I am not allergic to food!!!

That is a relief. Because I really didn't want to give up nuts, or garlic, or dairy, or lettuce, or malt, or any of the other dozens of food allergens Dr. Ricaurte tested me for today.

I visited the allergist after my scary anaphylactic reaction on Saturday night (picture me, in the middle of a fancy dinner dance, flat on my back next to the coat rack, covered in hives and with frighteningly-swollen Angelina Jolie lips, shaking uncontrollably, as paramedics bent over me and eventually took me to ER where I was given a host of drugs and recovered).

So we don't know what caused the reaction. It may have been the cold virus I had, or the exercise, or the chemicals on my new dress, or a combination of two or three. Plus I was super-stressed. Unfortunately, as Dr. Ricaurte said, my body has now learned to react in "an inappropriate manner."

So now I am on more drugs until my body learns its lesson. And I have to carry around the gigantic Epi-Pen (a shot of life-saving epinephrine should this occur again).

Birthday Reflections

My birthday was over a week ago (Nov. 5) but I am still being blessed by the people in my life.

I have a collection of cards ranged across the top of a bookshelf (though three of my temporary roommates--all cats--keep knocking my display down). But I got cards from family and close friends and newer friends and people I haven't seen or talked to for a long time. I feel guilty when I see all of the cards from people whose birthdays *I* never remember.

Then there are the phone calls. I got a phone call from Russia from Melle, one of my oldest and dearest friends, and even though we haven't spoken since June, she remembered to call. And today Carissa, a close friend from high school, called, and apologized for her lateness. She was in India visiting her new in-laws on the day and she says she kept begging them to find an email cafe so she could write on the day but couldn't get there. Even Stephanie Zimmermann, a Sun-Times columnist that I do reporting work for, emailed me on that day, though we've only met once.

And then the gifts. I received such a wonderful variety of gifts this year: jewelry and stationery and gift cards and a trip to the theater for Austen and cash and a journal (from the people I babysit for!) and a goldfish and a tambourine and a yet-to-be unveiled special day with Kathy on Sunday.

And the food. A birthday cookie from the Doyles, accompanied by all 4 verses of the Doyle birthday song; fudge and pizza from my fellow hiking compatriots; chocolate cake from the nice waiter at the Celtic Knot; and another surprise cake with candles and singing from my women's group while we were on retreat.

What is the point here? The point is not to tally up my loot. But I am simply amazed, once again, as I am year after year, by the huge amount of love that surrounds me. This year, more than others, I've wondered, "Am I worth it? Do I deserve it? My cousin Lori sent me a card. When's the last time I remembered her birthday? And Sonja also sent a card, even though I felt so bad about not being able to afford a cool gift this year I didn't send her anything." And all of these other people, what have I done to merit such an outpouring of love?

How wonderful that I don't have to deserve it. How wonderful to receive it, for whatever reason, from people that have seen me and know me and still love me, warts and all.

I am so grateful and cannot imagine living my life alone.

Stat Counter

So Ellen (http://womenleadership.blogspot.com/) told me about this addictive free tool called Stat Counter that lets you track unique visitors to your site. I am not writing this blog for public consumption, but as more of a personal Web site and place to gather my Web appearances. Also as a way to stay connected with far-flung friends and family. But I thought, sure, why not?

So I installed Stat Counter and then, feeling brave, decided to make it visible. I figured, even if no one visits, I'm woman enough to handle it.

Ellen told me checking visitors can be addictive, but I held out until 2 p.m. And then I pulled up my blog and .... 1. It read 00000001. I was visitor 1.

Am I depressed? No. Because I just checked it again, and I have 3! (I made it so it won't count my IP). That means 3 people visited my site, even if nobody posted. I hope you were friends.

Click on my Stat Counter (the yellow box at the bottom) if you want to get your own.

You know, I was recently looking at stats on www.saltsite.com and was pleasantly surprised to see we get about 5,000 unique visitors a month. And about one third of them return. It's slightly depressing because this spring we peaked at about 10,000 (for the Dating issue...coincidence???) but 5,000 is not bad, I say.

Sunday

The ideal Sunday in autumn:

1. Sleep in an extra hour thanks to daylight savings (a boon when babysitting 'till 2 a.m.)
2. Sing in choir at church and rock the house with worship
3. Visit with lotsa friends after the service and load up on hugs to get me through the week
4. Wend way through autumn streets and parks on bike. Stop at Mickey D's for a guilt-free lunch and bring it to a soccer field to watch 9-year-old babysitting charge strut her stuff.
5. Come home and read "Prince Caspian" on back porch, with small dog ensconced on lap to ward off autumn chill
6. Take a short nap
7. Get up, clean and organize
8. Invent yummy baked chicken/potato/broccoli dish and make homemade applesauce with hand-picked apples
9. Work on Salt
10. Walk through evening neighborhood to church for two hours of worship
11. Go to bed on time, not neglecting to polish off "Prince Caspian"

And that was my day--or will be. Better get busy on 9, 10 and 11.

