Knit 'N Play

Note to Self

2008-07-01T13:31:00.004-06:00

This is your life.

30 years old and nothing is as you imagined it would be.

Hope is exquisite, and at times, exquisitely disappointing. The love you always thought was love is shadowy and elusive. Dreams you dare to dream feel like wide-open doors to giant letdowns.

Teetering between the person you were, and the person you are becoming...

And this...all this in-between...is your life. It is you.

And you know...it's pretty darn awesome to be you. Because in all of your teetering, imbalance and frailty, something Solid has found you. And He's not about to let you go.

Dare to let your hope be solid, your joy sure, and your heart complete. Trust me, it's going to take an act of defiant bravery to do so.

It's time to cut yourself loose from what you thought you wanted. It's time to celebrate what is. Birthday donut surprises at work. Days off with a roaming friend. Phone calls from little brothers halfway around the world.

Your life.

On The Road

2007-06-07T12:23:00.000-06:00

So, I'm munching on an organic vegan donut, floating around the internet in a wi-fi boat on a sea of fair trade coffee...which can only mean one thing. I'm in Seattle. Pal says I can publish a review of coffeeshops on Greenwood Ave. with all the experience I'm gathering. This may very well have been true a day ago, but I think it's too late now. I've found my favorite resting spot.

So, other than overcoming my fear of coffeeshops day by day, what have I been up to in the last months? Well, let's see. A whole lot of smiling, crying, and in short, just a whole lot of being alive. It feels good, you know? I've played global hopscotch: Portland-Seattle-Thailand-Seattle. (Next stops: Missoula-Russia, or Finland, to be exact.) I feel incredibly, incredibly blessed to be here. To be anywhere. To be living this story with all it's crazy and beautiful characters. To be on a lifelong road trip with God. I've taken some pictures. I've seen some faces. I've read alone and read outloud. I've sent letters and received some. I've spent money and had the humbling experience of being given it too. I've gone without music and internet, once considered vital to my existence, only to find out it's not...though I'm grateful to have it again. Pretty simple stuff, really. I don't know what I--or anyone else--was hoping for when I set out, but I don't think I'm disappointed. If there's a place on this earth with the name 'Home' written on it--a place to pitch my tent--I guess I'd still like to find it, but it doesn't seem like such a worry anymore. I guess what they say about Home and your heart is true. My heart is with God, and I can be at home with Him anywhere.

Carriage Ride

2007-04-03T19:52:00.001-06:00

A few weeks ago I was praying with a group of women I don't know all that well (I have since come to know them better), and one of them who was praying over me said, "I see an old-fashioned carriage. I don't know if that means anything to you." This is the image that came to mind. The truth is, I don't know what it means. I only know that I have been praying fervently about a place called home, and if ever I could say I had felt I'd found that place, it was right in this moment, in the middle of (seeming) nowhere, in the middle of God's great plan. Do I see God sending me back to Africa? It would be pretty ironic, since I am the girl who was known to say I only wanted to get married so I'd have someone around to kill the spiders (yes, I have since repented). But maybe. The point is...Home is me in the center of God's will and God in the center of my life. And I'm gonna run like the wind to get there. Even when it feels like nowhere. Will you pray God keeps me strong to run when I see the path, and patient to be still when I don't? I'm praying for you too.

We're goin' home!

A Few of Too Many

2007-03-22T18:15:00.000-06:00

Incohesive thoughts that I feel the need to express:

Love: Am I ready for God's love for others to make its home in me? Just look how 'far' it got Jesus, right? The Bible tells us he was moved with compassion for multitudes. Am I ready to be moved to broken-hearted tears when His love in me identifies with their suffering? Am I ready to be moved into radical action? Am I ready to give up everything that's comfy and safe when His love is pursuing, and still expect nothing in return? Am I ready to look like a fool? Ready to be misunderstood? Ready to be rejected and betrayed? The answer: Probably not. But that's okay. I don't know anyone who would be ready for all of that (how would one prepare?). It is enough for me to be weak but willing. Willing to be made strong. Willing to let all-sufficient grace do its work in me as opportunities arise to be God's love. Think of it. We are vessels for His glory. What an amazing and precious gift we walk around with every day. Does anyone else get to see that? Do I see that in myself?

Story: I heard a Donald Miller quote the other day. He was quoting Henry David Thoreau, who said "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation", and he interpreted it something like this: Most people's stories suck, and they know it. At first I laughed. Then I laughed in the 'It's funny 'cause it's true' sort of way. I think he's right. He played this little game where he imagined that the movie trailer guy voice was following him around and, in thrilling intonations, describing all the dull details that no one would ever pay to see on film. I imagined the voice following my own life, and Mr. Miller is right. It's annoying. The truth is that everyone's life is always going to be full of little mundane details that would never make it into a script. But the truth is also that we all long for our lives to be a good story. We want to be characters that people actually care about. And this is a good thing. I'm massacring his sermon (It's called Story and it's in the Imago Dei podcasts on itunes) with all my rambling, but here are some things that stuck with me. 1. God wants to write a story with our lives, and He will, as long as we don't try to take the pen from Him and write it ourselves (I did this once, and my computer crashed...one of the most happy disasters of my life). 2. Our story is part of a much bigger story, which points to the glory of the greatest storyteller and the ultimate hero (these are my own words...they are not nearly literary enough to be a quote): God. I'm challenged and excited...for me and everyone I know. No one else can live out your story, friend (self...). Let God write to the glory of His name!

All right...I did pretty good...I only used one exclamation point! (Okay, two). I really do love you, friends. You challenge me and inspire me more than you know.

Better Things, Part II

2007-03-05T18:42:00.000-07:00

It's me again. Back because you can't have a part one without a part two. Paul Harvey would not approve. I would say there's just a few things to add before I move on from what God is teaching me, but I guess I don't ever really want to move on from what He is teaching. That being said...I don't want anyone to feel dumped on or ranted to. I guess it's just here to be taken for whatever it's worth.

The overwhelming feeling I have right now is that of being thankful. Thankful for emptiness, because only then can I know what it is to be filled. Thankful for the opportunity of pain, because it is then that I experience His complete healing and perfect love more than at any other time...It is then that I can choose to humble myself and bow down...to go a little deeper in this walk of faith...to scratch the surface of an infathomable God...to slow down in a frantic world...to crawl like a child into the Father's arms...to wash my eyes, my face, my soul with tears...to be silent and listen...to surrender control and my ability to understand...to trust in His sovereignty...to share in the sufferings of Jesus...that one day I may be God's light in someone else's darkness.

I'm thankful. For the raw material that is life, and the tool that is sometimes pain. For the jeweled crown that He is helping* us to make, so that one day, when we catch that first holy glimpse, we may have something to cast down at His feet in worship. I read a book by Elisabeth Elliot once (you know the one) and in it she said something like 'God gives us material for sacrifice'. When we understand how worthy God is, and all that He sacrificed for us, then the most painful things become something to be thankful for. Material for sacrifice.

That's it for now...Thanks to everyone for bearing with me...and making it through even without pictures. Until next time...

*(The image I have in my head is of a mother 'helping' her 3 year old to make cookies. She probably ends up doing 3 times the work, but she is somehow blessed to share the mess.)

Better Things, Part I

2007-03-04T07:29:00.000-07:00

Pain is the washer fluid that clears my vision, and my unwillingness to walk through it is the clog that keeps it from doing its work. Wash away, God. I want to see you more clearly today.

A Fate Slightly Better Than Death

2007-03-04T00:17:00.000-07:00

They say that without pain, we'd die, because we wouldn't be aware of what was killing us. I suppose it's true enough. I know I've refused to feel pain before and ended up dying inside. I guess the worst pain we can feel is still better than the unfeeling-ness of death. All the same, pain sucks, and it's getting old.

Talk to you soon when I have better things to say.

Sabbatical, or Something

2007-02-28T19:33:00.000-07:00

2007. One year you roll out of bed with a terrible ache to go home, and you don't have the slightest notion of where on earth home is. So, you begin to set your heart on the journey. Not a journey with a destination to be settled in, but a roadtrip, flighttrip, floattrip, biketrip with the ones who make you feel like home along the way. There's only one home and it's not found here...but there are many steps to take and perhaps a few places to pitch one's tent along the way. Ben Harper says, "Life's the longest picture you're ever gonna take". But it really does move so fast. I don't want to wait for the perfect opportunity anymore.

Here I am...Ready to travel light, smile at strangers, make some friends, share some burdens. To talk about just where it is we're going until I can see the lights of home shining on all of our faces.

Love.

Reflecting

2007-02-26T15:07:00.000-07:00

It's been a while, hasn't it? I would have written something sooner, but trying to channel a thought into wordsis like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Blindfolded. In the rain. With rubber gloves on. Anyway...

The reason for this altogether unthrilling photograph and the wordy counterpart which you now read, is to attempt to vocalize a frustration which (until now) has generally preferred to escape in the forms of tormented sighs and cries and the occasional reaches for ice cream.

The Sweatsuit and I were journeying home today from a visit to mom and dad's. The roads were wet from a momentary snow, and it didn't take long for cars to pass us (in all fairness, we got stuck behind a delivery truck who was making a turn), with tail-lights winking and tires casually spitting dirt in our faces...each one whizzing their way into a merry little future. Now this wouldn't be much more than a mild annoyance if we were equipped, like every other car and driver team, with washer fluid and a pump or sprayer that worked. But not so, I'm afraid. So each one passing by seemed to make the journey a little more unclear, until I began to doubt my sense of direction and ability to find my way. Lucky for me, The Sweatsuit is used to driving under such conditions, and it was not long before she slid into home. A happy enough ending for a car, but for me, the story goes on.

See, it's not just my windshield that's cloudy, it's my whole vision for my life. People zoom by, and I plod on. Adjusting my eyes to yet a little more dirt. Wondering if I'll ever arrive at anything resembling home. Every now and then, I stop and catch a glimpse in the rearview mirror and back window, and though everything is so clear, it doesn't seem to help me much when I'm trying to move forward--toward home. So...I pray for rain and I wait. I pray for something to give me even a moment's clarity, but I remember that my pump or sprayer or whatever doesn't work anyway. Probably clogged. But with what?

Eventually it becomes too much. The squinting into blindness. The wondering where you are, how you got there, why you can't seem to find the clarity that allows everyone else to zoom on. I guess you just do your best, and trust that Someone else besides you has got it covered. Sounds pitiful, doesn't it? But it is what it is, and there's nothing wrong with saying so. The wheels are in motion...and I along with them. Dad says it's easier to steer a moving vehicle, but I wonder if he'll still say so when he has to let me go. Anywho, it's 2:44 and someone is playing the accordion outside my door. If I wait for everything to clear up, I'll never go anywhere. I just have to get moving. I just have to get praying. And maybe, just maybe, I'll discover what this terrible ache is that's blocking the flow of any sort of clarity. Or not. Maybe it's a story that only hindsight can tell. Ouch.

Sigh

2007-01-08T19:55:00.000-07:00

Said another good-bye to my sister today. I miss her already. In a few weeks, I will probably wonder if it was just a dream that she came home. Only 7 more months though...

On a funny note, we saw a girl at the airport using this as her carry-on.

Letters to Little Orphans who Make Big Promises...

2007-01-03T10:37:00.000-07:00

Dear Annie,

Please hand over your bottom dollar. The sun will not come out today, and tomorrow is more than a day away.

Expectantly yours,
ed

2006-12-03T19:43:00.000-07:00

Brrr...ish

2006-12-02T22:24:00.000-07:00

(daily 'drawing' challenge...silly, I know)

They say it's getting cold...but I have yet to really feel it. Could be the fatty layers of walnuts and cocoa I've padded myself with, or just the fact that I'm feeling a little Spring revival in the old ticker. I even abandoned The Sweatsuit for a week in favor of walking (hoping to log in a few last minute commuter points for work), but she started up like a charm tonight (to my hidden surprise). She's a lady like that. So is Bee, for scraping the windows that were threatening to make us look more ice-sculpture-on-wheels than car.

I scored pretty big in the eating department today. I got treated to lunch and dinner and coffee and cheesecake. And Bernice the cat gave me a back massage. She's very good at it. Creepy, but true.

I'm getting very excited for Christmas. Not the commercial-y part...but the love and joy and cheer and inner warmth part. And the Solstice party on the 22nd (dude). You should all come. There will be a cookie swap...

Sorry I can't think of anything more profound to say. The theme for my life these days seems to be...Love the one(s) you're with. Do what you know to be doing (with joy). Don't freak out about what you don't know to be doing (with fear). Trust. Be thankful. Live. The quote on my mind? Wherever you are, be all there (Jim Elliot). The verse on my mind? Hour by hour I place my days in your hand (from Psalm 31, The Message paraphrase). The Chambers for the day? I am called to live in perfect relation to God so that my life produces a longing after God in other lives, not admiration for myself. Thank goodness it's not up to me to be profound.

Thanks to everyone who shared in my wanderlusty (why does that look so wrong?) post. It's so nice to know that I'm not alone in the things I wrestle with...that I'm not too terribly crazy...that I have friends. Truly. I am blessed.

Cousin (it)

2006-12-01T15:50:00.000-07:00


Limited time only...or else I die.

2006-11-27T14:42:00.000-07:00

O snow...

2006-11-25T15:48:00.000-07:00

Oh, Le Pauvre Sweatsuit. This morning we woke up to several inches of snow. It would figure, she said to me, since you are filling in for someone else at work this morning. Yes, we all know what this means. Shovel shovel. Sweep sweep. The shovelin's all right, but the sweepin just ain't no good. Ah well. Made me feel like watching Christmas movies...but this will have to wait till November noveling's end.

