To Make You Laugh

I discovered this hilarious website a few days ago, and haven't been able to get enough:

Not Always Right.

It's folks in customer service who deal with customers who are... well... not always right. Occasionally there's a crass one, so my apologies if it's a little too much. It makes me giggle, so I thought I'd share.

The "no pancakes" one is my current favorite.

Sunday poems - A Song for Simeon

I'm working as a hospice chaplain these days.

It can be very, very sad.

It can also be joyful in some strange ways, helping to usher people from life to death, from this world to the next; trying to help people find comfort and peace in the living as they prepare to die.

I came across this T.S. Eliot poem the other day that speaks to the end of life in a way nothing else I've come across does. It's a reference to Simeon, the old man at the temple who spoke to Mary and Joseph and their brand-new baby, Jesus. He had waited all his life to see the Messiah, and the Messiah had come.

I know it's not Sunday, but here's the poem.

"A Song for Simeon"
by T.S. Eliot

Lord, the Roman hyacinths are blooming in bowls and
The winter sun creeps by the snow hills;
The stubborn season has made stand.
My life is light, waiting for the death wind,
Like a feather on the back of my hand.
Dust in sunlight and memory in corners
Wait for the wind that chills toward the dead land.

Grant us thy peace.
I have walked many years in this city,
Kept faith and fast, provided for the poor,
Have given and taken honour and ease.
There went never any rejected from my door.

Who shall remember my house, where shall live my children's children
When the time of sorrow is come?
They will take to the goat's path, and the fox's home,
Fleeing from foreign faces and the foreign swords.

Before the time of cords and scourges and lamentation
Grant us thy peace.
Before the stations of the mountain of desolation,
Before the certain hour of maternal sorrow,
Now at this birth season of decease,
Let the Infant, the still unspeaking and unspoken Word,
Grant Israel's consolation
To one who has eighty years and no to-morrow.

According to thy word.
They shall praise Thee and suffer in every generation
With glory and derision,
Light upon light, mounting the saints' stair.
Not for me the martyrdom, the ecstasy of thought and prayer,
Not for me the ultimate vision.
Grant me thy peace.
(And a sword shall pierce thy heart,
Thine also.)
I am tired with my own life and the lives of those after me,
I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me.
Let thy servant depart,
Having seen thy salvation.

Oh Tennessee...

During the past week, I've seen/heard/witnessed the following two things:

1. People crying on the nightly news. Why? Were they broken up about another flood? An accident? An approaching hurricane? Nope. They were crying because tonight is the final Brooks & Dunn concert EVER.

2. A grown man, professionally dressed, use the phrase: "Oh me oh my!"

Tennessee makes me smile. Sometimes it makes me laugh. People here don't seem to take themselves overly seriously. All of this is good. Very good.

Sunday poems - "Another Reason I Don't Keep a Gun in the House"

I do love Billy Collins.

I posted on Facebook over a week ago about how the barking dog in our neighborhood is driving me  insane. He barks from 5:30am to 9:30am, nonstop, at about one-second intervals. Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark. Like a doggy metronome. Then, at 9:30am exactly, he stops. It's a mystery to me what he's on about and why he stops, but I would just love for him to knock it the heck off.

Of course, as of tomorrow I'll be getting up at 6am to go to work, so the dog will only cost me half an hour of sleep instead of the two or three he's been costing me lately.


My friend Melody reminded me of this poem to help me cope with the woofing madness.

I do so love Billy Collins.

"Another Reason Why I Don't Keep a Gun in the House"
Billy Collins


The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark

that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.


The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking


and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.

Thanks to www.sunyulster.edu for the picture of Billy Collins.

Where AM I?

Daryl and I ran all of those annoying new-to-the-area errands yesterday. He changed our insurance from NJ to TN. We got new driver's licenses. We sat in some traffic (yeah, still figuring out when and where rush hour occurs in these here parts).

We were surprised to find out that the place where you get your new driver's license (the "Department of Safety," which, from the name, I would assume is where they inspect restaurants for health violations, but apparently is not) is not where you can also get new license plates for your car. So we headed out with our new DLs in hand to get our plates changed.