New Look

As you can see, I've changed templates. The old one was so wimpy.

I love this one. I'm sorry, Shanel, for swiping your design, but there's just not that many good ones available, unless you are a Web wizard who can design your own (I'm not).

The Good Arts

First it was the movie "Crash." Now it is the book "Blessings" by Anna Quindlen that I read yesterday while home sick from work.

These are two examples of a movie and book I may not have seen/read a year ago. "Crash" because it is so intense and "Blessings" because I've had a hard time diving into general "adult" fiction for some reason. I like intense movies, it's just that so often when I want to watch a movie, I want to relax, especially if I'm hanging out with friends. And I like good contemporary fiction, but, again, I've wanted to relax, so I've tended to choose more lightweight novels that I can really escape into. "Blessings" is not really that deep or that intense, and is very easy to read, but it is a book fraught with emotion and I felt that I'd been on an emotional roller coaster by the time I'd finished it. (I highly recommend it, by the way).

I think sitting with the other features writers (the arts editors and reporters) now at work has been good for me. It has encouraged me to see movies I wouldn't normally see, like Crash. And I'm currently working on a sweeping article about book clubs, and as I interview women all across Chicagoland, I'm realizing how many good books there are out there and how many I want to read. Plus, my own book club has reminded me of the fun of reading a wide variety of authors and genres.

I'm still reading snippets of L'Engle's "Circle of Quiet." In last night's reading, L'Engle said that stories are a vehicle for truth.

I watched another good movie a couple of days ago. Alison lent it to me. It's called "Educating Rita" (1983) and both stars received Academy Award acting nominations. The movie was about the effect culture and education can have on someone, and whether it will really make her a stronger person. I remember one line: Working class Rita, who has defied her family and husband to start taking literature courses at a university, tells her English prof. Dr. Bryant about how she realized she no longer fit into her old world. She was sitting at the neighborhood pub with her parents, sister, husband, and friends and they were all singing along to some cheesy pub song and she realized she didn't belong. And she tells Dr. Bryant, "I want to sing a better song." Later in the movie, though, he tells her, "Rita, this isn't a better song. It's a different song."

I am like the book of Psalms

Cool! I guess all those mornings of reading through the Psalms has rubbed off on me.



You are Psalms.

Which book of the Bible are you?
brought to you by

New Links

I've posted links to some of my essays, articles and letters from the editor that have been published at www.saltsite.com. See the bar to your right. (If your page loads funny, try refreshing it).

Autumnal Wonderings

I love fall! It was the season I missed most after we moved to Arizona when I was 9 (and then that college/grad school gap year when I was a teacher in Phoenix).

I was so glad I finally got out into it this weekend, although it was while I was driving for work, playing with little kids and then picking apples off the ground with Sus (there were none left on the trees). But even though it's been glorious the last couple of days, with trees exploding into color and blue blue skies, everything's seemed a little off. Perhaps because it's been so much warmer than usual.

Everything feels a little flat and worn out in Chicago this year. Is it the heat and the drought? Plants don't seem parched now, but I know this summer's dryness will have lingering effects. Or is it just that this place has begun to pall? This is the beginning of my ... 4th autumn in Chicago. Is that possible? Yup, I moved here summer 2002, though I spent all the next spring in D.C.

I think I am getting wanderlust again. But the longer I stay, the harder it is to leave. Where would I go? I don't know. Emails from friends who are missionaries in foreign countries are enticing. And so is the prayer update from old, old friends who've planted a church in Seattle. And I'd love to be near my family again. But what about all of my "family" here, my community of dear dear friends? And most importantly, where does God want me?

Ahhh....here I go again.

(I wrote this more than a year ago).
http://www.saltsite.com/index.cfm?salt=features.story&aid=216

Crash

I watched this movie last night. Normally it's hard to get myself to watch intensely disturbing films, and this was an intensely disturbing film, but it came highly recommended and I'm so glad I saw it. It was very powerful. (This is the 2005 version with an all-star cast).

Anybody else see it?

busy with Mom

The skyline (view from the window of the dorm I lived in back in grad school--with the help of a mighty zoom lens).

