The Girl in the Red Rubber Boots

Sometimes God says to me, “do this.”

And then he says, “never mind. Do that.”

I’m not really sure why. But I am not, I repeat, NOT, going to Faith Builders this winter. (you know, Faith Builders, that little Mennonite college in Pennsylvania that I was going to go to, like, tomorrow….)

And yes I did make this decision the day before yesterday. I guess I am a last minute person. Or maybe I’m just a regular person who happens to do things at the last minute.

Now I must say that, not only did I decided randomly and suddenly to not go to Faith Builders, I also decided to QUIT MY JOB.

(A moment of silence, as the crowd gasps at my stupidity.)

It kind of happened accidentally. And I may very likely go back if my health improves. But the sad fact is, I am a completely unreliable grocery store clerk at the moment. I get very tired, so that my legs feel like sticks of string cheese, and my arms feel like they have no more strength than helium balloons.

Now, the big question. What am I going to do with my life until March? I mean, no job, no Faith Builders, no college this term (probably)….

I don’t know exactly, but here’s what I’d LIKE to do.

1. Volunteer EVERYWHERE

2. Finish my novel or maybe write a new one

3. Make friends with people who are my friends but are not that close of friends but will be close friends if I make time for them.

Of course you may be asking yourself how I am going to pay for college if I don’t have a job. Or how I am going to end up being a missionary if I don’t have the stamina to spend 6 hours a day checking out groceries.

Here’s the deal, though. If God says, “do college, become a missionary,” I do college and become a missionary.

If God says “never mind,” I say never mind.

It’s up to him to figure out the money and stamina aspects of these things.

Sometimes I feel like a butterfly, flitting through life spreading joy and color. I don’t have a lot of trouble making friends. As I get older and meet more and more people, fun and easy conversation comes more naturally to me.

But, like a butterfly, I always flutter on.

I had circles of friends in Colorado, during “Annie,” at SMBI, all my volunteer hot spots in Virginia, Bridgewater College, three different Churches in Virginia, and then, most recently, people from “A Christmas Carol.” You know those groups of people you hang out with multiple times a week. How close you can get. But I always left very anticlimactically and never saw those people again.

In the off chance that I did run into one of my old buddies, it was always very strange. We had been so close, and now we hardly knew each other.

It’s hard to know where you belong in that sort of world.

My friend Esta told me  once that you have to really work hard to keep up a long-distance friendship. I guess she would know, because she’s done it multiple times. And I guess that perhaps I could have kept more friends than I did, had I tried harder. In any case, I stayed friends with her.

As for the others, I stuck them away in a box in my head and tried not to think about them. All of them, approximately twelve separate groups of people, shoved in that box once I had left for good.

I guess it is a coping mechanism. Or maybe it’s just called “moving on,” or “not dwelling on the past.” But sometimes the box bursts open unexpectedly, and I spend the night crying over all those lost friendships.

Mom gave Dad three gifts in cute little baskets.

The first was a note that said:

Dear Paul-
As a gift to you I did not spend any of your
hard-earned money on a shirt at JC Penney
or a sweater at Old Navy or a wallet at Sears.
Love, Dorcas

Second note:

Dear Paul
As a gift to you, I did not spend any money
at Target, Kohl’s, or Ross.
Love, Dorcas

Third note:

Dear Paul,
As a gift to you I will continue to cook from
scratch instead of spending money on
eating out or convenience foods.
Love, Dorcas

When the third note was opened, Mom said, “In case you haven’t noticed, Paul is very hard to buy for.”

There is a big community bulletin board outside the post office in Harrisburg, pockmarked from years of event posters being stapled on and subsequently torn off again. That’s where I was standing on Thursday, having finished my errand, waiting for Mom to finish hers and pick me up. As I stood there reading the advertisements, I noticed a piece of green and white paper stuck to the board with thumb tacks.

Who wrote it?
Who hung it the town bulletin board?
Why did they choose to hang it there?

I pulled it off and took it home. I wanted to look at it for a long time.

Emma and I backstage, wearing Kim’s funky Christmas antlers. Kim took the picture. Thanks Kim!

Emma didn’t cover her face. I suppose she doesn’t care if Kim’s camera steals her soul, she just doesn’t want my camera to. Humph.

I mean, Bah. Humbug.

See my scarf in the picture? That was one of the ones I got from my Aunt Berenice haul.

That’s all I have to say about the picture. What general comments do I have to make about life? Hmm

Okay FINE. I’ve been sick, okay? I don’t HAVE a life.

(see you tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll have a life by then.)

I get a lot of spam on my blog and some of it is downright hilarious. They always refer to my posts as “articles” and thank me for the “great info.” Often there is a misspelling tucked in somewhere.

Anyway, here goes:

I didn’t know where to find this info then kbaoom it was here.

If my problem was a Death Star, this article is a pohotn torpedo.

It was dark when I woke. This is a ray of snushine.

I was lkooing everywhere and this popped up like nothing

Created the greeatst articles, you have.

Your cranium must be proteictng some very valuable brains.

Just cause it’s spimle doesn’t mean it’s not super helpful.

Please teach the rest of these internet hooligans how to write and rescearh!

Stay inofrmiatve, San Diego, yeah boy!

Help, I’ve been informed and I can’t become inrgaont.

Articles like this relaly grease the shafts of knowledge.

Superb information here, ol’e chap; keep burning the mdigniht oil.

Slam dunkin like Shaqullie O’Neal, if he wrote informative articles.

Ppl like you get all the brains. I just get to say thanks for he asnewr.

This info is the cat’s paamajs!

I came, I read this atrclie, I conquered.

Yeah, that’s the tciket, sir or ma’am

One day my mom said to me, “You are very fashionable, but you don’t like to shop.”

It’s true. I don’t shop much, because I don’t like to spend money. I like to get things for free.

When my great-great aunt Berneice decided to move to an assisted living home, and told her extended family to come and take whatever they wanted from her house, I was all over it.

Free stuff. Count me in.

This is what I got.

A white suit. Pretty!

(I got the pink t-shirt for free too, for the record. Jenny gave it to me.)

Also, my hand is resting on a little marble-topped table which I got to use as a nightstand so I can give the footstool I’ve been using back to Mom.

This vintage Betty Crocker cookbook is going in my hope chest. When I lived alone I used a Betty Crocker cookbook constantly, one that Mom lent me, cause it had all the basics.

This one has adorable illustrations on every page.

So many pretty scarves!

A whole stack of vintage postcards with famous-ish paintings on them.

Six Chinese tea cups. (These I am sharing with Mom and Jenny, but if I ever get a house of my own I’m claiming them.)

Itty bitty dresser with miniature cute things inside–I think I’m going to store my miniature treasures in here.

Pens, nibs, India ink!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Perfume bottle.

Those are the highlights, though I got a few more things. I got some vintage aprons for mom and an old atlas for Jenny and we were all happy.