After work I went straight to the Good Food Store for junk food to write by. After all, if you're gonna go junk, it might as well be organic. So, I loaded up on carob raisins (you sneer, but I love), papaya spears, walnuts, Hansen's vanilla cola and Annie's mac 'n cheese. I nearly got some tofu pups to accompany Annie on a gastronomical journey into organic white trash-land, but I decided to forego. (I forewent?)

I took an intense nap (complete with nightmares about being locked in a prison tent with two creepy adolescent boys and a knife...luckily, I escaped) and awoke with messy eyebrows. Let me tell you, this is a feat for me, because I don't have much to mess up. The other day I suggested to my mother that I was going to try using Rogaine to grow more eyebrow hairs, but she warned me they would fall out after 48 hours of discontinued use (of Rogaine, not eyebrows). I just don't think I can commit to being a Rogaine lifer at this point, so skimpy brows it must be.

Well this, ladies and gents, is how one procrastinates writing a novel.

Love,
me and the sweat(snow)suit

Thankful, but...?

2006-11-24T10:12:00.000-07:00

I came across this picture that I think I drew while sitting on a park bench in Seattle. (Speaking of which...Pal, I miss you way way too much.) I don't know that it has a whole heap of a lot to do with what I'm writing about this morning (whatever that is), but I was feelin' it, so here we are.

It's funny how quickly my thankful heart turns prodigal. I'm still thankful, but...for some reason all I can get my mind around right now is grabbing a friend (or a knight in shining RV), packing up my life, tossing it into a film-, yarn- and tootsie pop-loaded vehicle, and hitting the road in search of sunshine and untold stories.

Have you ever felt like you're at a fork in the road? Not the kind you face every time you turn around to make a decision, but the kind that will completely sever you and your sheepish pants in two if you don't make up your mind right now? The scariest thing to me is that not deciding is a decision in itself. Passivity is scary. But so is passion. I wish I knew what is right.

I wonder what the prodigal was thinking the night he was packing his things. Did he justify his departure by saying he was not really living life in the safe confines of his father's house? That it was better to seize life while he was young than wait for an inheritance when he was old? Is this me? Because frankly, I'm terrified of the neat little life in the neat little house. Of the 9 to 5. Of the mom who one day says I wish I'd never married. I'm terrified of wasting my gifts. I finally wake up from years of wanting to die, and now I'm terrified I'll sleepwalk through life.

I guess the first test of a prodigal heart is to ask whether I am all about the me and now. God, help me to be wise to myself. Plant me where I'll bear good fruit. Help me when all I see around me is dirt and seeds.

Reading back through, I realize I may sound like a) I am wanting to turn my back on my Father and b) Wifedom and motherhood are hovering in frilly pink ribbons just above my reluctant lap. Neither is true. I'm just not sure where my place in this world is right now.

I'm still thankful for...anyone who actually reads my ranty rambles, Bernice (the cat, not the bakery)'s muffins, lip gloss, senses of humor, genuine diversity, thriftshops, local celebrities, fortune cookies, natural fibers, and sincere hearts.

Giving Thanks

2006-11-23T10:54:00.000-07:00

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Count up your blessings, and find someone to share them with. I guarantee you'll get more back.

Here's my inventory of blessings for the moment...in no particular order...good health, good job, soft bed, warm house, hot showers, clean(ish) clothes, abundant food, abundant water, abundant free time, sunlight, night, sleep, dreams, letters, prayer, things that make me cry, foreign cultures, voices, places I've never been, mountains, pastures, cows, trails, dogs, tulips, sunflowers, color, rain, leaves, trees, Africa, snowmen, holidays, Bible studies, yarn, toilets that flush, The Sweatsuit, mom, dad, sisters, grandmas, grandpas, aunts, uncles, cousins, cat-niece, neighbor, wonderboss, friends here and friends there, hugs, beauty, truth, hope, joy, grace, forgiveness, smiles from friends, smiles to strangers, tears shared and tears alone, emptiness, fullness, laughter, stories, seasons, sounds, smells, scenes, music, old movies, good books that make mine look bad, guitars, pianos, children, old people, everlasting life, expressions, photographs, mystery, wonder...People I've never met. Jesus. Love that comes and goes. Love that never changes.

Well, I should probably go help my mom with dinner now. There is just no end to the blessings I have to be thankful for...externally, internally, and eternally (as I learned on Sunday). Therefore, I hereby deem it mandatory that everyone who reads this leave a comment with at least 8 things listed that they are blessed by. Come on, you know it will be fun.

That's it for now, friends. Chances are, if you know me at all, I'm probably thinking of you today, thanking God for you, and missing you. Take care.

Good Fruit

2006-11-09T17:02:00.000-07:00

So I have this friend who just discovered pomegranates...The kid pretty much lives pomegranates now. Can't go a day without at least one. Can't stop talking about them. He's like the ambassador of pomegranates, sharing his love of them with everyone he knows. I find this very cool because a) Pomegranates are great, and b) There's something so right about enjoying the fruit of the season.

I feel like this is God's message for me these days. Summer may be over, yes, but life's winter bears a fruit all its own. Will I trust Him to sustain me with the fruit of whatever season I'm in? Will I rejoice in it...knowing that the season will pass and I may not always be able to enjoy the particular blessings that it brings? Friendship, creativity, free time, special lessons...God, help me to trust and rejoice in Your provision for each season, and to share the fruit of it with others. Help me never to waste or complain or wish for whatever is not in season for me.

Zimbabwe Eve and Nanowrimo?

2006-10-31T19:32:00.000-07:00

One year ago today, I was saying "trick or treat" to my Grandma J (because she told me to) and being given yet another donation for the next day's journey to Zimbabwe, Africa. Hard to believe. Not the donations...My sister has already made it clear what kind of grandma I have. But the fact that God brought me on an adventure that would change my life in more ways than I could have imagined. I will never get over how good and gracious He is. And the journey continues. From the depths of a mended heart, I am thankful tonight.

So now I stand on the eve of a different journey, one that I suspect will be fairly life-altering as well. Cue the novelist. My friend Jersey Beth (Bee) has happily convinced me to join her in a wild, month-long fling at noveling. 50,000 words. 30 days. 4 hours from now, 1 soon-to-be-regretted-horse's-mouth. There's no turning back now.

Bring it.

Big Weekend, Part II: Pat and Irene go to a Barndance

2006-10-25T19:10:00.000-06:00

Two months from today is Christmas!!!

Sorry...just had to throw that out there. So, yes. Big weekend for me, part II.

My friend Bee, also known as Beth (since I have all but dispensed with my one-time penchant for anonymity), invited me to a barndance put on by the career group (translation: singles group) at the church we have been attending for the last few months. I all but called her a liar when she told me the event was mentioned in the church bulletin. My response was somewhere between 'Why not? It sounds too good to miss' and 'You will have to drag me, wild-horse friend'. But in the end, I could not resist the story of it all. And by that I mean getting to e-mail Jamey (#1 Sister) with a casual "Not much new here...Beth and I went to a singles barndance on Saturday" or getting to call Pal (one of a few whose name has stuck) and say something slightly less casual, like the "You won't belieeeeeve what I did today" that we have always loved so much. I have yet to do either one, actually. Procrastinator that I am. I also have yet to tell the padded out version of the story to my eager audience of imaginary grandchildren, which is strangely a sizeable motivator in the things that I must force myself to do. In short, I thought a singles barndance would make a good story.

I'm not sure that it accomplished said goal (although it would seem that the story continues in some ways . . .), but I did discover something pretty cool. A leftover something from the night before...the big fundraising event. I am not quite the unlocked-prison-cell-dweller that I used to be. When I say 'unlocked', I mean that I was free to go, but too afraid to leave the 'comfort' of my prison. I was stepping in places that months ago would have paralyzed me, and not feeling an ounce of the debilitating fear that I had always tried to blame on shyness or awkwardness. God's freedom is good news indeed. The prison door was opened long ago, but the captive still cowered. The door of the cage was opened, but the little bird just sang to herself and watched the world go by from her swing. You can call me silly, but I can't help it. There is nothing like God's freedom. I have to say it was a long, hard road, those few steps from the prison-cage to the open door, and I would not have made it if Someone hadn't reached inside and grabbed my hand. I can almost remember each step now...like crossing stones in rushing water. Every now and then, prison's "safety" calls, and I must deliberately choose to keep walking (or flying) away. But on my way, I'll catch a mirror-glimpse or a memory of where I was, and I sing inside: I have been released.

Anyway...about that barndance. To sum it up, Beth learned how to dance. I learned that I cannot dance. (Unless of course you count the danse ridicule that may or may not have been invented by the Frenchman who called us Pat and Irene). I learned that it is foolish to care about what you're wearing when it's so cold you never take your coat off. I learned that you should never bring pie to a potluck if there's a chance you could take it home with you. And yes, I re-learned that each of us carry a hidden story within us, and that things (people) are not always what they seem. Oh...and as far as I can tell, I don't have Future Wife written anywhere on my person. So...I'd say I learned a lot.

Big Weekend, Part I: Stretched and Blessed

2006-10-25T10:14:00.000-06:00

Big weekend for me.

On Friday evening, I got all foofed up to volunteer at our first we-hope-it's-annual fundraiser for work. Normally I would have been scared to death, but for some reason, this time all I could find to be afraid of was the slightly teetering 3 dollar heels I was wearing. Speaking of 3 dollar finds...I have to say that my 3 dollar dress from The Underground (the Senior Cititzens Center thrift shop) made quite an impression on an even more teetering lady in her in-the-know stiletto croc pumps. I confess it produced a secret smile in me.

Speaking of secret smiles...I have been holding one in all weekend long ever since I saw the crowd of people gathered in the cocktail-lit room for the benefit. To see that many people turn out on a Friday night in support of the work that you are lucky enough to be a hidden part of...Incredible. To be honest, it moved me to tears. I was totally overwhelmed. Not because people were lining up to say thank-you (to be honest, where I work, there is seldom a shortage of thank-you's), but because I felt like I was watching them catch the vision of what we're about. And because I am one who gets to carry out that vision every day (or night). I get to be the eyes and ears and arms to the people we're all trying to reach out to. How incredible that God allows that.

Now...lest you think I've come here to rub my job in your face, let me tell you what hit me the hardest about the evening. As followers of Jesus in this life, we are all called to be night managers, right? We work and watch in the night, right up until the final daybreak. Maybe our specific assignment doesn't feel like a particularly magnificent one at the moment...Maybe our work is all but invisible to most...But I believe that one day, God will overwhelm us with the fruit of hidden faithfulness. Perhaps what I witnessed last Friday in that sparkling, buzzing room is just a little reflection of what all God's workers will witness when they stand dumbfounded at the threshold of a heavenly gathering. All the lives that we had no idea God touched through us just because we kept about His work. I hope you're encouraged and challenged. I know I am.

The last thing to say about the evening is this. I had the prickly job of trying (with questionable success) to pin a boutonniere on our locally famous newscaster. She was very friendly and gracious about it...but a word of advice...If you ever find yourself in similar (teetering) shoes, don't preface your performance by saying, "I don't know if you trust me to do this...". Because they probably won't. Incidentally...now I know why the boy who was forced by my English teacher to ask me to our school's pseudo-prom chose to go the wrist corsage route.

Just Call It God

2006-10-12T16:27:00.000-06:00

Chambers' words are for me today:

The test of a man's religious life and character is not what he does in the exceptional moments of life, but what he does in the ordinary times, when there is nothing tremendous or exciting on.

Here are some words I don't believe you will ever hear God say: "Let's just call it good." I remember my own father saying those words to me at various times throughout my youth, when I was drowning in sleepless tears over some insignificant school project that I couldn't get just right. Sometimes those words would be accompanied by a fatherly lecture on how I majored in the minors and minored in the majors (Jamey will chuckle at this, though I doubt she ever got that particular lecture). But I have yet to hear God say, "Let's call it good." God, unlike me, is not a perfectionist. He is perfection.

The tricky thing about perfectionism is, it is more often than not a futile attempt to please an impossible audience (everyone), or an attempt (also futile over time) to hide the imperfect self you can't face behind a perfect exterior. God's not interested in either, thank goodness. Everything He does is perfect by the nature of who He is. He can't be less than perfect. He can't try to be more perfect. He will never say, "Good enough. I give up. I'm done here." I think that I have actually asked Him to say that a few times. When each baby step up the impossibly steep mountain seemed too painful. When we would pass by a little green stream and I decided it would be a good idea to just make ourselves a home there and not go on. Nope. Despite my pleadings to the contrary, He keeps on making me press on, hold out, look up...for His very best. We're the children of a perfect God. Unless we demand our own good enough way, He will keep shaping, pinching, stretching...Excuse me for mixing my metaphors. But you catch my drift. I'm off to my women's study. God is good. Chambers is not bad either:

Getting into the stride of God means nothing less than union with Himself. It takes a long time to get there, but keep at it. Don't give in because the pain is bad just now, get on with it, and before long you will find you have a new vision and a new purpose.

Where Have I Been All Your Life?

2006-10-11T17:57:00.000-06:00

Hello all who are left. I don't know what has possessed me to write something today. After months of silence, yet. You would expect adventurous tales, rollicking anecdotes, bittersweet melodrama or light-bulb revelations (or knitted masterpieces). You would be disappointed. And you probably would not know me. As it is, I cannot provide so much as an explanation for my absence. For some things, there are simply no excuses or explanations. This is not one of those things (not yet anyway); I just thought I would throw that out. For now, all I gots is a shrug, an 'eh', and the 'i-o-know' leftover from an angsty youth.

