Fridge Movies - The Princess Brie

We are all aware by now that there is a multitude of formats and media that can be downloaded, streamed or otherwise accessed on a large variety of platforms and devices.  Everyone knows that.  But I recently discovered that I can view certain movie clips by opening my refrigerator. I say pretty cool!

I happened to be looking for food when I rolled into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door and found several 1/2 gallon bottles of organic whole milk from Whole Foods Market lounging upon the shelf.  This could mean only one thing, I was about to witness another cheese making extravaganza by my talented wife.  I asked what kind of cheese this batch was going to become, and she said she was inspired by reading a recent novel about a Spaniard who makes a highly prized Spanish cheese, the sheep's milk manchego.  Ah, I said, I can see it now as I looked into the interior of the refrigerator;

   Hello.  
   My name Inigo Manchego, you curd my father.  
   Prepare to dye.

Providence Smiling

I haven't been acting or feeling especially righteous lately.  But isn't that just the way providential grace works.  You don't deserve it, but then again, there it is.  Just give thanks and accept it man.

Sue has been on sabbatical for a year-plus from her work as Director of Children's Ministry.  After many long hours, little understanding or support from fellow staff and contradictory directions born of greater anxiety imbibed by her supervisor, she was feeling the need to catch her breath and catch a break.  I knew it, she knew it, God, Jesus and the Holy Ghost all knew it.  She was offered 30 pieces of silver and the left foot of fellowship and she was done with all that unholy mess at the last vineyard of bitter grapes where she toiled.

She had enjoyed the rest and recalibration that came with the shedding of her herculean responsibilities.  She was not really looking for anything new on the job front, though she would toy with possibilities before smelling a familiar scent of mendacity and anxiety.  She wanted no part of more such church work.  Then a call came from a friend who once toiled in the same vineyard of sour grapes with her.  Her friend, now in a new and much better position, had the occasion to speak with the new pastor at First Presbyterian in Garland.  He and the congregation were looking for some help with running the programs for youth and children.  Sue's friend asked if she could recommend her to the pastor?  Sue figured, wouldn't hurt to talk, right?

What followed was a phone interview with the pastor.  She liked what she heard.  Then a meeting with the committee looking to fill the position of Director of Youth and Children's Ministry.  She says that during the interview, they were finishing each other sentences.  They all shared nearly the same vision, direction and desires for position.  A few weeks later they asked her to come in for a second meeting with the committee and the pastor.  She arrived, they offered her the position and received her willingness to come to work with them with great joy.  Then they offered her a 10% raise above what the advertised position had listed.  God is Good.

She began work on September 1 as a part-time employee, meaning she puts in a half day on Sunday, plus a full day on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday.  Hours are somewhat flexible.  She loves the small church culture at FPC Garland, the congregation is full of volunteers and hard working people.  The group there very much owns their faith and their actions; not needing a staff to do what they hope to have done, but rather, do what needs to be done with support from the staff.  A very healthy sign.  They are heavily involved with local mission, handing out 25 free sack lunches to the homeless and working poor every weekday morning and feed 180 to 200 people at a free breakfast on Saturdays.  FPC Garland has a large contingent of immigrants from the Cameroon and an association with a South Asian Presbyterian Church that is composed mostly of Afghani Christians. 

They are a church excited about rolling up there sleeves and doing the Lord's work.  She has hit the ground running and has offered many ideas for those governing the church to consider.  She is very pleased to be taken seriously and have her counsel and experience held as a positive contribution.  In fact she has already been tapped to take the pulpit later in October to lead worship and preach.  With a second preaching opportunity coming on the last Sunday of the year.  She loves the way providence has smiled upon her and she is ready to join in and do God's good work for His people.

And all the people say, Amen.

Not My Monkeys, Not My Circus

A phrase we have been practicing around here for several months and have now recently come to appreciate is: 
      
      Not my monkeys,
      Not my circus.

It encapsulates the need to hold others accountable for their actions and deny them the opportunity to shirk their responsibilities while entangling you leaving you holding the bag.

In early August we [Sue] agreed to open our home to become a canine summer camp for Diane's two dogs for 10 days while she took a vacation.  After some adjustments on both ends, Bella and Cooper settled in and were a fun diversion for our home life.  Once vacation was over for Diane, Bella and Cooper packed up their toys, leashes and bedding and returned to Diane's home after a grand time at Canine Camp.  It worked out well for everybody - just a it should.

At the end of August, Sue gets a call from Johanna, "I have to leave tomorrow to take my son Jeremiah to Freshman orientation at Cornell University in New York, would you like to adopt his dog?"  Sue asks, "What kind of dog is it?"  Johanna tells her it is a small 'terrier mix'.  Sue says we are really not ready to take on another dog right now.  Johanna continues, "Well, I have some other people that might be wanting to take her next week, but since I need to leave town, would you do me a favor and keep her at your place until I return on Saturday (or maybe Sunday)?"  Sue says out of the goodness of her heart, yes, we can help you out with that for a few days if need be.