This particular office closed at 5pm. We arrived at 4:54pm and the line was halfway down the hall. This wasn't going to happen, but we decided to wait in line anyway. Just in case.

At 5pm a woman came out from behind the desk with a stack of labels in her hand. She handed each of us in the line one label and said, "We'll take all of you, but you're the last ones. If anyone comes after you, tell them to come back on Monday."

Daryl and I were flabbergasted. They were staying open late... for us? It was 5:03 on a FRIDAY. Why...?

We happily waited in line, and made it to the front around 5:20. The woman behind the desk filled out the necessary forms while chatting pleasantly with us both.

"Why do you stay open late?" we asked.

"What do you mean?" she said.

"Well... we were halfway down the hall, and it's after five."

"We wouldn't want you to have to come back on Monday!" she said, surprised.

"This wouldn't happen in New Jersey," I said.

"Really? Well whyever not?" she asked.

Just then there was a knock on the office door. The woman went to it, ready to explain to the would-be customer that they were now closed. It turned out to be the first customer of the day, who had returned at the day's end holding a box of cheesecake. 

"This is for you," she said to the woman. "I work at the Cheesecake Factory around the corner, and you mentioned that strawberry is your favorite."

By now my jaw was hanging open and Daryl's eyes were wide. The woman said goodbye, took her cheesecake, and returned to help us.

"That was so nice," she said. "I mentioned that I like cheesecake, so she brought me some! Isn't that sweet?"

Where am I living? Places stay open a few moments just to "be nice," and customers at the DMV return with large boxes of cheesecake just to "be nice." I'm 98% sure that if we had looked longingly enough at that cheesecake the woman would have sent us home with half of it.

Gosh, this place is nice.

Observations on Tennessee

Since I've now lived in Tennessee for eight days, I am an expert on Tennessee. No, really.

Actually I just wanted to share some observations from my first week here (much of which has been spent unpacking and running move-in errands to Target and Home Depot...). After I've been here months or years, they will surely change. There's nothing quite like the culture shock of the first week in a new place.

This list is not meant to communicate anything snide (such as: Tennessee is silly) or stereotypical (such as: people in the south are all ____), it's merely a list of observations gleaned from the past eight days.

1. People seem much more polite in Tennessee than in any state I've ever lived in.
This is, frankly, kind of unnerving after living in New Jersey. I'm torn between wanting to hug them ("Thank you for being NICE to me!") and wanting to check to make sure my wallet's still there.

2. The culture is more explicitly Christian than in the northeast or midwest.
There were Bible verses on the artwork on the walls of the hospital in town (don't worry - I was there for a meeting, not because I caught something terrible). There are about six decent Christian radio stations in town (SIX?!?!). Businesses often play these stations. It's just assumed that you go to church. We do go to church, but it's still odd when it's assumed.

3. It's legal to talk on the phone/text while driving. This is a terrible idea.
Many of the good folks of NJ are bad drivers. Very aggressive, very angry, very much in an utter hurry all the time. The folks in TN seem to be better drivers when they aren't on the phone. They seem to be on the phone a lot. I almost got mowed down in the Kroger parking lot by a soccer mom twenty minutes ago.

The Jersey girl in me muttered, not very charitably, "Thanks for almost killing me! Hope that phone call was REALLY IMPORTANT!" I'm going to need to stop doing that here.

4. The spirit of Tennessee seems to be, "It's really hot, but we'll do everything we would normally do even if it's 100 degrees outside."
People are washing the windows of a skyscraper in town today. It's 89 degrees out (with 217% humidity), and it isn't even noon. An elderly gentleman came by last week to mow our lawn - apparently he's contracted with our landlady - and we were utterly appalled. It was about 98 outside. We brought him a bottle of cold water and he kindly waved us off.

"I'm fine," he said. "This is normal." On the surface of the sun, maybe.

5. People talk about church like it's the weather.
Daryl and I went out to dinner a couple of days ago, and the waiter (who was a hipster British guy with messed up hair and an air of utter cool about him) found out we were new to the area and asked us if we'd found a church yet. Um... what? We appreciated his input, but it was so odd to have someone in the service industry just assume that we went to church. It was his third question after "where are you from" and "do you like Nashville." Odd indeed.

