The Chickadee Feeder

When shopping recently I was amazed at how nice a young clerk was treating me.  She seemed truly genuine in her care that I be happy in her store.  How could a young modern woman like herself be interested in a dumpy overweight person like myself ?  I always feel so inadequate.  I felt that it truly must be difficult; yet she didn’t seem as if it were so.

Hey, wait a minute!  I mean, look at her!  Spiked hair, absolutely weird eyeglasses, odd piercings here and there?  Maybe it could work both ways.

In Sunday School we were reminded of how God at this moment sustains the universe, doing a work that is present right now (He is not a god who created all and set it on a shelf to then run itself).

Musing about what it might be like if God were to remove His sustaining hand.  I have a picture in my mind of a painting that hasn’t dried.  And all the paint begins to smear and run down the canvas till there’s nothing left.

Maybe only ladies know about this….but what is the deal with modern toilets that have a mind of their own?  They have a sensor eye that watches you………………..and then THEY decide when it’s time to flush?

I spent the weekend with a group of toilets who felt it wasn’t necessary to flush until AFTER I left the premises.  This was quite disturbing!  I didn’t WANT the next customer to see what poohs I had done there!  So I tried flashing my hand in front of the eye; no response.  Jumping up and down; nothing.  Probably laying down on the floor would work, but that’s rather unappealing.  The Squish Method finally became the solution:  if I flattened myself up against the side wall, the toilet would deem it acceptable to flush.

Can you imagine, in all the Convention Hall restrooms that weekend, worried homeschool moms flattening themselves against the walls of their toilet stalls?  (There has to be a song about that)

Of course, by the end of the weekend I learned there’s a little button on the toilet you can push to get the same results.  Being rather “slow,” it took me a while to figure that out.

Then I moved on down the road and encountered another species of this alien toilet race:  the Overeager Flusher.  The nervous type who thinks that, just to be on the SAFE SIDE, maybe it should just flush a lot–just to cover all the bases. So I walk into the privacy area and WHOOSH!  The toilet does it’s maniacal thing.  All throughout my visit there, the toilet flushes occasionally, like an overanxious parent. As Mary Roach of “Reader’s Digest” says:  “It’s like having your plate cleared before you’ve even salted your potatoes!”

Ah, the joy of being back home and getting to be in control of that little aspect of life!