Anywho...Summer is gone, and with it, the first carefree days I have known in my adult life. Carefree because I discovered what my knees were made for, and because it was just one of those summer seasons in life. There is a place for every season though, and I am most-of-the-time eager to see what life's fall, and harvest, brings. More on that to come.

Getting What I Dessert

2006-07-27T10:22:00.000-06:00

Someone once said that they liked to use various events in their life as an excuse to eat dessert. There was a time when I would agree, but I'm afraid that dessert has now evolved into such a regular part of my days, that I find myself using it as an excuse to orchestrate the various events of my life.

For instance, I'm eating some Dairy Queen with my friend (Tiger)Bee, and I think, "Here's a good excuse to blog."...

Or I find a chocolate cake with a lit Barbie on it and some friends in my apartment, and I say "Well old girl, you might as well have a birthday."...

Or I see an all night drive-thru and think, "I guess I'd better get me a car."...Then there was the time I walked into a church and found a towering white cake with a miniature me-and-some-guy on the top...No one else was around for that though, so I just ate the whole thing by myself.

P.S. Happy (late) anniversary, KrystyKay.

Breaking the Silence

2006-06-26T12:49:00.000-06:00

Well, well. It seems it might be time to dust my blog and clear up some misconception bunnies that have gathered under the bed. Wow. That may be a new low in stupid expression use.

First of all...you'll be happy to know that I did not waste my fortune on a nap decision. As it turns out, my mind is never made-the-heck-up. And, as per my jinx and Sir Lance's prediction, I did need to use it on an unforeseen and important decision. Can we all spit out a collective "phew"?

Secondly...au contraire mes frères...it is quite possible for me to resemble a dirty horse pooping, or any components thereof. As a matter of fact, I set about to prove this very point with a ridiculous photo of a chocolate-faced me enjoying a fudgesicle way too much, while sporting my "Single and Loving It" bib with a teddy bear on it. I regret to say that, in my pursuit, I stumbled upon some secret photos of myself that make dirty horses pooping look like a Niagara Falls postcard. Let me just say that the only person on the planet who was granted the privilege of seeing them had to sit down when the laughter and shock became too much. But enough about that...

Thirdly...where was I...Oh yes. Despite rumors to the contrary, I so did not eat that bird! I placed him safely back in his swimming hole. I may have had a few more bites, and yes, I may have caught a stray eye or two, but shucks if anyone can call that murder.

Okay...so that should do for now. So, Friday may be anti-dirty-horse-poo day, but summer Saturdays are all about the Outdoor Cinema. Hooray! It should not take you long to discover that this photo is not from our Outdoor Cinema, but from a showing of The Breakfast Club in a parking lot in Fremont, Seattle. The feature film was preceded by this little gem of an educational film, earnestly titled, How To Be Popular. Perhaps I should have taken notes.

Next week's Outdoor Cinema is going to be locally produced short films, which is conjuring up some beautiful images in my head right now. Has anyone else seen that Gilmore Girls? Anywho...Sorry, my dear friend B., but it simply has to be better than that lets-all-go-jump-off-the-nearest-bridge fest, Whale Rider.

Until next time, my friendlies...S., I love you too...and I'm so glad to see you here on blogger.

Silent Birds and Ancient Wisdom

2006-06-01T10:17:00.000-06:00

Sleep is a lost cause these days. So is eating it seems. And, it follows, so is trying to look like anything that does not resemble poo, dirt, or a horse. If the week continues as it has begun, I shall be a dirty horse pooping by Friday. Just in time for the weekend fun.

In one of my heroic attempts at ingestion, I came across a little bird in my soup. He said nothing. My fortune, however, said that I could make a decision with confidence. Wonder of wonders! I stand at the sugary threshold of ancient wisdom and realize that, for perhaps the first time in my life, I have nary a weighty decision to make. Crap. I just jinxed myself. Okay, I am off to take a nap with confidence. Don't even try to talk me out of it. My mind is made-the heck-UP!

White Legs and Other Horrors

2006-05-18T18:36:00.000-06:00

Boy says his legs are so white, they make his socks look dingy.

Okay, so first of all, I'd like to apologize in advance for the "grody" content of this post. To my friend who nearly vomited in the car when finding a pizza hair (you know who you are), I suggest you turn your eyes and click your way as quickly as possible to someone else's blog. If you allow your eyes to wander beyond this point, you cannot say that you have not been warned.

So...Today Boy and I walked downtown to buy him some batteries for his camera, me some sunglasses (that tickle) and both of us a spot of lunch. I won't tell you where we went (that would be in bad taste...har har), but when I invented my own sandwich, the person at the counter said "Wow. You got yourself a sandwich there!". What he should've said was, "You got yourself a sandwich hair!". Witness the source of my dismay as we ate our lunches quietly along the river.

All right. On to the lighter side of the news...After Boy and I had finished eating (and throwing strategic pieces of food into the river, along with the forest that was drifting by on its long journey down from the snow-melting mountains), we decided to try to get some sun on our legs. The reason I initially took the photo was that boy spotted a spot on his leg and said "Oh sick! Is that au jus?" Angry gasp. "No! It's a new mole!". Here's a close-up picture. Not that you wanted one. For the record, new moles are not always a laughing matter, kids. Go see your dermatologist.

Well, after an hour and still no tan, we decided to walk back home. Boy said, "I thought I got a sunburn, but it was just my white legs blushing from being exposed to the world."

(Speaking of Other Horrors...My Elliot got voted off of American Idol. I am guilt-riddled and sad, as it is all my fault. I actually had to work and could not vote.)

Two Weeks Down...

2006-05-11T18:45:00.000-06:00

I was doing all right until I saw this picture. Now I am missing my sister so bad. I'm sorry if these aren't the most flattering pictures of you, James, but everyone knows you're beautiful. They also know that there are few things better in life than seeing you laugh really, really hard. I miss you.

Officially Earning My Nerd Badge

2006-05-10T20:00:00.000-06:00

Dear Elliott,

Will my 50 votes from work
be enough to save you
from the American boot?
Or will they send you packing
back to RVA
home of rockstars
and long lost friends?

Only time will tell.
Another 20 minutes
to be exact.

Love,

The faithful fan of underdogs

The champion of dark horses

That May 5th Thing

2006-05-09T14:14:00.000-06:00

That's what my friend Bee kept calling the holiday we celebrated last Friday. I don't have any photos to post, so I am giving you my sloppy cartoon rendering of our Cinco de Mayo evening...complete with all the limbless, digitless characters we encountered...and my first gray hair for which I like to thank the last 3 months of my life. While intending to prove just the opposite, it occurs to me that, by taking the time to draw and post a picture, I am bearing witness to the fact that I don't exactly have what is ordinarily referred to as a life. I guess now is as good a time as any to confess that I spent the following evening having a Star Wars marathon with my other friend Bee from NJ. Heck, I'm not gonna lie. It was all a lot of fun.

Sometimes in Summertimes

2006-05-04T19:04:00.000-06:00

A Boy and his ice cream (before the dental work that renders ice cream so not a treat)

One of my favorite things about being a Missoulian, and more specifically, a Montagnian, has to be summer walks along the river that usually end in ice cream consumption. Why? Well...

Because sometimes you can stop and read a book along the way, provided your favorite haunt has not been seized by make-out couples and bikini-clad melanoma-seekers, forcing you to seek reading refuge in the red-ant swamp with the ravenous crows.

Because sometimes a hippie's dog fetches a stick as wide as the wide trail itself, causing a sizable traffic jam.

Because sometimes your friend's incredibly handsome, famous, and amazing dog treats you to a pinecone dance.

Because sometimes you get to see a little pig in a dog park.

Because sometimes you get a lecture from a wise old man about not photographing nature, lest you should steal the soul of any river flies who traipse innocently across your camera's field of vision.

Because sometimes you get chased by giant hobbled river rats...And other times you only see them swimming furiously up the ditch.

Because sometimes you catch a fellow tenant washing their dishes in the river.

Because sometimes you run into a local celebrity who pauses their workout just to tell you how much they are admiring your ice cream...all the while running up and down in place...And other times you run over your Latin professor, who thankfully doesn't remember you, because you dropped out of his class after only 3 days.

Because sometimes you venture back in time to high school P.E. and return with newfound appreciation for the person you have become...for the narrow escape you made from the person you were.

Because sometimes your ice cream mixer has an evil twin, and you can't remember who is who.

Because sometimes your ice cream clerk finds the "hypercolor" mood ring on your limited edition Ben & Jerry's so fascinating that he rubs his thumb against the carton until you have soft serve.

Because sometimes you follow up your ice cream trek with a trip to Dairy Queen...for a slightly raw long dog, causing you to cite as fact what you have always suspected: Hot Eats blow big time. They're half-off in the giveaway bin.

Anyone else care to chime in?

Sister Golden Hair

2006-05-02T17:14:00.000-06:00

I decided at the last minute to make #1 Sister a CD before she flew off, and here's what came out. All the songs that remind me of her...the songs she likes, the songs with memories, the songs that say I love her, the songs that make us lachen...that I could fit on one disc. A necessarily very incomplete list, but I hear it made her smile.

Sister Golden Hair.........America
Brown Eyed Girl.........Van Morrison
Born In The U.S.A.........Bruce Springsteen
The Promise.........When in Rome
Time After Time.........Cyndi Lauper
You Give Love A Band-Aid (Bad Name).........Bon Jovi
Cruel Summer.........Bananarama
Wicked Game.........Chris Isaak
Tom's Diner..........Suzanne Vega & D.N.A.
Sunglasses At Night.........Corey Hart
Say You, Say Me.........Lionel Richie
Jack and Diane.........John Mellencamp
Everyday.........Buddy Holly
Jamie.........Eddie Holland
Have I Told You Lately.........Rod Stewart
You Decorated My Life.........Kenny Rogers
You're My Best Friend.........Queen
I'll Be There.........Jackson 5
Why Don't You Write Me.........Simon & Garfunkel
I Believe In You.........Don Williams
On the Road Again.........Willie Nelson
18 Räder und ein Dutzend Rosen.........Sammy's Saloon

I can't wait for her to teach the songs to her students in St. Petersburg...which apparently, are mostly African. That makes it doubly exciting for me if I ever get to go back to Africa! I also can't wait to hear if she plays our childhood "radio shows" that Boy put on CD for her students as well. They'll be tellin' North Dakotee-an jokes in no time!

40 Days

2006-04-29T22:28:00.000-06:00

Footprints in the wilderness.

All right, so after a sleepless night of listening to Bernice making muffins and getting her nails caught in the "dough", I decided it was high time for a clippin'. Here's a little shred of wisdom from me to you: True love is clipping someone else's toenails. I loved someone enough to swallow their gum for them once when they had a panic attack of the stale-gum-and-no-garbage-in-sight variety. But I never ventured to cut anyone's toenails. Until now. I am happy to report that I successfully clipped all of Bernice's kneading nails...even the tricky non-digits in the back.

So... an update on the passing of time and my top 10 list. In addition to the clippin'...I also pulled a book down from the top shelf, looked at sweater patterns in knitting magazines, checked my skymiles balance, and started organizing my music library in itunes. And the fact that I am writing about it amounts to somewhat of a blog revival, so I'm aces high today I'd say.

The sad news of the day is that Rockman Gary is no longer with us. I took a walk up the Rattlesnake with my mom today in hopes of finding him there. I can only gather that he suffered a rather crushing winter season himself. Or perhaps other eager beaver dogs like our Stella here, clumsily dismembered him in their pursuit of refreshment. The good news is that, to the best of my knowledge, Gary's namesake is still alive and well. Only a trip to the up-and-coming farmer's market will verify.

Now...I may have missed seeing my rockfriend/brother-in-law, but I did not leave the wilderness empty-handed (or headed). Mr. Tick here decided that he would also like to try making muffins...on my head.

Luckily I caught him before his nails got tangled in the dough. I do not love Mr. Tick. I would not clip his toenails. I would not even swallow his gum. I just had Boy help me seal him in a Ziploc, deliver a crushing blow with a wooden spoon, and deposit him in the trash outside. Just when I think I really can become a nun, a little bug appears and sends me dancing and screaming in search of the nearest male. I guess what I need is a convent in a skyscraper.

Funniest thing. I no sooner finished typing when Bernice spied a spider and went a-hunting. Maybe there's something to that whole cat-lady thing. Oh, heaven help me. My options are not looking good.

To Russia With Love

2006-04-28T13:37:00.000-06:00

#1 Sister flapped her wings and landed in Russia. I miss her already. Only 333 days or so to go. I am praying for each one. Meanwhile...

Top 10 Ways to Speed My Sister's Return

1o.Learn to drive a stick shift.
9. Knit her a sweater.
8. Read through her bookshelf top to bottom.
7. Cut Bernice's toenails.
6. Write a book, a screenplay...a letter.
5. Learn to play Anji à la Paul.
4. Get organized.
3. Cut my hair and wait for it to grow back.
2. Revive my blog.
1. Find a way to visit her.

Well, of course there's a million more, but I think the procrastination of the bottom 9 should be enough to keep me sufficiently preoccupied and therefore surprised at her speedy return. Meanwhile, I shall gratefully accompany all of the activities & non-activities of my life with this soundtrack (Warning: Audiolink for those of you in public places). Just in time to help me look up in this winter of constant good-byes.

Deep Thoughts VI and VII: When It Rains...

2006-04-10T09:19:00.000-06:00

My life was a closed book, left in the rain, and all the pages were stuck together.

Sometimes you have to drown inside before you can find out just how deep you are.

