Loss is gain

O make me glad for every scalding tear,
For hope deferred, ingratitude, disdain! 
Wait, and love more for every hate, and fear
No ill, — since God is good, and loss is gain.

Mary Baker Eddy 

This week, I have learned that sometimes, we go through hell so that 10 years and 400 miles later, we will know how to love someone else who is doing the same.

Empathy isn’t cheap, but this week, I am “glad for every scalding tear” that slipped down my cheeks a decade ago. This week, I understand what it is to “wait, and love more for every hate.” This week, an old loss revealed itself as gain.

And this week, I am realizing — once again — that God is, indeed, good.



1. This is what a retired racing greyhound does when you leave him unsupervised for six and a half hours:

2. Heavener Runestone State Park is gorgeous.
3. Being lost on unfamiliar backroads is fun.
4. A small, fuzzy, black spider has been hanging out on the storm door on our front porch for two days. It’s sort of cute, in a spidery way.
5. Is it weird that I carry a tape measure and a can of WD-40 in my purse? ‘Cos some boys from church laughed at me when I pulled them out yesterday while searching for my Swiss Army knife. 
6. I may get a chance to do some wasp wrangling in the near future. Words cannot begin to describe how excited I am about this possibility. Wasps? From a bucket lift? Yes, please! Bee suit or no, that is some seriously gonzo volunteer work.
7. One of the greatest moments in music history occurred on this date in 1972:

Pay special attention to the piano. It’s amazing.


Crazy afternoon

I procrastinated a bit yesterday — other than running three and a half miles and getting unduly angry over a stranger’s ill manners, I didn’t accomplish much.

Today was shaping up to be equally useless, but after a three-hour nap this afternoon, I decided it was time to start catching up, so in the past hour and a half, I’ve done two loads of laundry; cleaned the stovetop, counters, and kitchen table; swept the kitchen floor; cleaned the refrigerator; picked up the clutter from my office floor; cleared one of my desks; and started the process of rendering a little beeswax we harvested last weekend.

I still have to clear this desk, clean the bedroom, sweep the carpets, clean the living room, clean the rodents’ cages, feed a bunch of scraps to the hens, clean the bathroom, take out the trash, Photoshop a bunch of images, burn a CD of photos, update three Web sites, and read the Lesson.

If I get all the housework done before dark, I think I’ll go wash the car and then treat myself to a slushie.


What women think

Note to the guy who kicked over a little kid’s water bottle while I was jogging at Reed Park this afternoon: You might have thought you were impressing your girlfriend, but trust me — women do NOT think boorish behavior is hot. They may giggle or defend you to your face, but secretly, it makes them uncomfortable, and they think: “I am dating a loser who embarrasses me in public.” And then what they think — especially if they happen to be as supermodel-cute as your girlfriend — is: “I get hit on at least twice every time I leave the house. Why am I putting up with this loser?”

Seriously, dude: You looked like a jerk, and you put your girlfriend in a really embarrassing position. You had a chance to save a little face, and you totally blew it. Speaking as a woman, I can guarantee you that she is going to remember that for a long, long time.

If I were you, I’d go into some major damage-control mode right about now. Send her a dozen roses right now, and go out of your way to do something seriously classy in the next day or so. And by “seriously classy,” I am not talking nice-dinner-and-overpriced-champagne classy. I’m talking join-the-Peace-Corps or rescue-a-litter-of-kittens-from-a-burning-building classy.

Yeah, you’re welcome.


Hard Day’s Night

I am exhausted. But it’s the same kind of exhaustion I feel at the end of a marathon … or after a day spent doing preservation work at a historic site somewhere on Route 66.

It’s the kind of familiar, comfortable, oddly satisfying exhaustion that you have to earn. The kind that makes dinner taste better. The kind that makes the shower more relaxing, the bed more comfortable, and the morning sunshine more welcoming. It’s a blissful exhaustion that comes from a long day — or a long week — of hard work undertaken with right motives.

Hope your week was as wonderful as mine….