Aesop

If you're a fan of Aesop's Fables, you will recall the story of the Grasshopper and the Ant. Briefly, the Grasshopper fiddled all summer, while the Ant stored up food for the coming winter. When winter came, the Ant refused to let the Grasshopper in, so the Grasshopper died, alone, cold, hungry, and no doubt regretting the error of his ways ... but too late to pass it on his children, I suspect.

Ah, well; we all must die. And Ants cannot be expected to act like Christians. As Ogden Nash noted:
The Ant has made himself illustrious
through constant industry industrious.
So what?
Would you be calm and placid
If you were full of formic acid?

Biology really is destiny, you see; the Ant couldn't help his industry and the Grasshopper couldn't conquer his indolence.

My husband and I are Grasshoppers. (We have raised two children; one is a Grasshopper and one is a Grasshopper trying to recreate herself as an Ant.) I'm fairly happy with my Grasshopper nature; at 57, I now know that I'm never going to get all my chores done on Saturday so I can enjoy Sunday. I'm going to loaf all day Saturday and realize on Sunday that I don't have time to do my chores, so must put them off for another week. (But I'll find time for dinner out, a movie, and several games of Spider solitaire.)

Climate plays a part, I think (although I'm related to many Florida Ants.) If you live in a harsh environment, you're not going to put off fixing that alternator or roof leak, or buying milk and bread. You're going to hustle your butt right down to the appropriate vendor and Take Care Of It. We grew up in Florida, so we tend to think we can take care of stuff any time, no rush, no hurry. (Well, except roof leaks; there's really no wait-and-see, relax-don't-worry about roof leaks - except in the dry seasons, of course; you can wait 'til the first good rain ...)

If the house gets in too much of a mess we can always move.

But sometimes you do have to "knuckle down, buckle down, and do it, do it, do it," as Roger Miller sang. So you put down the fiddle and set off, back straight, head up, eyes clear.

But you're still a Grasshopper. You're just a Grasshopper with delusions of Ant-ness.

Philosophy 101

Sometimes it's easier to see Christ in the face of a stranger than it is in the face of someone you love.

All Together Now

Steve and I went tonight to see the movie "All Together Now" or "Love" - I'm not clear on the title (http://www.cirquedusoleil.com/CirqueDuSoleil/en/OnScreen/Documentaries/alltogethernow.htm). It's the story of the collaboration among the Beatles, Apple Music and Cirque du Soleil to produce a show based on the Beatles' music. George Martin was a key player. George Harrison was the impetus; he was friends with the Cirque's founder.

I was amazed at how much the music is entwined with my life; it was my coming-of-age soundtrack. I can remember how sophomoric "All You Need Is Love" seemed to me, and how it nonetheless moved me. I'm amazed at how much of their lives I remember, and how avid I was for details at the time.

We both wanted more of the Cirque and less of the production angst and - oh no! Yoko!

But it was fun to watch. Cinetopia is always a nice experience, with wonderful food and an excellent facility. (If only they included foot massages!) And reliving our common experience is good for any couple, I think, cementing the details of the agreed-upon reality.

We teased our young waitress; when we ordered the same thing, she made a mild jest about long-married couples sharing tastes. Deadpan, I said, "Oh, but this is our first date." She was horrified for a minute, then we laughed. Later I told her we had been discussing our upcoming 36th anniversary, and how the time passed in a flash. "I don't know if you are partnered-up," I said, "but the time passes in a flash. Enjoy it." She replied, "I want to be you."

I made Steve give her a huge tip ... not really. But it was a sweet thing for her to say.

Ketchup

It's been quite a while since I last posted. Whenever people ask what I've been doing, I always say, "Nothing much." That's not true, of course.

There's the full-time job at FedEx Kinko's (now FedEx Office). And the part-time graphic design business. There's the house, of course, and bills and shopping. We re-sided the front of the house, and installed a largish new window. A weekend at the Coast with my sister; a dinner out with my husband and son. The mundane, ordinary events of a private life; not compelling to non-participants, a bit of a yawner even to me.

There's a poem I like by Baron Wormser called "A Quiet Life." It points out all the things that go into a quiet life, and they are myriad. Often when I am in the act of praise, I express thanks for "seasonable weather," a blessing too many people have missed. Or for "useful work, and willing and able hands to do it." These basic things are often only appreciated when lost. I try to be mindful of them now, while I have them.

Goodness knows they can evaporate pretty quickly.

Outside our snug four walls (even snugger with the new siding!), there is all the turmoil and furor of the end days of a presidential election. There is traffic and construction, crime and even more vicious punishment. There is also joy, color, life, energy, hope, helpfulness, caring and charity.

There was a time when I exulted in the conflict and excitement, and longed and strove to move and shake. Now? Ah, the quiet life, that's for me; simple pleasures of a tasty meal, a warm room, a loving companion, a captivating book or movie shared and discussed.

Winter approaches;
I draw inward with contentment.
We'll paint the house in spring.