Since my last post, I have:

1. Completed many lengthy work projects, including an emotionally-draining article on domestic violence
2. Posted the latest version of Salt magazine (always an adventure)
3. Entertained my mother for one week, with jaunts to Springfield for the new Lincoln museum (5 stars!), the Italian Village for the VIP treatment, the Art Institute (twice), Milennium Park, a blues club, the Chicago Botanic Garden and many other fun touristy places!
4. Decided to move into a new apartment with a new roommate or two

It's been a very crazy couple of weeks, but my mom's visit was a wonderful respite. I miss her, of course. As always. But I'm excited to find a new place and set up a new home.

A Circle of Quiet (Madeleine and Me)

How is it possible that I have not discovered this marvelous book before now?

"A Circle of Quiet" is by Madeleine L'Engle and I highly recommend it. It's a series of essays, ruminations and stories about life as a human, writer, Christian, woman, and more. It's funny, insightful, profound, and inspiring.

If you're not familiar with L'Engle, I recommend her young adult fiction--all of it--and her marvelous book on faith and art, "Walking on Water." I've yet to dive into her adult fiction, but as Madeleine herself says, "I suppose I'm not bright enough to know the difference between children and adult fiction." (My paraphrase). I love that so many of her novels, no matter the genre, have intertwining characters, even though some take place in chronos (real time) and kairos (time beyond our dimension, God's time).

Here's a quote from "A Circle of Quiet":

It is through ... the world of the imagination which takes us beyond the restrictions of provable fact, that we touch the hem of truth. The world we live in, the world we are able to know with our intellect, is limited an dbounded by our finiteness. We glimpse reality only occasionally, and for me it happens most often when I write, when I start out using all the "real" things which my sense and my mind cna know, and then suddenly a world opens for me.

No Thin Man for Me :(

I was sitting on our "couch" (made of two cushy chairs) watching "The Thin Man Goes Home" on my lovely big 27-inch TV and revelling in my evening off, when the buzzer rang. It was a flute lesson! Kim had told me about it, but 7:00 p.m. is a weird time for a lesson, so I was not prepared, and she'd not yet come home.

So I hastened to my room to watch the movie on my laptop, but the DVD player is not working correctly. So now I am sitting on the floor, typing, and wishing it were 7:30. Only 15 minutes to go!

It's been super-fun watching the complete Thin Man collection. That is one of the perks of my job. Now that I sit with all of the entertainment editors, I'm part of the movie-borrowing loop. Especially since the guys are constantly reviewing fun boxed sets, like the Thin Man and the Complete Monty Python. I've also got the complete Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers collection ready to go.

On the negative side, my yummy toasted whole wheat English muffins with raisins and cinnamon are getting cold. (Or "British muffins" as Trader Joe's labels them. Why? Is it more organic or something?)

10 minutes to go...who will be murdered in this film? And will notorious alcoholic Nick really stay on the wagon? Stay tuned...

For those who pray

I know not all of you are Christians, but if you are, please pray for the small women's group I lead, Transform.

Transform meets every other week and our purpose is to grow in intimacy with Jesus. So much of our pain and heartache as women could be eliminated if we really truly believed the truth about who we are: daughters of the King; the beloved bride of Christ; powerful and strong women who, because of our heritage and our union with the God of creation, really can make a difference in this fallen world.

Pray for me, for my assistant leaders Hillary and Sara, for my worship leader Catherine, and for the women in their 20s and 30s who will come. Pray that God draws those whom he has chosen, and pray that I will be able to hear the leading of the Holy Spirit and follow the Lord's agenda, not mine.

Thanks!

Hi Sam!!!

I was pleasantly surprised yesterday when friend Sam told me he "enjoys my blog." Sam's never posted, I didn't know Sam read the blog. And that reminded me that there are probably others out there, like Sam, reading my blog and I have no idea that you are doing so. Hopefully I have an idea who you are, though I suppose anyone could read this.

You'd think I'd be used to this by now, seeing as how I'm constantly writing stuff (both online and in the newspaper) that is read by hundreds of thousands of people (the circulation for one of my sections is 200,000 and they estimate readership of a half million, but of course not everyone reads the food section!) At any rate, I still get a jolting reminder every now and then that my words really aren't going out into a nameless, sucking void.

So, I just wanted to send a shoutout to friend Sam, and to all of the others who are reading this, as well. Hi Sam!

:)

We sure never did *this* at a wedding before!


Here are Melle and Stephe swinging at Jenne's wedding. But were we being rude? Oh, no. The bride herself started swinging first. What else can you expect at a wedding with Lebanese food, cheesecakes, Irish musicians (and ceili dancing, to my eternal delight!), a pre-wedding reception, a bride in a blue evening gown, and a candlelit ceremony up on a hill at 10 p.m.? Oh, and no wedding party, but 12 ladies-in-waiting, of which I was one, that preceded the bride holding candles and singing a capella (and who also frantically gathered flowers from obliging roadsides and arranged them hours before the wedding).

