Isn’t it odd?

[This post will not win any awards. You know, like all of my other posts have;) It’s just what Ima Feeling is telling me to write.]


Isn’t it odd, this life to which the love of God is calling us?

I am not sure how you see it all, but for me, it is at once the easiest thing I have ever done, full of hope, liberation, joy, and beauty, and perhaps the most difficult journey of my life so far.

Along the way, I have discovered a few things, and I will share some of them below in bullet points. I am fond of such a presentation style for occasions like this when I get a late start in reflecting and writing due to time spent otherwise, mostly necessarily so. Either that or I am a lazy writer.

It’s nice—very nice—this time of an evening, to settle with some dinner (an actual sit-down dinner tonight with a pretty plate and a suitable fork), with great music, almost always music—and if music then it shall be great music—and with no chores left to do.

Oh, forget the bullets. I will just connect the dots, writing about something, ending it with a dot, and then connect that to something else, and then end it all with three dots.

[Yikes, calling Mom before it’s 10:00 in TX!]

Well, that was a good call. Mom and I talked about sweet things, and about some people doing “mission work” in Rwanda and the Philippines and I wonder, just wonder, if something like that will be part of this journey. I am up for it, as I have said, and will go wherever his path leads. Anywhere. And frankly, I am drawn to the grit and the grime and unafraid to speak of our Father in such a setting or I can just as freely speak of him over dessert in Vienna after a stunning concert.

Anywhere.

For now, I do find myself needing to be here, even with a pretty plate and suitable fork. And I am working 60-70 hours a week, and that is by choice because I have some personal goals to meet. But, I get to start at 6:00 a.m., so I am not working into the night, yea. It is temporary, work is, goals are, and his path is forever. And working in the temporary and longing for the forever is, like I said, both easy and impossibly difficult. Impossible, except I will do it.

It is always good to talk to Mom, and I am done with dinner. I cooked it in this:

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Mom sent me some birthday money—she said for a microwave or a toaster oven because she asked and I told her—and after a little research, I decided on that glorified toaster oven up there. I can highly recommend it. It is a conventional and convection oven and a C/C broiler. It has a separate toaster setting and has an “air fry” feature that produces cooked veggies as fast as a microwave.

If you do decide to rid yourself of a microwave, or if you find one at the dumpster, tear it apart and get the magnets out of it. You can use them like I do:

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Those round magnets are incredibly powerful and are part of the microwave generator in all such ovens. So, I have the best of both now: the magnets from a microwave (three, actually, thanks to dumpster diving) and a full-featured oven that will travel well and it cooks tasty food for me and my absentee guest.

With my dinner, I had this to drink:

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I believe it is my favorite kombucha so far. It is not overly sweet and it is low in carbonation and high in beneficial bacteria swimming around happily in the mix. And it does not taste quite so much of vinegar like some others do.

Vinegar is quite good for us, however, and I have discovered something about it. You can buy a small bottle of “live” vinegar, like Bragg’s apple cider vinegar with the “mother” in it. When you are down to 50 milliliters or so, stop using it. Buy a large bottle of cheap cider vinegar and add those mother-lovin’ milliliters to the cheap, perhaps transferring it to a nicer bottle, like this:

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Now, you have “live” vinegar again without paying the high price that is nothing to Bragg about, believe me.

And you can believe me about other things too. All of them. I am in it for life . . .

And there are those three final dots after having connected a few of them.

[Oh dear God, it is Satie on the radio just now, worth three more . . .]

And isn’t it odd, that number three? But I find myself spending a fair amount of time with four. Well, not entirely true. The number three is delightfully odd, but the numeral 4 in all its Arabian glory, is something I am working on. I saw one once, written to what I deem pointed perfection, and I am trying my best to do my 4s like that, making a certain point with it. It is odd, perhaps, that I do so, but I am just gonna do it anyway.


Photograph “Isn’t it odd?” © 2018 Timothy Waugh

It is so titled because it looks oddly like a delicate watercolor painting with perfectly painted light and shadows. I swear on my mother’s vinegar that it is an un-edited photograph taken yesterday on Shade. All I did was crop it to fit the frame.