Requiem for a Couch

We should have known it was ill. After all, it had been a comfortable piece of furniture when it was young. Many pleasant hours of reading and napping were had there. It was cheerful just to look at its yellow and red English Country print.

I don't know exactly when the decline started. I think it was when the skirt began to sag, touching the floor. I chalked it up to the probability that the cushions weren't quite as cushy as they had been in the beginning and no doubt the springs had lost a little of their springy-ness. But I didn't dream it was anything really serious.

Then that little tear appeared on the right arm rest. That was understandable since the right end of the couch got sat on more frequently than the left end. I lamented the fact that the couch had not come with arm rest covers. One day I decided to google the couch's Waverly fabric. I went through pages and pages of fabric on E-Bay, and there it was - a yard and a half of the exact fabric! I bid and won.

That was probably two years ago, and I still haven't made those arm covers. I covered the tear by using some arm covers off an old recliner. They didn't look great, but they looked better than the tear - and at the time I thought it was a temporary measure. It became a permanent arrangement after I had looked at the mismatched arm covers so long that I didn't see them anymore. I still have the yard and a half of cheerful Waverly fabric.

The next symptom of the couch's illness was the annoying tendency of the seat cushions to slide forward. I was forever having to push them back under the permanently attached back cushions. The back cushions had sagged a little and I figured they were pushing the seat cushions forward.

At some point during this process of decline, I stopped sitting on the couch. It just wasn't comfortable anymore, but I attributed that to my aching arthritic joints. The last time I took a nap on the couch, I thought it was odd that I felt like I was going to slide off on the floor. "Age sure is changing me," I thought, "I used to really enjoy a nap on this couch." I didn't think much more about it and started taking my naps in the recliner.

Last week we had a visit from one of my fountain pen friends. She is also a cat-lover and wanted to meet Teche, the Unsociable. He always hides when we have company. As I sat on the couch, I leaned over and lifted the skirt to peer underneath since under the couch is one of Teche's favorite hideouts. I didn't see Teche, but what I did see shocked me! A piece of wood - part of the couch's frame - was hanging below the couch, stretching the black filmy stuff that they staple to the underside of furniture. I quickly dropped the skirt, wanting to preserve the poor couch's dignity in front of company. But I finally understood that the illness was serious.

Today Jerry and I turned the couch over. He unstapled the black filmy stuff and discovered that not just one, but two cross braces were hanging loose. He went out to his shop and came back in with clamps, a crowbar, hammer, and other miscellaneous tools. The surgery began. He worked for about an hour trying to restore the couch's skeleton to a healthy state. Jerry doesn't give up easily, but he finally declared that the whole frame was skewed. He would have to tear into the upholstery to even attempt a cure. Even if the cure was successful - and he wasn't certain that it would be - the entire couch would have to be re-upholstered at a cost equivalent to or exceeding the price of a new couch. The illness isn't just serious. It's terminal.

With a heavy heart I went couch-shopping today. I don't like change. I'm not one of those women who gets tired of things and wants to redecorate just for the sake of change. If I like something, I like it until it wears out; and then I mourn for it. The new couch will arrive Saturday. I can't talk about it right now.

Lean and Mean

I never liked the expression, "lean and mean." I don't know its origin, but it has been around a long time. As a child, I used to wonder what good it did to be lean if you were going to be mean to go along with it. It didn't help that one of the few mean teachers I had was also lean. Could this have anything to do with my resistance to weight-loss programs?

I did an internet search on "lean and mean," hoping to find out the origin of this expression; but with no success. The commercial world uses "lean and mean" to describe a highly efficient business model. The website, usingEnglish.com, says that "an organization that is lean and mean has no excess or unnecessary element and is very competitive."

Here on Bywater Farm, this month has been dedicated to disposing of clutter. I've been thinking that our object was to get "lean and mean." But I can't imagine a home that has absolutely no unnecessary elements - and my object is certainly not to compete with any other homes.

I love language - words - old sayings - and when I get one on my mind, I'm like a dog chewing a bone. I've been chewing on "lean and mean" for a few days now. I vaguely remember studying about the Golden Mean - that perfect balance between excess and deficiency. I'm not sure the idea originated with Aristotle, but he talked about it a lot. It occurs to me that "lean and mean" can take on a whole new meaning depending on your definition of the individual words, "lean" and "mean."

Did you know that "mean" can be an adjective, adverb, verb, or noun? A very versatile word! The first listing in Merriam-Webster's Unabridged Dictionary is the definition that we're all familiar with - the one that gives "mean" a bad name. Here are some synonyms: common, shabby, contemptible, inferior, stingy, low-minded. I'm surprised that "hateful" isn't listed as a synonym. If somebody told you his Aunt Matilda was a mean person, wouldn't you think she was hateful? If you really put some thought into this, you have to reach the conclusion that even the most impersonal corporation wouldn't want to be "lean and mean," using this definition of "mean."

Since I have a tenacious streak, I waded through all the definitions of "mean." I finally arrived at the seventh listing which reads, "occupying a middle position; occurring between the limits or extremes." Aristotle would approve.