(note: Jenny Pierce married David Frederick in Portland, OR on June 25, 2005 and it was an absolutely marvelous occasion! Melissa, Jenny and I go back to junior high, though we currently live in OR, IL and Russia).

Stress

Today has been a very, very stressful day. There are a variety of reasons. My emotions have run the gamut from sobbing to hilarity. It was a day of sadness, frustration, anger, excitement, fun, nervousness, concentration, fear, and satisfaction. And it began with a wonderfully peaceful prayer time. I guess God knew I would need it!

This does not happen very often. I don't know if I've ever felt so beat up before...not crossing my mind and my body.

Every muscle in my body is tense. I need to sleep, but fear my mind won't let me.

I exercised, now I am going to relax.

No doubt this is a waste of space...but it feels rather cathartic to vent.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, with prayer and thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God. And the peace of Christ, which passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Phil. 4: something or other

Flashback: Rhi's wedding

Rohit and I just before we saw Tom Brokaw.


I don't have a digital camera, so just for fun I'm going to upload some photos from my life that make me giggle. I'll include the stories.

My friend Rhianna was married two years ago, and I was a bridesmaid. This is Rohit, the guy I "walked" with. The groom is from Sri Lanka and all of the groomsmen are international students. The funny thing about Rohit (who I said a total of about 20 words to and who I had to *drag* onto the dance floor--all the guys wanted to be in the bar) is that, back during our senior year of college, he was supposed to be a blind date for a Mississippi River cruise party. But the cruise was canceled because of flooding, so we never met. Rhi took one last time at setting us up at the wedding.

I couldn't believe it when the best man told me, in a very drunken slur, that Tom Brokaw was in the bar. (The reception was at the very posh St. Paul Hotel in Minnesota). I went in, and sure enough, there was Tom Brokaw, having a drink. I just gaped.

Then the best man told me, "I talked to Tom Brokaw."
"You did?" I gasped. "What did you say?"
"I said, 'Tom, you are a sexy b****!"
"You did not," I said. "What did Tom say back?"
The best man swayed slightly.
"He said, 'You are drunk.'"

Later that night, I (being completely sober) was sitting on a bench outside the hotel waiting for the valet to bring my car. With me was the emcee, a guy about my age I was going to drive home. As we waited, a busload of tourists fell off. They'd been at an Irish festival and were also very drunk. One of them lobbed towards me to crown me with a shamrock headdress, and saw my dress and the two bouquets.

"You were at a wedding?" she called. "Why do you have two bouquets?"
"I caught the bride's bouqet," I said.
"Uh, oh," she giggled. "There's going to be another wedding. Wait!!!"
And she proceeded to point from me to Jeff (the emcee, whom I'd just met) and giggle even more loudly.
"You and him, you and him! You're going to get married! Invite me to your wedding!!!"
As Jeff and I looked at each other horrified and tried to explain that we were *not* getting married, the woman shrieked, "Why did you steal my crown?" tore it off my head, and tottered back into the hotel.

The Bouquet Toss

Oh, no! PROOF!!!!

When I saw that Rhianna was going to toss a bouquet of real red roses (not some crappy fake flower thing) I decided I wanted them. Especially since I was already carrying champagne roses with pink rosebuds in them. I also decided that, as the only single girl in the bridal party, I might as well go for the bouquet.

When Rhi stood up to toss the bouquet, she lobbed it so hard, it sailed over the heads of all of the females waiting, across the room, and towards a table at the back. (I might add that Rhi met her husband, Noel, on a track team where they were both shot putters.) A woman stood up and caught it, shrieking, "I got it, I got it!" (Note: She was from India and didn't understand the rules.) Then a man stood up and yelled, "You can't have that! You're married and I'm your husband!" Before anyone could figure out what to do, the lady stood on a chair with her back to the crowd, as she'd seen Rhianna just do, and tossed the bouquet. She threw it so hard, it sailed back across the room and landed .... in the arms of the very surprised DJ.

"I guess it's my turn," he said, and hopped onto a chair and threw the thing before anyone else could react. I saw it coming towards me, I remembered the recent games of (tackle) football I'd been playing lately, and got under it. I caught the bouquet and shrieked and then Rhianna grabbed me in a huge bear hug and hauled me across the room as we laughed and laughed. "You got it!" she exclaimed. "Finally! I was aiming for you!"
"It was fate,"I said. "It just fell into my arms."
A woman at a table near us snorted.
"Yes, after you tackled two 8-year-olds to get it," she said.
"I did not," I said, honestly thinking I was telling the truth. "I didn't knock anyone over."

