Microwave Mutiny

Posted on October 3, 2012 by Jan C. Johnson

Everything has been refreshingly peaceful on the appliance front. Once my car’s navigation system recovered from the trauma of having its maps updated, a simple process involving only two all-day road trips to the dealership, our appliances grew quiet and we all settled into a nice, smooth, efficient routine.

I should have known they were plotting a mutiny.

Two Thursday nights ago, Brent’s dinner cooled off as he ate, so he decided to re-warm it. He popped his plate into the microwave for 30 seconds. In due time Micro stopped and sounded its signal. Brent pushed the door latch button, as usual, to retrieve his plate.

This time, not only did the door stay shut, but Micro turned itself back on and started cooking again. Several fruitless button-pushing attempts later, Brent’s dinner was overheating and he had to go into full-on Rescue Mode. Against both our better judgments, he pried the door open with a table knife and the microwavery stopped.

“Finally!” he said with relief, extracting the plateful of sizzling food. Then, from force of habit, he pushed the door shut. Micro lurched and started up again. It was like being terrorized by The Thing That Wouldn’t Die, until Brent grabbed the table knife again and put a stop to it.

The edge of the door was looking a bit dinged up.

That’s when the truth struck me: the appliances* had discovered my blog posts about them! What other explanation could there be?

We unfastened the “trim kit” frame from the cabinet so we could remove and unplug the microwave, measured the opening for reference, then went on a little impromptu shopping expedition.

Best Buy, Home Depot, Lowe’s and Target yielded not a single adequate oven that would work with the trim. We flatly refused to buy another trim kit because they cost more than the microwaves. It was getting late, so we went home and somehow braved the next morning with no microwave. The anguish! For instance, I actually had to drink my coffee before it got cold.

The next evening, we ran across an electronics store in Arlington and looked there for Micro’s replacement. We found a nice oven, measured it and took it home. After we wrestled it out of its box, I held the trim up in front of it and released the door. “Clang!” The too-tall door made a nice, cheerful sound hitting the frame. We made some less cheerful sounds and boxed it back up, then set it out in the garage with the broken oven.

Next day was Saturday. We set out, determined to find a microwave. We chose one at Sears, measured it twice, and adopted our second replacement. This time we knew the door was short enough to open through the trim. Sure enough, it opened easily. Then Brent tried to mount the oven onto the little stand that holds it in place on the cabinet floor. This oven was too narrow to fit onto the stand.

We were getting pretty good at re-boxing rejected microwaves.

On Sunday, we stopped by the storage unit and retrieved our son’s old dorm microwave until we could find a real one. By now we had a tower of four microwave ovens in our garage. They were beginning to make me nervous. Brent ended up ordering the same model microwave as the broken one, which after all had lasted five years.

Monday afternoon, we each took a reject microwave back to its store. Then on Thursday, one week after the uprising began, the new microwave arrived and the driver picked up the old one for us. Good riddance. The model had changed a bit; this oven did not quite reach all the way to the back of the stand. Don’t tell anyone, but a short piece of 2×4 filled the space perfectly.

Now all we have to deal with is the much-brighter clock light. The numbers are an intense blue and really light up the kitchen overnight. Seriously, it’s messing with my house plants’ photosynthesis cycle. But at least the door opens without taking knives to it.

And I can walk through the garage again without turning sideways.

Thanks for reading,
Jan

*I have previously vented about the microwave, the washing machine, the navigation system in my car, and the vacuum cleaner.

PS: Come by the Soli Deo Gloria blog party and see what’s up with Jen and the sisters!

Also, I am linking up with Rachel Anne for some Company Girls Coffee. Why not click over and sit a spell?

Posted in Maladjusted Mondays | Tagged , , , | 13 Comments

Tradeoff Thursday

Posted on September 27, 2012 by Jan C. Johnson

Jody blogs at “Three Way Light”

I’ve been getting to know Jody, a fellow blogger, for some weeks now. We like each other’s work so much that we decided to trade Guest Posts and share the joy. On an agreed-upon day, Jody would publish one of my recent posts, and I would publish one of hers. And thus was born…

Tradeoff Thursday!

Jody has been blogging since January of 2012, over at Three Way Light. But she has been writing for a very long time. She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, where she and her husband have enjoyed worshiping and serving at their church for the past 20 years. They have two beautiful children, both married, and five grandchildren.
Jody works as a Paraeducator, or Teaching Assistant, in Special Education. She enjoys reading, writing and gardening — especially watching things grow! I appreciate her talent, her insight and her friendship.

The following poem originally appeared on Jody’s blog on March 4, 2012, in a post titled “Day Off.” See whether it blesses you as it did me. Then go visit her blog to read more! Here’s Jody:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last week I had a day off–yippee!–to go to Traffic Court.
As I drove home from my appearance, I ‘wrote’ this poem in my head and put it on paper when I got home.

Red Read

Traffic court assembly,

A crew, United Nations-like

Standing in a not-line waiting to see

The Judge.

I’m here about my red car

That (they say) ran a red light,

Thanks to the ever-ready camera.