"Lean" is as versatile as "mean," and not all its definitions are attractive either - for example: meager, poor, scanty, deficient, skinny, scrawny. Of course, "lean" also has some highly attractive synonyms like "thin" and "slender." But here is my favorite definition of "lean" - "an artistically effective economy of style or expression."

In the not too distant past I thought of "lean and mean" as "scrawny and hateful" and wondered why anybody would aspire to this condition. But from now on I'll think of "lean and mean" as "an artistic balance between extremes." Now don't you think that's an improvement?

Christmastide Gives Way to Epiphany

I've been listening to Christmas CDs all day. It's the Twelfth Day of Christmas, and I guess I'm having trouble letting go. But Christmas gives way to the season of Epiphany, commemorating the arrival of the Magi, those mysterious Wise Men - more about them later. Epiphany lasts until Lent so we have plenty of time to ponder the Magi.

The Twelfth Day is supposed to remind us of the twelve points of belief in the Apostles' Creed. I admit that I had to google "the twelve points of belief." I memorized the Apostles' Creed when I was a child, but nobody ever separated it into twelve parts for me. Here it is, compliments of an ecumenical website:

1. I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth,

2. And in Jesus Christ, his only begotten Son, our Lord,

3. Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary,

4. Suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead and buried; He descended into hell.

5. The third day he rose again from the dead;

6. He ascended into heaven, and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.

7. From there he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

8. I believe in the Holy Spirit,

9. I believe in the holy catholic church, the communion of saints,

10. The forgiveness of sins,

11. The resurrection of the body,

12. And the life everlasting. Amen.

I think this division into twelve parts is a good idea. It seems like it would make the creed easier to memorize. Just keep in mind that part four is not the same in all churches. Some churches omit the "He descended into hell" part.

I'll begin packing away the Christmas decorations this week. Maybe I'll let the Magi figurines and their camels hang out on the mantle a little bit longer while I think about them and their mission. To be continued . . .

A Horse's New Year's Night

At about 8:30 last night I thought the Israeli-Hamas war had moved into our neighborhood, but it was just the kids next door setting off the loudest firecrackers I've ever heard. I stepped out on the side porch to see how the horses were handling the excitement. I was glad that the pasture had dried up some since the last rain. If the horses start running when the pasture is muddy, I worry about one of them sliding in the mud and crashing into the fence. It has never happened, but that doesn't keep me from worrying about the possibility.

A new round of firecrackers was being lit in the neighbor's driveway just as I arrived on the porch. There was no moon last night, but I could see Tesoro, Rocky, and Fay silhouetted against the lights from the neighbor's carport. The three of them raced to the corner of the pasture that was farthest away from the loud, flashing firecrackers. They stayed in that corner, but turned around to watch what was going on next door.

When that string of firecrackers was spent, there was a few minutes of quiet. At this point curiosity outweighed fear. The horses walked over to the side of the pasture nearest the neighbor and looked over the fence as if to say, "What's the matter? Aren't y'all gonna do some more?" Then the kids lit another round, and the herd of three took off for the far corner again where they watched until there was another interval of quiet. Then they ambled back over to the neighbor's side of the pasture and repeated the whole sequence. I decided the horses were having fun, so I went back in the house to finish watching an episode of Monk I had started earlier.

I thought about Monk today when I went shopping at the Whole Foods Market. There's a container at the entrance that dispenses anti-bacterial wipes so you can clean your hands and the handle on the shopping cart. Monk would approve.

Nine ladies dance on the ninth day of Christmas to remind us of the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. No doubt, these are the ingredients of a happy life and it pays to cultivate them all.

Happy New Year!

We had a ham casserole, fried cabbage, and field peas for our New Year’s Day meal. I know you’re supposed to have black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day, but I hate black-eyed peas. And in case you haven’t noticed, field peas have cute little black eyes. They just don’t show up on their little brown skins as well as the black eyes show up on black-eyed peas with their white skins. So I think field peas fit the occasion just fine. Besides, I forced myself to eat black-eyed peas with my cabbage last year and look what happened to the stock market! ------- But wait - isn’t it green cabbage that’s supposed to keep the financial world on track? Refresh my memory - what role do peas play? I’m not very well versed in New Year’s symbolism, but I enjoyed my lunch anyway.

This is the eighth day of Christmas. Eight maids are a-milking which is supposed to remind us of the beatitudes. Here they are - all eight of them - from Matthew 5:3-10 (RSV) -

1. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
2. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
3. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
4. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
5. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.
6. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
7. Blessed are the peace makers for they shall be called the sons of God.
8. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

I don’t see a thing in this list that our current society puts a high premium on. In fact, if our materialistic, secular society came up with some beatitudes, they might look something like this:

1. Blessed are those who are puffed up with pride and push everybody else around, for theirs are the earthly kingdoms.
2. Blessed are those who party hard, for they will inherit a good time.
3. Blessed are the aggressive, for they can take what they want.
4. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after pop culture, for they will be popular.
5. Blessed are those who get even, for they won’t be taken advantage of.
6. Blessed are those with devious hearts, for nobody will be able to figure them out.
7. Blessed are those who stir up trouble, for peace is so boring.
8. Blessed are those who are persecuted for political correctness’ sake, for they will have fame - and probably fortune, too, since they will be able to sue somebody and win.