Johanna sends her son Jeremiah alone over to our house with his dog Pebbles, and all of her stuff and a small amount of food.  Jeremiah fills Sue in on Pebbles' likes and dislikes and quirks, all needed for her best care and comfort and says an emotional good bye to his pet.  Sue sends me a text at work briefly explaining the situation along with a photo of Pebbles.  The photo on my phone shows a Chihuahua with the added text, "Terrier? My ass". [Lie #1]

Pebbles' water, food and bed are set up in the dining nook of the kitchen.  Pebbles and Sue do not get along well at first.  Pebbles growls and lunges at Sue when she gets near.  Sue resorts to calling her, Cujo.  When I come through the door at the end of the day, Sue has prepared a few pieces of diced cheddar for me to bribe Pebbles with, and as Pebbles runs to greet me, I feed her cheese scraps.  We are fast friends in 7 seconds.  Meanwhile, Sue is still seething from Cujo's threats that continued toward her all day long.  

My preference in dogs runs toward a dog that enjoys sleeping at his master's feet and can be petted with a solid hand across a broad hound-shaped head and stroked with a solid affectionate thump and scratch from my open hand on their side.  Admittedly, Chihuahuas are probably my least favorite breed, they have bug eyes and spindly spider-monkey legs and even my smallish hands encompass half of Pebbles' body.  I do not feel like I am petting a dog, but she is more akin to trying to pet a quick-moving short-haired  lobster.  Not a real dog.  However, Pebbles is intelligent (for a Chihuahua) and she is learning to follow my instructions.  Basically, a good dog especially if you want a small lap dog (which I do not).  Eventually, Pebbles accepts Sue presence and we all settle in to our shared space.  Sue texts Johanna a few updates on her dog Pebbles, thinking Johanna would like to know how things are working out back at home with her pet.  Sue gets zero response from Johanna.  Not even a 'thank you' for helping me out while I am out of town.  Nothing.

We've had Pebbles at our house since Tuesday morning, and come Saturday at dinner, after no messages from Johanna, I ask, "You don't think Johanna has dumped Pebbles at our house, expecting us to keep her from here on out, do you?"  Most of my life I have made it a point to ignore my intuition and hunches about people, instead relying heavily on my intellect to solve problems and form opinions; however over the last few years, I have grown much more comfortable listening to what my 'gut' is saying.  That evening, my gut was saying, we've heard nothing from Johanna, it feels like this will soon become "MY monkeys and MY circus".  I do not like to hear and/or feel that.  Sue assures me that Johanna is a busy woman, and is dealing with a lot, so she may need a rest at home upon her return on Saturday, but she will come get Pebbles on Sunday evening or maybe Monday.  My guts whispers to me, "Buddy, you better prepare to be buying a boat load of metaphorical monkey chow if you think Johanna is coming back for Pebbles".  I am torn between listening to my gut or my wife, but if I were a betting men, my money would go with soon owning the monkeys.  I never wanted to run away and join the circus, but conversely, now I do not want the circus to join me

Sunday: I ask, have you heard anything from Johanna?  Sue says, well I did call her and left a message and I texted her, and I also tried to reach her on FaceBook; but no, I've heard nothing from her.
Monday:  I ask, have you heard anything back from Johanna this morning?  Sue responds a bit defensively, "I have several calls into her and attempts to contact her, and I am waiting to hear back from Johanna".  I repeat what my gut has already told me, "You know, Johanna will not be coming back for her dog."

I come home at 2 PM on Monday in order to meet with the A/C technician who is scheduled to be at our house shortly, but as I walk into the house, Sue is on the phone with Johanna.  I hear Johanna's voice and my 'Chihuahua-sense' is tingling.  Her tone and her wording are knocking my internal BS manipulation detector off scale. Johanna is telling Sue, that she can not take Pebbles back right now because she just moved to a new apartment and has not paid the pet deposit fee, so no way she could take the dog [Lie #2].  Besides, Johanna informs Sue that boarding her dog would be very expensive and a drain on her finances (as we have been saying, Not my monkeys, Not my circus).  "So", Johanna continues "if you could hold onto Pebbles for just a few more days, I have some friends across town who would like to give Pebbles a new home [Lie #3] and they will take her real soon".  And besides, Johanna continues, "It would not be fair to Pebbles to take her from your home back to my place, only to then re-home her at another place, this would be too traumatic for Pebbles and 'I love that dog so much'" [Lie #4].  Sue tells her that we have plans to leave town to visit friends over the weekend, so Pebbles has to be gone before then.  Johanna agrees and promises to pick up Pebbles on Wednesday (or Thursday) [detecting a pattern? Lie #5].  While I deal with the A/C technician, Sue agrees to hold onto Pebbles through Wednesday (or maybe Thursday).

