Saturday, May 26, 2012
The cockerel cacophony of endless crowing was silenced by the blessed flash of the butchers knife; there was a brief flapping of wings and followed by still, quiet, peace! Ironically, it was death that had restored 'happily ever after' to our daily exsistence. Dauntless in her mission, my wife dispatched a few of the noisier protagonists as effortlessly as I step on spiders.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
The 2012 Move
The third week of May, 2012...
The last time we moved, it turned into a one day BLAST. The amount of damage and destruction was lamentable. This time we have taken all this week to pack up the delicate stuff and we have moved it ourselves a little at a time. Today, the truck and our help should (may?) arrive. A last minute mens meeting date change diverted most of the hopeful recruits we had lined up for getting help with the big furniture, a truck and a trailer.
Yesterday was a very interesting moving day:
*A person we are counseling called with a big crisis, he HAD to talk to me NOW. So I loaded the van and told him that I could talk with him while we took and unloaded stuff. I don't think that those boxes were put where we wanted to put them, when I am distracted the wierdest things happen.
*People kept calling to tell us why they could not help, Im not sure how many times I had to pull off the road to answer the cell phone. After telling us this most of them wanted to continue with LONG casual conversation. Im sure that I made the "bad missionary" cultural taboo gringo mistake when I said "hey, um... Im idling on the side of the road with stuff in the van and my wife waiting at the house to help me unload it, maybe, could we please chit chat at a less pressing time?"
*I went to buy gas for a van, as I left the street was unusually heavy with traffic so I just left the gates open. When I got back 4 big dogs were clawing and biting at the chicken wire trying to get into our chicken coop. Sahara (our Belgain Shepherd who was chained up- Yes, someone in Ensenada keeps their dog restrained) was going bananas, Linda was getting the garden hose to squirt them, the owner was in the park, sheepishly whistling for his 4 big unleashed killers to please come back. I felt that the scene before me was somewhat symbolic of an invisible diabolical strategy to foil our attempts to transfer our belongings from one residence to another. Does the enemy of our souls have some special thing against moving?
*In the late afternoon someone called from San Diego all frantic because they were bringing a load of building material to Ens. and they did not make it to the border on time, Mexican customs for big items had closed till Monday. He had been told to get there early enough to avoid this dilema, but he said that a trailer broke down on the way. ANYWAY, they needed a place to dump the contents of a 20 foot trailer until they could come back and complete the run. The Mex. brother asked me about a friend of ours from Laurel Bible Chapel who... we impose upon way too much for this kind of favor. Big sigh! By this time I was almost crossed eyed with frustration.
Now, it is 7:05AM, moving day. We will see what joys await.
The last time we moved, it turned into a one day BLAST. The amount of damage and destruction was lamentable. This time we have taken all this week to pack up the delicate stuff and we have moved it ourselves a little at a time. Today, the truck and our help should (may?) arrive. A last minute mens meeting date change diverted most of the hopeful recruits we had lined up for getting help with the big furniture, a truck and a trailer.
Yesterday was a very interesting moving day:
*A person we are counseling called with a big crisis, he HAD to talk to me NOW. So I loaded the van and told him that I could talk with him while we took and unloaded stuff. I don't think that those boxes were put where we wanted to put them, when I am distracted the wierdest things happen.
*People kept calling to tell us why they could not help, Im not sure how many times I had to pull off the road to answer the cell phone. After telling us this most of them wanted to continue with LONG casual conversation. Im sure that I made the "bad missionary" cultural taboo gringo mistake when I said "hey, um... Im idling on the side of the road with stuff in the van and my wife waiting at the house to help me unload it, maybe, could we please chit chat at a less pressing time?"
*I went to buy gas for a van, as I left the street was unusually heavy with traffic so I just left the gates open. When I got back 4 big dogs were clawing and biting at the chicken wire trying to get into our chicken coop. Sahara (our Belgain Shepherd who was chained up- Yes, someone in Ensenada keeps their dog restrained) was going bananas, Linda was getting the garden hose to squirt them, the owner was in the park, sheepishly whistling for his 4 big unleashed killers to please come back. I felt that the scene before me was somewhat symbolic of an invisible diabolical strategy to foil our attempts to transfer our belongings from one residence to another. Does the enemy of our souls have some special thing against moving?
*In the late afternoon someone called from San Diego all frantic because they were bringing a load of building material to Ens. and they did not make it to the border on time, Mexican customs for big items had closed till Monday. He had been told to get there early enough to avoid this dilema, but he said that a trailer broke down on the way. ANYWAY, they needed a place to dump the contents of a 20 foot trailer until they could come back and complete the run. The Mex. brother asked me about a friend of ours from Laurel Bible Chapel who... we impose upon way too much for this kind of favor. Big sigh! By this time I was almost crossed eyed with frustration.
Now, it is 7:05AM, moving day. We will see what joys await.
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