Deep Thoughts V

Mini-Misty Garden Scarf

2006-03-21T18:22:00.000-07:00

Oh merciful heavens...It's been over a month since I've posted. Actually, I don't think you can really count a wordy sigh as a post, so it's been...oh gosh...ages. Well, brace yourselves (you random selves who have stumbled here by accident...you faithful selves who still pop in...or you lucky, soon-to-be rewarded selves who came in pursuit of the knitted good...), I have a nice boring little project-post to offer.

Behold. The Misty Garden Scarf. It's from the Scarf Style book. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to post this picture, but heck...it could be me.

Except that this is me. And my mini Misty Garden Scarf for Wonderboss. To be technical, it's mini because I changed the feather and fan pattern [k2tog] 3 times, [yo, k1] 6 times, [k2 tog] 3 times to [k2tog] 2 times, [yo,k1] 4 times, [k2tog] 2 times in order to make the scarf narrower. I think the yarn I used was bulkier than the original. Or maybe I just don't like fat-bottomed scarves who make the rockin' world go 'round. Hard to say.

This picture is silly. I had to contort in the bathroom at work to get the shot. It looks like, if you could see my upturned head, my face would look like the freaky mannequin in Chico's. And something about it says Gloria Vanderbilt neck. I don't know why. I think because I'm crazy. I think when we are old and turkey-necked, LaFalda and I will look at this and say "I'll take that neck". Turkey necks run in our family. But you didn't hear it from me.

Here's the pattern up close. I think the pattern looks better when it is done in full...not mini. I guess Misty Gardens need room to grow.

All right. It's Idol time. Consider yourself spared from any further knitting nonsensicals.

Sigh Me an Earthquake

2006-02-20T16:20:00.000-07:00

This is by far the most confusing time of my life...I can sense I'm on the verge of something, and I can tell God is making me who I need to be for whatever that something is...But the not-knowing-what is absolutely killing me. He may be weaving something upstairs, but heck if all I don't see is a large tangly web.

The End of Myself

2005-11-06T22:13:00.000-07:00

Day 6-ish: Sunday!

Another perfect day...I was a little nervous about playing and singing in the church service(s) (okay...more than a little), but today's devotional was exactly for me...which is why I volunteered to lead it at the last second. Funny that that kind of thing doesn't scare me--Maybe I just didn't have time to fear or had my mind set to other things. Or maybe I was so encouraged by the words I read that I just didn't care.

The reading for today was about being in dead-end situations. These are the situations God puts us in so He can shine. I talked about how this trip in all its preparations and in the guitar playing, etc...had really brought me to the end of myself. There were times when there was absolutely no way I could come up with the necessary funds. And then there are days like today when there seems to be no way that I can play for a crowd of people--to do what I am called upon to do. God loves it when we come to the end of ourselves though--I think He must sit up there and say "Finally! I was wondering how long it would take you!". 27 years, apparently. God wants to empty us out so He can fill us up. This is only the beginning of the "impossible" things...the "dead-ends"...He has called me to.

Less of me and more of Him. Every day.

Hot, Quiet Day

2005-11-05T22:12:00.000-07:00

Enjoying Freez-Its in the shade of the new tabernacle!

(Day Five-ish, continued)

The day went by quickly...even though we really didn't do much...just singing, visiting, hiding out from the rain, eating...Several of the women from our team tried carrying buckets of water on their heads to the amusement of the local women.

Lunch was bacon, tomato, cucumber, butter and cheese self-assembled sandwiches. They also made fresh squeezed orange juice. I went for a refill--or what I thought was a refill. I took one big gulp and discovered I had mistaken Mazoe for OJ. Mazoe is this concentrated syrup that you are supposed to dilute with 3-4 parts water. So...straight up...pretty nasty.

Several people ran into town to buy Freez-Its, which are basically like chubby Otter Pops. People go nuts for them on days like today...which, by the way, was unbel-eeeee-vably hot! Dripping sweat in the shade. I hid out in the truck with Eva and Maggie for a while and practiced my guitar while Cookie and Jennifer role-played various HIV testing scenarios. Cookie cracks me up...I thought I remembered her as being the straight man to Jim's crazy antics. But I see now that they are both quite crazy. So much fun. And so loved by the people here. Christy is a doll too. She says such adult things but gets soooo excited over candy and her bicycle (and huckleberry jam).

Well...I guess that's it...except to say that I do miss the comfort of home a little, and my family and Rocky and Kathy a lot more. I will be excited to go home. Okay. Miss you...Good Night.

The Greats

2005-11-05T22:09:00.000-07:00

Gerald and Tawanda dance to the "Driv-ah" song. I defy anyone to see this (or the video!) and not love life.

Day Five-ish: Saturday

Earlier (very early) in the day, we discussed what our plan would be for the Sunday service. I got put in charge of worship...but then I volunteered to go with Jim to the separate service that he was invited to preach at...so probably will be worship leading in some capacity at both services. Very scary...but there is comfort in knowing it's what I'm supposed to do, and that anything I do will be well received. I'm actually more scared of playing in front of the team than the nationals.

Tawanda and Gerald know most of our worship songs, and taught us a bunch of Shona/Ndebele songs and dances today as well. They are both really talented. I guess Gerald is in a rock worship band called Walking on Water...and Tawanda is "learning" to play guitar (much better than me) and sings really well. He has volunteered Gerald to teach me and said we would all play together. I've been letting him play my guitar too. So tempting to give it away with all the trouble I had getting it here!

(Right: Gerald teaches us a song. If I could find a way to bottle up what this guy has and spread it around, the world would be a sweeter place. His laugh alone, I am convinced, could turn it upside down. How I miss these guys!)

Zhup...BONG!

2005-11-05T22:08:00.000-07:00

It took me like 7 shots to get that one bolt of lightning...and it wasn't even a big one!

Day Five-ish: Saturday

The storm is dying down now. Darn it. Boy did we pray for rain! The only trouble is that the roof on our tabernacle was finished today and it started to fly off in the last thunderstorm (of the day). That was a fun storm too. We had been sitting with some of the nationals, exchanging songs...when a storm came up and everyone scattered. The locals all disappeared to their homes and the rest of us, including Ephraim, Mr. C? and the ACTS crew all crowded into the ACTS Overland truck. It was such a moment!...So of course my camera quit working...But I got some video, etc..We danced to the funny "driv-ah" (driver) song (Row the Boat, Mix it Up, Sadza! Sadza!, etc...Dennis adding the garden tool dances to everyone's delight)--It was so cute. We passed around a giant bag of candy, read Laffy Taffy jokes, played concentration, the Hua (for lack of a better description...think karate chops) game, and Zhup...Bong! (Zhup passes it on and Bong reverses it). Here's a demonstration...

So yeah. That was fun.

Thundering Distractions

2005-11-05T22:06:00.000-07:00

Day Five-ish (Finally!): Saturday

Wow. Right now Cathy and I are sheltering ourselves in our tent during the biggest thunder/rain/lightning storm. I love it...but it's even a little frightening for me! The whole tent swaying. The ground shaking. A tent flap that won't zip and bursts of sand flying in.

Tomorrow morning, Cathy has to preach a mini-sermon and I have to sing and play guitar. We are both nervous...I like having the storm to worry about instead. Besides...what cooler way to die than being struck by lightning in Zimbabwe? Well, I guess dying for a cause is "cooler"...but this is for a cause...Anyway...My mind is doing its best to distract itself.

Polaroids, Worship and Shower Refusal

2005-11-04T22:07:00.000-07:00

My giggling Polaroid Girls

(Day Four-ish...The End!)

In another lull...from construction and braid-watching, I found 3 little girls hiding by a tree who let me take their picture. I took a Polaroid of them and they of me for them to keep. They were so delighted. They kept finding me and just giggled--and would not let go of their photos. Then the pastor's son asked me to take some photos of him. All so sweet.

Lunch of steak, green beans and squash. Second half of framing for tabernacle. It was so hot today. And we were working in the hottest part. I'm guessing it was upper 90's-100. Even the locals say it's way hot. But they still wear long sleeve shirts and pants, etc..(men). The snappy dresser from the ACTS crew even said it was unbearable. I'm not sure what part they come from--but they all speak very proper English, and snappy dresser even played worship songs on guitar tonight. (Pictured here, singing.) A little humbling since I had just bumbled my way through--not really...you can't really be humbled when you know you're lousy! It was just really cool--to hear songs we sing coming out from behind the truck.

Ephraim, a little 23 year old we befriended as soon as we arrived in Bulawayo, plays too. Beautiful. Maybe I will get a chance to learn from them. (That's Ephraim the Brave climbing up on the frame of the tabernacle!)

Everyone but me took showers tonight. I had a chance at the very end...but I was chicken. It was pitch black out except for the lantern on a rock by the shower which is under the tree. And all the giant beetles come out at night.

Well...off to bed now! Everyone else is asleep. Snoring.

Construction, School and Hair

2005-11-04T22:03:00.000-07:00

Cathy models her new hair-do.

(Day Four-ish...still)

So...today everyone woke up (and woke me and Cathy up) around 5:30. I haven't noticed any jet lag...Just plain tired-ness. Cathy and I "showered" in the tent with Wet Ones (Instructions: #1: Wipe.) Then an awesome breakfast of french toast, Cookie's cinnamon rolls, bacon-y stuff and beans. I was full. Eva led devotions. And Dennis too, since we were a day behind. We prayed. Our foreman, Dean, arrived 8-ish and we began the tabernacle work.

When there was a lull (because something needed to be welded or torched or something...which took some finding in town and extra work--a miracle, really), all of us girls went with Cookie and the young pastor's wife (a newlywed @ 20 years old--and so cute) across the street to meet the school officials and teachers, and peek at some of the children. Monday we will be able to spend lots of time there, but today was just formal introductions, etc.

So...more building (Dean's quite a taskmaster)...mostly for me just meant holding a rope...(okay that's all it meant for about 20 out of 25 of us), and taking everyone's pictures for them.

In another lull, Cookie brought up the subject of having some of the women give us cornrows. So...for 3 hours (with a few breaks), Stacey and Carly got theirs done...Cathy's too, but hers didn't take so long.

Eat, Sing and Sleep

2005-11-04T22:00:00.000-07:00

Tawanda from ACTS Overland (African Christian Tours and Safaris) cooks dinner.

(Day Four-ish: Friday, continued)

It was pretty close to dark once we got into Garanyemba, so we pretty much went straight to setting up the tents. Then Gerald and the ACTS crew fed us a wonderful dinner of baby potatoes, "relish", which is not relish at all, but a tomato-based almost salsa-textured but kind of sweet and super good sauce-thing. I can't remember what else we had--beans maybe and some kind of meat? (It wasn't a mystery, I just don't remember). Oh yes...and on the ride over, Cookie bought some "kapenta" fish in Gwanda, which are tiny, dehydrated, salted fish (think minnows) that they eat like potato chips...eyes and all. I tried one. Everyone else said they were super salty. I didn't taste anything but a lingering fish concentrate in my molars.

Stacey was really sick all day--throwing up, etc. The ride was pretty rough I think. And the tiny 3 seater (as in 3 across) plane we took from Johannesburg to Bulawayo would've done a choppy little number on anyone's stomach. I actually fell asleep on that plane though--with my mouth open and all--when the stewardess tapped me and asked if I wanted a drink.

So, back in Garanyemba...as soon as we rolled into town, people started coming out from nowhere. We met the members of the church we are building the tabernacle for and they sang some songs for us. We headed for bed pretty early since we were all exhausted.

Just for You, Cuchillo

2005-11-04T21:54:00.000-07:00

Day Four-ish: Friday?

I'm sitting in my new home right next to my roommate (tentmate), Cathy. We are both writing with flashlights in the dark.

Today was an amazing day...But before that, I should say that we arrived in the tiny village of Garanyemba yesterday by the sweet ACTS Overland ride. They picked us up...and Jim, Cookie and Christy, who also met us at the tiny airport in Bulawayo. As soon as we got there and began going through customs, it began to rain. The airport is kind of open air, so you could smell it. Jim said that was the first rain they'd had in 2 years. It didn't last long, but it was a nice welcome, and seemed like a good sign for us. We have been praying for God to send His rain--in every way.

They didn't really go through any of my bags--I was a lucky one. Cathy got stopped at customs for her mysterious load of a 25 lb box of drywall screws...I guess the clerk refused to believe that they were so cheap...They would be something like hundreds and hundreds of US dollars here--if not more...I think one of the officials asked Cathy if he could go home with her.

It took about 3 hours (I think) to drive from Bulawayo to Garanyemba. I slept better on the bumpy ride in the super-truck than I had the whole trip...except that I refused to allow myself to sleep because the scenes passing by were so amazing. Bulawayo is very picturesque...at least what we saw--colorully painted shops, beautiful houses...most beautiful people who stared a bit in wonder at the big truck of white faces driving by.

The drive outside the town ("city") was gorgeous too. For lack of a better description...very very Africa. This made me happy because, flying into Johannesburg, it all looked pretty ugly. Just super brown. William had warned me that Johannesburg was a city totally without charm. (Where he lived, Durbin, and Capetown, are the South African charmers, I guess). But Zimbabwe...and its people...are beautiful.

A Beautiful Discovery

2005-11-03T21:30:00.000-07:00

I took this photo from the window of our truck as we were driving through the streets of Bulawayo on our way to the village. The funny thing about it is, I took it because there was a woman standing in the doorway waving to me. But I don't see her there now. Maybe she was an angel...or just camera-shy and lightning fast.

