Tuesday, October 16, 2007


Today is national Boss's day AND my boss's birthday. Wow. What a loaded day! My office neighbor got him a starbucks and a balloon with a bag of chocolates attached. I sang when I came in and gave him a hug and sent a couple of ecards and together, we gave him a deadly chocolate cake from his favorite dessert bakery, and a date night kit for he and his honey bunny to use. I think everyone on staff either thought of, got, wrapped or delivered a part of his present, which is really nice. Then, to top it off, he took US out to lunch !

He's a great boss even when it isn't his day.

Friday, October 12, 2007

Broadway on Fairview

Ever seen Barbara Streisand in the movie when she portrayed Fanny Brice?
If so, do you recall the boat scene where she is standing on the tugboat, front and center singing into the wind? Singing like nobody's business, only everyone within 2 miles could hear her?

Well, that is what I think of on this day of the world around here.

Spiritual Renewal is in full swing. Prep is happening in every corner of the building and it is fun to be hibernating in my office watching. I’m glad I brought my binoculars. People are moving around here so fast there is no time to focus on any one. Any One in particular. For all I know, we are being robbed and all the hullabaloo is criminals removing furniture and plants. Just can’t tell.

I had an "Avon" person come in today for assistance and I took her into the fellowship hall to wait while I copied her info. When I returned, she was tap dancing on the stage and singing, “ Light the lights, blip the blip, we’ve got nothing to hit but the heights!” Oh, Ethel, Ethel, Ethel Merman… We could use you right about now. In reality,no, she was not dancing on stage, but she looked like she realllllllllllllllllllllllly wanted to.
Hold onto your seats. The show is about to begin. If anyone is left standing on Monday morning, it will be a true miracle.

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Gnomes at the office

I do not like to have my office or most any door completely closed. No funnybusiness here, I do NOT like it, and avoid that at all costs. Call me quirky, I don't even care. My inner self rules on this one.

I used to use tape, and then for a while I traumatized a door stop, using it as a wedge between the door and the frame.

Deep inside my heart of mushy hearts, I've always wanted a Gnome. Yes, one of the little wee fairie peops to guard the entry to my office home.

I finally found one, at the dollar store. My office friend found him, and as it turns out, he was on sale for .26 cents. I didn't know the dollar store had sales, did you?

So, now, I have a delicious gnome standing guard at my door with his hand up shading his eyes. He gazes down the hall looking for wandering and wayward unwelcomed invisible things. and, i might say, he does it very well.

The next time you come by, look down and say hi.

A felted story

I've been doing alot of yarnart lately. Knitting and crocheting and felting. I've written here of some of that. The reality of my life's affect on this old church chikster became blatantly obvious Friday.

I continue to find felting interesting. But, every item turns out as if it has a mind of its own. The one bag that came out with a brain tumor protruding from its base was operated on by my Dr. Fiskars and refelted. It survived the surgery, i am happy to say, but the second felting shrunk it yet again, and so now, it resides in a SSchool class in the dressups for dolls. Yes, NOT the dressups for the sweet children, the DOll Dress up. How sad is that?

Staff are very supportive of my ventures. That's love, baby, pure and simple. They say things like,
"Wow! you made another something!! woo hoo!! "

One loving friend said, "Hey, I saw a purse JUST like that in a real store!" I raced right out to that store and looked and she was right. .....

Well, sort of. The colors were different,the design not the same, and they had a funky hairy something around the top but other than that, they could have been twins.

So I added some funk and brought it back to work.
" Wow!! You made a NOTHER something!!" "Woo Hoo!"

See what I mean, readers? Love love love. I used those same words and tones with my own children when they brought home art from school that was so creative it couldn't be named.

I distinctly recall using that same supportive banter when one of my daughters created her first recipe. It was for Limon cookies. Limon. So that's what "limons" taste like. It was not lemon, that is for sure. The cookie recipe had flour, an egg and salt, if I recall. It crunched like a bite of recently poured concrete would, and the texture wasn't far from that same thing either. But I will tell you this- that was the most wonderful cookie I have ever eaten then or since. She wrote the recipe down in my cookbook, so we'd remember it. She beamed and glowed and had such fun doing that project- all of that tasted better than sweet.

back to yarn....

Someone suggested I take orders and I freaked. I could never take an order for these yarn objects, because I have no idea how the end product will look. They are all accidents. pure and simple.

My office neighbor suggested we tag the two most recent accidents and call the company
"Accidentals". I love it. She's making a couple of tags for them. and I've donated them to the upcoming Bizarre Bazaar. Not Bizarre in a bad way, but in a- "How the heck do they DO this every year? "way. We'll see if we get any takers.

