Monday, March 02, 2009
SWB: Stale Bread and just from the oven fresh
Image from beingboring.com
In the last week or so, I've been dealing with car trouble. First replacing the fuel filter to stop chugging uphill, then having to go back and have the gummed up fuel pump replaced. In the process of replacing the pump, the gas tank was discovered to be rusty in places and was replaced in order to prevent fuel leaks in the future.
I went out to start my car this morning in all 9 degrees of warmth, and it would not start.
I wanted to cry, but feared if I did the tears would freeze on my face.
As I sat in my frozen ice box of a non-moving car I could not help to think, "This situation is like stale bread that is too far gone, even for croutons".
I'm waiting for AAA to come and jump my what seems to be a dead battery. I feel like a broken record in blogging about my car. Stale bread indeed, sorry. I even confessed to my Sunday kids that my goal for lent was to stop worrying about my car, and pray when problems came. I'm not doing so well with this. Somehow, I wish I could be as hopeful about my car as the picture above, the oldest bread has a use - a menu holder!
On to fresher bread:
About a week ago a editor for a local arts newspaper emailed me and asked me for some submissions for the next edition. I was so excited by the possibility of having my work published I sent him twelve poems and a short essay that were blog posts here at one time or another. At first I thought I may have sent to much or seemed to eager, but Saturday evening I opened my mail to find a request for a bio to go along with the things I'd sent to him. Wow! I'm getting published!
Here are a few thoughts that I jotted down after sending a bio back to him:
and pride - the good kind - swelling!
The remaining unsure 5 grader that first wrote that poem describing the color red is dancing all around like a football player who scores the winning touchdown.
I feel like dancing!
Image from what we're eating
Even on this cold morning, while I wait for AAA, I feel a little more like dancing when I read my own words responding to this bit of good news. To me, this is like the aroma of home made baked bread wafting though the entire house.
Something I made, is good.