Day Three-ish: Thursday? (It's so hard to know)

I have to confess that, for a large part of this trip (thus far), I have been wrestling with this "What on earth am I doing?" feeling. (It is usually accompanied by the weight of my guitar or the forced isolation that it seems to bring--just too big to fit anywhere). Anyway, I really got to wondering why God chose to make the earth so stinking big. I mean...we have airplanes to take us all around it and it still seems like a headache to reach these areas (or they us). How on earth were the early Christians to be expected to fulfill The Great Commission without airplanes? I'm being a little silly...but really...have you ever wondered why God made the earth so big? Well, driving into Zimbabwe on our spectacle causing giant truck, I think I discovered why. Because it was absolutely impossible for God to imagine His world without these beautiful people...without me. That's amazing. He is big. And He loves.

The Long Flight--Part II: Reese's, buff arms, touchdown, curly grass

2005-11-03T10:00:00.000-07:00

William just came back from a leg stretching and said, "They're never going to publish your novel". He wants me to make him a fair isle jersey instead. He put in his order while I was knitting my turtleneck scarf.

I really wish I could get to my Reese's Pieces right now. I should've taken advantage of the leg stretching to sneak them out of the overhead. But wait. There is nothing sneaky about a 4 lb bright orange bag of candy. I might as well "sneak down" my guitar and play us a tune while I'm at it. Speaking of unsneaky guitars...boy was that hard case not the best idea. I mean...it's nice...but I WILL be the buffest right arm in the universe. If there is ever a next time for guitar traveling (heaven forbid?), I think I'll take the risk and use the soft case. But, if a super buff arm is all I have to complain about...then things are pretty good.

So, as I said, the flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg is about 17 hours. It was divided exactly in half by a pit stop on Sal Island. I do believe that was our first African touchdown. Or I think that it is Africa-owned. (It is). We weren't allowed to leave the plane for the hour or so that we were there, so I just looked around at the brown-iness of everything and the curly grass. It feels Africa-ish anyway.

Seven hours later and we are soon making the descent into Johannesburg. I can't believe we have to do this again in a week or two.

The Long Flight--Part I: William M.

2005-11-03T03:00:00.000-07:00

I've come back from Zimbabwe (for a week now...but I've been lazy)! I'm still catching my breath in many ways. There's no internet in the wilds of Africa, so I'm just going back and posting some journal entries for you, at Mr. Bee's suggestion. I hope you enjoy. If you stick it out...you will come to a wonderful story at the end...I promise. I love you guys!

We are now seven hours out of Johannesburg, South Africa. The second leg of this flight is shaping up nicely. (Somehow I don't like those expressions when mixed). I just had a ham and cheese sandwich and water served to me by one of the cutest human beings I've ever seen. I do believe he winked at me. The way you wink at a 6 year old when their parent is sitting right next to them...which is funny because I'm sure I'm much older (than 6...and than he). My "parent" is also an adorable human being...named William M. I only know this because I took a peek at the boarding passes which were "coming out [his] ears". I have not yet worked up the courage to ask officially. Maybe in that 17th hour of flight. Seventeen hours. And an hour to refuel on the Ilha do Sal (Sal Island) . I could not ask for better company to be seated with. He has been cracking me up since take-off. He likes to make funny observations about other passengers and things. These are made all the more cute and funny by the fact(s) that he has a heavy New Zealand/South African accent and just turned 80 years old. You wouldn't know it to look at him. I know I certainly don't hope to be taking this flight when I am 80. Or 30. In his own words, he thinks he's only 40 and is always getting himself into trouble doing "stupid" things like lifting heavy objects with a bad back. But, he said if the most he has to complain about is a bad back, then things are pretty good. I wouldn't exactly call it complaining. Maybe it's the accent. And if he were a complainer, he could surely be bitter about losing his wife or his son, who was paralyzed "like Christopher Reeve" for 20 years. Instead, he just looks far away for a minute or two before coming back to his commentaries. William M. has made me want to cry...and I feel as though I've fallen in love with the world. I'm going to miss him when we part ways. He makes me feel safe...when I otherwise feel misplaced.

A random link in case you're bored...How To Speak South African

Roaring Mouse Thoughts

2005-10-27T09:29:00.000-06:00

This morning at work, a guest said that she had overheard that I was taking a trip. So I answered, "Yep. I'm going to Zimbabwe on Tuesday." We both were shocked and laughed. I think I was just as surprised as she was. It's just not something you ever expect to hear yourself say. I'm going to Zimbabwe on Tuesday. Speaking of hearing yourself say things, the other day I left a message for my boss on the answering machine and had the misfortune of discovering it later when I came in. I honestly didn't know who it was at first. No wonder Pal would laugh at me whenever I would attempt to fight with her. I guess I'm not the lion I thought I was. And speaking of lions, I should start packing for my trip. And speaking of Pal, I should do it soon, because I think she's coming into town this weekend.

Deep Thoughts V: Permanight

2005-10-19T19:37:00.000-06:00

Always darkest before the dawn, unless of course it's just a total eclipse. Ah crap.

Deep Thoughts IV

Au naturel

2005-10-11T20:02:00.000-06:00

I went on a milk run this evening and decided to take the trail route. I usually like to edit my photos, but I thought God did a rather nice job on this one and didn't need my help.

Deep Thoughts IV: Don't Rock the Boat

2005-10-10T12:20:00.000-06:00

I don't like making waves. It makes me seasick.

Deep Thoughts III

Just for You

2005-10-04T19:35:00.000-06:00

It's a strange feeling when your day to day life is uneventful, but you know that the overall picture is nothing short of mad action thrills. What I'm trying to say is, the individual events that take place in my life haven't seemed particularly blogworthy (with the exception of Fall Retreat, in which case my lack of posting is due to sheer laziness and mental chaos), but the story that God is writing...the things He is doing inside and around me are too big to contain in a single post (or blog for that matter).

Anyway, for Tot's sake, I will try my best to update a bit. I am working on my testimony for when I go to Africa (in less than one month!!!), so hopefully you will get at least a summarized version of my (recent) life soon. Right now I am feeling both blessed and stressed. (Yes. I'm a poet and I know it...did you?). Blessed by the work God is doing in my heart and in my relationships. Blessed to be the Luckiest Girl in the World. Blessed to witness miraculous provisions. Blessed to be used by God when I am anything but useful. And stressed because I am leaving for Zimbabwe in exactly 4 weeks and I feel so unprepared. The beautiful thing about life's stresses and our God is that the two of them combined equal just another opportunity to be blown away by more blessing. I am excited. Pray for me! You will probably all be hearing from me soon through letters requesting prayer support. If I don't have your address, you can e-mail it to me. If you don't want to hear from me, you can e-mail me not to. Anyway...off to work now. This is an unusual post for me. No pictures. No witticisms. Ah well.

The Little 3-0

2005-09-16T23:49:00.000-06:00

#1 Sister makes a wish while #2 Sister braces herslef for the extinguishing gale.

This weekend, Friday to be exact, my little-big sister turned into a big-little 30 year old. Most of her celebrations revolved around preparations for her upcoming year of missions in Russia. It wasn't all business though...

Even shopping for luggage had its goofy moments. If only she could raise funds as mannequin...

My Favorite Niece

2005-09-13T18:23:00.000-06:00

To the dog with the softest ears...

You were one of the family and we will miss you.

Four-Eyed Spud

2005-09-12T18:29:00.000-06:00

I'm so happy that we are finally fully staffed at work. It frees me up to do some of the really important things like baking cookies and cleaning out the cupboards. Perhaps you think that I am being sarcastic. Perhaps this photo will convince you otherwise.

Have you ever seen a more flowery tuber? Eyes nothing! Try arms and legs!

P.S. Is anyone regretting waking me from blogslumber? Just thank Your Maker I didn't post a photo of what I think was a (black) donut molded beyond recognition.

Deep Thoughts III

2005-09-11T16:55:00.000-06:00

Sometimes the Potter's pinching and pulling hurts and I think, "God, I was so much happier when I was just a lonesome lump of clay".

But then, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a fellow work in progress, or in the Potter's eyes, and in horror I cry, "Pinch away, God. Pinch away".

Deep Thoughts
Deep Thoughts II

Blah Blah Blog

2005-09-09T20:50:00.000-06:00

Tis true the boy cannot be blamed for my blogging absence. I don't see him much, and when I do, it looks a little something like this...

Blogging to you live from my date night with Rocket-Man

Class for Sale

2005-08-30T09:39:00.000-06:00

On Saturday, my sister, with the help of many generous donors, had a garage sale to raise funds for her upcoming yearlong missions adventure in Russia. She told cuchillo it was The Garage Sale with Class, which is probably why we found it so hard to say goodbye to all those treasures, old and new.

(Baby cousin not for sale)

Opposite Day

2005-08-17T18:32:00.000-06:00

Welcome to the view inside my stomach (minus the can, garbage, Boy, utensils, tables and dishes). Why am I showing you this? Because today is Opposite Day. Opposite Day is a tradition that Boy and I revived from grade school. You know...the one where you got to tell the boy you had a crush on that you thought he was super ugly and you hated him. Well, I have no intentions of telling anyone that today, because modern day opposizing exists only in the realm of food. This is the day where Boy and I get to pretend that candy is fruit, potato chips are vegetables and video games and or shopping sprees to Old Navy are the most strenuous forms of exercise one can perform. Even I have to admit, my performance today was a little weak sauce...but the night is young yet. There is still work to be done and cookie jars to raid.

The wonderful thing about Opposite Day is that it makes you incredibly eager for tomorrows filled with carrots and water. Unfortunately, my menus of late have consisted mostly of sugar and grease, so I am doubting the usual effects of the holiday. As a matter of fact, today's food consumption is not really in opposition to anything. It's just another ordinary day.

(Incidentally...that is Boy in the middle picture, showcasing our main course of chicken teryaki...with candyslaw. We get lots of funny looks when he wears that shirt. If you want to get funny looks too, you can buy your own here).

Throw Some Mistakes on the Barbie

2005-08-12T09:10:00.000-06:00

Hmm...It appears as though this was not the first time I had been denied a fire at Fort Fizzle and had to barbecue marshmallows. Nor was it the first time that I had posted about s'mores. Three posts and counting? I guess you could call it an obsession.

Boy was not convinced that my idea was such a good one...

...especially when my chocolate accident came face to face with his brand new shoes.

Here you see my brilliant plan to solidify the liquid chocolate. Don't judge it's success by the above picture of Boy. It is not my fault that he is a pansy eater and didn't get around to eating it in time.

Incidentally...that title is a special nod to Twin. Do you remember how I ordered that free kit I saw advertised in the newspaper that said it would turn you into an Australian...and all it was was a pamphlet that said..."Throw some shrimp on the barbie!" and we laughed super hard? And do you remember how every time James tried to do an Australian accent it turned out "country"? And do you remember Country from Butte?

Forest Fires

2005-08-07T20:05:00.000-06:00

Montana: the last best place on earth...'til somebody lights a match.

Hot and sticky
Gray and gritty
Eau de campfire
Snowing ashes
I should wear a mask
to walk to work

Smokey the Bear, where are you?

Filthy Rags

2005-07-19T11:57:00.000-06:00

I've got something so much on my mind, that I can't seem to do anything. So I guess I'll share it with you. Maybe someone else needs to hear it. Maybe just me. Last night as I was falling to sleep, a mental movie appeared in my head of a girl, maybe me, but black and white, sitting alone in a dark place, scrubbing and scrubbing the dirt off her arm--the once white cloth turning blacker and blacker. Then a voice said "Your righteousness is as filthy rags". I sat up in bed.

I've never given much thought to this verse in Isaiah. I just always took it to mean that even our very best is worthless compared to God's perfection. I still think that's true, but somehow this gives it new meaning, which may have been obvious before to everyone but me. I suddenly realized that rags don't get filthy on their own. They start out clean, but they get filthy by cleaning something that's filthy. In my head, this girl looked pretty clean--pretty sparkly white actually--but the rag she was using was filthy and kept getting filthier. And she could never stop scrubbing because she could never get clean. In a second, I bet she could hide that rag and make everyone think she was pretty white, but she knew and the voice knew where it was hidden. What I find hard to understand is why at some point, she decided that the clean garment she'd been given as a gift would make better rags and why scrubbing her arm alone in the dark seemed better than saying "Thank You" to the One who clothed her. I guess maybe it's because undeserved gifts are the hardest ones to accept, and those matching white garments always seem to look so much better on everyone else in the family.

Thank you friends and family for challenging me not to live in hiding. Thank you for being patient with me while God works on me. I love all of you.

Therapy

2005-07-18T13:40:00.000-06:00

I've been slackin' off pretty hard in the blogging department. Here are some potential excuses. I was still full from my lunch triathlon, stressed out by work (it can happen), de-energized by the dollar-a-day plan, or too busy with the following activities:

On Thursday, I slept the entire day. Well, from 9 am to 3:45pm when I got up and found an e-mail from my friend, Bee, asking if we were still going hiking. We sort of have a hiking routine worked out, but we stick to it maybe one week out of the month. I can think of a total of 2 hikes we have taken. So naturally, waking up in the 90 degree weather and being a little unexplainably melancholy, I was not too eager in my response. She suggested we stretch our legs at the mall's sidewalk sale instead. I agreed and suggested DQ as well. Luckily you can still get a cone for a dollar there. I wasn't feeling too dilly-bar-y after my last experience. Anyway, I know this is how half the world thinks that girls are, and I hate to confirm their manly suspicions, but shopping with Bee was the perfect cheer-up session. We talked about what we will wear when we are old old and what these con-found-ed youngsters are wearing (or not wearing) these days. We enforced a shirts-only shopping rule because of our respective fat days. Bee said, whilst we ate our DQ, that you should wear striped pants on fat days, and I said, in between cone licks, not if your striped pants are too tight.