I’ve come to differ.

Surviving the intrusion of airport security

Come to this small town clerk’s room,

We file in; I sit front and center,

Ever the eager “See me? I want an A” student.

Not long to wait—

I’m alphabetically blessed–

Capital letter C.

I lean over to the young girl next to me

Penning her grocery list,

“I hope they don’t show those insidious videos here

In front of everyone. That would be embarrassing.”

I’m blushing red at the thought.

“That’d be like standing in front of God

At the bench, having the whole world view your life.”

She rolls her eyes in response,

Exhales through rounded lips

A pregnant “Whoa………” of worry at the thought.

I recall my Pastor’s message from yesterday

And the words roll out before I can retrieve them,

“I’m glad that Jesus covers it all for me.”

Mr. Your Honor the Judge calls my name.

After reviewing the tape he declares,

“Mrs. C, the evidence is insufficient and because of

A technicality, your fine is dismissed.

There is no need to pay.”

I think about The Judge

who’s passed my sentence onto His Son

And writes in red, “Dismissed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~
c. 2012 Jody Lee Collins

Posted in Everybody Has a Story, The Poetic Side | Tagged , | 4 Comments

Yom Kippur and the Peace of Jerusalem

Posted on September 25, 2012 by Jan C. Johnson

The Jewish holiday Yom Kippur begins this evening at sunset. Yesterday morning I got an email about the holiday from Chosen People Ministries. I learned that, as always, the holiday traditions that God gave the Jews pointed forward to their coming Messiah. I’ve posted links below, but here are some excerpts:

Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, is the most solemn day in the Jewish calendar. The Bible prescribes Yom Kippur as a day of affliction (Leviticus 16; 23:26-32). In the ancient world, the High Priest woke up early, donned his priestly garments, and sacrificed a bull for both himself and his family. He then cast lots over two goats, choosing one for the Lord and designating the other as the goat to remove sin…

…Followers of Jesus the Messiah confidently look forward to eternal life, because our names are written in the Book of Life. When Jesus died, the veil of the Holy of Holies ripped in two, symbolically breaking a barrier between humans and the presence of God. Previously, only the High Priest had access to this room, and he only entered it once a year on Yom Kippur (Matt. 27:51). However, Jesus’ death gives believers access to God, because He entered into the Heavenly Holy of Holies to offer His blood for our redemption (Heb 9:11-12). Unlike the Israelites’ annual sacrifices on Yom Kippur, Jesus’ one sacrifice continues to provide atonement to this day…

One thing that strikes me is that God always made a way for people to have their sin forgiven. His desire is that his chosen people, Israel, will accept the redemption he offers through Jesus the Messiah. So, pray for the peace of Jerusalem, and for Messianic Jewish groups like Chosen People Ministries who are so instrumental in helping their brothers find that peace.

You can read more at Chosen People Ministries’ website.

For a more general, newbie-Gentile-friendly overview, check out their FAQ page.

Thanks for reading!
Shalom,
Jan

I am linked up this week with Jen at the Soli Deo Gloria blog party.

Posted in A Page From My Journal | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

“Amateur” — It’s Not an Insult

Posted on September 17, 2012 by Jan C. Johnson

I’ll never forget the two sentences my music minister told us.

I was in a youth music group at my hometown church, and he was talking to us about two possible motivations for singing. Both sentences were short, only six words. In fact, they were both made up of the same six words. Only the order was slightly different. Guess which sentence illustrated the attitude he wanted us to have:

“I have to sing a song.”
OR
“I have a song to sing.”

The first is what the “professional” might say. He or she works hard, wants to get it right, feels obligated to get it right.

The second sentences better describes the heart of the “amateur.” From Latin and French, the word amateur means “one who loves.” He or she works hard, wants to get it right for the joy of doing it well.

If you guessed that our leader encouraged us to “…have a song to sing,” you are absolutely right. A big smile crept over his face as he said, “I love amateurs.”

Which sentence fits you? It depends on whether you want to convey a message or to showcase your talent.

The same goes for my present work, writing: “I have to write a story” vs. “I have a story to write.”

Whatever work I do, whether for pay or not, I want to please my Creator by doing it. If I am doing it for him, I will pursue my work with

The excellence of a professional
and
The ardor of an amateur.

As near as I can figure, that motivation will breathe life into any project I tackle.

How about it — are you an amateur, too?

Thanks for reading,
Jan

Welcome, Soli Deo Gloria sisters and other friends! I hope you will check out the other bloggers linking up with Jen this week.

Posted in A Page From My Journal, Near As I Can Figure... | 8 Comments

Flaming Flashback: Another Hot Summer

Posted on September 3, 2012 by Jan C. Johnson

The Soli Deo Gloria sisters are reconnecting after a busy couple of months. We’ve been having an informal “Summer Snapshot” come-and-go, end-of-summer blog party. As my contribution, here are some of the highlights of my summer…

May 28: Capital of Texas Triathlon, Sprint-distance Relay. (This was on Memorial Day, traditionally the start of summer, so I have to list it even though I promised I wouldn’t write another word about it.) It was hot.

