Making the Moos

Our school has an annual event in which we sell German food.
(It's actually Russian food prepared by Germans, but that's a long story)
We serve verenika, schnetka, liverwurst, sauerkraut,sausage,zwiebach, and, for dessert of course, moos. (That's the real spelling, although, since it's lacking some diacritical markings of importance, it looks strange so most people prefer the French spelling of Mousse.)


We served over a thousand people.
That calls for a lot of moos. There were eleven of us on the mousse-making crew, so we had it finished in a few hours.
Thirty four gallons of the stuff!
It was of two kinds: pluma (plum/raisin) and cherry.


By seven o'clock in the evening there were only a couple of gallons left.
They expected that the patrons remaining at the tables would probably buy that before they went home, although the 'moos servers' and I were secretly hoping everybody would be too full to consider buying it by quarts and pints, because any leftover moos usually gets served in our cafeteria. And we like it.

It was a long day, but not tedious. Working with people you love and respect to further a good cause makes you feel strength through all your tiredness.

They Warned Me About Those Steroids...

...and after four days of them, I can say I'm beginning to see what they mean.
I know, I know, they're just supposed to clear that poison ivy patch on my shin, and I'm beginning to see some improvement there, but I'm also seeing a side effect. Let me explain.

This morning when I visited the bathroom by the laundry, I noticed that the toilet needed cleaning. So I found the bowl cleaner and cleaned all the toilets in the house. Upon cleaning them, I noticed that the corners of the bathroom floors looked dirty, because of a lamentable buildup of "mop and glow". There was nothing to do but get a bottle of ammonia and scrub the bathroom floors. In the back bathroom floor, as I was scraping the corners, I became more and more dissatisfied with the condition of the quarter round and molding. It looked terrible.

Well, I have white paint. So I painted the quarter round, molding, sideboard, top round, window sill, sink cabinet...and around the corner to the molding in the laundry room...doors, sills, same story. I pulled out the washer and dryer even, painting behind them, cleaning the floors about five times with the ammonia, then breaking out a new bottle of "mop and glow". About this time it dawned on me that it was three o'clock and I hadn't eaten or rested and my heart was just pounding...but the floor shone. See. That's the danger of prednisone. It makes you feel so good you want to work yourself to death. So I'm making myself relax and enjoy a bit of computer time. It's raining, but I'm too hyped for a nap.

Besides, it's the fourth of July, and I'm enjoying the holiday.

The Power of Three Little Words!

Well, it turned out to be a good day after all. We had a little trouble getting the tank here, and some not-too-bright, un-named sponsor tried to switch spots and set it up next to the seniors...before the school insurance agent pointed out that if a softball hit one of the plate glass windows behind us, we would lose all our profits...for the next twenty years. So I ordered it back to the original spot, blocking the alley--since a barbecue wagon had taken up our marked spot as well as theirs. Fortunately nobody needed to use that alley anyway. We had no dignitaries to sit for us...not even youth pastors...who stayed away in droves today. Nope. Mainly, we had little brothers of juniors. Only one of my juniors was brave enough to splash in herself. After she left, and the later shift began, the three girls who were manning the booth refused to sit there. One of them had a brother who volunteered...then his little friends volunteered. We actually made more money than I thought we would...of course I thought we wouldn't make any at all and would have to chalk this one up to experience. So how did I avoid being railroaded into sitting on the tank. My three little words:
Sure, after you!

Determination

Let me tell you a story about Turtle's grandmother. One day when she was 87 years old her daughter Gladys walked into the house and found her standing on the kitchen cabinet painting the ceiling.
"Mom," she scolded in concern, "Why are you up there? You know the doctor has told you over and over, no climbing!"
"I didn't climb," answered her mother, " I just took three little steps...stepped onto a stool, stepped onto a chair, and stepped onto the cabinet."
"Well, you are just stepping down. You know you might fall and end up in the hospital."
Gladys helped her down and made her promise that she wouldn't stand on anything off the ground in return for the assurance that she would get someone to come over that week and finish the ceiling. Things got a little slow for grandma that week, however, and when Gladys arrived with the promised help, they found the kitchen ceiling all finished.
"You promised you wouldn't climb," said Agnes.
"Oh I didn't. You needn't worry about me like that."
"So how did the ceiling get painted?"
"I just tied a paint brush onto the end of my broom."
Turtle comes from stubborn stock.


I was reminded of all this yesterday while painting eaves at the cabin. Little by little I'm getting the outside finished...but it makes me feel like I'm 87, well maybe not. Hey. I got three more little wall sections done and it's looking gorgeous, but I had to take some time out to mow so I didn't get it all cut in. Maybe next time.

New Energy Bursts from the Smoldering Ashes

Somewhere...

even in the midst of this crazy year, I've discovered new energy in teaching my Christian Studies IV class. That class always takes preparation, but after ten years of teaching it, I could ease up a little and rest on what I already know; not this year though. More than ever, I'm finding myself preparing hours for that class and excited about teaching it.

Why?

Well I believe I've self-analyzed it down to one thing: This summer, a month before school started, I received a letter from one of the students who was going to be in the class. She said: "I'm so looking forward to being in CS IV next year." On enrollment day, another couple of seniors came up to me and said the same thing: "We can't wait for your Bible Class."

You do see, don't you? How could I do less than my best?

I think that's what every teacher needs. Maybe other people too.
Hmm. I'll have to think about that one.
Hopefully, I'm not too old to learn a lesson.

Sunday Scribblings