July 28: Calm and Steady, Parable, Old Donkey

Santiago eats, even though he's not hungry

"It is a strong full-blooded fish," he thought. "I was lucky to get him instead of dolphin. Dolphin is too sweet. This is hardly sweet at all and all the strength is still in it."

There is no sense in being anything but practical though, he thought. I wish I had some salt. And I do not know whether the sun will rot or dry what is left, so I had better eat it all although I am not hungry. The fish is calm and steady. I will eat it all and then I will be ready.

"Be patient, hand," he said. "I do this for you."

Doing something that you don't feel like doing.  Because it's the right thing to do.  

I think everybody has moments like that.  Eating a food you don't like because it's polite.  Watching a movie you hate because another person loves it.  Working a job that brings you no happiness because you need the money.  I could go on, but you get the idea.

This is going to be one of those posts where I can't really give specifics.  I need to protect both the innocent and guilty.  I absolutely could name names and point fingers.  However, that will do no good.  It won't change the situation, and it would only make me feel better temporarily.  So, I will speak as generically as possible, perhaps in parable.

There once was an old donkey that spent its days plowing fields for its master.  From sunup to sundown, it toiled in hot weather and cold.  Rain and snow.  It did the best it could, because it needed the oats its master provided in order to live.

One day, the donkey's master came to the stable and said to the donkey, "I had a meeting with the owner of the farm.  The owner isn't happy.  He needs a donkey that can work more fields and longer days.  So, I have to go to the village square this morning and buy a new donkey.  Today is the last day I can give you oats."

With that, its master gave the donkey one last trough of oats to eat, patted the donkey on the head, and said, "Good luck, old donkey."  Then, the master opened the gate to the donkey's stall so that the donkey could leave after it was done eating.

The donkey ate and then left, not sure where it was going or what it was going to do.  

The master bought another donkey that went to work in the owner's fields.  The new donkey worked hard, and the harvest was greater than the previous year.  The owner got even richer than before.

The old donkey, tired and broken, wandered into the wilderness and was never heard from again.

Moral of the story:  sometimes, no matter how hard you work, somebody is always looking for a better piece of ass.

Saint Marty's blessings:  drinks with some friends at the end of a long day, and a beautiful sky on the way home.

 

October 2: End of a Long Day, Ear Problem, Weekend

"Perhaps," she said wearily.  "But I feel like the end of a long day."  Clinging upside down to the ceiling, she settled down for a nap, leaving Wilbur very much worried.

Yes, Charlotte is tired at the end of the book.  She has spent most of her life trying to save Wilbur's life, and now she is feeling her age.  Slowing down.  Getting tired.  Her sunset is just around the corner, and it still breaks my heart to read this passage.


I pretty much feel like the end of a long day right now, too.  My ear is sore.  In fact, the whole right side of my face is throbbing.  I'm thinking I have some kind of sinus infection, but my nose isn't running or stuffed up.  I made a doctor's appointment for tomorrow afternoon.  By tomorrow night, I will probably be on some serious antibiotics.  At least, that's what I hope.  I want to feel like the beginning of a long day, not the end.

Saint Marty's Day is just around the corner.  I want to be better by Sunday.  I've never missed a Saint Marty's Day celebration.  The traditional tapioca pudding.  Presents.  Festive bratwurst.  The Saint Marty's Day carols.  And, most of all, the Macy's Saint Marty's Day Parade.

Right now, however, Saint Marty's head feels like a parade balloon.  Charlie Brown or Dolly Parton.

Last year's parade

May 27: End of a Long Day, Sister and Kids, Prayer for Patience

"Perhaps," she said wearily.  "But I feel like the end of a long day."  Clinging upside down to the ceiling, she settled down for a nap, leaving Wilbur very much worried.

This evening, I sort of feel like the end of a long day, too.  It's not because of work or the fact that I didn't sleep well last night.  I'm actually doing pretty well at my new job.  I did, however, have a pretty rough night.  But, that's not the reason I'm beat.

At the end of this week, my sister is coming from Utah with her kids.  They're spending the entire summer, right through August.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I love my sister, and I love my nieces and nephews.  However, my relationship with this sister is complicated.  Very complicated.  I prefer not to go into detail.  I'm saving that for my memoir.  But, the thought of four months of almost daily interaction with her makes me tired.

So, I'm asking for patience, praying for patience, this week.  I'm going to need it.  Again, let me say that I love my sister and her kids.  Love is not my problem.  Tolerance is.  Understanding is.  I may sound like a horrible person right now.  I'm not.  Neither is my sister.  We're just on opposite sides of a conflicted situation.