Meanwhile, I had a revelation. As I first mentioned, in this writing, I was slapped in the face with the reality of my age and habits. Did you know that even if you've done 56,869 loads of wash in your lifetime, and even if you loaded the wash, turned it on , waited til the cycle was done, so you could then roll over the wet laundry to the dryer- even if EVEN IF you have done that process consistently all your laundrying life- There is actually NO, I say, NO Law that requires you to wait for the full cycle before lifting the lid of the washer.

My mother taught me to NEVER lift the lid. ALWAYS wait. She showed me an article once in Look magazine about a girl who did the unthinkable- she lifted the washer lid in mid cycle and her arm was jerked off of her body and was not successfully surgically reattached.

She went through life with one arm shorter than the other and wouldn't you know it would be the arm she used and needed the most? She wrote shorter poems, couldn't complete long division problems in math, all this after the accident, and she had to sit closer to the kitchen table to eat her meals, AND saddest radish of all - when she waved, no one saw her in the crowd. All. Her. Life. and All because she lifted the washer lid in mid cycle. So says Look magazine. ( The photo is forever engraved on my brain mass)

So says my Mother ( with a few enhanced details that were no doubt aimed at improving my behavior and manners and school performance) and so, dually impressed by this information, i followed the no -lift rule.

Until, at the ripe age of 52, after investing thousands of pennies into skeins of wool yarn, and after shrinking hundreds upon thousands of indescribable items, I began to wonder. and the wonder pulled me right up out of my big red chair one night and tugged me into the kitchen and , my friends, I found myself standing straight up and facing my washing machine, who was on at the time and working splendidly- felting something.

Well, I lifted the lid. I pulled out the object. and I realized that if I checked these things while they were in the felting process, iImight just be able to catch some of them before they sized down to fit Thumbalina. It was an exciting revelation!

And, as the myths I had been living all those many years, began to melt away, I wanted to find that young girl of all those years ago and tell her that i was sorry for what happened to her arm, and maybe we could be friends.

Well, actually, if I find her, maybe I'll just send her a felted purse.

Biz on the Blink

Well, the whirlwind season has begun. There may not be many storms brewing in the tropics, but around church, the air is full of frenzy and franatic mania. Yes, I said franatic and I meant it. Franatic is when you are moving frantically but keep backtracking because you forget things. You forget things because all the details of your work are spitting out like a pitching machine with constant and abiding interruptions by little men in black and white striped outfits waving flags.
Franatic, you get what i mean now, I'm sure.

Biz, our copy machine has been under the weather. I had to send this unfortunate message to staff last week.

Sad in my heart news-
Biz, our copy machine is broken. He will  copy,
but if he gets jammed,
BACK AWAY. Do NOT touch.
The side door has suffered
a massive stroke and some
key arteries have broken.
The part is in the process of being ordered.
You can send cards to: Biz c/o HBUMC, Room # 219,
2209 Fairview Rd. Raleigh, NC 27608

Please keep Biz in your thoughts, he is a realllly hard worker, and we miss him.

Something new and different

I've been working on helping out with an upcoming event called, Seven Straight Nights.
It is a group of people who want to support equal rights for everyone including gay and lesbian people, folks from all cultures, you name it. I like that idea. alot. So on Friday night, Oct 12,on the Capital Grounds, there will be an all night vigil of sorts. Games for the kids, family picnic, some speakers, and a movie at 9.

I don't do crowds, so my participation has been in the background. helping with games, and of course, food and drink. I"ll be bringing the coffee through the night and might visit a little then, when the crowd thins. KK donuts first thing Sat morning, of course.

I'm curious to see what the reality will be like. Will there be people just listening and talking and learning? or will there be cranksters at work as well? No one knows, I guess. I sure hope that the evening opens some eyes and ears, and that some people make new friends.

Monday, October 01, 2007

What do you call it when..

What does it mean when people who come in for assistance bond with the church secretary?
A regular person who comes often, has really made himself at home here. He now calls me by my first name, and is often waiting in my office for me. He offers to help me carry my goods when I’m coming in. He doesn’t’ always ask for food or money. Sometimes, he gives me an update on how things are going. I like those times a lot. This week, he directed the oven fixers to the church kitchen when they arrived.
I came in, after having noticed the workvan out front. Instead of the ovenmen, this assistance person greeted me when I came in. I said, “Did you happen to see the oven guy?”
He answered, “Oh, yeah, I just showed them where the kitchen is.”
We walked together down the hall and into my office where he sat, very patiently.
“ So how are things going?” I asked him.
“ Don’t you want to check your messages and put down your things?” he asked me, getting more comfortable in the recliner.
“ Uh, oh. Yeah. Okay.” So I did.
“ Now, how are things?”
“Well….” He leaned back and proceeded to give me the Dr. Kildare details of his recent hernia operation…just short of showing me the scars.
And then, he was off.
“See you next time, friend”
he kept walking and gave me a quick wave.
What do you call that?
Church Chick