Thursday Thoughts

If Queen Elizabeth likes pockets, is it possible women will now start getting clothes with pockets?  I sure hope so.  I chose jeans as my retirement "uniform" because jeans have pockets.

Am I also a Wonder Woman?  My arms and hands look like this picture, but what I wonder about differs somewhat.  To begin with, I know where my keys are.  Since I wear jeans, I know the keys are in my pocket.  I no longer carry a purse, but I do have a big book bag.  Even bigger is my cart, which holds my book bag full of papers and calendar and books and such.  It also holds leftover lunch from the Circle@Crown Café downstairs.  Using a red bag clip, I can hang my bottle of tea on the front.  That saves having to juggle tea in one hand while pushing the cart with my other hand.  (Tricky, that.)

Maybe I should have entitled this post "An Ode to My Cart."  As I started thinking about it, I realized it takes out my garbage and the kitty litter to its proper disposal place; it carries my dirty clothes to the laundry room and clean clothes back.  I have used it to deliver bags of books to other residents and to bring back groceries from the store.  Someone asked where I got my cart, so I shared a story of how we living at the Crown Center often "inherit" what others no longer need.  My cart once belonged to Pat Tracy, who died about a year after I moved here.  When Barbara Land died, her friend Rebecca cleaned out her apartment.  Now someone will inherit Barbara's electric scooter, which once belonged to Evelyn, who died in July.

The "Aging Gracefully" page on Facebook has another saying I'm thinking about today:

"I'm at an age where all my secrets are safe.  My friends can't remember them either."

I can't remember anything these days.  I no longer try to multi-task.  Unless I write it on my calendar, I forget what I said I'd do, who I'm supposed to get together with, and (of course) that old saw "what did I come in here for?"  I'm always trying to locate the tracks of my train of thought.

Four favorites ~ meditating on a Monday

1.  My favorite view is either from Signal Mountain looking south across the Tennessee River and Chattanooga (above) or from Lookout Mountain looking north across the Tennessee River and Chattanooga (below).  Do you see a pattern here?  I first posted the photo below in 2013.

2.  My favorite comfort food is extra crispy fried okra.  Jeff at Shuford's BBQ knows I like it extra crispy and makes it perfectly.  When I visited Chattanooga in April, Sandra asked where I wanted to eat lunch on my birthday.  Not only did I get extra crispy okra, but Jeff also took me out to his van and gave me a Shuford's shirt like the one he was wearing.  If you are in Chattanooga, I highly recommend Shuford's BBQ, now located in the old Southern Restaurant building in Red Bank.


3.  My favorite genre of music is classical music, but my VERY favorite piece is Mozart's Bassoon Concerto.  I've posted it several times on this blog, and this is a good short version.  If the video doesn't work, here's the YouTube link.

4.  My favorite theological writer is Marcus Borg, especially his The Heart of Christianity, published in 2003.  I reviewed this book ten years ago (click on the title for that blog post).  Borg, who died in 2015, often wrote with John Dominic Crossan, most of whose books are also on my shelves.  I still need to read The Search for Jesus: Modern Scholarship Looks at the Gospels (1994) by Borg, Crossan, and Stephen Patterson, that was edited by Hershel Shanks.  When I bought this book, years ago, I'd never heard of Patterson.  But now his 2018 book The Forgotten Creed: Christianity's Original Struggle against Bigotry, Slavery, and Sexism is on top of the stack beside my chair, waiting to be read.  Now both books are on the stack.

Enjoy Scott's music

Today, I want to share my friend Scott Sheperd's video from YouTube.

If it quits working, watch it on YouTube.

If you want more, leave a comment, and I'll get you in touch with Scott.

Um, no, I won't ask

I'm pretty sure Clawdia won't like that I'm posting this, but it is Caturday and it is my own blog (yes, it is).  Sorry, Clawdia, but this is hilarious.

Beginning ~ with Dick and Jane

FIRST BEGINNING:  "Here is the house.  It is green and white.  It has a red door.  It is very pretty.  Here is the family.  Mother, Father, Dick, and Jane live in the green-and-white house. They are very happy" (p. 3)

SECOND BEGINNING:  "Quiet as it's kept, there were no marigolds in the fall of 1941.  We thought, at the time, that it was because Pecola was having her father's baby that the marigolds did not grow" (p. 5).

THIRD BEGINNING:  "Nuns go by as quiet as lust, and drunken men and sober eyes sing in the lobby of the Greek hotel.  Rosemary Villanucci, our next-door friend who lives above her father's café, sits in a 1939 Buick eating bread and butter" (p. 9).

I remember reading the Dick and Jane books when I was in the first grade in 1946.  That's wa-a-a-ay back there.  That first beginning seems to be quoting the early reader used at my school.  The second of those three beginnings indicate we're hearing a story set in 1941.  The third quotes the first words of a longer section called "Autumn."  Okay, I'm ready to jump into the story.

The Bluest Eye ~ by Toni Morrison, 1970, fiction (Ohio)

Pecola Breedlove, a young black girl, prays every day for beauty.  Mocked by other children for the dark skin, curly hair, and brown eyes that set her apart, she yearns for normalcy, for the blond hair and blue eyes that she believes will allow her to finally fit in.  Yet as her dream grows more fervent, her life slowly starts to disintegrate in the face of adversity and strife.  A powerful examination of our obsession with beauty and conformity, Toni Morrison’s virtuosic first novel asks powerful questions about race, class, and gender with the subtlety and grace that have always characterized her writing.

Gilion at Rose City Reader hosts Book Beginnings on Fridays.
Click this link for more book beginnings.

Gotchaversary

I have discovered a new word.  On July 23rd, I celebrate Gotcha Day for Clawdia, who came to live with me on that date in 2015.  I ran across a post about a feral cat named Grandpa Mason.  Well, they named him Mason when he was found three years ago, but by his actions fostering rescue kittens, he became a grandpa.  Anyway, there was a video of him on his "gotchaversary."  Makes sense to me.

"Mason found a new purpose in life:  being a foster grandpa to rescue kittens.  For 1069 magical days, Grandpa Mason shaped dozens of young minds, passed down important grandpa secrets, demonstrated tremendous hunting prowess, taught manners, quashed impudence, and created a multitude of fashion-forward kitten hairstyles."

He loved taking care of kittens, and he had a Facebook page.  Grandpa Mason died on October 19th, or as they say about pets, he crossed the rainbow bridge.

"Grandpa Mason showed the world that even if you’re old, sick, feral, broken, or different, you have value.  You have something to offer.  You are worthy of compassion.  You matter."

If the video quits working, watch it on YouTube.

A similar newly-minted word that I've used on this blog is blogiversary.  Oh, there's one more word that applies today:  Fursday.  Clawdia likes that one.  Have you ever used any of these words?

Think about it