In Gennesaret

Hello. My name is Gwen, and I’m a Match-Match-Match addict. ( Hi, Gwen . . .) It’s a new game I found a week or two ago, and I simply can’t stop playing. It’s ridiculous. It’s a silly, mindless game – find three matching items in a massive pile of junk, over and over, until all the items are gone. I think it appeals to that part of me that enjoys creating order out of chaos. But people, I am spending HOURS playing this silly game. My phone is running out of charge by dinnertime because I’m on it so long. I wake up telling myself I won’t play it today . . . and then it’s, well, I won’t play it until lunchtime . . . and then, well, I’ll only play it until this show is over . . . and then I’ve played it for a couple hours and am still making excuses for why I don’t need to stop quite yet. Even as I’m typing this, part of my brain is thinking I should stop and play a quick game and come back to typing. Yeah, right. I’m thoroughly humbled, my friends. The crazy app has me licked. I sh...

For your amusement and enlightenment (maybe?), I present a transcript of my inner monologue as I prepared to and mowed the lawn last weekend for the first time in five years. (Note: I will bleep or edit the swear words. Just bein’ real with you, folks. God ain’t done with me yet. And if any of my students’ parents are reading, I promise I never swear at school. Remember, this is my inner  monologue.)   Upon waking in bed : Let’s see. The service is at 10 . . . picking up groceries at 12:30 . . . THE LAWN!   (Much groaning and incomprehensible muttering) I’ll call Javie again. No, he can’t do it. I’ll do it this afternoon. No, it’ll be too hot then. I have to do it this morning. But then I’ll have to shower and everything before the service. Nah, I don’t want to mow. I’ll do it Monday. During my prayer time : Lord, comfort the Blyths today . . . keep Austin safe driving home . . . and . . . and . . . FINE! FINE. I’LL MOW THE @&*$# LAWN. (Note: yes, I occasion...

I had never heard of Charlie Kirk before Wednesday night. I still have no real opinion on him because people on the left are just screaming about the horrible things he said and did and people on the right are just screaming about the wonderful things he said and did and I simply don’t have time to do the research to evaluate his actions and beliefs objectively, particularly when I suspect that such research would simply prove to me that he did good stuff and bad stuff just like all the rest of us. The only opinion I have about the man is that he should not have been shot. And the fact that I even need to say that is distressing to say the least. The rhetoric out there about this week’s events is absolutely deplorable. The rhetoric from both sides . The fact that people on the left are saying that he deserved to be killed is deplorable. The fact that people on the right are declaring war on the left is deplorable. I just can’t get over it. I don’t understand when we stopped bein...

I ran into an old friend the other day, and we were filling each other in on our kids’ lives. She told me her son recently decided he might be autistic. Well, hmm. She questioned that conclusion (so did I). He had apparently mentioned the idea to his therapist, who had asked, “Well . . . do you rehearse in your head ahead of time conversations you’re going to have with others?” His answer was yes, so the therapist agreed that yes, autism might be a possibility. And I thought, Hmm. I do that sometimes. But no, I am not on the spectrum. In a discussion a few months ago with the doctor fitting my Mandibular Advancement Device (it’s for sleep – a story for another day), I was filling her in on my history of sleep issues and the things I do to try to fall asleep. Such as recite the periodic table of elements – by atomic number or alphabetically. Or list the U.S. presidents – in chronological order or alphabetically (by first or last name) or by party – along with the years they we...

I’ve started a new habit in my nighttime routine: a quick review of my day with Jesus. What I did, how I did it, where I saw him, where I was out of line and need to repent, etc. It’s a nice habit; I’m glad I’m doing it. But a few days ago, I spent my Jesus Check-In time apologizing to him for my unproductive day. Now to be fair, I had a reason for my lack of productivity, weird though it is. I’m not able to wear my contacts right now, so I’m wearing my old glasses all day (which I hate, but that’s another story). I’ve worn contacts for decades – I put them in first thing in the morning and take them out last thing at night. So, when I don’t have them in, my brain says, “It’s sleepytime!” I have been yawning all day long, and I just never feel like my brain is ON. It’s very frustrating. So, this particular day in my old ugly glasses progressed with nothing significant accomplished. I watched too much TV. I played too many games on my phone. I was decidedly unproductive . And I was ...

A lot of things changed in our lives during the pandemic, yes? Here’s one: we started using curbside pickup for groceries. I mean, we started doing it and kept doing it. At least I did. (Is it just me?) Very rarely am I inside a grocery store anymore. But I needed something the other day and stopped at HEB on my way home from the gym. And oh, friends . . . I am seriously out of practice here. I forgot how crowded your average HEB is at noon on a Saturday. Good grief. I forgot how BIG your average HEB is. And how it is organized. I couldn’t find salsa. What the heck? This is SAN ANTONIO, people. There is no excuse for salsa not being easily accessible. But most of all, I forgot how looking at food makes me want to buy it . . . and that HEB knows this full well. This is why the basic necessity items (like milk) are in the very back of the store so that you have to walk through aisles and aisles of tempting, delicious-looking stuff to get to it. Oooh . . . blueberry muffins! I l...