About two weeks later, Rhianna emailed me this photo. Oops. Sorry, flower girls!

Here is the classic "girls under the veil" photo. Rhianna, a wonderful college friend, was married almost exactly two years ago and right now she and her husband are expecting their first baby! 

I still don't know how to get a photo on my profile. But while you're waiting with bated breath, check out this pic from my friend Sara's July 2 birthday party. Sara's got the blue poncho, my best friend since 7th grade Carmen is in the blue shirt, and Hillary, Maxx and Steve are also all brightening up the room. 

Saying No

I said no to driving someone home because I knew I would be tired of driving.
I said no to social activities to stay home to rest.
I said no to helping with an outreach event, even though I used to be very involved with the group, because there are others now doing it and I need to conserve my resources for my small group.
I said no to participating in an online discussion board because I don't have time and I don't really fit in with those people anyway.
I said no to going out to lunch because I didn't have money and I wanted to be alone.

It all feels good.

Maybe I am actually making progress here.

my brain hurts

Why is my personal info down at the bottom?

I have to do dishes, pay bills, plan money, record my budget, find new car insurance, organize my desk, clean out Creative Memories stuff from the closet, work on the latest issue of Salt (soliciting submissions and editing them), write the intercession guide, get plans made for Transform, buy my mom's plane ticket here ... oh and did I mention work?

Something still is not right in my life. Why is there always so much to do?

Tough. I'm going to veg out with my new book.

Captivating

(This is one of the four "sample pictures" that come with the computer. I only have two in there right now and I already posted both of them. I decided I needed art on the page, so voila! Plus, this photo is what I desire right now in this hot summer of extreme drought and yellowed foilage).

So far, I'm liking it.

Several people have recommended to me the book "Captivating" by Stasi and John Eldredge. I was a bit iffy about starting it, since they contend the essence of the feminine soul is about three things: romance, adventure and unveiling beauty. I know that's true in most lives (including mine) but I shrink from gender stereotypes.

However, I've enjoyed the book quite a lot so far (two chapters in). Shanel urged me to be honest while reading it, and I'm finding what I like most about it is whenever the authors talk about a feminine trait, they talk about how it reveals the heart of God. I also like the idea that woman was created not as afterthought or someone to keep Adam busy, but as the zenith, the apex, the crown of all creation. After woman, God stopped.

Another non-fiction book I'm enjoying is "The Pursuit of God in the Company of Friends" by Richard Lamb. It's already proving applicable and helpful to my own life as well as inspiration for my women's group, Transform. I love what Lamb suggests as an antithesis for this title: "The Pursuit of Nothing in Particular While All Alone." He's right. The first is much more appealing.

Am so tired I can't think straight and am making typing mistakes. But it's only 9:43. 17 minutes till bedtime!

Incidentally, my last two nights with Abby passed uneventfully, unless you count the discomfort of having two dogs, a poodle and a lab, jostling for position on your bed, both trying to be as close to you as possible. Last night Pamba won out, claiming the left side of my face and shoulder (He had to have his back pushed against me as he slept). And Abby decided to sleep the crook of my legs, so whenever I switched sides, she flopped over and curled herself into the back of my legs and put her nose on my foot. Awwwwwwww!!!! I don't think I could endure this every night, but it was cute once or twice. It's so weird, by the way, to be so completely adored by a creature. That dog loves me so much and I can't figure out why (Well, I did suggest to Alison that they take her home from the pound, help with her training and take her out a lot while I lived there. But that was a long time ago!). This morning, though, as I was waking up and Abby was snuggling up to me so eagerly, her eyes watching mine for a sign of approval, her nose resting in my hands, I thought, "Is this the way God loves me? This is strange. But flattering."

How to Be Awake at 1:30 a.m. or Stupid Dog!

I'm dogsitting for two dogs, my roommate's miniature white poodle Pamba, and a black lab mix called Abby, who belongs to the family I used to live with. Abby really is like my own dog, so I have no qualms about letting her sleep on my bed, although of course she tries to sleep smack dab in the middle so I'm curled around the edges, but Pamba does that, too and he's tiny.