Of course we hear nothing from Johanna on Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday.  Another reason Johanna could not take responsibility for Pebbles was revealed on FaceBook, Johanna flew to Chicago and posted all the fun she was having clubbing in the Windy City.  Meanwhile, our trip to visit our friends in East Texas for the weekend is now torpedoed by Pebbles.  I decide, Sue should go alone while I stay behind to care for MY monkey at MY circus.  I flat out tell Sue, Johanna is NOT your friend, she is a manipulative, scheming liar who is using you time after time.  I refer her to M. Scott Peck's book, People of the Lie.  Johanna is the embodiment of this type of evil that casually spins these toxic webs and entangles and manipulates all manner of people into her webs in order to use them for her own selfish pleasures.  I repeat, Johanna is NOT your friend and unless you handle this boldly, her toxin will poison your life and our marriage.  These are not our monkeys nor is this our circus.

When Sue returns from her solo visit to East Texas, I tell her the plan: you must pack up Pebbles and return her to Johanna at work.  Do not call ahead.  Do not give Johanna any warning and therefore a means of escape.  Show up with the dog.  Leave the dog at her office, and if Johanna is not there, leave Pebbles in her crate on the premises and tell whoever you see that this is NOT your dog, it is Johanna's dog.  Tell them to call Johanna to deal with it.  Then leave.  You owe no explanation, no excuses.  Just flip the back of your hand and say "Not my monkeys, Not my circus".

By Monday morning (day 13), Johanna has not returned any of Sue's messages.  Sue gathers all of Pebbles' stuff and together they ride out to the church denomination administrative offices where Johanna works.  Sue walks in with Pebbles and heads straight to Johanna's office.  Johanna is on the phone.  Johanna's face has the look of "busted" as Sue and pebbles round the corner.  Sue leaves Pebbles in the office then goes out to carry in all of her bedding, bowls and toys.  Johanna quickly smiles and says, "Oh Sue!  So good to see you!  I would have called you, but my phone has been all messed up and... [Lie #whatever].  Sue leaves.

The next day, Johanna's FaceBook is aglow with praise for "my dear friend Sue Suneson with many thanks, who watched my beloved dog while I was dropping my son off at a prestigious Ivy league school in New York..."  This face saving FaceBook post had at least two consequences, first her son Jeremiah was apparently told (lied to) by his mother that the Sunesons were very happy to give his dog Pebbles a new home.  So once Jeremiah got wind of the FaceBook post, he was confused and very sad that Pebbles no longer was at our house as he thought was the plan.  Second, our friend Diane (owner of Bella & Cooper whom we cared for earlier in the month) saw the post and being among other thing a 'dog person' thought she would offer to take Pebbles and do an 'evaluation' with Pebbles and then recommend her for a new home if all went well in the evaluation.  Once I heard that Pebbles was now at Diane's apartment, I told Sue, this will not go well and be very careful, because Johanna's manipulative evil tendrils are coiling back toward our house, do not let Pebbles (Johanna) back in our house!

No good deed goes unpunished.
Ain't that just like a pebble in your moccasin?

I decided to spend Labor Day weekend in East Texas with friends, while Sue had other obligations so she stayed in town.  While I was gone, Sue agreed to take Pebbles back into our house from Diane, so Diane could do a weekend trip.  But Pebbles was very aggressive toward her other 2 dogs, so she could not allow all 3 to remain in the same space.  So Sue had care of Pebbles for Sunday.  Glad I was not there.

I returned on Monday, and I get the story, but Sue gleefully reports that "Diane keeps her word" and that Diane did pick up and remove Pebbles Sunday evening.  But, somehow, Diane went from taking Pebbles for a short re-homing evaluation to getting full custody of Pebbles.  Somebody must've got manipulated.  Sue feels bad for Diane.  But I tell her, lets say this together one more time,

      Not MY monkeys,
      Not MY Circus.

Moving Out, Moving On

The time has come, I could not ignore it any longer.

Actually the time came as soon as last summer, but staggered my the laws of physics that dictates a body at rest will remain at rest, unless acted upon by a force, this property of inertia kept me paying rent at the run-down dump I had been leasing for Sunstone Exploration's office space over the last 5 years.

Sunstone had a spacious office with north and west facing windows on the second floor of the Bank America building in downtown Garland, 3 miles from home.  The Bank moved out in June of 2014, and I had vowed to get out before then, but I did not find a suitable place to relocate.  So I stayed and the place deteriorated something fierce, and the building management refused to return any calls from the 3 of us tenants remaining.  They are slum lords.  It took several forces to act upon me before I finally made the effort to get out.  I have a new space in a 6 story bank building 6 miles from home, albeit smaller, but still sufficient to handle my needs at Sunstone Exploration, Inc. World HQ. 

