We're at "Lock Up" But No Can Do

Building a house is a pretty exciting project. There's lots to do: so many choices, so little money . . . I mean, time! Choosing a plan, flooring, colours--many small decisions along the way right until move-in day.

There are a few landmarks during this process. Digging the basement. Walls and trusses up. Roof on. Lock up. Interior walls and flooring. Finishing. Painting. Moving Day!

Lock up. That's just what it says. Everything is closed in--all doors and windows installed--and the building can be locked up.

That's where our project is; however, there is one small problem. We can't lock it up.

The reason we can't lock it up is because someone trespassed onto the building site and STOLE all the door knobs, deadbolts, and locks, along with six rolls of tuck tape and a set of laminated plans.

Replacing the hardware today cost a little over $500. So now we can lock up.

I ask myself: who would steal door knobs and locks? What would they do with them? Are these people reselling them--I suppose that's a possibility; after all, we know that they are worth . . . a little over $500.

On the other hand, perhaps in the midst of a financial crisis (we had one ourselves today, worth . . . a little over $500), this is a new way of building a house. Visit all the building sites in and around town. Pick up a load of two-by-sixes here, a few doors there, some windows from another place. You might even be able to pick up a set of laminated plans.

Lock up? yes--but the house is not the only thing that needs to be locked up!

Letting Go . . .

We are preparing for the grandmother of all garage sales being held this weekend by a group that I’m in. We’re looking around our house to see what we can contribute. What do we have the most of?? Books! So we start there, scanning each shelf to see what might be redundant or no longer of interest. Women’s Studies—I don’t want to count the dollars that I spent over the years I was teaching this subject! Literature—lots of stuff here that I won’t look at again. Business Communications? What are the chances that I’ll teach that again? Pretty slim, I tell myself.

And then there’s the wide swath of books that I read when I was writing my thesis. Oh my, did I actually read all this stuff? I flip open several volumes. Yes, there’s underlining, highlighting, and my own notes neatly written in the margins, from the first chapter to the last.

I start pulling books off the shelves and quickly fill four boxes. I survey the shelves, ready for a second pass. I marvel that although I have removed 67 books, it hardly seems to have made a dent. Admittedly, I did pull some books from on top of the bookcases—not actually a shelf but drawn into service several years ago because there was no room for yet another bookcase! And I rearranged some, sorting as I moved from shelf to shelf. Hmm . . . what’s this Atwood doing over here? Back where it belongs it goes! Three copies of The Handmaid’s Tale??—There’s a reason: one for home, one for the office (so I don’t have to carry a copy back and forth every day), and a previous edition that has many useful handwritten notes. I decide to keep all three—extravagant, I know, but I’m not ready to part with them—or maybe it’s just with something they represent. A George Macdonald separated from its siblings! Ah! a happy family reunion.

The books may be a little looser on the shelves, making them easier to take from their formerly too-snug spot, but really, the shelves look pretty much the same: full. I must keep culling.

The problem is that as soon as these are delivered over to the garage sale organizers, someone will ask me for a book, and I’ll say, Oh, yes, I have a copy of . . . oh, no, actually I just got rid of that!

But such is life. There is a time to let go of stuff. And for me, this is It.

Well . . . some things.

Entomology and Etymology

Yesterday, there was a frenzy of activity at our house. It's a new and sudden interest, prompted perhaps by some lessons last in my grandson's grade 3 class. The students learned the vocabulary concerning butterflies--it's a French Immersion class, so they learned:
le papillon - butterfly
le cocon - coccoon
les oeufs - eggs
la chenille - caterpillar
l'abdomen - abdomen
les ailes - wings
la Belle Dame - Painted Lady (a kind of butterfly)
les feuilles - leaves
la chrysalide - chrysalid
les antennes - antennas
la transformation - change

At supper, being more interested in etymology than entomology, I introduced the word lepidopterist.

It was a beautiful sunny summer day yesterday, and the kids were catching butterflies in their nets that had been purchased at the dollar store. Once you catch a butterfly, though, you need to know what to do with it. A search on the Internet brought forth detailed instructions on the procedure. First, a killing jar (I don't like this part, but apparently, this is what scientists do). Then the butterflies are carefully pinned on a board. This was easily made with short lengths of molding from the building-supply store. After a day or two, the small strips of paper can be removed and the specimens repinned, studied, and displayed.

We needed just a few rules. No catching two of the same kind. Handle each one with care.