In the end, we decided on matching shoes. This is where the entire man universe and a few ladies who balk at being stereotyped produce a collective eyeroll. Matching sparkling shoes. Bee said "Shoes are the perfect pick-me-up". Retail therapy. I know. I never thought I'd say it either. Seriously though, doesn't it kind of make you happy to look at them? And when's the last time you were too fat for your shoes? On the way out, we met some band members on the Warped Tour. I felt bad for rushing by them, but we were in a hurry. At least I could've had them sign our shoes.

Here are some other highly recommended forms of therapy:

Visit Rocket and his very own handsomest man on the planet at the meat market.

Bake mass quantities of cookies for a Zimbabwe-fundraising bakesale with your friend who is kind enough to assist and volunteer their kitchen.

Watch Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (the oldie) in a schoolyard at night and witness a falling star (which is apparently just space garbage, but don't let that keep you from making a wish).

Witness Cuchillo and his impersonation of One-Eyed Whisman (aka Rocky the Rockhound). Then draw a picture of it later at work. Then wonder what the heck is up with his arm and ask yourself if you should not take some courses in human anatomy.

Thanks to my friends and their therapy.

Belated Birthday Lunch Triathlon

2005-07-14T16:13:00.000-06:00

Fella bought me a belated birthday lunch yesterday. Actually, he bought me several belated lunches yesterday. This was number two and three. For some reason (I don't remember what it was, but then I guess we were never the kind to need one), we decided it would be a good idea to have a lunch triathlon. First stop: Trenary's, the Irish restaurant famous for The Matador, but famous to us for The Halibut Sandwich. Second stop: Hoagieville. Third stop: Dairy Queen. We pooped out on the 3rd leg of the race, but only because we discovered that Hoagieville had giant (Oreo) shakes which negated the need (yes, need) for DQ. So it isn't really pooping out, per se. It's more like getting off your bike and deciding not to finish the race. So, instead of running the course, you run back to your car which happens to be parked 3.1 miles away, or 26.2 miles, if you're an ironman. Am I right, Fella? It's been a while. We were comparing it to the Nap's challenge which is still on the agenda ('though Fella has already conquered), and Fella says we're probably only 60% there. This is bad news considering how excited I was at the idea of having a missions fundraising hot dog/Oreo eating competition between #1 Sister, LaFalda and I. Fella and I deliberated over whether gambling and gluttony would be an offensive way to raise funds for missions, but decided it was all for a good cause. Possibly a moot point now.

Fella in a "real" triathlon

Thanks for the lunches, Fella. It just occurred to me that you probably hate that name. It sounds like a horse's name. That's funny. Love you, kid. Always will.

All You Can Eat

2005-07-13T10:43:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I met with Twin and Rocket for dinner at everyone's favorite greasy spoon. Gene wasn't there, but we think maybe Christy was. Sadly, she left before we could all decide on what to order. I think we went through quite a few waitresses that way, actually. And yes. It was all my fault.

Rocket's decision was made easy by the All-You-Can-Eat-Shrimp challenge. I believe his exact words were, "Oh yeah. I could eat like a million of these". Sorry, Rocket, but I only counted like 50 and half of those were tails. Still, it's good to know they will refill your shrimp if you need it--and apparently your Coke as well. Although they (or certain unnamed parties) may not let you write a check for $1.

Twin, you know I can't resist a challenge. Rocket, you may hate me now, but you'll change your tune when the ladies come-a-knockin'. Well, I'm out. Gonna go say hello to Rocket downtown before I enter arch nemesis territory. Then I get to eat all I can eat with Fella. Hooray!

Yesterday

2005-07-12T10:25:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was a good day. Boy let me listen to MO-DO as we drove to Wal-Mart to turn in our film. I believe the phrase "I hope you're happy" was breathed more than a few times. And I was. Sehr, sehr happy. Is there anyone on earth who wouldn't be at the apparent sound of Arnold doing techno? We later walked down by the river and read. Boy finished one of his many Nero Wolfe books and I read some S.J. Perelman stories. We also discussed various get-rich-quick schemes. I don't want to be rich; I just want to get rich quickly so I can give it away to go to Africa. We're thinking we should do something with all these photos we take. And of course, stop spending money. This is where the $1-a-day diet comes in, but more on that later. Or not. That would be a pretty boring blog. I actually stumbled across a blog last night that was nothing but the writer's food consumption and exercise regimen. It depressed me for so many reasons. Twin and I hung out in the evening. She bought me Dairy Queen and we laughed and talked for hours on end about The Inexhaustible Topic. I love my cousins.

Wilderness Family

2005-07-10T19:05:00.000-06:00

Friday morning I got off work and went home to pack for a weekend of backpacking with my family. I met up with my sisters and dog-nieces. We drove to the town of Drummond, about 50 or 60 miles away, where we met my dad. My mom was unable to come since she had too much work to do. I rode with my dad for another 20 or 30 miles to the town of Phillipsburg (Home of The Sweet Palace). We made candy store & malt shop stops before heading out into the wilds.

It was in the 90's (temperature-wise) when we began our trek through the Anaconda-Pintlar Wilderness. We hiked for a few hours before stopping to read the map and make some dinner in a mosquito infested swamp meadow. Once settled into our meal of rehydrated spaghetti and peanut butter pie (pretty good for a powdered meal in a bag), Dad and #2 Sister began to discuss the possibility that we were lost. It was decided that we should pitch our tents in the swamp meadow before trying to move on or find our way. The news of our wrong turn which led us on the path to current nowhere was broken gently to #1 Sister and I. I suggested that when we backtrack in the morning, we just backtrack all the way to The Sweet Palace. #1 Sister suggested the lake we had passed on the road to the trailhead. We weren't poor sports, really, just a couple of tuckered out kids who'd been eaten alive by vampire mosquitoes. Dad said we'd discuss the matter later.

Somehow we never got around to voting on our backtrack destination that next morning. A few minutes into our backward detour, someone suggested that getting back on the right trail would best be achieved by climbing straight up the side of a fallen tree strewn mountain. Several hours and a few pant-rips later, we found our trail, where 10,000 bloodsucking insects were kind enough to wait for our arrival. My sisters and I fantasized about meeting strangers armed with DEET. #2 Sister had come prepared with lots of pleasant smelling natural insect repellents at the smell of which, every mosquito in the forest promptly erupted in laughter. #2 Sister said she would offer $10 for real bug spray. I said I would barter my digital camera, and as the afternoon progressed, my soul. (I was only kidding about my soul).

Meanwhile, Dad had been promising us for 2 dank, steep miles that "The Meadow" was just another 300 yards away. The Meadow was where we would stop and rest. He made good on his last promise all right, but someone had beat us to it. Further investigation revealed 2 friendly faces with horses (and horses with faces) bearing gifts: AN INDUSTRIAL-SIZED CAN OF BUG SPRAY. We invited ourselves into their camp and sat down for cheese, sausage and cracker lunch with our new friends for life. It turns out that our new friends for life may have lied to us, but I didn't really care because, for a few blissful hours, the mosquitoes flew in another direction.

Eventually we got back on the trail and still more eventually, we reached our destination:
Hoodwink Lake*, at the base of Swindle Peak* in the Anaconda-Pintlar Wilderness

We camped there overnight. Dad and #2 Sister went fishing. Dad lost part of his collapsible fishing pole in the lake, but caught a little Mr. Fishy. #1 Sister and I napped and made Mad Libs. The next morning, Dad made blueberry griddlecakes with strawberry syrup and we packed up and headed for home. Home (the car) was further away than we thought, but we made it. Dad took us out for lunch. We were all excited to use the bathrooms. When it came my turn, there was one toilet on the verge of overflow and one occupied. While I waited for the occupied one to clear, another lady came in and used the on the verge toilet. As I was finishing up my business in the next stall, the on the verge toilet was flushed and was no longer on the verge, but in full on overflow mode. The lady screamed and ran. I dodged the flood and even managed to wash my hands.

Another hour or so's drive brought us home, where all I wanted to do was shower and shave. Sadly, I ran out of body wash mid-shower. Well, half clean & shaven is better than not, I reckon. Now it's off to work, but tomorrow I'm turning my film in to be developed! You have not heard (or seen) the end of this journey, I'm afraid.

I had to show you a picture so you wouldn't think I was just being a
whiney baby. I look like an ad for acne arm...or armne.

I think that, if you ask me in a few days--when the swelling goes down and the hunchback disappears and the happy feet return--I will say it was definitely all worth it. If nothing else, it is worth it to have stories to tell the children I would have had before being rendered barren by one too many log-straddles.

*The real names of these locations are of course, Tamarack Lake and Warren Peak. But after cheating my sisters out of a hot-day swim (I forgot to tell you it rained) and myself out of no less than 3 s'mores, I thought they deserved to be rechristened.

Saturday Part III: Palling Around

2005-07-08T12:32:00.000-06:00

Pal, I know you'll hate this, but I just wanted to relive the memory.

I only get to see my friend Pal about once or twice a year. There is never enough time to do and say all the things we want to, but for seven happy hours on Saturday evening, we were able to share some Pal & Ed traditions.

1. A much-needed couch session. This is what we call our catching up sessions and talk therapy.
2. A stroll downtown.
3. Banana Pepper Pizza from Little Caesar's. Nothing better. Fella turned me over to the dark side of pepperoni, but I am beginning (again) to see the light.
4. Shopping for old movies at Hastings. I bought Bedtime for Bonzo. Highly recommended.
5. Staying up late watching Stage Door (another great old movie) and eating Red Vines, jelly beans and Reese's Pieces (a member of the nut family). Further decaying our teeth with Huckleberry Flathead Monster soda. Not so much recommended.

Pal, I miss you and I'm praying for you. I'm so happy you're my friend.

Saturday Part II: Just Like Grandma

2005-07-07T17:28:00.000-06:00

Grandma with a daisy in her hair.

After shopping on Saturday, my mom and I met up with Dad, # 1 Sister and Grandma for lunch. Now I try not to throw this around too much because nobody likes a braggart, but I have the best Grandma in the whole world. I hope to be like her when I'm her age. Or even now. She's so quick. You may think she's all sweet and innocent, but then out comes the sass and mischief.

We all met at one of my favorite places. We were a little nervous that Grandma might not like it (when you're a good cook, you get the luxury of being nonenthused at restaurants), but she totally did. She even got my favorite item. Just like me. She got the giggles when she saw what she thought was a girl that looked just like my sister, only to have "her" turn around and have a beard.

I think the only time I had a beer (in a shot glass) was at one of these places. It came after a long year of hilarious nagging by a fellow bank employee. They had a little going-away dinner for me there and I happily caved. Not bad. Apparently his daughter is this girl's roommate. Tis a small world indeed.

The Worst Way to Start the Day

2005-07-07T14:47:00.000-06:00

My morning at work has made me a little nervous to let this day unfold. I forgot to set the alarm and I slept in til 6:35. "At least that still gives me time to shower," I thought. So I turned on the hot water and in my haste, knocked my comb off the sink into the unflushed toilet. I didn't have wits enough to get gloves, which would have required getting dressed, so I just reached my hand in and grabbed it out. Needless to say, I spent most of the morning washing my hands and sterilizing my comb. At least I have my own toilet at work. At home I'd just have to kiss that comb good-bye. Now there's a mental picture.

Saturday Part I: Antiquing

2005-07-06T18:58:00.000-06:00

I know. My posts are all mixed up. But I figured I'd better get that 4th of July post up there before Twin and Rocket decided to take me out.

Mom's pretty desperate for grandkids.

On Saturday, my mom and I went birthday shopping. I guess where they live, there are no presents to be had. Well, not really. The shopping itself was actually part of her present to me. I never go shopping these days. My shopping life takes place in a 3 mile radius which is further limited by how much I want to carry home on foot. Besides that, no one will shop with me because I'm such a nuisance. Poor Fella. This was his life for three years:

Me: I just need to grab one thing really quick...
(2 hours later)
Me: Oh, I don't know. Which one do you think I should get?
Fella: (ever so patiently) Get that one. It's much cooler.
Me: Okay...yeah...but...hmmm...
(I'd eventually buy whichever one he didn't suggest, or worse, buy nothing at all)

It continually amazes me that he never just lost it. Well, now you know how that went. But today's post is not about that. So yes. Shopping with my mom, for better or for worse, is very much like shopping with myself. When she says, "I just need to grab one thing really quick," we all just pretty much laugh. And she laughs too. So Saturday we went to The Antique Mall to try to find some kitchen chairs. (That's the other half of the Fella story--ha ha). I didn't find any, but we had fun just looking around. And then mom saw...

...IT! Green glitter naugahyde with a magazine rack underneath! That's me! A sparkly poodle and this?? What more could a girl want?

Now I have a new place for the magnetic magic to occur...

A Happy 4th

2005-07-05T14:35:00.000-06:00

Last night Twin and Rocket kidnapped me from work so that I could watch fireworks with them. It is tradition for Twin's family and mine to go to "The Brown Church" by our old houses and watch the mall's display. Out of both of our families, only Twin and I were able to keep the tradition alive, but we made a convert of Rocket, so I think that counts double. (For what, I'm not sure). It's a good thing too, because we lost points in forgetting to bring chocolate licorice, Bugles and...

sparklers!

We didn't forget to call out wedding color predictions, though. Hmm...pink and blue? Must be Rocket's!

After "The Grannnd Finnnalleee...", it was back to work for me (where neighborhood fireworks ensued). I tried to sleep but, for some reason I had Mr. Roboto and the image of a man with confetti eyes hopelessly stuck in my head.

