Pops in Korea

The sis and our parents are in Korea for vacation.  I couldn’t go because of work and also because I needed to keep watch over the house.

The family went in order to get Pops a new pair of eye glasses (his are over 5 years old) and maybe also a new set of dentures too (if he’s willing to go to the dentist).

The sis had come from LA for her vacation in order to help Mom drag Pops to go to the optical and the dentist while in Korea.  Because he kept refusing to go for the past years, that’s how his eye glasses had gotten so old.

Mom’s always worried that this is gonna be Pops’ last year of life, so that’s why she wanted to take him to Korea again.  She wanted for him to go enjoy himself and to also enjoy some really good Korean chow over there too.

The sis had just emailed to me a pic of him while they were at the Busan Train Station.  Ah, he’s lookin’ like quite the traveler.  What a cool cane he had gotten over there too!
Pops 10 2014

As I was puttin’ away my weed-whackin’ gear yesterday afternoon, I coulda sworn I had heard my Pops’ voice behind me.  All I heard was a clear “Da…” sound.

As I had mentioned to y’all before, he isn’t able to talk because of a stroke that he had since about 8 years ago.  So all he can say is sounds like “Da”, “Dee”, or “Aaah”.  As you can imagine, it’s especially difficult to know what he’s trying to say to us when we call him on the telephone.

So when I had heard that sound of “Da…” coming from behind me, I had quickly spun around, thinkin’ that my family had come back from Korea already.  But no one was there.  Just me and our quiet house behind me.  Somehow, my having heard something that had sounded just like his voice had sure made me smile and given me a big cheer up that day.

Sure can’t wait until the family returns back home again on Sunday.

Every time my Pops makes me upset somehow or we have a tiff about somethin’, I always try to remember what my best friend had said to me before: “I wish I had a Dad to fight with.”  Her own Dad had passed away about 17 years ago.  So I always try to remind myself of what she had said to me.  That I sure need to remember to cherish every single moment that I have with my Pops, because when he’s ever gone…  I’m sure gonna regret not having loved him and shown him love even more everyday while he was here.

Thank you, God, for both of my parents.  And for my Pops’ being able to get a cool new cane to use too.

 

my weed-whackin’ attire

Yesterday, I had asked my boss for a coupla days of leave time from work. When today came around, I decided to attack them weeds at the back of my house, which have gotten almost shoulder-high in some areas.

I love weed-whackin’. It’s practically my only workout. And talk about a workout with results! Not on my body, of course (grrr…). But on the grass, that is. It feels so good to look back at the weed-whacked (bushcut) grass that’s all nice and trimmed behind me, as I’m vroom-vroomin’ along.

It wasn’t so humid outside today. On some days, I could be sweatin’ so bad, that I can barely keep my eyes open because of the sweat pouring down from my forehead.

I have me a favorite cotton hat which I love to put on whenever I’m gonna do any outdoor work. It used to be my Pops’ construction working hat, so it’s real special to me. Because it’s cotton, it’s comfy, helps to keep the sweat outta my eyes, and has got some paint spackles all over it too.

About 3 years ago, I could weed-whack between 6 to 7 hours long. And even hold my pee the whole time, wouldja believe? I’ve got bladder problems (amongst my other issues), but somehow, I’m able to hold my whiz for that long when it comes to weed-whackin’ years ago.

But now, I can only weed-whack for about 2 to 3 hours long. Sometimes my back starts to already crank out within the first half hour. But I keep trudging on, if that be the case, for at least an hour and a half long, so that my having put on all of my gear wouldn’t have been a waste.

What’s my weed-whackin’ gear? (I woulda taken pictures of these items, but the sis took my camera with her to Korea. She and the parents had all left me to guard the house for vacation. Okay fine, cuz I had to go to work and don’t got me no vacation time yet too.)

1. My Pops’ old work hat.

2. Long pants, preferably cargo pants cuz they’ve got more pockets. I stick a wire-cutting tool into my left thigh pocket and use it as a plier to yank out the used weed-whackin’ strings out, in order to stick in new ones. And I put at least 10 pre-cut weed-whackin’ strings into my right side thigh pocket.

3. A pair of lime green-colored galoshes, which my Mom had gotten for me about 5 years ago. There’s a hole on the bottom of one of them cuz I had accidentally stepped onto a plywood that had nails stickin’ out of ‘em. Ouchie!

galoshes

4. My weed-whackin’ face mask. It kinda looks like a welder’s mask, except it’s not enclosed in the back of my head. Just a clear plastic cover that’s attached to an adjustable head gear thingy.  There are 2 main stuffs it protects my face from:

#1.  Flyin’ rocks.

#2.  Doggie poopie.  I actually had a picture of the kinda doggie poopie that I always hit out there with my weed-whacker.  But I ended up deleting it cuz it woulda grossed y’all out and me too fo sho.  But in order to give y’all a sorta idea of how big those poopie bombs can be, they’re often about 3 to 5 inches wide.  So whenever I’d accidentally hit ‘em, this is what happens, dependin’ on the weather:

a.  If it’s raining and them poopies are sloshy, then they go SPLAT! onto my clothes and face mask.

b.  If it’s a nice and sunny day, then them poopies go POOF! and burst into the air – and its blown up particles go stickin’ onto my clothes and hair.

My neighbors have about 6 dogs that always cross on over as they please all around the outside of my house (a gate has been in building process to prevent this for the past month now).  So how many doggie poopies do I hit with my weed-whacker?  Between at least 2 to up to 10.  That’s right, up to 10 bombs that go Splat! or Poof! on me.  Carumba.

5.  A very long and thick, black-colored apron. I’m not sure what this apron is supposed to be worn for cuz I’ve never in my life seen construction workers wear such an apron.  I think they sorta look like the kind that butchers would wear.  Anyhow, it’s been my BEST flying rocks protector.

