Janet's Blog

Sulley is not yet two years old, but he has already perfected the art of manipulation. I don't know if I would have been so willing to adopt a male, orange cat if I had realized that they are reported to be the feistiest types of cats that people can choose to keep as pets. Some people like feisty, but I prefer cats that are mild mannered and relatively unopinionated. Sulley was a Stobel kitten, one of many that have been hand-raised by my grandchildren. Sulley's parents and grandparents were all excellent mousers who have done an amazing job of keeping the voles at bay. That's why Meagan and Andy are willing to raise cats; they definitely prefer cats to rodents. Ari with Sulley, when Sulley was still a kitten Before he moved to our house in town, Sulley himself was an outdoor cat whose only secure shelter was in the garage. I'm sure his mama taught him how to catch mice and voles as soon as he was weaned. The funny thing is that Sulley hasn't wanted to set foot out...

Have you noticed the widening chasm between different branches of Christianity in the US? And, if you've noticed, do you even care? I know and love family members and other Christians on both sides of the growing rift between Christian groups. It hurts to be caught in the middle, to hear the hostile, bitter, and sometimes gloating words that are tossed back and forth so thoughtlessly. Now--especially now, when times are hard for so many people--why won't Christians try to get along? Historically, an Evangelical church includes any of the classical Protestant churches, or their offshoots, that have stressed the preaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Since the late 20th century, though, the term  evangelical  has come to mean those churches that not only preach the gospel and actively reach out to share the Good News of Jesus with the people in their communities and throughout the world, but who also insist that the Bible is the inerrant Word of God, and that each person can k...

Winter has never been my favorite season of the year. I love to be outdoors, but not when the air temperature is cold enough to kill me. And not when the frigid northwest wind blows the flags straight out from their poles, and threatens to blow me off my feet. But the temperature isn't the worst of it; I really hate the depressing brown landscape that dominates our winters in the Nebraska panhandle. For me, a skiff of snow is a blessing that covers up the brown and adds some contrast to an otherwise dull vista. Frosty trees are magical. Blazing sunsets, though short lived, revive my sagging spirits. In the dead of winter, I have to look hard to find beauty in the brown. Frosty pine trees line the highway south of town. Footprints on the uncleared path lead to the Monument. He spreads the snow like wool and scatters the frost like ashes. Psalm 147:16 A dusting of snow covers the ground just to the east of Chimney Rock, as the setting sun illuminates the sky. Freezing rain can be tre...

There is much to be said for toilet paper. I, for one, am grateful it exists.  During the pandemic, many of us were reminded that something as common as toilet paper was not something we should take for granted. As much as we were dumbfounded by the quickly emerging Covid 19 crisis, I think many of us were flabbergasted at the resulting toilet paper shortage. Actually, there was no real shortage, there was just not enough available for home use. While most people holed up at home, cases and cases of commercial toilet paper were left unused in the empty schools and offices thoughout our country. I am sure that more than a few people had to get a little creative to compensate. In centuries past, before toilet paper was invented as an aid to hemorrhoid care in the mid 1800s, people used whatever was available--rocks, seashells, straw, leaves--until most agrarian areas settled on the ubiquitous corn cobs, which were said to work quite well.  Ancient Romans used sponges soaked in s...

It had been years--decades, really--since I last worked on a paint by number project. I hadn't planned to do one now, but I wanted inexpensive turtle artwork, in just the right colors, for my updated primary bathroom. I checked on Amazon, and found that the artwork I liked the best was more than $200. I didn't want to spend that much on a bathroom turtle, no matter how much I liked it, but the less expensive options were too small for my space, or too subdued, or just plain ugly. Then, I came across a paint by number option that I truly loved. I thought about it for a few days. I could have painted my own turtle without much difficulty but, during the holiday season, that would have required more brain power than I had left after shopping, making travel plans, and organizing a myriad of activities, including our 50th anniversary celebration. So, I decided to try this paint by number. Almost done I ordered the kit from Amazon, and waited impatiently for it to arrive. I opened it...

It was a gorgeous, mild, sunny afternoon in late December or early January, at least five years ago. I was walking with Jackson, my fluffy little dog, on the path that runs parallel to the Monument, and rejoicing in the sunshine, which was beginning to melt the four or five inches of fresh snow covering the path. When we were almost back to the car, a young jogger came running up to us, nearly out of breath. "Be careful!" he panted. "I just heard a bunch of coyotees !" Now, I had heard the coyotes, too. There is at least one coyote family that lives on the national park land, and it isn't unusual for me to hear them, especially around sunset in the winter. In fact, it hadn't been too long since I had actually seen one adult coyote, leaping from one prairie dog mound to another, trying, unsuccessfully, to pounce on its dinner. I had snapped a couple of pictures with my phone, but the coyote was too far away, and too close in color to the brown prairie grass, ...