6. Sundresses are the thing to wear if you're a 20-something woman.
Seriously. When I wear shorts or pants out I feel very out of place. It's one way to beat the heat, I guess!


7. People in the service industry expect a greeting and a little bit of conversation before engaging in a business transaction.
I went into a meeting today all businesslike (as I've been trained in the northeast), and the receptionist responded with, "Good morning."

Taken aback, I responded in kind.

"How are you this morning?" she asked.

"Um, good?" I responded. "Can I--"

"It's a beautiful day," she said. By this point I was starting to understand the drill.

"Yes it is!" I said. "And how are you?"

After another thirty seconds of banter she helped me with what I was after. It reminds me of when my family traveled to France a decade ago and my dad kept getting reprimanded by salesclerks for his brusque, American manner.

"I'd like a--" he'd begin.

"Bonjour," they'd say, firmly.

"Right," he'd say. "I'd like a--"

"BONJOUR," they'd say again.

"Oh," he'd say, finally understanding. "Bonjour."

"What would you like?" they'd respond.

I'm going to have to relearn some social cues around these parts.


8. It's freaking hot here.
Oh my goodness. Daryl and I tried to be brave and go to the Nashville zoo (the zoo is one of my favorite, favorite things to do), and we only lasted an hour. We each drank a full water bottle and a soda, and we only lasted an hour. We melted into puddles of sweat and both came home with headaches. This will take some getting used to... Or else I'll stay inside until November. Either way.


9. It's the south. There will be bugs.
My word are there bugs. We live in the city, so we have it better than most country folks in this regard, but STILL... God bless the swallows and mourning doves that have built nests around our garage. They spend most of the day hopping around our front yard swallowing things. I want to truck in about fifty more of them.


10. I like it here.
I really do.

I Loved this Summer: Part 2

Part two of a wonderful summer begins in July. We celebrated Daryl's birthday in Wisconsin with gf German chocolate cake... Yum, yum, yum... I'm thankful to have a husband who was more than willing to let me bake him a gf cake so that I could share in the gluttony. He proclaimed it, "Just as good as a glutenous cake, and maybe even better. The frosting was definitely better!"

I discovered that making German chocolate cake frosting from scratch is pretty easy, but it's a bit horrifying what is in it. It is not good for you. But, birthdays are birthdays, and it was well worth all the butter and egg yolks for the amazing taste.

Aleah helped me do P90X. She was pretty awesome at it. She actually figured out the yoga positions and would do downward dog and upward dog before the fitness guy told her to do them. She's going to be quite the athlete!

Caitlyn was convinced that the water reserve tray for Daryl's coffee-maker birthday present was actually a giant remote control...

Daryl decided that we are probably not ready to have kids for awhile... (This is my favorite photo of the whole summer. You just can't beat these two facial expressions and matching outfits!)

We went to St. Joseph, Michigan, to visit our wonderful friends, and rode a bicycle surrey with a fringe on top. During our visit, Daniel (backseat) proposed to Megan (pink shirt) and she said YES! It's the first proposal I've ever been a part of (besides saying yes when Daryl asked, of course), and it was a wonderful and joyful day.

We had a great family reunion in Michigan (notice how many girls are in our family!). People came from as far as Pennsylvania for the annual event.

Sophie discovered her feet.

Aleah curled her... eyelashes?

We played about eight hundred games of mafia with the cousin crew (and I actually won one!)...

We saw the Cubs lose to the Cardinals on one of the windiest, hottest, rainiest days of the year. My knee-length skirt kept blowing up around my waist, so I actually had to change into some shorts I had in my backpack from staying at a friends' house the night before... I was never so grateful to have a backpack full of trip stuff. Came in verrrry handy.

We moved in to Nashville! This is a perfect picture of how randomly we packed some of the boxes. On top of those two boxes are the following: a three-hole punch, lavender soap from Trader Joe's, a makeup bag, one white heeled sandal, a small box of checkers, a handmade table runner (thanks, Caitlyn!), and six Christmas candle holders. What do these things have in common? Absolutely nothing.

And dear Eliot helped us unpack.

It was a good, good summer indeed. I'm sad to see it go!