Category: fun

Palm Sunday (the day after)

Jane Carlile Baker, Author, Editor, Teaching ConsultantLeave a comment
two brown donkeys
Photo by chris carroll on Pexels.com

So, I’m a country girl, and I noticed a few things about the donkey Jesus rode into Jerusalem a couple thousand years ago yesterday. I’m also reading Suzy Flory and Patrick Barrett’s book, Sanctuary, but that’s only loosely related, as it’s about a donkey sanctuary that saved a man. Anyway …

We country people know a few things about domesticated animals. This would explain why I noticed Jesus specifically asked for a colt that had never been ridden. Now, that could be about purity to go along with His humility, though I’m not sure. However, I am sure I wouldn’t choose an unridden donkey colt for a parade mount. If you’ve ever ridden a green horse, a calf, a donkey colt, or a bucking bronc, you know they all enjoy introducing their riders to the dirt, face first. So what? So, Jesus not only controlled oceans and seas, wind, demons, disease and most of the time the Pharisees, he also could ride a donkey colt right out of the chute, so to speak.

But that’s not all. I also noticed the disciples covered the donkey’s back with their cloaks before they put Jesus on him. Now that could mean recognizing Jesus’s royalty. Could be, but … I’ve ridden quite a few horses bareback. Let me just say it doesn’t take long before horse sweat seeping through your jeans onto your inner thigh begins to chafe. I imagine denim and cloak cloth are about the same, and I believe the disciples were looking out for their Messiah. Way to go, boys!

And finally, you’ve heard the joke about the farmer driving his donkey to market. The donkey balked and the farmer hit him in the head with a two by four. It got him going, but the farmer’s wife yelled, “Hey, don’t hit our donkey with a two by four. We need the dude.” The farmer said, “That’s one.” They went on a ways and the donkey balked again. The farmer let him have it in the previous manner. The wife … never mind, I forgot the punch line. But you get the point that donkeys balk. But you didn’t read anything about Jesus’s donkey balking on the way into Jerusalem, did you? Even with all the Hosanna hullabaloo the crowds were making. Moral of my story: (I’m not certain there is one.) It might be that even donkeys can experience the peace of God that passes all understanding. Have a peaceful Holy Week! Um, and I didn’t just compare you to a donkey, honest. Might not be all that bad, though. There was one who could see an angel in the Old Testament.

Alpaca Spit!

Jane Carlile Baker, Author, Editor, Teaching ConsultantLeave a comment

Last time I promised to tell you about alpacas spitting. Generally, if they have anything to say, they just hum. Some say that’s because they don’t know the words.

This picture shows Chloe giving the warning signal that a spit is on its way, and Champagne giving it back. When Chloe puts her head up in spitting prep and her ears flat against her neck, she’s telling Champagne she better back off or there’s going to be trouble. She growls at the same time she raises her head. Now, she won’t spit at me, but her spit can fly ten feet. Therefore, an intelligent, focused human will back away that distance.

However, there’ve been times when my back was turned, I missed the growl, and I got the wet green regurgitation all over me. Alpacas have three stomachs, so the smell of this stuff isn’t Chanel #5. In Alaska, if you’ve seen the ice break up and go out to sea on the Yukon, you’re called a sourdough. I guess since I’ve worn alpaca spit, I’m an alpaca sourdough.

Just to make sure you don’t swear off the sweet deer/teddy bear cross of an alpaca, up against spitting are:

  • Elegant, peaceful, calming movement
  • Warm soft fleece with multiple uses
  • Sweet pasture buddies
  • Gentle humming
  • Gorgeous eyes
  • Poop that makes the best natural fertilizer around

One day,, I believe alpacas will make their way into one of my novels. In the meantime, they cush in my field.

Life Is Bittersweet, Pull Together

Jane Carlile Baker, Author, Editor, Teaching ConsultantLeave a comment

January has been so full and a classic example of bittersweet. Taking the Christmas decorations down is bitter, but not having a credit card bill is sweet.