In the past, I never bothered to get me such an apron because I thought that it would just make me sweat even more, when I’m already almost blind from the rain already coming down my forehead.  But au contrair (did I spell that right?).  Prior to my wearing the apron, I used to get at least 30 welts all over my legs and thighs.  The worst is when a rock would hit me right on the very same spot where another rock had hit me so hard, that it had left a big bruise.  When that happens, I yell out, “Aaah!”, lean over on my weed-whacker, and pretty much just cry my eyes out cuz it hurt so bad.

But now that I’ve got this good ‘ole long apron to wear, it really does do an awesome job of providing an extra thick layer of protection from flying rocks.  I’ve been using the one I have for about 3 months now and boy, oh boy is it torn up.  Almost looks like bullet holes all over the bottom of it.

In case you’re deciding to get one for yourself too, make sure to get the kind of long, thick apron which has an adjustable strap for your neck and for your waist.  The straps have a sorta clasp which clicks together.  For those aprons which don’t have this type of adjustable clasp, they just have a sorta string for your neck and waist to tie with.  Not a good thing, especially if the apron is too long for you.  That’s the case for me, so I do a sorta folding thing on the waist part of the apron and then click on the clasp real nice and snug on the back of my waist.  That long apron never unravels.

6.  And last of all, it’s important to wear good gloves.  I used to wear a pair of cotton gloves inside of a pair of long rubber gloves that went all the way to my elbows.  But those rubber gloves have since been discarded and the long pairs of rubber gloves that I do have now are not as big a size, that I can’t wear cotton gloves underneath ‘em.  So I have to choose whether I’m gonna put on a pair of cotton gloves or long rubber gloves.

The benefit of wearing long rubber gloves is that they keep the flying rocks from making bruises on my arms.  I have yet to find cotton gloves that are long and reach to my elbows, so that they can do the same thing.  So in order to protect my arms while I was gonna attack the weeds that were really in the boonies one day, I decided to put on them rubber gloves.  This was not a good idea.  Because after about 4 hours of my hands sweating inside of the gloves, my knuckles started to get raw inside of ‘em.  So I took out the little torn towel that I was using as a handkerchief, found me some masking tape, and made me a makeshift bandage to wear inside of my gloves.

bandage

The thumb knuckle looked worse than the middle finger knuckle, but it was the middle finger knuckle that was feelin’ more owie to me.
handThe type of local spiders that are often all over the boonies.  It’s usually the smaller ones that I find crawling on the brim of my hat or on my pants.  Thank God not the big ones yet.  I don’t think these bite, but still…they be creepy critters.

spider

Today, I Washed Windows

sf:

Another great poem and photography by Heidi.
This poem reminds me of the time when I had repeatedly turned on the water-sprayer for my car’s front window as I was pulling out of my driveway. Only to realize that it wasn’t the window that was dirty, but that I had forgotten to put on my eye glasses! (Good thing they weren’t sittin’ on the top of my head too, hehe.)

Originally posted on Wings of the Dawn:

puddles in May 002(Based on a true story)

Today, I washed windows.
I scrubbed and I cleaned.
But the harder I tried
The messier it seemed.

I questioned and marveled
Why spots kept appearing
Why dirt didn’t move and
And the filth wasn’t clearing.

Then in my surprise
I looked down real close
I noticed the answer
At the end of my nose.

My glasses were smudged.
Making all efforts vain.
The windows were clean.
I was looking through stains.

I wonder how often
That happens to me
I’m polishing others
And forget to check me.

~

How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that…

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The Fruit of Time Well Spent

Originally posted on whisperingleavesblog:

I like pictures, and in this one, the basket reminds me of the punnets strawberries were packed in back in those years before everything came in plastic.

As a child a basket of fruit like this one would have caused tremendous excitement in our house. We were not well off as some may have been but, richer than many children today, our Mum was very ill when I was six, and she heard the doctors telling the nurses that she wouldn’t see the next morning, she prayed in her hospital bed that The Lord would let her live to see her children grown; a prayer which he heard, my Mum saw her 81st birthday and raised us well. She was never able to go out to work, as other Mums did, but was always there for us at home, we were rich because we were loved; rich because Mum and…

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keep lookin’ up, I say

Whatta coupla months.

Two car accidents, wearisome home renovations (going up and down ladders to paint the very humid exterior, mixing cement, hammering out the crooked parts of the dried cement…), and then an argument with one of my co-workers at my new job yesterday.  Sigh.

When life goes back into messy cycle once again, oh, how quickly we can become deeply discouraged, doubtful of God’s love and care for us, and basically in a downright dagnabbit mood.

So reading this reminder in today’s Streams in the Desert devotional had sure helped me a whole lot this morning.

“The Devil has two very useful tricks.  The first is to tempt us to become discouraged, for then we are defeated and of no service to others, at least for a while.  The other is to tempt us to doubt, thereby breaking the bond of faith that unites us with the Father.  So watch out!  Do not be tricked either way.”

~ G.E.M.

Most folks don’t like rainy weather.  Maybe it’s because having to carry (and remember to carry) an umbrella can be a hassle.  And the water may mess up our hair.

But for me, I love rainy weather.  I get slightly bummed that I’ve gotta wake up early and head to work again.  But as I’m driving to there, I always crane my neck up to see where the rainbow is.

And for the past week, I’ve seen 3 double rainbows.  Sweet.

Day to day life keeps makin’ me wanna keep my head down to the ground and stare at the heavy steel-toed boots that I have to wear for work (which gives me owie blisters, oy).  But I thank God that the rain sprinkling down on me reminds me to look up for them rainbows.