When I was a little girl, I had a penchant for writing…anything. Ok, so I still do. I practiced my handwriting for endless hours. Yes, I still do this, too, but not for endless hours, but if I try out a new pen I write my name over and over. I smell books, too. Oh, sorry. That slipped. I loved to write my name, especially where people could see it. Like on our house. In Chapstick.
Yes, I said on our house in Chapstick, my dad’s chapstick to be exact. He used to have Chapstick everywhere. The regular kind in the black tube. Mom used the cherry kind in the red tube. I thought they would work great as a writing impliment. So I took one of Dad’s because our house was red and I didn’t think pink Chapstick would look good on a red vinyl sided house. Of course it wouldn’t! So I took the clear kind.With Chapstick in hand and smile on face, I created. I wrote my name on the back of the house–bottom right hand corner. And I loved it! I remember standing back, admiring my work. From the left. From the right. Oh, gotta fix that, forgot the dot over the i. There. Perfect.
I don’t remember how long it took my dad to find it. Maybe my baby brother told on me? I don’t recall. But I remember dad yelling.
“Michelle Lynn! Why did you write on the house?”
“Your name is on the house.”
So dad promptly took me to the back of the house and pointed, “There.”
“That’s not my handwriting. That’s sloppy.”
“Young lady, don’t play games with me.”
“Dad, do you think I’m stupid? Why would I write my own name on the house? That would mean you would know it was me. Johnny did it to get me in trouble.”
“Johnny,” dad yelled, “Get your ass over here, now!!”
Johnny came running. “What dad?”
“Clean this off of the house.”
“I didn’t do that,” Johnny protested.
“Don’t lie, clean.”
And there I stood, watching my brother clean my masterpiece off the house with a smug smirk on my face, reveling in my genius.
For information about cleaning and eating Sheepshead Mushrooms, please click here.
It was a crisp autumn morning. The wife was cold so she just put on whatever she could find. The cold snap was unexpected, so the winter clothes were still put away in the attic. She found a magenta pair of slippers, some grey sweats, a brown long-sleeved shirt and a bright yellow fleece vest. It was quite comical, but she was warm.
The husband was out in the woods, hunting deer. He does not bag the big one this time, but he did find a treasure! A Sheepshead mushroom!! The wife hated all mushrooms, well…all except the great sheepshead. It only grows in the autumn, only after it has suddenly turned cool and has recently rained. Wife and her family had been combing the fifteen acres husband bought for three years previous and had never found one sheepshead. And now husband stumbles upon one after scaring off his game.
The wife is exited to have the mushroom and fills the sink with cold water. The mushroom is as big as the sink. She is also sad because her Uncle, who loved these mushrooms more than anyone, recently passed away unexpectedly. The thought crosses her mind that yes, this is the reason the mushrooms are here now. The Uncle made sure his memory was vivid in her mind. She smiled as a slug fell out of the mushroom and sunk to the bottom of the sink full of water. She called the husband to look at the drowning slug. He grabbed it and headed out the door. He came back and was standing over her asking how to clean the mushroom when there was a knock at the door.
The wife says, “I look like a clown on acid with my colorful array of clothing. Please answer the door, husband.”
So he does. The woman must have gasped a bit and the man stood closer to her. Her voice was trembling. She said hello softly and the hunter returned the greeting in a soft voice. The wife was at the sink cleaning the mushrooms, giggling.
The woman said, “Do you know what the purpose of the earth is?”
The hunter said, “It is God’s creation meant for man to enjoy, but that went downhill in the garden. Now it is the proving ground for eternity.”
The woman was shocked and the wife giggled harder because the woman at the door fumbled for words. She said, “Well, yes. Sort of. But do you know the purpose of the earth? Why is there all this pain and suffering? Is that all there is?”
The wife scrunched up her eyebrows and thought that maybe this line of evangelism didn’t quite sound right. She craned her ear toward the door, her back still to them cleaning the great mushroom.
The woman starts talking about the book of Revelation and the husband interupts to tell her that he was a Bible teacher. He tells her that Jesus Christ, the ONLY Son of God is his savior and we are patiently awaiting His return while sharing His love and reflecting His love.
The wife giggles again knowing what the husband’s face looks like and what the woman must be thinking. The man starts to speak because the woman is obviously shaken up. She didn’t expect the hunter to know the Bible, much less be a Bible teacher and know Scripture. Not looking like that! The man hands the husband a book and the husband gently refuses saying he’s sure he has one like it. They thank him and tell the husband if he has any questions, he can call them at any time. They turn and walk away very quickly.
The wife can no longer container her laughter. She bursts out in loud chuckles and the husband says, “They didn’t leave their phone number or tell me what church they were from.”
The wife thinks that the next time they come knocking, she’ll invite them in for a discussion about being made in His image. The hunter and the wife who looks like a clown on a bad acid trip. The wife also thinks God and the Uncle planned it this way to get their daily dose of humor. She can see them slapping their thighs and turning red with their laughter.
And you did notice the wife did not post a picture of her warm clown suit, right?