I became rather restless around 1:30 a.m. last night because I woke up to hear Abby's claws clicking on the wood floors as she walked back and forth from my bed to the kitchen. I couldn't understand why she wasn't sleeping and she finally leapt back onto my bed, this time on the right side and stretched herself along the edge, pushing me towards the middle. That's when I discovered part of the bed was wet. My horrified mind smelled the moisture on my hand, but it didn't smell like urine, so I concluded she'd just got a drink of water and was, as usual, dribbling it all over. Then I realized that I was lying in a giant puddle and that my pajamas were soaked. YUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As you can imagine, that woke me up very quickly. The stupid dog had peed in the bed. I'm lucky it was mostly water, I guess, but the first thing I did was march her down the three flights of back stairs and into the alley so she could relieve herself, all the while trying to hold my wet t-shirt and shorts out from me and muttering threats and telling her, "Next time, ASK and I will let you out! I won't like it, but I'll do it." Then I marched her back upstairs, scolded her and dragged in a dog bed for her to sleep on and stripped the bed. Luckily, the sheets and mattress pad caught most of the moisture, and I was able to blot up the little that was on the mattress. Did I mention the spot was right in the middle, just below the pillow? Stupid dog!

I then had to find mismatched top sheets for a twin bed in the linen closet so I could spread them over my double, now lamenting the fact that I'd put off getting another set of double sheets. I spread the top sheet and then realized it was my roommate's duvet comforter. More muttering, more stomping around until I finally found the right sheet. Then, I remembered that I was in pjs dripping with dog pee. Can I even describe to you how truly disgusting this is? I had to take a shower and, of course, put on new pajamas. Then I laid curled up along the side of the bed, away from the spot, ignoring the whining from Abby on the floor and thought dire thoughts about the ungratefulness of animals.

But now it's morning, the heat and humidity has finally broken, it's Friday, and the two dogs are sleeping peacefully at my feet (on my bed, I might add). I'm still a little mad, but mostly resigned. Can I help it that I'm a pushover for big eyes and a cute little puppy nose?

The Inspiring Dress

and....here it is! (see previous post)

Big thanks goes out to my soon-to-be sister-in-law Melissa for picking out such a gorgeous gown AND one that can easily be reworn. I love this color.


Some (slightly jealous :) coworkers have asked sarcastically if I've practiced my pose to wear the dress. They claim I need to be strengthening my back so I can lean back in disdain, instead of my arms.

Charleston

Wow, three blogs in three days. I don't know how I've managed it. Especially when I pull up my "favorites" menu and I see the ominous new link to "exercises" that my roommate kindly sent me when I told her I wanted to get sculpted arms and shoulders. The link reminds me that I am blogging and not exercising. I already have pretty good arm/shoulder muscles, but not enough to do a chin-up and roomie can do at least two (but who's counting? :) 'Course, she does play flute all day, and other instruments that require arm strength. But now that I've seen the bridesmaid dress I'm wearing in my brother's wedding (a gorgeous strapless form-fitting chocolate brown/purpley tinted satin) I'm inspired.

I'm going to Charleston tomorrow. Not Charleston, SC, sadly, but Charleston, IL which is just slightly less exotic. But there are hills! Hallelujah! Flatness is, of course, my complaint about the Chicago area, esp. since there's a lot of the Arizona girl still in me. (I think she will always be there).

My aunt, who lives there along with my uncle and let me count ... I think 7 of their 10 kids, all 7 being teenagers and some college students who come and go, has warned me to expect excitement. That's because cousin #8 (actually #3 in the birth order) has just moved there with his very pregnant wife and she's due anyday. And he's about to be shipped out to Iraq for the second time, if he hasn't left already. And they have 3 other kids from her first marriage. I've lost track of how many potential kids will be there. And I didn't even mention the family across the street, who are very good friends, but they have a crowd, too. Ah, those Irish Catholics! (but hooray for adoption and blended families, for these two methods have contributed greatly to the aforementioned numbers).

Thomas and Jack

"They're 2, they're 4, they're 6, they're 8
Shunting trucks and hauling freight,
something something something do,
They're the Really Useful Crew!"

I just read some posts on my friend Jamie's blog (http://roominroppongi.blogspot.com/) and in one of them she quotes lines from a Thomas the Tank Engine song to which (I assume) her 2-year-0ld son listens incessantly.

I don't know that particular song, but reading the blog reminded me of the bits of the song I do know, which is the theme song. Jack, a 2-year-old for whom I frequently babysit, adores Thomas and engines. As you'll see above, I don't remember all of the lyrics. It's a catchy little tune, though, sung by English children with charming little accents. The thing I don't get, though, is that it's narrated by an American. And some of the books use English jargon and some of them use American jargon. Trust me, I've read enough of them (to Jack, who can probably recite them from memory) to notice.

What is it about Thomas? And engines? And trucks? Jack loves them all. When he wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, all he wants to do is "play engines." As you can imagine, that doesn't fly very well with me at midnight. He sure is cute, though, puttering about in his mini-Tevas (he loves to wear shoes!) and chanting in his husky 2-year-old voice, "shunting twucks and hawing fweight!"

