PARAPRODOSKIANS

Winston Churchill loved them. They are figures of speech in which the latter part of a sentence or phrase is surprising or unexpected.  They're frequently humorous.

1. Where there's a will, I want to be in it.

2. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on my list.

3. Since light travels faster than sound, some people appear bright until you hear them speak.

4. If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong.

5. We never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public. (Three generations of us shopping at Myrtle Beach last week!)

6. War does not determine who is right, only who is left.

7. Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

8. To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.

9. I didn't say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.

10. In filling out an application, where it says, "In case of emergency, notify:" I put "DOCTOR."

11. Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy. Ever been to Walmart?

12. You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice.

13. I used to be indecisive. Now. . . I'm not so sure.

14. To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target.

15. Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.

16. You're never too old to learn something stupid.

17. I'm supposed to respect my elders, but it’s getting harder and harder for me to find one now.

GRANDMA'S APRON

Mama's in heaven today but sometimes I picture her here.  If I visualize her from my childhood, my memories of her include a fresh, crisp apron over her dress. Both my grandmothers wore them too. Mine hangs like a decoration by my laundry room. My sister-in-love, Dianne, made it for me years ago.  She even cross-stitched my name in the text on the bib.  Back then my kitchen decor was Williamsburg blue, country dotted swiss and geese. Many today don't even know what an apron is. So here's the history of the apron.

The principal use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath because she only had a few and it was easier to wash aprons than dresses. Also aprons required less material and were made from recycled feed sacks. Aprons served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.

It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.

From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.


When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids.

And when the weather was cold, Grandma wrapped it around her arms.

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove. Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.

From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.

In autumn her apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees. Grandma sat her hot baked apple pies on the window sill to cool. Her granddaughters set theirs on the window sill to thaw.

When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.

When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men folk knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.

Susanna Wesley, mother of 19 children, used her apron uniquely.  Charles and John, with their siblings, observed as she flipped it over her head, signaling her time alone with God.  They knew not to interrupt Mama when she was under her apron!

It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that old-time apron that served so many purposes.

The government would go crazy now trying to figure out how many germs were on that apron.

I don't think I ever caught anything from an apron - but love.

Notice that Medium is size 14-16.

My decorative apron hangs nostalgically.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Ya'll come!  I've got a frozen apple pie in the freezer!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

IRONING IRONY

To iron or not to iron, there IS no question.  In our house.

My friend, Bev, recently said, "I've been ironing."

"What's that?" I chided.

I DO vaguely remember it.  Her husband, Leroy, even admired my deluxe-do-everything-digital, headlight included iron. Which I seldom use.  Life is ironic that you can afford things later in life that you actually needed more earlier in life.

Kent, our son, noted our upgrades. "Mom, when we were kids we slept on those knotty muslin sheets.  NOW since we left home, you use Egyptian cotton, 600 thread count and spoil us!"  

"Son, it's because you left home we can afford them now!"

Ironic.  Irony is the opposite of wrinkly.

I remember Grandma Tippett using this to sprinkle her clothes. Even Mama would dampen items to iron, roll them into a plastic bag to refrigerate.  Ironing was not just a chore back then but a process. Hence, it took a whole day. . .wash day was Mondays!  All day!

                                                               

My tole paining remnant remains.

I  have Grandmother Strickland's cast iron iron.  I painted a lemon on it and used it for a doorstop for years. Now it's upgraded to bookshelf art! 

Lemons were among the fruits we learned in our tole painting class back in the '70's.  So I pretty much covered anything not moving in strawberries, apples, grapes, lemons and mice back then.  I'm noticing the irony in my mouse-painting landing on my pantry door. Oh my!  Hope that's not subliminally indicative.

Repurposing Grandma's iron from practical to art is my idea of progress.

Wrinkle free fabrics came along but sometimes lied.  Left too long in either the washer or dryer, wrinkle-free clothes morph into wrinkly. To avoid ironing I just toss them into the rinse cycle again and remember to sprint to the dryer while they're still damp.  A quick hand-press and a hanger remove any need to iron. And I even count my dash to the dryer as exercise. Modern women multitask!

I consider it success when I remember to get the clothes out of the washer before they mildew.  When my Monday wash days include a Wednesday, clothes stink and I have to start all over.  Pushing buttons twice in the same week!  Stink!

My favorite comedian, Brian Reagan, gets it!  You'll love his video below. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xElv7416PZY

HURRY UP AND WAIT

Confession time.  I too found it hard to wait.  Still do. I can identify with this adorable little guy.

http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=WWGKWPNX&utm_source=GodTube%20Must-See%20Video&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=09/02/2013

God's teaching me to wait, not rush or hurry through the moment.  I used to be worse! Transforming from Martha to Mary is. . .a transforming process.

My annual week away with the Lord tests my progress. Quite honestly it takes the first day of silence and solitude to release my clock, agenda and expectations to Him.  When the swirl of my busy life settles into a release of the week to Him, I find such sweet peace.  My eyes see beauty I usually rush past.  My ears open to sounds of His creation. I hear the rhythm of the rolling ocean, birds chirping, helicoptors overhead.  OK, so everything wasn't of His creation.

That's part of the problem for me.  Noise, distractions, schedules, TV, electronics beeping, buzzing, whistling all clamor for my attention.  Generally they win, even during so-called quiet times.  I'm a lot like the little boy in the video. 

How rude of me!  To treat the God of the universe so.  I feel insulted when a friend does that to me in the middle of a conversation.  So does He.

That's why a week of allowing God to pace me is so vital.  I hear His voice again.  I'm reminded that's so much more important than Him hearing mine.

Joy, peace, love begin to fill me from within.  I learn (once again!) to walk in the Spirit.  No run, rush or hurry past Him. . .to the next thing.

He's my everything.  

This was my view during my retreat.  I'm reminded to lift up my eyes, above the towers that babble, to God.