Chlorine.

I found leftover chemicals for a pool that’s been gone for 3 years. The directions clearly state: can be safely rinsed down the drain.

Safely?

Just ask my husband and his friend Peter, who now refer to Friday as “the day my wife tried to kill us.”

I began rinsing and pouring said chemical at a very slow rate. Less than 3 cups had poured out of my 2 gallong container, when trouble first appeared.

Series of cataclysmic events as best I remember them:
Clogged drain.
Get pokey thing. Poke said clog.
Drain runs for nanosecond.
Clogged drain. Again.
Eyes watering. Senses blurring.
Get plunger.
Firmly pack all powdered chlorine into pipe.
Eyes watering. Senses blurring. See image of Gandolf in the utility sink.
Asphyxiate anything moving in the laundry room… including Gandolf.
Call for husband and husband’s brave friend.
Bail. Plead for mercy on the court.
Watch He-Men bravely attack drain issue.
Clear path for He-Men to bolt thru garage and suck wind from mother earth.
Taste and smell nothing for nearly 5 hours.
Treat everyone involved to dinner.
Cheat death and live to fight another day.

Road Closed.

The scene is this: we are driving down the highway , I am in the back seat with my brother. Dad and and mom in the front. We fly by a warning sign that says, "Road Construction Ahead". It is followed by another "Caution" sign, a couple "Detour" suggestions, and then finally the giant orange and white barricade with flashing yellow lights and a hugantic sign that says "ROAD CLOSED".

Dad slows the car down and says, "Hm. Wonder what that means."

It's not a question. 

He's not really looking for an answer.

He's just pondering.

By nature my dad is not a rebel. He is the very definition of coffee without cream. When he questions a department of transportation sign, he is not questioning authority. He does not think that rules don't apply to him. Nor is he looking for adventure outside of the stock market and a good round of golf.

He just honestly believes that there is no road that is truly impassible.

Regardless of the vehicle he is driving, the number of warning signs, or the complete lack of any other traffic, he is confident that he and his Oldsmobile Cutlas can make it.

I'd like to have that same confidence in my faith. That unswerving faith in God that regardless of the doubt, issues or barricades, I know that the road ahead is not really closed. Not for Him and therefor not for me.

ashes.

On my grandpa's farm (it really was as idyllic as it sounds) he had a burn pile. The common things of life would be burned, then he would gather the ashes into his wheelbarrow and spread them out over his garden. It was old school, but science backs it up. The potassium in the ashes benefitted the soil and therefor the plants. And my favorite: the strawberries.

Today God reminded me of that lesson from decades ago. How often I say, "I am burnt out". I feel as if I am a pile of ashes. Used and dry. Blowing around. No weight.

But even ashes are used to make life. Out of my burnt place He can grow things. 

If I let him gather up my ashes, He will re-invest me into something new. Something different. Something way cooler than a pile of ashes.

Things To Do List.

1. plan to be spontaneous.

2. wash down Advil PM with an espresso. evaluate effects

3. rally around something.

4. catch a cold. let it go.

5. sing a song of sixpence.

6. stop. smell flowers. go.

7. contemplate thinking.

8. run for president.

9. plan for cataclysmic event.

10. follow the leader.

stress relievers

ruffles

hot bath

looking at van gough's starry night

read isaiah chapter 10

listen to my daughter sing

listen to my son drum (seriously. stress reliever)

listen to my husband laugh

organize a closet

nap

plan a vacation

re-read letters from my mom

plan an escape