I haven't seen Jack for awhile. I usually watch him on Wednesday nights but the last two weeks I've had work events. Last Wednesday was a seminar on rain gardens and tonight I was at a foodie event in Lincoln Park. 20 big-time chefs grilled at the Green City Market. It's a tough life, suffering for Jesus and changing the world through journalism!

A Good Day

I got up at 6 (more or less) and had a lovely worship time, though I keep having such weird "images" during my listening to God stretch that I'm sure I keep almost falling asleep.

Then I enjoyed breakfast and the newspaper. Made a healthy lunch and even cleaned up the kitchen and chatted with my roommate before heading off to work. I was on time and didn't fret about traffic.

I worked well and accomplished a decent amount, although there's always more to do! Then I drove north to Lake Forest for a story on rain gardens and then, miracle of miracles, it rained! And rained and rained. It was wonderful. It was the first real soaking rain we've had in the worst drought on record and the hottest summer since 1928. My only downfall was buying a bag of Fritos and a Diet Coke with lime and consuming much of both while driving, but they were good so I am not remorseful.

After work I stopped by the Doos' house to take Abby out for a run. The family is on vacation in England and I promised to look in on the dog ("my" puppy) since the current lodger, Ollie, is a renter and it's not really his responsibility, though he promised to take care of her. As I pulled up, Ollie was walking up with Abby on her leash as it was starting to rain, so I went in and as we chatted and waited for the rain to stop, I decided, for old times sake, to start cleaning the house. Ollie called his girlfriend in England and then told her, in amazement, "And there's an ex-housemate here who's cleaning my floor!" Soon he was helping me, and we did a tolerable job of cleaning up the main floor while Abby wandered about, happy as can be to have me there while the rain poured down. The rain didn't show any signs of stopping, so I decided to take Abby out in it. Unfortunately, during the car switch, as Ollie pulled the van forward and I opened the gate, the gate blew back in the wind and smashed against the bumper and blew off. It was horrible! But he's hoping to get it fixed very soon. The other nasty thing was that when I took out the trash to the garbage can, I saw the plastic bag where I'd tied up the wild rabbit that I'd found completely and inexplicably dead on the driveway on Sunday, and there were maggots crawling all over the inside of the sealed bag. How did they get in there? That poor creature. Well, so that was unpleasant.

But, then, I took Abby for a very exhilirating run and she was happy and I was happy, and then I came home and made a healthy dinner and Kim's boyfriend Dave was here working and kept me company while I listened to the new Corrs album (more pop than Celtic, but still very lyrical and catchy). Then I did more work, editing an engineering paper for a graduate student, very boring but a good source of extra income.

And now I am getting ready to read and then sleep.

All in all, a good day. Not momentous, just ... good.

-except for the maggot part. I have *got* to forget about that. It's making the memory of the fresh cherries I just ate seem very unappetizing.

the new Harry Potter

What to write? I don't want to give anything away, cuz even if I post a spoiler people will read on and then yell at me.

I just finished about an hour ago, and I'm exhausted. I spent 7 hours total, though I took time to sleep and make breakfast and go to church and have friends over for lunch. The spell is ... slowly receding. But it's not a spell unique to Harry Potter. It's the spell that comes over me whenever I am really into a book, particularly a series book where you have to wait long interludes between installments, and so the characters live even more freely in your brain during the between-times. Then, the next installment does come and you read read read read not really taking time to appreciate the nuances of plot and character, just needing desperately to know what comes next, even though you realize you should be treasuring these moments because the pleasure of a new fresh read will not come again for a long time, years probably. And each time you reread the book you will wonder to yourself why you hurried through it so fast the first time, and tell yourself you ought to have savored it, for you will never get to read it for the first time again.

But wow. What a book. What a way to build up to a thrilling and fulfilling denouement. Now that I've finished, it all makes sense. The storied "major character" that we've all known was going to die, now that I know who it is, I wonder why I didn't see it before. I'm relieved to, for all of my favorites that survived the cut. I'm sad, because of the incredible sadness of the story, not least of which is the sad sacrifice Harry must make at the end, the pushing away what he treasures to do what must be done.

Yet as I said, the spell is wearing off, two hours later. I'm starting to feel that it perhaps might not be such a betrayal to let these people go, to let them fade into the temporarily-disused part of my mind. Perhaps I can turn on some music now. Before it seemed a desecration to forget them so soon.

And yet, I must, for I have a singularly awful task in front of me tonight: bill paying and finance untangling. Now that's scary.