Bugs, Hobos and Cake

2005-07-04T16:10:00.000-06:00

On Friday I went to the County Health Department to get all my Africa shots. I met with an awesome nurse who explained to me all the different ways I could die. There's a lot of nasty diseases riding around on the backs of African mosquitoes. As it turned out, I was too broke and perhaps too much of a pansy to get all my shots/pills in one day. Thankfully I have a little time, so I can take advantage of the pay/pain-as-you-go method. Oddly enough, I'm even more excited to go now. And nobody hates bugs more than me. Many a friend has come to my door, only to find me paralyzed in a spider staredown. I'm always afraid of losing sight of them, so I watch and wait until a bugslayer comes to rescue me. Whenever I think that I'll just stay an old maid, a bug comes along to remind me I can't. I once had an arrangement with a friend of mine. I'd marry him for his bugslaying abilities and he'd marry me for my dishwashing skills. Maybe I should just learn to like cats.

My sister works in the basement of the County Health Department, so she was kind enough to wait for me to get needled and warned and then walked home with me. We met later at my Grandma's house for my dream meal of hobo dinners and Williamsburg Orange Cake. It was a late birthday celebration since my parents couldn't come to town till Friday. Hobo dinners are hamburger patties with carrots, celery and potatoes sealed in tinfoil and grilled. It's my traditional birthday dinner, courtesy of dad. It's a good thing my birthday is in the summer. I would feel guilty watching him barbecue in the snow. Williamsburg Orange Cake is a recent birthday tradition in our family. It always comes courtesy of #1 Sister--except on her birthday when #2 Sister takes over.

I cut the cake.

Guess whose piece that is??

Dad, Grandma and #2 Sister's boyfriend are all good storytellers, so it made for some good table talk. I love hearing about the mischief they got into when they were little. Come to think of it, they were all little red-headed kids. There's nothing cuter than the mental image of a little redheaded mischief-maker.

I love my family.

The Best Way to End the Day

2005-07-02T07:44:00.000-06:00

Okay, so it's a little late, but afterall, I couldn't just leave you hanging, could I?

Thursday, June 30, 2005

11:30pm-3pm ish Blog posting. Cutest e-card from the cutest aunt ever. Nap-ish. Clean-ish.
4:30 pm #2 Sister calls to say she'll be at my apartment in 8 minutes and to watch for her walking over the H Bridge so I can meet her downstairs.
4:35 pm Supermom calls to wish me a happy birthday. She had tried earlier, but I was out galavanting. I try to change clothes while talking on the phone and tell Supermom that #2 Sister is on her way.
4:37 pm Superdad wants to wish me happy birthday too. He asks if I prefer the musical or spoken version. I leave the choice with him and get the spoken version.
4:37:30 pm Supermom has one last thing to add:

"Oh...really really quick...Tell [#1 Sister] that I met Mrs. H's cabinet maker. He's tall and beautiful and Russian and he escaped from the KGB. So, if there's a lull in the conversation, you can talk about that"

4:39 pm I don't see #2 Sister crossing the bridge, so I just go downstairs. She is engaged (perhaps trapped) in conversation. Introductions, birthday wishes, sunglasses fall apart in my hands.
4:42 pm Finally leave when #2 Sister gets trapped in yet another conversation. (She's a local celebrity).
5:05 pm Reach #2 Sister's house at the time we are to meet #1 Sister at The Birthday Place*.
5:15 pm Leave #2 Sister's house. Get stuck in construction traffic.
5:35 pm Arrive at The Birthday Place to hear #1 Sister declare, "Where have you guys been?!"
Apologies. Cutest birthday gift ever from #1 Sister**. Oohs, aahs, smiles and hearty gratitude.
6:00 pm Give #1 Sister mom's message. She is not amused.
6:10 pm Best pizza ever.

Rocket said I should have a birthday picture of myself on here. Here's us at The Birthday Place. (L to R: #2 Sister, me, #1 Sister)

6:40 pm Go with #2 Sister to visit little old friend in the hospital.
6:45 pm See Fella driving, but he doesn't see me. He looks very happy and it makes me very happy.
7:40 pm Walk by LaFalda in her darkened booth.
8:00 pm Ice cream with #2 Sister around the corner from my apartment. She drops her cone but eats it anyway.
8:30 pm Work. Huge bouquet of roses in the office when I get there. The Big Secret leaks out.
9:00 pm Surprise cake and birthday song from Sweetie Guest. Strangest but greatest birthday party with whoever wanders in the house kitchen.
11:00 pm Birthday visit from LaFalda.
11:15 pm Greatest ocarina birthday serenade from Sweetie Guest's Cutie Son.
11:20 pm Much needed conversation with my old friend and cousin, LaFalda. Just 'cuz.

Hooray! God, friends and life never cease to blow me away. Happy Birthday to me, indeed.

*In my family, birthdays are just an excuse to go to The Birthday Place, aka Tower Pizza. It's the best pizza ever. (Get the wheat crust). Just don't ask Fella or LaFalda because they are crazy. Fella eats ketchup on his mac-n-cheese, but hot dogs and mac-n-cheese make him cry. LaFalda hates chocolate. I just don't think we can trust their food judgments.

**Tell me if this is not the cutest thing you've ever seen. For some reason, I have a reputation for loving all things pink, poodly, Eiffel Tower-y and foofy. What can I say?

The Best Way to Start the Day

2005-06-30T13:19:00.000-06:00

Thanks for the birthday wishes, everyone. Here's my day so far.

5:30 am Woke up at work
5:45 am Got ready for work...at work
6:20 am Got the paper. Turned off the porch lights. Started the dishwasher.
6:30 am Drank morning tea. Recalled dreams. Contemplated future meals.
7:00 am Faced the breakfast crowd--a lively group from whom I thankfully managed to keep The Big Secret.
8:30 am Birthday wishes from Wonderboss. Officially off work.
8:45 am Breakfast destination suggested by me, chosen by LaFalda and phoned in to the Rocket household.
9:00 am Accidental birthday wishes from random strangers at neighboring tables.
9:10 am Intentional birthday wishes from a sassy waitress.
9:15 am Two plus hours of giant cinnamon rolls (though I have to say I've seen bigger), two and three egg omelette controversies, ketchup floods, and the best darn conversation in the West. (For proof, just check out LaFalda's quote book--something about cysts tasting better than you'd think and young looking 60 year olds being mighty expensive).

(L to R: LaFalda, Rocket and P.)

This picture looks like poo. I mean the picture quality, not the subjects, of course. You can click on it to make it look better. Really, how many things can you say that about? I wish you could do that with mirrors sometimes. Notice the giant griz paw/claw behind LaFalda's head? In Missoula, that equals classy joint. You may recognize the guy on the right from the Dating Game. Or you may not, and that would probably make him happy.

My Life on the D.L.

2005-06-27T18:59:00.000-06:00

...is back on the D.L..

The Challenge

2005-06-26T17:45:00.000-06:00

This post is in response to a Friday night challenge from my friend Rocket. These faces belong to some people we know, but the names have been withheld to protect my innocence.

Rocket, I hope you're satisfied...I hope you got my back if any of these people come to hunt me down.

This here, as you can see, is The Ultimate Challenge. I must say, I'm rather pleased with the results. Can you tell who it is?

This could turn out to be quite a game! I think I just might use The Portrait Illustration Maker to make a challenge face every week. Then you all can guess who it's supposed to be. Ooh, thanks, Rocket!

Blessed

2005-06-24T10:52:00.000-06:00

Thanks for being so supportive on the whole age-assault thing, everyone. I'm getting along just fine without my striped shirt and vagabond cyclist. In my haste to invite you all to my pity party, I forgot to mention some really good things about that morning. The first thing is that my bird is back!!! He's been trying to tease me by having his friends perch in his spot, and then he'll either be hiding behind them or fly up at the last minute for a quick 'hello'. People driving by must think I'm nutty for beaming so widely at 8:30ish am. I'll try to hold off on the talking for now.

The second good thing that morning--really awesome, special, sweet thing--was that, as I was getting ready to leave work, one of our guests approached my boss and I with a bundle in hand. She's Mexican, I believe, and doesn't speak very much English. When she got close, she smiled and opened her arms to reveal two ponchos that she had crocheted while sitting in her son's hospital room. So beautiful (the thought, the gift AND her)! I am still blown away. Here she is, in the middle of nowhere, under some of the worst circumstances possible, and she is actively seeking to bless us. It's truly humbling. I think of all the times that I say to myself, "Oh, I should do such and such for so and so" and I let it go at that. I'm either too "tired", or "busy", or "broke", or "shy" or afraid it won't be good enough, or won't be well received. I hate it! Good intentions be damned! I mean that quite literally. I want to live and love and not look back!

Okay, soapbox dismounted. More from me later...

Happy Birthday, Twin (LaFalda)!!

2005-06-24T10:11:00.000-06:00

This should make you feel young. I look like your proud mama!

P.S. I love you, too!!!

I Scream, You Scream

2005-06-22T11:16:00.000-06:00

Do you like my volunteer badge? It's not half as cool as Lance's nerd badge.

It's high time for a new post. There hasn't been much to write about, but I guess that never stopped me before. Yesterday was fairly eventful (by my standards). Every third Tuesday of the month (starting yesterday), the new(ish) ice cream place in town is donating 30% of proceeds between 4 and 7 to the house where I work. The owners visited the house, fell in love with it and the work we do, and scheduled fundraisers for the rest of the year. Hot Dog! So anyway, my boss, our on-call girl, 2 volunteers, a secretary, a board member, a doctor and I showed up for the event. I'm really bad at those kinds of things (ice cream socializing), but it was nice to get to know "the team" better since we don't see each other much...Especially our newer on-call girl. She's a dollie. But then again, I think all Virginians are dollies. Something about the non-Southern ("country") way they say y'all--especially when trying not to. Our on-call girl did face painting (on herself, my boss, and one kid) and I handed out stickers (to myself and two kids). The helium balloons were, of course, a team effort. (I did not inhale). On one occasion, I was called upon to chase down some runaway balloons and I saw Fella's roommate who pretended not to see me (okay maybe it was genuine, but I couldn't blame him if it weren't). So anyway, big fun had by few. Next time maybe I'll see the rest of you there. Y'all can have your faces painted and if you're real nice-like, I'll let you pick out your own sticker.

I told you there wasn't much happening. Oh, BUT WAIT! Tell me if this is not the most brutal story you've heard today. I was walking home from work yesterday morning and I came to a stoplight. I was just standing there waiting for it to change colors when I hear this sultry sounding, "Hey. Were you the girl in the striped shirt last night?". I looked over to see this slightly vagabondish fellow on a bike with his eyebrows raised in my direction. As soon as I turned to him, the eyebrows lowered into more of a furrow and he said, "Oh. You're too old." Then there was a "Well...no...???...hmm..." while he sat there reevaluating me and his words. So yeah, not exactly the words a girl likes to hear when she's on the verge of putting another year under her already tight belt. The worst part is that he had to be at least 45. Shizzouch. That's what I say.

Rainy Day View

2005-06-17T10:37:00.000-06:00

My apologies for the rain, everyone. It's all my fault. I jinxed it the other day when I was crossing the H bridge and thinking "Summer is officially here and with it the bug battered pucker I deserve for wearing lipgloss near water at dusk".

It used to be (and by "used to be" I mean 3 days ago) that every morning when walking home from work, I would come to a certain point on the H bridge and a chubby little bird would be sitting there waiting for me. As soon as I got near, he would fly off, but he would always wait until I saw him first. I recently began to take greater notice of him. I decided I would keep a bread crumb in my pocket so we could be friends. He doesn't come anymore. I guess he preferred distance to friendship and a passing glance to a linty pocket crumb.

Story of my life.

Hip Additions

2005-06-15T17:09:00.000-06:00

I'm glad to see you're all as crazy for the Portrait Illustration Maker as I am. Welcome these new additions to our hip and happy family.

Reading clockwise, we have: Rocket, the new kid on the blog--well, my blog anyway, my sleepy friend Pal, who is not an official blog member (YET!), but pops in on Knit 'N Play from time to time, Japanijustin The Artist and frequent commenter and Boy, who should be making his first appearance on freelance poedry any day now. Hooray!

Incidentally, I am only responsible for the Rocket and Pal creations. Boy and Justin made their own, which I stole. Rocket, I'm just going off of your profile picture and my regrettably limited knowledge of you. Pal, we'll talk later. That's supposed to be bedhair, not windmill hair. Don't ask me why you're waking up in Holland.

Happy Birthday, Ken-Doll!

2005-06-15T16:43:00.000-06:00

Twinkle Twinkle punk-rockstar
Wonder how the heck you are
Up above my world so high
It's a wonder I don't cry

Twinkle Twinkle punk-rockstar
Happy Birthday from afar

Happy Birthday, lost and found Ken-Doll!

From: Your dorky friend in the West who is extremely sorry for the incredibly poor likeness she made of you while working and wishing that you were there to toast cocoa dreams and melt magic candy canes with her. Love ya. Miss ya.

One Hip Family

2005-06-13T13:54:00.000-06:00

Have you ever wondered what we would look like as Japanimation characters? I know I have.

Well, enter the Portrait Illustration Maker. It's the coolest thing since mug shots and infinitely hipper than the National Geographic Channel's Face Generator*. (It is Asian, afterall). It's worth it just to scroll over the images and read the cutely distorted English (for instance, the ever popular "baldness father" and "splashes the top primly" hairstyles). I think you may even be able to use the images as your cellphone background...but I wouldn't really know.

*Slightly more believable but not nearly as hip, I'm thinking of using this guy as my backup-plan-emergency-only-decoy-husband.

Mug Shots

2005-06-10T22:23:00.000-06:00

Have you seen this man?