But you know what? Society’s skewed values are nothing new. They have been around since the beginning of time. The beatitudes make it clear that heaven and earth are polar opposites - which is why Paul said, "Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may prove what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect." (Romans 12:2) It’s a tall order, but we can do it - with God’s help, of course. Yes, we can!

Deep Christmas Thoughts

December 30, 2008

I once heard a lady say, "I hate Christmas! It’s so much work, and it’s all over in one day!" Obviously, she wasn’t thinking of lofty spiritual matters. She was thinking about cooking, cleaning, shopping, wrapping, decorating, etc. I can sympathize. If you think of Christmas Day as the end of Christmas, it really is a lot of work for a one day blow-out followed by an inevitable let-down.

I’m glad my mother believed in the twelve days of Christmas. For her, Christmas Day was not an ending, it was a beginning - the first day of Christmas, followed by eleven relaxing, stress-free days after all the work of preparation was done. Some of my best childhood memories are of the days after Christmas Day. We sewed doll clothes, read books, and baked cookies.

Every year I usually purchase a new book of Advent readings in an effort to observe the real meaning of Christmas. This year my purchase was A Family Advent (Thomas Nelson, Inc. 2008). I learned something new about that most annoying of Christmas songs, The Twelve Days of Christmas.

I think everybody knows that at various times in history Protestants have persecuted Catholics and Catholics have persecuted Protestants. Roman Catholics were not allowed to practice their religion in England from 1558 to 1829. Being a practicing Catholic was a crime. The Twelve Days of Christmas was a little ditty originally designed to help Catholics learn certain things about the Bible. There was an underground symbolism.

1. The partridge in a pear tree stood for Our Lord Jesus Christ.
2. Two turtle doves represented the Old and New Testaments.
3. Three French hens were faith, hope, and charity.
4. Four calling birds were the four gospels - Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
5. Five golden rings stood for the Torah - the first five books of the Old Testament: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.
6. Six geese a-laying were the six days of creation.
7. Seven swans a swimming were the seven sacraments of the Catholic Church: baptism, confirmation, Eucharist, reconciliation, marriage, holy orders, and the anointing of the sick.
8. Eight maids a-milking represented the eight beatitudes (Matthew 5)
9. Nine ladies dancing were the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
10. Ten lords a-leaping were the Ten Commandments.
11. Eleven pipers piping represented the eleven faithful disciples.
12. Twelve drummers drumming symbolized the twelve points of faith in the Apostles’ Creed.

Go ahead and admit it. You thought this was a silly, nonsense song. So did I. Next Christmas when you find your nerves in a frazzled state due to an overdose of The Twelve Days of Christmas, be comforted in the knowledge that this song served a higher purpose. And, if you’ll put your little gray cells to work and memorize the symbolism, it can still serve a higher purpose.

So - if you’re in a blue mood because you think Christmas is over and all you got was a lot of work and a headache, think again. This is only the sixth day of Christmas, and somewhere there are six geese a-laying. So cheer up! There’s still plenty of time to bask in the joyful meaning of the season. Have a glass of eggnog, a cup of cocoa, or something a wee bit stronger. Now, what are seven swans a-swimming?

Contemporary Fiction

I often have dismal experiences with contemporary fiction. My weakness for always judging a book by its cover doesn't help.

The most notable dismal experience recently was a novel from a bargain table at Barnes & Noble. I have happily forgotten the title. Its cover was a work of art - a pastoral scene viewed through an open window with curtains fluttering in the breeze. I bought it and looked forward to a relaxing evening with a good book. By the third chapter the main character, an English single mother, was making love - on the kitchen table - to a Muslim fellow she had just met . I'll never know how that book ended.

The book I'm reading now is only semi-dismal - A Beautiful Blue Death by Charles Finch. It's a murder mystery with a gorgeous cover - old-fashioned bottles on a shelf. The setting is Victorian England. The victim is poisoned with an exotic poison called "bella indigo" - or "beautiful blue." It's not a bad story, but the writing is a little amateurish, I think. I wonder how some people get published?

Ever the optimist, I bought another contemporary novel yesterday at the new Borders book store in Baton Rouge. It's entitled The Tale of Hill Top Farm - the first in a series of books called "The Cottage Tales of Beatrix Potter" by Susan Wittig Albert. Here's the description on the back of the book:

In this first of the Cottage Tales, animal lover and all-around Good Samaritan Beatrix Potter, author of Peter Rabbit, is ready to help solve local mysteries. And with her entourage of animal friends, she sets out to win over the human hearts of Sawrey . . .
I do believe this is my kind of book. The English village is masterfully described. The characters are quirky and the animals talk to each other. I'll keep you posted . . .