What I left behind was a space with little to no A/C (it is awfully hot in the Summer around here), elevators the have not worked for many months, graffiti in the stairwell and on the wall and doors of vacant offices, backed-up plumbing in the men's room that the slum lords never fixed and homeless people sleeping in the building.  Once I saw mosquito larvae wiggling in the backed-up sink in the men's room, I knew I had made the right decision to move out. So glad I did.

                   Sunstone Exploration, Inc.

                   1919 S. Shiloh Road, Ste. 235

                   Garland, TX  75042

Change is good.  I have proper A/C, my trash is emptied every single night and I pay less in rent.

I am happy - but I would be happier if the price of oil would get above $45 per Barrel.  Moving on with undaunted courage.

Test Cookies

Dinner preparations were going along just fine, a stir of the vegetables on the stove top burner, and then a peek inside the oven to check on the pork roast... oooh, this can't be good.  Sue calls me in from the living room to evaluate the situation.  I agree, this can't be good.

The bottom element in the oven is flaring a large 5-inch hissing flame and the metallic element is melting as we watch it slowly falls into two pieces.  This is more than a little fat splashed on the burner.  This is a catastrophic failure of a 25 year old appliance.  The top element remains in good condition, so a switch to 'broil' and dinner is served in a few more minutes.  The next evening it is a time to go to Pei Wei and grab a fortune cookie.  Sue's fortune reads, "You are about to eat a stale dessert", I crumble and open my cookie to read my fortune, "Once burned, twice shy".  Upon returning home, I grab my set of ratchet wrenches and unfasten the metal plate that holds the burned out element at the back of the oven,  I disassemble the connecting wires and lay out the charred remains on the stove top.

The next morning Sue heads to downtown Garland to visit Staten's Appliances, a wonderful throwback establishment that has stacks of burners and heating elements and all manner of salvaged cooking and refrigerating appliances crowding the dim pathways under a low-slung roof where all things are orderly heaped according to their kind.  Sue tells Mr. Staten, "I need one of these things" as she holds up the non-functioning part, "only I would like it to be in one piece".  With a wink and a nod, the party of two wanders into the dim aisle of salvaged oven parts and he pulls out a match.  This will be $25.  A done deal.  
The few machine screws that I removed were stored safely in a plastic contained, Sue arrives home and reassembles the heating element, cleans the oven and the two racks and lines the space with bright new aluminium foil.  

When I come in at the end of the day, I notice the destroyed element is gone; I peek into the oven and see a warm red glow on the lower element and a tray of chocolate chip cookies sitting on a newly cleaned oven rack.  Sue smiles and says "Those are 'test cookies'".

Ah, what a woman, repairs the oven, mixes a batch of cookies from scratch and and has it all working.   Love at 375 degrees.  The cookies passed the test too.

That Hot-Under-The-Collar Feeling

It was a Friday Evening.
It is always a Friday Evening - you know this to be true.

It is a Friday evening when one of the children starts to run a fever.
It is a Friday evening when the other child pukes.
It is a Friday evening when you get a severe tooth ache.
This time it was a Friday evening when we were headed to bed, when I made the comment, "Does if feel kind of warm in here?"
It was a Friday evening when I ran my checks on the A/C system; the outside fan was running normally, the breaker box was in an undisturbed condition, but the blower unit in the upstairs closet had a peculiar look.  There was ice coating the copper fittings leading into the condenser coils.  This was not normal.  I applied a hair dryer to the ice coating, figuring if I removed the abnormal condition, the A/C system might be good enough to work through the night.  I figured wrong.

It was a Saturday morning following a sweaty Friday night, when I called the service company.  They roundaboutedly suggested the problem was a dirty filter.  I told them that it is changed regularly, and was last replace one month ago.  She did not seem convinced.  I was thinking the ice was forming from something being off in the PV/T gas law of physics.  Instead, She insisted I needed to turn off the system and allow all the ice to melt.  With a inside temperature at 84 degrees, that would not take long.  Also, since this is a weekend, there will be an additional $175 surcharge for a service call.  I told her we would wait until Monday.  I call them back on Monday, and they will send somebody out that very day.

Monday, Monday, Monday.  Charlo, a French-Canadian by way of Vancouver, and for what is it worth, a descendant of Cardinal Richelieu; shows up in the afternoon.  Charlo pumps in 2-1/2 pounds of coolant to the system, and we are on our way to becoming the cool people we know we should be.  We bid him a fond adieu; as we raise our foils and exclaim, "All for one and one for all!  Be cool!

Cardinal Richelieu
His descendant supplies 1 kilo of Coolant
And we live in comfort again