Bake the Hubs had his shoulder replaced. Bitter slogging through insurance companies, but sweet when it all worked out. Bitter painful going in, hopefully sweet range of motion coming out. I was living two lives for a while, his and mine, bittersweet because he lives an interesting life, but I grow tired faster than I used to. He asked me once why I was so willing to help him, and out popped, “Because Jesus isn’t here.” Where did that come from?

I’m training to become a Court Appointed Special Advocate for foster kids. Bitter hours studying, but sweet to be the voice for a kid who’s experiencing one of life’s toughest times.

My little dog, Aime, is coming to her first birthday on Valentine’s Day, and so her test to become a therapy dog should be the end of February. All sweet!

Our anniversary was last weekend and we took a trip to the California coast. Sweet! Tide’s in, and we ate seafood like a king and queen. Visited the aquarium, rode the Cannery Row trolley for the first time (I can’t believe it, in all these years). Had Ghirardelli coffee while we watched the ocean, my husband’s mistress.

frozen wave against sunlight

All sweet, except it wore him out a little, minor bitter.

Not only that, but I found out Charles Martin, my favorite living author, is keynoting Mt.  Hermon Christian Writers Conference in April, and I’m going! Sweeeeeeet!!!!

We even ate sweet and sour chicken this week. I guess that about covers it. See you in February.

Toenail Fungus

Jane Carlile Baker, Author, Editor, Teaching Consultant1 Comment

I just can’t resist. I’m looking at my blog, and there’s an ad for something that gets rid of toenail fungus right under my post. Toenail fungus! I must write a story.

Fred was a lucky little fungus dude, born on a beach like that. He spent his days dodging crabs and those weird sand bugs and big feet. He hid under driftwood at noon, preferring dark; and ran from the high tide laughing like a fool. He enjoyed the leavings of picnickers and lived in children’s sand castles until the waves obliterated them. Livin’ the good life.

Until that fateful day. He had climbed to the keep of his current castle to check the weather when the world went dark. And collapsed on him.

He squeezed between skin and sand until he saw light, crawled up in a space and climbed up to a rock, or what felt like a rock. Acutally it smelled like food, so he dug in. And then the food began to jerk and jump, a roller coaster effect. Fred hid in a crack and hung on for dear life.  After a wild ride, the food finally stopped in a ray of sun. Fred wasn’t crazy about sun, but suddenly a black cloud covered it. He went back to consuming the delicious yummies he’d been so fortunate to find. Only, it wasn’t long before something hard and smelly squeezed him back  into the crack.

Oh well, there were munchies in there, too. He kept chewing, day after day.

Until another fateful day that reminded him of that Raid commercial. First, there was this dagnasty smell. Then he was swimming in acid,  screaming for help. He climbed up on the rock and shook himself off, breathing hard. Here came that black whatever that was again. It wiped up the acid and the smell dissipated.

shallow focus photography of brown mushroom

Fred, who was developing a pot belly, but we won’t mention that, resumed his meal. About every 24 hours he gets an acid bath, but he doesn’t mind. It doesn’t affect the delicacies he dines on.

As far as anyone knows, he’s still at it.

Next Year

Jane Carlile Baker, Author, Editor, Teaching Consultant2 Comments

Nope, not resolutions. Seems like a bargain with failure. However, great ideas, you betcha!

I’m going to invite other authors to blog here. That’ll be fun.

I’m going to let my little dog take the therapy dog test, and then we’re headed for the library, hospital, and whereve else she can share love.20191203_142027

I’m going to train to be a CASA volunteer to help foster kids navigate this crazy world.

I’m going to a few weddings and birthdays and holidays and Neighborhood Watch stuff.

I’m going to get on down to love the homeless at the Shower Shuttle now and then, and take that dog I mentioned.

And I’m going to love my family despite the fact that we are cussed people, but made in the image of God. That is all, unless God has other ideas.