*Please pray for our friend, miss Monica, as she and her family evacuated their Colorado home yesterday (Thursday) due to an enormous canyon fire. They are among thousands forced from their homes.
There certainly is a need for prayers for the entire community, not to mention financial assistance. Please consider donating to the Red Cross, local churches, and even to pet rescue locations in and around Colorado City. As our friend and sister in Christ, miss Monica, is able, she will update us, otherwise I will post update on FB and Twitter as I hear from her.
Also, please remember our friends in the path of the tropical storm as well.
Lord have mercy. *
I had my first official job, the kind with a time card, scheduled work hours, and a very nearly ugly uniform at age fourteen, mainly because that was the legal driving and working age in Idaho during the late 1980’s. And since I had myself a car, I needed myself a job. But prior to my teenage employment endeavors, I worked at home. Ya see, kid sitters were a luxury that my single-parent mom could not afford so mile-long chore lists (plus peanut butter-n-honey sandwiches and daily episodes of “Little House on the Prairie”) went a long way to teach me and my younger sister the values of work.
Bring in firewood. Mop the kitchen floor. Clean the basement bathroom toilet. Scrub the master bathroom tub. Vacuum the downstairs bedrooms. Dust the dining room. Gather the eggs. Feed the dog. Peel some potatoes. And do your homework.
And our summertime list looked similar, but included additional outdoor things. Rake the lawn. Snap the beans. Pick the peas. Pull weeds in the first 2 rows. Set out the sun tea. Clean the camper. Pack the camper for the weekend. Water the lawn. And watch only one soap opera.
We were country folk so for my mom’s lunch break she rushed home from her office job to check on us kids. With the drive out she only had fifteen minutes to spare before she had to leave again; she came inside, made sure we were in one piece, used the bathroom, wolfed down some lunch, and drove back to town…
Psst… for the rest of the story, please click your ruby red slippered heals together twice or squawk like a hen laying a square egg or click here to follow me over to mister David Rupert’s place where he has been sharing my-1st-job-insight from nefarious writer-types. Err, assorted writer types. Yeah, that’s it, assorted writerly tupos. I mean typos. What am I talking about? Okay, okay, come over here to see what learned from my first job. Trust me, you don’t wanna miss this.