The kids were very interested in all aspects of the procedure, although they definitely needed help with the jar and the pinning. We've ordered some proper pins so we don't have to continue using quilting pins, and we're perfecting the making of our pinning boards.

It's hard to tell what interest from a person's youth will last throughout his or her life. Robert Bateman, the great Canadian wildlife artist, was producing promising artwork by the time he was seven years old. Closer to home, I have been interested in the night sky since I was in Grade 4, and now spend time with my telescope observing the night sky.

Who knows? This current interest in butterflies may foster a lifetime of wonder for God's great creation.

A Full Day!

At least twenty times a day, I think to myself, "Oh, that would make a good topic for my blog!" Now it's 10:34 and I'm sitting on my back deck in my PJs with my laptop in front of me. It's warmish although the air has cooled off from what it was this afternoon. There is no wind at all, so it's very pleasant. There don't seem to be any mosquitoes. Now that I'm sitting here ready to write, I wonder where all those great ideas are hiding.

I was out here this morning first thing before 7, once again in my PJs (in case you're wondering, yes, I did get dressed during the day). I had my telescope set up and was observing the moon. It rises late and by 7 a.m., is in the southern sky about 45 degrees off the horizon. The moon is in its last quarter, which really means you see a half-moon, which is a quarter of the way through its phases. The sun rising gave a beautiful highlight to some of the features.

At church, an interesting question was posed for us to consider: What do you not let anything get in the way of? In other words, what's most important, perhaps not in the grand scheme of things, but on a day-to-day basis, what ascends the throne of our life? Something to think about here.

I wrote recently about removing the training wheels and letting a four-year-old "fly" on her own. Well, I needn't have worried. Today, she graduated to a 14-inch wheel, and she is flying! Up and down the street, out in the school yard--she is definitely ready to roll!

It's the end of a glorious day! The sun was shining. The birds were singing. Now darkness has fallen. Let's remember that "The earth is the LORD's, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein. For he hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods." Psalm 24:1-2.

A Valuable Twenty Minutes

I listened today to the keynote address at the convocation of the local college. At the beginning of the speech, the speaker announced that she was going to tell us several stories from her own life, stories about the "influencers" in her life. This she did, relating experiences of her educator father and her nurse mother. Not surprisingly, the speaker had followed in both their footsteps, first training as a nurse, and then becoming an educator herself, training future nurses. She told of one of the legacies of her father, who had taught in one-room school houses in Southern Alberta. Wherever he lived, he planted trees on the dry prairie. Besides the many lives he touched because, as teacher, he was central in the community, he left a wonderful legacy of green: today, forests grow where his plantings took root.

At first, it might have appeared that the speech was entirely self-centred. Ego-centric. Or worse yet, egotistical. But from the stories she told, she drew out important principles that apply to young people, working people, and people facing change in these uncertain times. Be honest. Work hard. Touch lives. Help others. Leave a legacy.

There are so many urgencies in our world, so many things that could be said to graduating classes as they launch themselves from one phase of their lives to the next. The environment. World peace. Financial responsibility.

Today, I heard another urgency--the great need to be mindful of our roots, of where we’ve come from, of those who have been influencers in our lives. Her charge to the graduates was this: take a moment today to think of those who have influenced you.

The logical follow-up is this: How are we influencing others?

My Heart is in My Throat!

I can't look. I cover my eyes. I have to go in. It's just too stressful for me.

They've taken the training wheels off her two-wheeler. I know this is a rite of passage children go through. Most survive. I know all that. But still, I can't look.

She's four-and-a-half. From inside the house, I can hear her wailing. She must have wiped out. I did notice that she had her helmet on. Also, knee pads and elbow pads. There wasn't too much left exposed that could have been damaged too badly.

Maybe it's not so much the scrapes and bruises that she'll suffer during the next few days as she perfects her technique of balancing and steering (I saw her concentrating on the balancing part, and then she just let go of the handlebars! If her dad hadn't been holding on . . .).

Maybe it's her growing up so fast right before my eyes. Two years ago, it was the trike. Last year, the hand-me-down two-wheeler with training wheels. And now, this. By the end of the summer,she'll be off to the park and around the block, keeping up with her brothers or maybe setting the pace for them!

One minute they're little. We run along beside them, shouting encouragement and giving them confidence. The next minute, they're gone. Hopefully, those shouts are still ringing in their ears!