It’s the worse thing a bottle collector can face. For some years in the late 1960s, I scrounged bottles from trash cans, the sides of the road, and in gutters along the town street. I redeemed the bottles for cash. That money went toward groceries, gas, and a long way toward paying the rent. Occasionally I’d find a bottle that said simply, “No Deposit. No Return.” While appreciating others’ carelessness at throwing stuff out, I couldn’t litter. So I simple put the bottle into the bag and carried it along, depositing it in a trash bin when I come to one. [Huh. Reminds me about carrying around a lot of excess baggage, and to deal with it. . . but that will keep for another day.]
Continue reading “No Deposit. No Return”
Returns
In the garden on Thursday afternoon, Padron 7000 Maduro (cigar), a glass of water, and the fish darting about the pond. Alan Jackson sings, “Leaning on the everlasting arms. . .” Some bugs are daring to come near despite the Tiki torches lite, one to my front right, the other just behind and to my right. The breeze is mostly coming from my right. It’s warm today, but not hot. About 82 degrees with a humidity hovering around 64 percent. There are a lot of clouds, but the sun shines on and off, and cuts through the shade of the myrtle tree that shades this corner of the deck. The “real feel” is said to be about 92 degrees. The water I brought down to drink is not cold,and cold sounds good. Continue reading “Returns”
More of a Reorganization
It really is more of a reorganization, rather than a total reconstruction. I changed the WordPress theme. While doing so, couldn’t find the photo of the sun shining over the main sail on Cassandra, my Cape Dory. Then I just added a filler for the moment, or so I thought. It dawned on me, the photo was of me setting the sail. A subtitle popped into my head, Setting Sail on an Abundant Life.
Under Reconstruction
There’s a song I like that speaks to going back to the first meeting with Jesus. I can’t go back. I don’t want a restart. And yet I feel like I want to reconstruct JonahzSong, and perhaps myself along the way.
I think I’ve become liberal (GASP!)
Looking in the mirror, as the steam from the hot shower cleared, I began to comb my hair and realized I’d just pulled it off my face to the side, 1960s surfer style. Opps. My wife doesn’t like That Look. The incident made me start to think. Perhaps I’m headed for another mid-life crisis. But pushing age 70, that’s not likely. Isn’t age 70 when dementia begins? Perhaps I’m just losing my mind, Continue reading “I think I’ve become liberal (GASP!)”
Faceless
These verses are from Psalm 57, and also appear as the first two in Psalm 108 with only one use of steadfast.
Steadfast is also translated as Fixed. One commentator suggests the psalmist was wavering and declares that his heart is now settled, and fixed.
The idea comes through that the psalmist’s heart is fully resolved to trust in G-D. To demonstrate this conviction, the psalmist declares he will sing and chant praises. He will challenge the day. Continue reading “Faceless”
Living in peace, uncompromising
Uncompromising seems to have a bad vibe about it these days. It sounds a lot like unwavering. Unwilling to give in. One dictionary defines uncompromising as unwilling to grant concessions or negotiate; inflexible. Another says that uncompromising includes an unwillingness to changes ways or opinions.
So to find a compromise with someone, we need to change? What ever happened to “agree to disagree”? That’s a compromise Continue reading “Living in peace, uncompromising”
Fact: The Murder Book
In September 2013, in a post, The Murder Book, I talked about a fictional detective who constantly reads and re-reads what is called a murder book, which contains all the facts gather on a particular case. Continue reading “Fact: The Murder Book”
Barred Owl
It’s early morning here in North Georgia. After a cold Winter, the last few weeks have been nice, with temperatures in the mid-60s. Nights, however, have remained cool, dropping into the high 30s and low 40s.
This morning I heard quite the ruckus coming from the back of my small lot, out near the creek. Continue reading “Barred Owl”
Typical
“So T Y P I C AL,” she spat.
Jonah’s Song 