythm patterns fill the air with crystal clarity.  An impressive string of vocalizations, all unique and totally different from each other, emanate from this little bird. How does he do that?  Why does he do that? One of God's many delightful mysteries.) 

Just now I got a sweet scent of flowers coming from the bush just outside the screen.   My incense.

I can hear the faint sound of traffic on the nearby interstate.  Occasionally the distinctive sound of a trailer truck downshifting, or a motorcycle speeding up, reaches my ears and I think, "Someone is driving that truck and I am connected to him.  Someone is riding that motorcycle and I am connected to him."  I ask God to bless them and keep them safe today.  I can see the white trail of a jet plane flying overhead - way up high - and I ask God to bless and protect all the people inside that tiny dot in the sky. 

Oh, a couple of Sandhill Cranes, with their clattery, metallic voices, have just joined the choir, and the sweet floral scent just intensified a bit.  This is a great service so far. 

A single phrase has been repeating itself in my head ever since I woke up:  "The stone is rolled away."  I sit quietly and let the phrase repeat as the morning grows ever brighter.  And there it is...that first shaft of sunlight shining on the rooftops.  I love it.

Another Sandhill Crane flies overhead.  It's a huge bird.  It's so big one wonders how could it possibly fly?

One wonders.  Jesus was so dead, how could he possibly live?  But he did. And he does. 

"The stone is rolled away."  Hallelujah!  The Son has risen!

Happy Easter Everyone

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My Mother's Shaver

I've never been a razor person when it comes to shaving my legs.  My mother always used an electric shaver, so that's what I did too when I began to sprout leg hair in the mid-sixties.  In fact, I used hers until I moved out and went to college.  Since then I've had several shavers that were adequate for keeping my legs sufficiently mowed,  but none were ever quite as good as Mom's Lady Remington.  Whenever I would come home for a visit, I'd always grab Mom's shaver out of the dresser drawer where it lived and indulge in a really close, smooth shave. 

After my mother died in 1991, sure enough, I found my old friend, Lady Remington, still in the same dresser drawer, still in the original box, and still fully operational.  No one objected when I claimed it for myself.  You guessed it.   I'm still using it. 

Since it's still in its original 1960's box, the instruction book is also still there, along with the little brush that Mom taught me to clean it with after every use.  The shaver still lives in its original container, inside the original cardboard box.  You can see its clever design in the photo.  (Yes, I just took that photo yesterday.)  The top swivels away to reveal the first chamber with electrical cord and brush, then that chamber swivels away to reveal the Lady Remington herself nestled in the bottom chamber.  Genius.  All the swivels still work, of course.  I also mentioned that the instruction manual is still in the box with it, albeit crumpled a bit.  I couldn't resist showing you the pages instructing you how to shave first your legs, then your armpits.  Glad they cleared that up.

You know you can't even find a woman's shaver with an electrical cord anymore?  And I love the little switches on either side of the shaver that change the heads from "legs" to "arms" position.  The detail!
And I believe it was actually made in the USA.  I know the booklet says "printed in the USA" on the back.  Even that's unusual these days.   (Most instruction manuals nowadays have instructions like "you must to attach tab in shlot in to thee back". Probably not printed in the USA.)

Anyway, I'm proud to still be using my Mom's Lady Remington.  It's still the best shaver ever.  I'd put it up against a stone cold razor any day.  Who wants to challenge me?  Anyone?

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Spider

I was going through my past blog posts and discovered a few that I apparently started years ago, and saved as drafts, but never finished, and never posted.  So since we're getting ready to make one of our trips up North in a few weeks, and stay with Dad, I thought I'd just go ahead and post this old one.  It's just such a typical day at Dad's.

(From September 24, 2006)

We're visiting here "up North", where we spend several months each year staying with my dad. So yesterday morning I was downstairs making coffee, talking with Dad as he made his breakfast, and he said, "Oh by the way, did you happen to look out the dining room window?" No, I said. "Go take a look," he said. So I did and what I saw was a spider the size of a small frog resting comfortably in the middle of a gigantic web strung on the outside of the window. Whoa. Big fella. Well we both admired the workmanship of the web, with its perfect spoke design and all, but mostly I was grossed out by the size, form and up-closeness of Spider Kong. I don't like bugs, especially spiders. But even though it gave me the heebie jeebies, I admit I was fascinated. While we watched, he pushed off from his perch, repelled downward on a tiny thread from his butt, hastily repaired a flaw in the web, and ascended back up the thread to his resting spot. Smooth and efficient. So I called upstairs to my husband. "Hey, Honey, you gotta come down here and see this spider. It's huge!" "Just a minute", he said. In a few moments he appeared, holding two cans of insect spray, one in each hand like six-shooters. "Where is it?" he demanded.
"No, no, it's outside," I said, "Look here". He looked, but was unimpressed with our admiration. He kept insisting he could go outside and blast him to kingdom come with one shot. I admit that would normally be my own reaction, but I had too much respect for this guy. And besides, I was comforted by the fact that this particular spider was actually too big to get in through any cracks he might find.

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