September 13, 2020's thought for the day: You can wash your body but not your soul Jewish Proverb

I got to the church just before we had a down pour. I wanted to get in a little early because I had some packets that I had put aside for two friends but I couldn’t find them. They turned up later in the service so I was able to had them over.

The photo challenge for September 12 was “tropical”. It’s pretty well known that I have a lot of house plants, many are tropical or subtropical. The one I am sharing is one that my daughter gave me for mothers day many years ago. It's been so long ago that I doubt that she remembers it. I keep it as healthy as I can to remember the gift from her with love to me. I think it is called a ZZ plant (Zamioculcas zamiifolia or Zanzibar Gem).

When I got home, I started the upload to Facebook of our sermon for today. It takes an hour or better to complete the upload.

As usual for my Sunday’s after church, I don’t have much planned to get done today, just a bit of this and a bit of that.

I have ordered a memory card for the camera at church and I am having the biggest problem getting the correct card that I ordered. They sent me the wrong version the first time so I requested a replacement. A few days later I got the replacement. They sent the same (wrong) card AGAIN. So I asked for my money back and placed a new reorder, as instructed. Now I have to wait for that one. I normally like to order on line and am usually satisfied. This is the one and only thing I don’t like about that way of shopping. Now I have to return the two wrong versions. The place I have to take them to send then back is not all that close to my home. I think you cab tell I a

m a bit peeved. 

The word today is minutes.  The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions - the little, soon forgotten charities of a kiss or a smile, a kind look or heartfelt compliment, Samuel Taylor Coleridge.  Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered for they are gone forever, Horace Mann. But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day, Benjamin Disraeli. All knowledge is of itself of some value. There is nothing so minute or inconsiderable that I would not rather know it than not,  Samuel Johnson. I wasted time, and now doth Time waste me: For now hath Time made me his numb'ring clock; My thoughts are minutes, William Shakespeare. I recommend you to take care of the minutes, for the hours will take care of themselves, Lord Chesterfield. Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end, William Shakespeare. Better three hours too soon than a minute too late, William Shakespeare. The passing minute is every man's equal possession but what has once gone by is not ours, Marcus Aurelius. Seize this very minute. What you can do or dream you can do, begin it. Begin it and the work will be completed, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

The photo theme today is “travel”. The only kind of travel I do now days it by car. I do know that a lot of folks use the bus for their travel so I waited on Broad Street for one to go by so that I could get a photo of one. I had to settle for the back side of one.

It’s another of those stories about an old structure getting a bit of new life. The person who wrote this article said that his daughter is working on renovating a home built and lived in into the 1930s by her great, great and great grandfathers. At the beginning it was mentioned that tools and his “aging” muscles” were being called into weekend work outs.  The history of the house came to light while riding around in “grandpa(’s) pick up truck . . .  with the AM-only radio, no air conditioning and hand crank windows”. Part of learning the history was finding a “bell the size of a dorm refrigerator” in an old pile of wood. The story about it was that is came from a one room schoolhouse in the 1920s. It was also learned that he (grandpa) and his dad secured the rights to the school building, pulled it apart and took the salvaged wood to the family farm and built a new building on the homestead.  The original house on the property remained a home for a part of the family and then became a rental property. Later the second house, built with the reclaimed one room school lumber, became a bed and breakfast in the 1980s. This is the home the daughter, mentioned in the first few sentences, moved into and is remodeling after “almost six decades”. The work was started by pulling up the carpet, sanding and tending to the hardwood floor. The father of the remodeling daughter took on the job of renting the sander (that “weighed as much as three or four sweepers”).  To complete the work on the floor she fixed some squeaky boards then cleaned up with a vacuum, continued with wiping the floor with mineral spirits. It stands to reason that after all that work “no bare feet or dirty shoes were allowed”. She lived upstairs in the house while completing the work. The daughter’s father wrote that “when the time was right, we helped move furniture......in our stocking feet”..

I think we are going to do Taco Bell for dinner. They have done away with my favorite though, Mexican Pizza. So I am going to have to pick something new.

Joy