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Frequent haunts

March 17, 2009

I keep looking at the Top-10 Recession-Proof Jobs lists on Yahoo!, but I have yet to see Soup Writer listed. It occurs to me that I might have to expand my niche.

But I am immobilized and afraid of change. This is the only change I can believe in: 

Some change is good. Last fall we discovered that the reason that black mold persisted in lodging in the grout along the bottom of the shower–the one corner of original construction in our house–was a leaking shower pan. Ordinarily that is a small thing, but in this case it meant tearing out a tile shower that would have made Nebuchadnezzar, or even the junior senator from Illinois, proud to have as a mausoleum. Then a new tile shower had to be built in its place. My husband readily conceded that he had nothing better to do with the Saturdays of his life for the four months that followed. We have overhauled four tile bathrooms in three houses in 16 years. That isn’t very many.

I had been afraid another change had dropped, something worse than mold in the shower. I had every symptom of thyroid depletion, an eventuality to which someone with Addison’s disease is ever alert. But my bloodwork returned with a perfect score, except for high eosiniphils, which seems to be my normal condition. I have a pugnacious immune system. It probably met its match with some off-brand flu.

My Cat’s glucose levels have jumped this year. I sometimes see horrific scenes like this:

I take a deep breath, note that he has no symptoms, and carry on. He responds to insulin, which is all his vet requires. He remains in that class of “healthy diabetics.” “Some cats just have high numbers.” Coolidge is one of one, not one of some.

Our chickens have remembered the purpose of their lives with us, and are providing one to four excellent eggs a day. They aren’t as dumb as they look; we have granted them a stay of execution.

I have been haunted by the news video of Sacramento’s tent city. I was ready to write the mayor of Sacramento, knowing he was waiting for someone from Tacoma, Washington to tell him what to do. God so very kindly abated this impulse. I am not always so favored. He permits many of my foolish and annoying impulses to go unchecked. I can only think this is to increase my humiliation and decrease my number of friends.

Some people go to Capri, or Club Med, or on church retreats. My husband and I have nothing urging us to vacate or retreat, and we haven’t left home overnight in 11 years. Our church is here. I once thought such things were fairly interchangeable, but time and age seem to have patched the leak from which that thought would sometimes spring. We live within a few miles of Western Reformed Seminary and have enjoyed taking classes and attending lectures there. I was so happy yesterday to learn that an old friend is going to be this year’s Taber Lecture speaker. I will post an announcement of this soon, but do reserve the evenings of May 4-7 if you are in Tacoma and long to hear a distinguished scholar and author speak on Christianity and capitalism, and why the New Deal was a raw deal: an abject failure from which our nation has never fully recovered.

These are exactly the sorts of surges on which I thrive; they are exactly why I remain indifferent to the idea of vacations, even in the best of economies. This is the manna that makes me indifferent to the great steak houses of the world.

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