My Pantry

So last week I was a puppeteer in a puppet show for the kids at camp. It's always a mystery what might happen during these events. We aren't professionals which is very clear to our audience, but rather we are all good friends working together for one common goal - to make each other humiliated. We each take turns achieving that goal. There are too many "goals" to reproduce here on paper so I will only share the ultimate "goal" which I believe cannot be topped. In this show there are puppets and "real people". You know, kind of like a "Mr. Roger's Neighborhood" show, except interesting. There are two puppets of which I am one. My husband is one of the "people" in the show. There is a basic script which we are to follow but according to the puppets is most certainly optional. The theme of the show varies day to day but always has a spiritual point. It often takes a while to get to the spiritual point because the puppets aren't very controllable, much to the "real people's" dismay. Now hopefully you get the gist of what we're trying to do here. On this particular day the script tells us that my husband, a "person", and another "person" are to rummage through a sack filled with snacks for the puppets and the "people" to take to a baseball tryout. Prior to the show I was given the task of filling the sack with snacks and items of my choice that we could take to the tryout. So at home I filled the bag with all sorts of interesting things that would spur on conversation between me, the puppet, and my husband, the "person", during the show. In my rush to fill the bag with worthy items I added in a bag of dried figs. Well, fortunately for the show and for me, I was in a hurry and didn't have time to look into this bag of figs because nothing could have been better orchestrated than what happened next. We are at the scene where my husband, the "person", is rifling through the sack of snacks, etc. He pulls out varying items I choose especially for that scene. Snacks that "just don't belong here" - Sesame Street style, things like cans of tomatoes, flashlights, books, chocolate chips - because the puppet likes to cook - you get the idea. Then comes the moment - the figs - my husband, the "person", looks at the bag of figs and questions me, the puppet, about the purpose in the figs. He gripes about the necessity of this kind of snack and "whatever the point may be" and then without me being able to see, because I'm behind the puppet stage, he decides to eat one of the figs. Now it became very clear to all of us that he had never eaten a fig, or for that matter never seen, smelled, touched or even handled a dried fig before. He ate it, thought it a little dry and shriveled, but carried on with the script. He was in a conversation with another "person" and as they were talking he reached into the bag and grabbed another one to pop into his mouth. It must have been so delicious he couldn't resist another. But before he could eat another delicious dried treat the other "person" looks down and cries out "Is that a worm?" Right there in his hand, crawling in and out of the fig, was a live worm. Here we must pause. OK, it is very clear to us that he had never eaten, seen, smelled, touched or handled a dried fig before because upon closer inspection and even distant inspection the fig was moldy, dried up, shriveled, crusty.....yum. My poor ill- cuisined husband. So here comes the response to this event. Initially there was a long pause from husband, the "person", then a look of illness, nausea perhaps, and finally an expression of "what should I do now, should I drink something or should I throw it up expression...." Unfortunately for me he opts for none of the above and makes his way over to the puppet stage, more specifically towards me. He peers over the side of the stage and glares down at me - may I add he also looks a little pale - much to my delight. I scream which makes the puppet look like she's having a delayed reaction to the oncoming of the "person". The dignity of the show was gone - if there even was any to begin with, but oh how I wish I could have been a "real person" that day because apparently the look on his face was "priceless". How we ever recovered from that scene, the Lord only knows. We've had many moments behind and in front of that stage but nothing will compare to that infamous day of fig eating, thanks to my well stocked and cared for pantry and my good humored husband.

Fourth of July

Happy Fourth of July!

What a privilege to enjoy freedom. I was reminded of that today so here's a little story for you. This morning we went to the 4th of July Parade in town. It had been raining all week so we weren't too sure if we would get rained out. As it turned out the weather was lovely - breezy, no hot Texas sun - great for sitting outside. But we live in a small town and small town parades, while lots of fun, can be a little cheesy. So this year didn't disappoint us. Some of the "floats" consisted of families gathered on trailers being pulled by trucks, others consisted of grown men and boys holding water hoses or other spraying devises used to pelt innocent bystanders and still others contained girls dressed up in pretty dresses waving like royalty.

But I must admit that by far my favorite part of the parade is always the tootsie rolls. I know it's pathetic, but this is how it works each July for me. I sit in my lawn chair watching this amazing display of patriotic creativity while children risk their lives as they run out into the street and collect the candy - the tootsie rolls get weeded out and promptly get handed over to me - I have quite a reputation so other people's children generously hand over their tootsie rolls to me too. It's a great set up. But I believe I reached a low point. There was a tootsie roll sitting alone in the street. How could such a nutritious, delicious snack get simply squished by oncoming traffic, I ask. So I did what any hero would do. I got up - I walked into the street, took the opportunity away from the small children and snatched the tootsie roll into my greedy little hand. I realize that's low, but unbelievable it got a little lower. The lowest point was taking place in my mind - I actually struggled with the thought of getting out of my comfy lounge chair and hauling my middle aged body into the street to "steal" the candy from the children. Too much work....In retrospect, I'm rather surprised I didn't order some small child to leave their candy retriving and run over to that tootsie roll, get it and make them give it to me! That would have been lower still. At least I had the "decency" to get up and steal the candy myself. I am probably the only candy thief in the states. O well, obviously I can't get bothered with those kind of details. One thing I'm incredibly thankful for is that the candy of the day usually ISN'T the tootsie roll. It's often some hard candy that I'm not enticed with, otherwise I'd look like a tootsie roll myself. But after that lovely time we left the parade and enjoyed some time at home - I made some peach jam, cleaned the house, had a nap and ended the day with a BBQ. It was a good old American holiday.

But I must get back to the privilege. While writing this I wondered what if the simple privilege of sitting on the side of the road watching a lame parade was taken from us? What if freedom of religion, freedom of expression and freedom of speech was taken away from us? Our little town in the south would certainly look different. So since we still have this freedom I'm thankful for the enjoyment it brings. Even the simple things need to be remembered as gifts from the Lord. He definitely gives beyond what we deserve. Have a wonderful weekend!!