Spring Flurries

I expected the activity level to subside when we stopped entertaining. Nature truly does dislike a vacuum, though, and the pace has remained constant. What with normal family activities, we can be together--as the term "family" implies--Thursday and Saturday evenings. Of course, those are the available time slots for unscheduled events, so they are often filled by spontaneous opportunities. Like naps.

At work, we continue the ancient quest. Like alchemy, or the drive to discover a Northwest Passage of North America, we are convincing our customer that ten pounds of processed sustenance will fit neatly in a five-pound bag. I don't believe anybody is convinced yet. The product thus far looks as rushed as it is, is less planned than it ought to be, and shows few signs of impending improvement. The tangible results are in my reflection--a few lighter strands above my eyes and a few darker rings just below them.

When I watched the Ed Sullivan Show as a youth, I had no idea it was a living parable. One regular entertainer came out and spun plates atop tall, thin poles. It was gripping stuff. As we watched, we rooted for the guy. Look to your left! It's wobbling. You can catch it! Your right, your right! Good job. Keep 'em going. Just a touch here. Now there. That's it. The inevitable end was several loud crashing noises, a visible pile of shards on the floor, and our hero proudly clasping the few bits he was able to save to his chest and bowing to the audience. It wasn't high-tech. It wasn't even in color. But unlike video games, it was real.

Life does not have a reset switch. Maybe we would all play it a lot better if "Game Over" meant we had to go back to the store and purchase a new copy. But the point here is the plate guy, right? He had to pick which ones he would save and let the others go. By the end of his performance, we knew a couple of things. He wasn't perfect. Sometimes just a touch was enough to keep things going. Sometimes it required more attention. And even he realized he couldn't do it all. But at the end of his performance, he proudly held the things he could do well, faced the audience, and bowed.

It ain't the Widow's Mite, the Prodigal Son, or the Wicked Servant. But as parables go, it works for me.

And when I returned to Normal ...

... it wasn't.

We've had a bit of extraordinary living. In the past couple of weeks we've had guests from out of town. Way out of town. From east of here. London. We spent some lovely time together, filling the house with noise and laughter. Then we confused the hell out of the dog and we all left at the same time. They headed to South Carolina and we flew to Indiana. As we surmised, we could not hear the dog's reaction from either place.

We introduced our guests, Debbie and Chriszy (pronounced Kriz'-ee, because a man's name should not rhyme with "sissy") to hard-shelled crabs. We found the crabs in their natural habitat, hiding just beneath a layer of Old Bay seasoning and just above a layer of butcher's paper.

They, in turn, reintroduced us to the delights of droll, self-effacing British humour, refined charm and considerate dignity, and the gift of patience. Patience, we were encouraged to recall, when properly applied to the bounty of many forms of plant life, yields fermentation. This phenomenon can be applied to several types of grain, grapes, and even apples. Whatever else might be said of them in the popular press, for this pursuit of a higher good alone I say, "God bless the French." Even in the Midwest, which is not a noted wine region, we have given them a nod of thanks by gracing the local application of this pursuit with the name "bourbon." Sure, most of us thought it referred to a combination of the "stick-tite" seed pod and a bread casing for hot dogs. But now we have culture and know the word is French. Just as French as duBois county, Indiana--a place pronounced "dew boyz" and is filled with the proud descendants of German pioneers.

Some of our nearby friends were able to meet our English guests. Their impression reinforced ours. We know some very nice people. In both places.