The Caterpillar 
A Lesson in Persistence
Killing time
I thought I was alone at the park table.
Suddenly, there she was
A long, thin, brown body with side stripes of blue-gray and a row of golden diamonds down her back.
How did she get here?
Perhaps a gust of wind tore away the juicy leaf on which she dined,
Sending her on a wild magic carpet ride into my space.
No matter.
She started her trek across the table top
Over one plank at a time.
Even when I moved her back,
Pointed her the other way,
She simply stopped, turned and resumed her course.
Undulating movement on multiple feet mixed with a carpet of whiskers gliding over the table.
Reaching the edge, a search for a way down.
Too far down.
She is persistent.
Keeps trying but
No luck.
Feeling the sudden urge to help
I put my sneaker on the bench so that the toe is near the edge.
She seems to sense the new object and
Reaches, r-e-a-c-h-e-s, r—e—a—c—h—e—s for the shoe.
There! She made it.
Down the side of the shoe
On to the seat and onward to the edge.
Again, too high.
She stretches to her full length
But finds no solid object, no help.
Just then a gust of wind loosens her back feet and she falls to the ground.
She takes a minute to gain her bearings, and then, the persistent march begins again.
Across the concrete
To the grass with its clusters of white clover.
West, always west
Out-of-sight
Towards the setting sun.
rp
4/18/04
(end of post)
Dad resting in his easy chair, exhausted after his day's work. "The work of many of the greatest men, inspired by duty, has been done amidst suffering and trial and difficulty. They have struggled against the tide, and reached the shore exhausted." ~ Samuel Smiles (Scottish author, 1812-1904)
Dad turned 76 this year. He grew up on an Illinois farm, son of a hard working farmer. As a child he had some type of septicemia and without antibiotics, almost died; and while his friends noted his lips turning blue after a game of tag, he never seemed to lack for energy. Dad is a retired minister and in that capacity has built two churches and a parsonage; he was involved in the actual plans and construction as the churches didn't have the finances to hire all the work done. He is an excellent carpenter, mason and roofer. He has enclosed breezeways, built covered patios, enclosed a patio to make a library and built sunrooms. When he visited in Mississippi he built shelves in the garage, attic, around the top of a room and a built in shelf unit for CD's. He has also designed and constructed three dog houses; all R11 insulated with dog flap inserts, linoleum floors, covered porches, shingled roofs, insert windows/louvered vents, light fixtures for heat and fans for air circulation. The first one he built had two separate rooms with off-setting doors so the harsh northern Indiana wind wouldn't whip inside. It also had a hinged roof to lift for easy cleaning of the rooms. Our little dog Pepper loved it, especially the roof with it's treated canvas covering the hinge. She learned to jump up on to that roof and slept there during the day looking ever so much like Snoopy but for the fact that she was a dachshund and had no white on her.
In 2001 he began to feel weak and tired and his pulse raced. Lab tests, X-rays and EKGs showed atrial fibrillation. Medication and attempts at electrocardioversion were unsuccessful so now his heart rate is slowed by digoxin and his blood is thinned by coumadin to prevent the dangerous clots that often form in the fibrillating right atrium. His heart rate is still a little high and he will always have an irregularly irregular rhythm but it is within acceptable limits. He has never regained his stamina. Maybe this is partly due to his heart and I'm sure some of it is the natural slowing down of age. He rises later than he used to and works around the house or trims bushes and plants collard greens in the yard. Several years ago I gave him a year of yard service for Father's Day so he wouldn't be out in the heat mowing the grass. He poo-poo'd it at first but still has the man come each week to mow and edge.
He can work like he wants to for a few hours, but by two or three in the afternoon, he is exhausted. He'll sit in his chair, get the paper and say "I'm going to rest here a while and read the paper and then get back to work" but within five minutes looks like this; eyes shut, paper still in his hands but resting on his lap and his mouth open, just snoring away. As Nyssa would say "You can hear him sleep in the back bedroom".
I worry that his reaction times are so slow and that it seems more difficult for him to find the right word when he teaches his Sunday School class. Thank goodness his class members are all older, some older than he; so that perhaps they need the slower pace themselves. Of course he always has my mom there to give him the word he's looking for even when he doesn't ask. He may take four days to prepare his lesson, two hours to go to the neighborhood grocery for four items and thirty minutes to find directions and streets on a map that I could get in ten seconds on Mapquest; but at least he is never bored. And I do so love him.
Submission for Photo Tuesday topic "exhausted".
This post is for Judy at Kenju. Check her site out
for a terrifying story of 'Cake Gone Wrong'!
Mickey Mouse cake - Nyssa's 3rd birthday Arithmetic is being able to count up to twenty without taking off your shoes. ~ Mickey Mouse
This was Nyssa's 3rd birthday cake. She had several little friends from her daycare, her cousin Andy and several adults including her aunt and uncle, grandpa, godparents and Rhonda, her sitter. She probably doesn't remember the party. We had it at our house and the kids played on the swings and ate a little lunch outside on her kids picnic table.
Yes, I made the cake and cookies. The cookies are scratch, the only good ones I know. The cake was BOX MIX, nothing added. It is hard to ruin a buttercream icing. I did decorate the cake and cookies but that is more art and not cooking.
Mickey cookies: almond flavored roll out cookies.
And guess who came to play with the kids at the party; Mickey himself! OK, he was a bit tall for a mouse but they loved him. I build the head with wire and papier-mache and then painted and put on several coats of clear sealer. And I made the Mickey costume. I thought he was quite realistic. "Mickey" could see the outside world through his mouth.
Nyssa's eyes were so big; the kids were jumping up and down clapping their hands and little voices yelled "Mickey, look here!"; it really was a great fun party. The man who played Mickey was a firefighter, husband of one of our lab managers. After the party I gave him the whole costume. The firemen in Oklahoma City do a lot of community service including visiting kids at recreation centers and children's hospitals. He was able to use it for these as well.
Look who came to the party!
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