The Strangest Thing happened

I dug my fingers into the bread dough and squeezed. I stretched it and folded it over and mashed it down onto the counter. After kneading the dough for a few minutes, I formed it into two round balls. I floured the pizza pans and was about to flatten the dough onto them when a frog jumped up on the counter to my left. For a second we both froze and stared at each other. I was startled to see such a large frog. It was twice as big as my fist. That’s the largest frog I’ve seen in these parts. And it was sitting right next to my pizza dough! Moving quickly I grabbed it around the middle before it could jump away. It struggled a in my dough covered hands but I held tight. No way was I going to let it jump on my dough!

“How did you get in here?” I asked, even though I knew it couldn’t tell me. We don’t have a pond in the yard, so where could he have come from? I couldn’t begin to guess, but one thing I did know, he was going out the back door.

Once he was outside, I went back into the kitchen and I washed my hands and prepared the dough to go in the oven. I opened the oven and another frog jumped up on to the open door and then onto the pizza pan as I put it into the oven. It didn’t like the heat, I guess and jumped right back out. When I closed the oven there was frog on the stove top and more frogs hopping across the kitchen floor.

I was starting to wonder if I had be transported back to ancient Egypt right after Moses sent all those frogs as a plague on the people. But I knew that couldn’t be, because I just put my pizza dough in an electric oven. Egyptians would have wood fired ovens made of clay or bricks.

I grabbed the other pizza pan before the frogs crawled all over it and turned back to the clay oven and using the long handled paddle I stuck it through the little door and set it on the shelf over the flames.

With my bread baking I turned to the problem of the frogs. They were everywhere now. I watched them in horror as I realized it would be impossible to get them all out and keep them out.

Then I opened my eyes. I was sitting in bed with my back propped against a pillow, and there were no frogs. 

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Brave

One night this Spring after supper I let the kids play outside while I cleaned up the kitchen. “You can’t be out long,” I told them, “dark clouds are rolling in.” My weather app predicted severe thunderstorms.

I was loading the dishwasher when, suddenly my youngest screamed and came running to the back door. He sounded scared. I ran to let him in, expecting to see a loose dog chasing him. There was no dog. I opened the door to let him in but he just stood there. I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to come out or if he was worried about his older siblings still out in the yard. 

Then, as if he suddenly realized what he must do, he blurted out, “I get my gun.” 

He was given a bubble gun for his second birthday. You dip the ring on the muzzle in a shallow dish of bubble solution and when you pull it out and squeeze the trigger it pumps a gentle stream of air through the ring and makes bubbles. 

He found his bubble gun and went back out on the deck and announced, “I scare the thunder!” 

Yes, yes! Little man, be brave. One day you’ll grow up. You’ll put down your bubble gun. What will you pick up instead?

As I stood there watching him face is fears as best he knew how, I turned introspective. What do I cling to for security and to help me feel brave when disaster threatens? Insurance for health, home, and automobile? Constitutional Rights? The U.S. Dollar? My job? Religion?

Are my fears even legitimate? Is there anything substantial behind the thunderclap threatening my safety, or is it just noise? Can the things I fear really hurt me? And if so, can the things I trust really protect me?

Even as a grown man there’s a part of me that still feels like a lost boy. So I wonder, am I just a two-year-old brandishing a bubble gun at thunderstorms?

Friday Funny

Sublime

Lately, I’ve been using most of  my creative energy to write and it has been a while since I opened my sketch book. About a year ago I started sketching almost everyday and I started taking my sketch book to work and used my break time to sketch. I kept at it for a while. About that time I also started journalling everyday. As I grew more confident in my writing I began making plans to start this blog. Creating content for a blog took more of my creative energy than I had anticipated, so my sketch book has been neglected. I’ve been meaning to pick up my sketch book again and start sketching again. Then today I had an idea for something funny I could draw: a sublime!

Sublime

I enjoyed the company of a fellow artist while drawing. Here’s a picture my daughter drew.

Mrs. Cheeseball out in the sun. How does she come up with this stuff?

Writing and drawing are both things I enjoy. Maybe I can find a way to do both.