My broadband access was defunct for 24hrs. Despite three phone calls to a place far away where the people had different accents, nothing seemed to be happening. I kept being told they would check the line, and that results were inconclusive. This morning it is working again. The moral dilemma is whether or not I telephone to say all now seems to be well.
I shall think on these things while I catch up with emails etc.
There should be a health warning not to read the leaflet inside medication……. I have had a change of tablets, so decided to read the blurb. Amongst the so-called minor side effects are the following: headaches, dizziness, tiredness, a general feeling of being unwell, diarrhoea, constipation, stomach pain, feelings of sickness, being sick (vomiting), dry or sore mouth and throat, rash/itching, hair thinning, sensitivity to light, muscle or joint pain, depression, swelling of the hands and feet, pins and needles, blurred vision, changes in the way things taste, vertigo, confusion, and hallucinations.
Yes – I do need the tablets. But I am having second thoughts.
Misty is having an adventure today. She is staying with her adults in the campervan at Ayr. And Daniel (dachshund) is bringing his human too. The caravan club site is adjacent to Craigie Park so there is plenty of space for walking. Unfortunately, with three adults and two dogs aboard, the campervan is not large enough for a secure crate.
Puppy on the loooooose!
Happy Birthday to Son No 3 – is he really 31? Priceless moment at his darts-party last night at the Tigh an Truish. Son No 2 arrived unexpectedly from away up north. As to the darts and whether or not I managed to hit the board……I shall leave that to your imagination. Anyone who knows me already knows the answer. So I just concentrated on enjoying the atmosphere (no smoking) and watching the puppy.
For those who do not know the story, the pub name means House of the Trousers and legend has it that the islanders used to change from kilts to trousers there prior to going onto the mainland, where the kilt was banned.
In the silence of my innermost being,
in the fragments of my yearned-for wholeness,
can I hear the whispers of God’s presence?
Can I remember when I felt God’s nearness?
When we walked together and I let myself be embraced by God’s love.
Sacred Space 2006
Sorry for the language, but only the old English-Norse term will do as you will see in due course…….. Last night, after pottying the infant canine, I came indoors to answer an email. Before I had finished, the telephone rang. It was No 2 son to wish me happy birthday and happy mother’s day. So far, so good. Then the story deteriorates….. In the space of “hello it’s nice to hear you…..” Misty had managed to produce two piles of excrement in the hall – one at each end. Son was party to some choice language, some fending off puppy shouts and the noises of clearing up. (All on a walkabout phone you understand.) Have you ever tried one-handed scooping? Then, I had to take the poopy-bags out to the bin. Nearly stepped on what seemed to be another large mess on the path, which turned out to be a toad. Horror of horrors! I was all frazzled because of two bags of doggy poo, one phone under the ear and keeping the pup from realising the thankfully silent and still toad was alive – and doggy-snack sized. Hence the title of this post….. only turd suffices to conjure up the sight, smell and clearing-up operation.
And we don’t even have a pond.
I am pleased to hear of the release of the three hostages, including Harold Kember. They were working for Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) They are rightly pleased, though saddened at the murder of the fourth member of the team, Tom Fox. Thankfully, it was a peaceful rescue operation. I have to confess to feeling a wimp in the face of the courage of peace activists. Prayer can seem such an easy option in comparison, but prayer vigils have meant that participants have given up sleep and food in solidarity.
Modern methods of communication mean that we are in touch with news throughout the world instantly; and it is terrible to think of all the hostages still being held throughout the world. A simple search on Google says it all. The struggle for me each day is to avoid the trap of feeling helpless. I may not understand the big picture, I may not understand how prayer works, but I can keep being involved – even when it hurts.
Walking by the sea in Oban today, we had an adventure. The good news is that the border collie and king charles spaniel did not set about Misty. Herself was squealing so loudly that the only thing to do was to pick her up. The other two dogs, who had come to play, (I trust) – could only look on in bemused fashion as the pup was cradled safely in my arms. the owners of the dogs were suitably contrite, after all control is not about madly shouting at dogs who refuse to listen. Mind you, I know only too well what that feels like after all my years of dog ownership. It is to Misty’s credit that she is already relatively obedient. It is all down to bribery with food though.
When Misty is boxing with the cat, she looks all butch whilst he merely looks annoyed; when around other bigger dogs, she still looks all tiny and wimpish. There has got to be a moral in there somewhere.
Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury, has joined the debate about creationism and Prince Charles had his say about religious tolerance. It all leads me to wonder why no-one seems able to see that fundamentalism in any religion leads to idolatry. The idolatry is either of a book, a creed or a person. God gets side-lined and passions become inflamed. At least theological training gave me the ability to view the world and its religions in a systematic way. The pity of it is that liberalism, by its very nature, tends towards tolerance of those who are intolerant themselves. And there is no clear answer to that conundrum.
That little rant over, I shall go read a trashy novel and forget the worries of the real world for a while.
Happy Birthday to me – again.
This year I am sixty two and can hardly believe it. I am the child smelling the new mown grass; I am the teenager winning at tennis; I am the young woman commuting to work; I am the mother playing with her child; I am the cub-leader singing songs round a fire; I am the middle-aged executive making decisions; I am the student swotting for exams; I am the minister baptising a child; I am a pensioner raising her dog. I am all these people and more…… I am a writer, composing her blog. Speaking to you, reaching out to touch your heart.
Happy Birthday to me – and to all other spring babies.