Words from Christy

My "email friend" Christy has now become a blog friend. Christy and I have never met in person, though we attended the same conference three years ago. I made another virtual writing friend, Dan, as a result of that conference. Dan emailed all of the attendees a couple of weeks afterwards (it was for young adult leaderly types in the Vineyard church) asking if there was anyone else interested in *good* Christian writing. I responded, as did Christy, and the three of us began a stimulating email dialogue that lasts to this day and has spanned the country as the three of us have moved around. Both of them have broadened my horizons in wonderful ways.

I am a big fan of Christy's poetry. I snatched this gem from her blog.


Friday, July 01, 2005

untitled (fragment)

love
will rip your heart out hand it back to you
like a totalled car and still you sign up for it
the next time the clipboard passes you by
I don't know why

it's like
the tenderness that feeds the fragile you
to life again and stays the darkness of the world
for 3 bright seconds then leaves again

I don't know why
for once
I wish that we could get it right but bungling
is what our talent's in; in cherishing we rub
the magic from the wings - we touch too much
I don't know why

http://palecitystars.blogspot.com/

So here I am learning CPR. I picked the most shadowy photo out of the bunch Jason (the photographer) took, because I had no idea my picture would be taken that night. I had told the other CPR attendees that a photographer would be coming, and they all gasped and exclaimed, "You didn't warn us!" I laughed at their reaction. Then, as the long night got longer, I put a bandana over my crazy humidity hair, I washed all traces of makeup off my face, and then walked out to see Jason and hear him say, "So Carol (the editor) wants me to take your picture tonight." Figures.

I actually had it better than most, though, because I got to choose which one I wanted to use. It's cute, though I'm not used to seeing myself from such an angle. Once again, I realize I am fixated on how I appear. Aren't we all? I remember a Walker Percy novel (The Thanatos Syndrome, I believe) in which the characters lost their sense of self. The protagonist, Tom Moore, realized this when the affected people looked at photos in which they figured and didn't bother to first find themselves. That's when he realized the townspeople were being insidiously drugged to "make them happy." It's funny I don't remember much else of the novel (though it is on my reread list) but that point stuck with me. There is something very important about seeing ourselves through the eyes (or camera lens) of others. Should it be so? Would it be possible to change this? Is there anyone on earth, no matter how unselfish, who wouldn't first look for his or her own image in a photograph? After all, I am the most important person ... every person would say that. Another reason why Jesus was so difficult and so contrary. He tells us to decrease so that He may increase.

figuring out the blog thing

So, my next task is to actually figure out who all of my friends are who have posted comments. Shanel is easy, but I have no idea who the rest are ... yet! It's rather mysterious, not knowing. I'm suddenly slipping into this phase of enjoying mystery. Like there is an office building I pass on my daily walk around the industrial park where I work, and it's called "signode." It used to bother me that I didn't know if it was pronounced "Sign-Ode" or "Sig-Node" but now I am enjoying the suspense. I don't think I want to find out.

At any rate, my mad mad life has allowed no time for any type of blogging or figuring out. Been to NC, IA and MN in the last 4 weeks, then am off to OR on Wed. Not to mention 2 weekends of houseguests!

Later, when summer starts (for me, that's after the 4th of July) will I resume this intriguing project.

Glimmers of Grace

glimmer (v) : to shine faintly
glimmer (n) : a faint unsteady light
grace (n) : unmerited help given to people by God; a temporary respite (as from the payment of debt); approval, acceptance; charm; attractiveness; beauty; ease of movement; a musical trill or ornament

I almost called this blog "squarsonage," which is one of my all-time favorite words (squire + parson = squarson & since a parson lives in a parsonage, a squarson lived in a squarsonage -- see Oxford English Dictionary) but decided I would actually try for something meaningful.

My good friend Shanel preached a wonderful sermon (yay for women preachers!) at a recent women's retreat. She called it "Glimmers" and it was about how we see occasional glimmers of love: love from God, love from others, love surrounding us, and how if we could only truly believe in the glimmers, our entire lives and attitudes would change so dramatically and for the better.

My title also is inspired by Madeleine L'Engele, my favorite living author. There is a collection of her fiction and non-fiction writings that provides a reading for each day, and the book is called "Glimpses of Grace." So there you have it!

Although naming my blog "squarsonage" is sufficiently cryptic and silly enough for me to feel free to write about anything, even if it's just fun words or random stream of consciousness thoughts, but I won't let the title limit me. I think "Glimmers of Grace" better summarizes my entire life philosophy, and I will feel free to write whatever.

My goodness, a blog is certainly self-absorbed! Ah, well.

Links

I tried to add these to the sidebar but failed miserably. Maybe I can figure it out later.

www.saltsite.com
www.pioneerlocal.com

This is where you will find most of my writing that is available on the Web. You'll also see my editing at work (well, you won't see it, but know I did lots of editing for the content on these sites).