Saint Marty is going to need a lot of prayer to get through this summer.

Can't really quit my family

January 31: Surprise Work, End of a Long Day, Fairy Tale Work

It's going to be a busy weekend.  My daughter's ballet recital is tomorrow night.  That means she has a two hour rehearsal this evening and a two hour rehearsal tomorrow afternoon.  Then the show in the evening.  I am basically going to be a shuttle service Friday and Saturday.  And I still have to do some house cleaning to make some money.

On top of all that, I received an e-mail this morning from the English Department.  I have to write a document for my annual evaluation, and it's due by 5 p.m. on Monday.  I'm going to have to get that done this evening.  It's my only free time in the next few days.  Surprise work.  I have a feeling that, by Sunday afternoon, I'm going to be one tired little saint.

When Charlotte gets to the Fair Grounds with Wilbur, she's tired.  The end is very near for her, and she knows it.  Wilbur has no idea his friend is nearing the final days of her life:

"I'm awfully sorry to hear that you're feeling poorly, Charlotte," he said.  "Perhaps if you spin a web and catch a couple of flies you'll feel better."

"Perhaps," she said, wearily.  "But I feel like the end of a long day."  Clinging upside down to the ceiling, she settled down for a nap, leaving Wilbur very much worried.

Charlotte goes with Wilbur to the Fair because she knows her work is not finished.  Even when she feels like the end of a long day, she still has to save her friend's life.  At the end of my life, I know I'm going to be exactly like Charlotte.  There's still going to be some task I need to complete.  One last thing to do.  Work never goes away.  It just goes undone.

Once upon a time, there lived an old farmhand named Lotta.  Lotta rose every day before the sun, labored all day in the barn and fields, and fell into bed long after the sun was on the other side of the world.  Lotta never took vacations, and the milk from her cows was known to be the best in the kingdom.

One day, Lotta died, and nobody was there to take over her chores.  The cows went unmilked.  The corn rotted on the stalks.  And the pigs died of starvation.

Moral of the story:  Farms are a whole Lotta work.

And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.

Who does give a damn?

August 15: End of a Long Day

I just got home from a poet friend's house.  I was proofreading the manuscript of her new book of short stories.  I am absolutely brain dead.  Tired doesn't even begin to describe how I feel.  After saying goodbye to my coworker/friend this afternoon, I wasn't really in the best of moods when I got home.  I went for a short run to try to shake off (or leave in the dust) my sadness.  It sort of worked.  My little editing session kept my mind busy for the rest of the evening.

And now, at the end of this very long day, I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep.  Or a mediocre night's sleep.  Heck, I'll even be satisfied with a fitful night's sleep, as long as I get to stay in bed past 4 a.m. tomorrow.

I don't want to think about going back to the medical office next week.  I don't want to think about all the work that's going to be stacked up.  I'm already a little overwhelmed as it is.  I don't need to get myself all wound up right before I head off to dreamland.  I've been having enough trouble getting to sleep these last few nights.

Saint Marty doesn't want to think about anything right now.  Except maybe Cheetos.  And pizza.

These could keep me awake

November 8: End of Long Day, iPad Posts

It is the end of a very long day.  I got back from parent/teacher conferences for my daughter a little while ago.  I found out that my daughter is quiet.  I kind of looked around the room when my daughter's teachers said that, and I said, "Are you sure you have the right girl?"  I would describe my daughter as smart, pretty, graceful, funny, talented.  "Quiet" is not a word I would apply to my little girl.  One of her teachers whom I went to high school with said, "I wasn't sure she was your daughter.  She must take after her mother."

Other than that little surprise, everything went well.  All the teachers love my daughter.  Now if I can get her to do her homework before 10 p.m., I will be a happy father.  She takes after me when it comes to procrastination.  For example, I should be saying my prayers and reading my devotional, but I wanted to blog instead.  My daughter would rather sit and play with her iPod than get her homework done.  I'm ashamed to say that she is just like me.

Tonight, I am blogging for the second time with my iPad.  For some reason, the editor for Blogger is now working perfectly with my iPad, although I can't download pictures onto my posts with it yet.  I have to use my regular laptop for that task.  But I am happy that I can post with my iPad now.  It is so much easier.

That's the way my day has gone.  Nothing exciting to report, unless you can get geeked about iPads or my daughter's parent/teacher conferences.

Saint Marty sounds like a soccer mom tonight.

I wonder if her son is "quiet"