Is it just me or does he bear a striking to resemblance to Boy in his high-school years? Suspicious. Okay, I'll confess. It's my day off and I spent it finding more fun timewasters for all of you. This one is pretty cool. It creates police-like sketches by allowing you to select and alter various facial features. The tagline for the website is: "An online facility which helps you to remember somebody's face", but I'll let you be the judge. Bear witness to the following desparate criminals:

Fella (in training season), Fella (out of training season)
Tot the Folk Rocker, Rasta Tot and New Wave Tot
Señor Ed

My apologies to Fella and Tot. I can only imagine how you must feel about me right now. Something like this, perhaps? Well, don't blame me. I guess you guys just don't have the faces for criminal activity.

(Oh, and apparently this site is geared strictly toward committing male faces to "memory", which is why Tot and I are repeatedly shown in drag. I am not trying to make a statement about the inability of women to commit desperate crimes.)

Public Enema Number Two

2005-06-09T18:18:00.000-06:00

Okay, first off, I apologize for that title. You can take it as a warning, since this post is only going to go downhill from there. Last night at work, one of our little old guests got really stopped up and sick. I was going to have to walk to the grocery store nearby to purchase said product and I was trying to figure out where the most prominent place to wear my badge would be so that the checkers would know it wasn't for me. I guess it's lucky I ended the tiny crush I had on that one checker...or rather, Boy ended it for me when he told me he once witnessed this checker chasing a cat with apparent intent to harm. I don't really like cats. I only liked this guy because he seemed like someone who never got angry. Anyway, I never ended up having to go to the store, thank goodness, but all night long it made me think about something...

Does it ever seem to anyone else like life is just deliberately cruel sometimes? I'm not talking tragedy here. I can understand how we learn and grow from life's hardships. I'm talking about random, senseless cruelty...like an old man with embarrassing bowel troubles needing to ask a young girl for help...or like the time when Twin and I were innocently sitting outside our building and an old professor-ly looking fellow came up to us and said, "They've got some nice antiques in that window", and proceeded to expose us to umm...his antique. I mean...Come on. What purpose do those things serve? It seems to me like they have no other design than to humiliate or degrade. I don't know. Maybe it's only that I can't see the whole picture. Maybe God wanted me to show that old man that I cared (I'm speaking about the first one--the stopped up one--of course). Maybe the policeman who responded to Twin and my frantic call about Professor Pervert just needed a good belly laugh. Maybe it's just that we live in a fallen world.

First Grade Legends

2005-06-06T17:10:00.000-06:00

Can you find me? I'd offer a prize but I don't think it's too much of a challenge. Just look for the saddest, most frightened looking one. Can you find anyone else you know in there?

#2 was my neighbor. He taught me to play baseball.
#3 worked in the hospital kitchen with Twin, Fella, Tot and I.
#4 never had a name. I just called him Wolf-Boy. Teachers used to make me sit next to him because they said I was a peacemaker.
#5 made fun of me when I was learning to ride a bike. He said he learned to ride when he was 2...without training wheels.
#8 was later reunited with me in high school. He claimed I liked him in first grade because I let him use my fat crayon.
#10 liked to kiss girls. I think he was German.
#13 signed my cast when I broke my arm tightroping the fence. I thought I was soo cool.
#15 was my very first love. He called me an a**hole and I refused to eat for weeks. My mom was really worried.
#16 had a swimming pool at her house. She used to vacation at beaches and bring back seashells for us. She told us to take our vitamins every day. One time we had a substitute teacher and I was too scared to ask to use the bathroom so I peed at my desk and they had to call my mom to pick me up.
#18 just graduated with Tot. I heard he used to pee on his bathroom walls.

The Unveiling

2005-06-05T17:07:00.000-06:00

I have been so inspired by the feedback I've received from my recent attempts to cheer up Blogworld that I have decided to open wide the doors to the secret funhouse of my mind. I want all of you, my nearest and dearest, to be the first to enter. There are a few things you should know before taking the plunge. (1) It is still, and will always be, in various stages of construction. Tread lightly upon those boards and don't look too deeply into those mirrors. (2) Funhouses can be frightening. I recommend bringing a friend or singing outloud. (3) Don't believe everything you see. Just try to find the humor in it with me.

Please direct all comments to ed. For any questions or concerns, see this guy, who once told me I should be a writer and that I am just the person to spread a little blogshine, or this guy, whose own funhouse (aka portfolio) inspired mine.
Thanks...and enjoy!

Ready, set, GO!

Re: Miss America Fan Mail

2005-06-04T23:14:00.000-06:00

Justin: Imagine no longer.

Tot: Don't worry about the world catching a glimpse of these photos. Knit 'N Play's readership is as limited as the shelf life of these photos. Rest assured that they will be promptly removed once their cheering-up duties have been completed. I happen to know that you could do some serious damage in the payback department (M-U-L-L-E-T) and I am eager to steer clear of your bad list.

Miss Americas

2005-06-01T14:03:00.000-06:00

Well, since I've been in a blog-slump, I thought I'd start up where I left off with my countdown to Tot's departure. No. I didn't run out of reasons to miss her after Day Two. I just preferred to spend the time making more reasons to miss her. So here goes...

Day Three (plus 22): We will miss...Beauty pageant parties complete with Dorito-eating contests and fights for the crown.

(L to R: Tot, Twin, #1 Sister et moi)

You know the expression "I've got money burning a hole in my pocket". Yeah, me neither. But I do have a certain Miss Universe recording burning a hole in my VCR. #1 Sister and I made a pact not to watch it without each other, which means we'll have to wait until the weekend. It's killing us...but not as much as the fact that Tot isn't here to make a real party of it.

Just Call Me Grandma

2005-05-31T13:01:00.000-06:00

Yeah, me too. I'm in a slump--blog-wise, project-wise, life-wise...I think it may have something to do with the fact that everyone's gone. Twin, Boy (temporary), Tot, Pal (permanent--or so they think, gosh darnit) and pretty much everyone I meet, 'cause that's my job. Speaking of my job...

My last weekend shift was so so nice. I couldn't have asked for a better one. Old friends returning. New ones made. Each night I had someone wanting to stay up past midnight to chat...So I think I left that shift on a signature ed note. The first night I visited with my old friend K., a frequent house guest with her husband, P. Do you ever come across people in your life who just get you? For me, it's pretty rare. She's in her late 50's, I'm guessin', but I get her too. We have so many interests in common. I found out the next night that this is because I have the hobbies of a "grandma"...or so said the gentleman I was visiting with. When asked the dreaded "What do you do in your free time" question (second only to the dreaded "What kind of music do you like" question), I explained that I like to do homey-girly things like sew and knit. "And do crossword puzzles? You mean grandma things?" was his response. Hey, if that makes me a grandma, then that's cool. I'm only sorry I didn't get a chance at that Scrabble challenge, N. You'd be sorry you cracked wise about The Grandma.

Say, incidentally...I finished the hail-dance costume with much less drama than expected. I didn't get to try it on her one last time, though, and they are off to NJ today. If anyone is in the area, it might be the show of the century. Ripping seams, flying jewels, static cling and fling. That's what I call a hailstorm. Hopefully they will give me pictures to post.

All right. I'm out. I must make my days productive since I actually have to work at night now.

Countdown to a Normal Life

2005-05-27T19:51:00.000-06:00

I'm heading in for my last weekend shift at work. Hooray! I've been promoted...sort of.

A few celebratory Bad Libs before I hit the road...

Lost and Found

LOST: A solid-gold tinker toy with a tragically carved wooden devastation hanging from it. Reward of 50 Peeps for the return of this dusty heirloom.

Instructions for the Baby Sitter

The baby gets his warm spittle around six o'clock. If the baby starts to stutter in his deep voice, be sure to change his diaper before you put him back in his buttpatter. If you have any winsome questions or fragile problems, please page us on our male ego. Good luck!

Happy Weekend, All! I know I'm pumped!

THE END of My Love Life

2005-05-25T22:05:00.000-06:00

Bo lost American Idol. Boo for Bo. And for me. Boo Hiss.

My friend brought her daughter over this evening for the hail-suit fitting. It looked much better than I expected, but there will have to be some adjustments made. I don't think that will be too rough, but the material looks like it could be a nightmare. Must. Get. Motivated.

I don't know why it is, but every time I'm working on a project where I'm up against a deadline, I say to myself, "Oh...When this is over...I'm totally gonna make something for myself", but I never do. Odd, because each time I sew/knit, etc. I remember how much I love it. If nothing else, you'd think I'd feel the need to live up to my blogname. (There's probably some ANGRY knitters out there who have disappointedly stumbled across my non-project related rantings).
All play and no knit makes ed a LOSER! Just kidding...about the all play part, that is. Anywho.

Here's my 'M' tale of the day. Last Wednesday I went for my hike and as I got toward the end, I could hear someone coming up behind me. I paused and scooted to let them pass. He apologized and then proceeded to engage in a conversation which ended in asking me out to lunch. Luckily, I already had a previous engagement with Fella. (I Freudianslippedly called it a "date" which sent The Passer running). I'm not saying "luckily" to be mean. He seemed like a nice guy and I think I was nice back. I just don't know how not to panic in those situations. (And yes, I am being rather liberal with the plural usage of the word). Besides, thinking back on it, The Passer followed behind me for who knows how long, but when he actually got beside me and was talking to me, he never once looked at my face. Basically his opinion of me was 90% backside and 10% voice. As I told my mom and Fella...Nice to know that my heinie can get a date, even if the rest of me can't. I don't know whether I should be flattered or insulted. So, I guess I'm neither. As I was thinking these things over on my way back home, I wondered if I'd have to worry about seeing him again. Then I said to myself, "Well. At least I know he wouldn't recognize my face!" when who do you think comes running toward me? Point proven. No sign of recognition...Or maybe he was just embarrassed. I guess I'll never know...At least, not until the next sighting. One of these days he's gonna see me comin' and he'll think to himself, "Hmm...She seems familiar". Then, after I've passed and I'm walking away, he'll turn around and say "Ohhh Yeahhh...NOW I know who she is". THE END. (No pun intended).

Monday vs. Tuesday

2005-05-24T23:59:00.000-06:00

Dad says you can't say you've climbed the 'M' until you've CLIMBED THE 'M'. So, when he joined me on my late morning trek on Monday, he made sure we slippered our way up the giant letter. It was worth it to be able to enjoy a rare long uninterrupted chat...Well, that is, if you don't count the rowdies down below us. Incidentally, can I just say that I had forgotten how brutal childhood and growing up can be? It's a wonder any of us ever survived. Hmm...I think that statement officially makes me old. Anyway, I know I wouldn't have survived without my parents. I was thankful for the chance to spend some time with them away from work! (They usually come on the weekends). I got to have a nice long chat with my Momma too. We had lunch at FFT (they sell my favoritest food item in the entirest universe) and I saw cuchillo and Rocket who gave me an update on Twin and company. Neat! My mom and I went to B&N to look at nerdy computer books and then my Gramma made dinner. It doesn't get any better than that!

Today was a little less...um...nice. Not bad, but it's midnight and I have yet to leave the house. I spent the whole day watching Freaks and Geeks while sewing, unsewing and resewing a costume for my friend's daughter's senior dance recital in New Jersey. She's supposed to be hail...and no, not covered in cotton balls hail. Pretty interpretive flowy hail. I hope she doesn't mind looking like pregnant hail. This thing looks HUGE! I also (re)realized that I have peanut butter issues. I bought a jar last night and already I touched bottom. I thought I could control myself if it was au naturel. Au contraire, mon frère, Pierre.

G'nighty tighty whitey.

Golden Boys

2005-05-23T20:22:00.000-06:00

Well, here I am after a loong weekend at work. This time around it felt sort of like living with the Golden Girls...if they were 15 years older, male and temporarily made single by the fact that their wives were in the hospital. On Friday night, I got trapped in the office when two of the Golden Boys entered a lively kitchen table discussion on life, or the disappearance thereof. Sitting there, trying not to listen too closely, a poem fell off my pen. (I prefer to call it a song that I can't sing). It goes a little something like this...

I came upon a table set
By someone else's fate
And two old friends
At two dead ends
For whom time wouldn't wait...

It is much longer of course, but I'll spare you since I was in there for hours. It was strangely fun, though. One of the old men (the uncomfortably frisky one...I guess that'd be Blanche) said that if he had it to do over again, he'd never marry. Then, when he went to check out of his room, he asked if I could (help) make the bed for him. Does anyone else see the irony in that? Well, it made me chuckle. And of course I made the bed...after he was safely gone. Well, that's the life and times of ed...and this makes it all worthwhile!

R-Rated Pictionary

2005-05-20T11:52:00.000-06:00

As a general rule, I try to keep my blog G-Rated, but I just couldn't resist posting the fruits of last night's accidentally dirty pictionary game. These are two different takes on the word penthouse: mine (left) and #1 Sister's (right). After both failing to draw an actual penthouse (we don't really have any in Montana...unless maybe you count the top floors of the Wilma or Millenium Buildings), we resorted to drawing the other Penthouse. S. (cuchillo's wife) managed to get it right, thanks in no part to my drawing, and both drawings were passed around to much disturbed delight. Incidentally...everyone was creeped out by my "dirty old man" enjoying his read (to which I protested that he's not old, I just didn't have time to draw hair), but COME ON...my sister's drawing is waaay the heck sicker. SICK!

Vintage Montagnes

2005-05-19T19:20:00.000-06:00

Boy finished the raspberry mead today. Looks pretty jazzy, eh? I like to think I played a role in the making...perhaps in the publicity department (who could forget the hamburger floaties stunt?). Anyway, it was enough to score me a free bottle which I intend to save long enough so that I can whip it out in discerning company and say "Ah, 2005. That was a good year." Maybe if you're really nice, Boy will give you some from his cellar (aka bookshelf in his apartment).