June 16: Rode the 40-mile route in the “Tour d’Italia,” out of Italy, Texas. Best part of the morning? Taking a shower after the ride. It was really hot.

June 22-23: Attended the North Texas Christian Writers Conference, titled “Transform Your Writing Skills.” I took piles of notes at the breakout sessions and got some positive feedback at two consultation/critique sessions. Toughest part? Choosing which breakout classes to attend. They all sounded great.

July 14: We went to see one of our son’s Corps of Cadets buddies get married. Beautiful wedding and reception!

July 28: Rode the Tour de Goatneck in Cleburne, Texas. Brent & Greg did the 41-mile route. I was a slacker and only rode the 27. So sue me. It was hot.

July 29-August 4: Vacation!! Brent and I went to Colorado Springs, Greeley, Estes Park and Denver. We loved every minute of it, from Pike’s Peak, to visiting friends and my brother, to hanging out at the little coffee shop in Estes where my niece used to work. Highlight? When we rode rented bicycles around the Air Force Academy campus. No, wait… it was eating lunch at the Visitors’ Center Subway after the ride. I mean, the altitude was killer. And it was hot, even at 7200 feet.

August 14: Brent crashed on his bike, cracking his cheekbone in two places and spraining his right wrist, besides the obligatory road rash. In a bid for Worst Wife Ever Award, I was in a writers’ group meeting and had my phone ringer off. Didn’t look at it, either, so I didn’t get Brent’s calls and messages until I got home. Fortunately, he was with a group and got a ride to his car. We spent most of the next morning in the ER. I have done nearly ALL the mowing since then, which kind of makes up for not getting Brent’s calls. No matter how early or late in the day I start mowing, it’s hot.

September 3: Labor Day. Rode 17.6 miles, in training for the Paluxy Pedal just under four weeks away. I’m sure it will be hot that day; it was this morning.

Those are probably the biggest things. In between, we spent a day here and there with extended family, picked and froze endless mounds of peaches, and I worked on my first novel, which it seems I’ve been writing forever but which I actually started around November. Oh, and I’ve agreed to serve as an “older mom” for a sort of “Moms and mentors” class at church this fall.

Noticeably absent from our part of Texas were any grass fires, thanks to more abundant rain than last year’s “none.” There is some actual green grass along the roadsides, even this late in the summer.

But it’s still hot.

How was your summer?

Thanks for reading,
Jan

Posted in I Remember When... (my OWN stories) | Tagged , , | 10 Comments

Raw Ten-Minute Tuesday

Posted on August 28, 2012 by Jan C. Johnson

Photobucket

I know what you’re thinking: Didn’t she just post yesterday? Yes, well, I’m trying something new.

I’ve heard of these things–you get a prompt and have so many minutes to write about the topic. No overthinking or over-editing. However, I have never been brave enough to face the challenge. Until today. Well okay, maybe “brave” isn’t quite the right word, but it will do for now.

My bloggy friend Dionne is hosting the linkup party at her blog, “Raw Christian” and here is the prompt, followed by my ten* minutes’ worth:

Today’s Topic: The Problem with Significance… we all want to be somebody

GO!
Do you ever feel lost in the crowd, just one among millions? I may rank pretty high in my own little world (you know—my home), but when I think of how many people there are on Earth, my significance seems to evaporate. What difference do I make? Does God even see me?

As I grew up I heard that God loves each of us as if we were the only person who ever lived. Also, that even if I had been the only person who ever sinned, Jesus would have died on the cross to rescue just me. And I think it’s true.

But somehow, instead of letting that idea make me feel more significant to God, my mind twisted it around like an Escher drawing. The perspective I came up with was “Yeah, but He also would have died on the cross if I’d never been born.” I turned right back into one drop in the ocean, feeling as if my existence didn’t make any real difference.

I’m not sure when or how that changed, but in recent years I’ve come to understand that God loves me and wants my spirit to enjoy His company. Me. As near as I can figure, the truth that makes all the difference is that God is infinite. He can listen to my quietest, most hesitant prayer just as intently as if I were the only one talking to Him. Even if, say, maybe two million other people are praying at exactly the same time.

I can’t imagine facing a crowd and paying individual attention to each person in it, but then, I am a mere finite mortal. God is eternal, He is everywhere at once and knows everything at once. He can do what I cannot. And as I accept that truth, it sinks in that God truly pays individual attention to little ol’ me. That my actions and hurts and feelings matter very much to Him. Sure, in that sense I’m “just like everyone else”—but that does not diminish the truth that He really cares for me.

What makes me feel significant, then, is not how big I am, but how big He is.

STOP

* I might have been in mid-sentence when the timer went off, so we could be looking at 10:20 or so. And I guess I should admit that I did just glance back over it to see if it made sense. A few minor edits might have been made….

Thanks for reading,
Jan

Posted in A Page From My Journal, Near As I Can Figure... | Tagged , , | 6 Comments