A notebook of sorts

Good things

2011-06-09T18:51:00.002-06:00

My list of good things...
A quiet sleeping baby
Reading The Secret Garden for the first time
Strawberry Rhubarb pie
Fresh leaves on the trees
Clean baby clothes
Sweet baby smiles
The fact that pants always come in a bigger size
Beautiful new purses from old friends
New teapots
Anticipating Mr. M arriving home
Mr. M finally arriving home
Back massages
Antibacterial wipes
A new "Martha" magazine
Inspiration from the new Martha magazine to do something creative
Yogurt shop with friends
Long June days
Pacifiers
Receiving blankets
Mutual adoring looks between myself and Baby R.
Baby R's sweet voice
Songs with lyrics that explain exactly how you feel
That tomorrow will be a new day

What I need

2011-05-29T17:03:00.004-06:00

Now that I'm a mom I need a hobby. You might think that I should have had a hobby before I became a mom. Now that I have little time to myself I want to utilize it better than I did before. This is the way of things. We don't know what we have until it's gone.

What we do have is a wet spring and I am cherishing it. I don't mind the gray clouds and rain showers. Soon green will fade to yellow. Moisture will give way to dry heat, but it will still be windy.

My tulips have come and gone. Now I wait for salvia and daisy, clematis and phlox; and try to dig my way out of feedings, diapers and spit up long enough to think about what I enjoy. Possibly do it.

My new job

2011-03-18T17:06:00.003-06:00

I'm a mommy. Baby R arrived in the early morning hours of March 10th. After an intense labor a c-section was the only option for getting him out. He is sweet, likes to suck, hates his clothes or diaper changed, and furrows his brow often which makes him look like an old man. I love him. This is a great relief to me since I didn't have those lovey feelings during pregnancy. Every day feels more normal than the last. Every day has me wondering how this little boy is going to change and enrich our lives. Looking forward to it.

The tenth month

2011-03-08T17:22:00.002-07:00

I am 41 weeks and one day, today. I have felt sick off and on and I hear this can be signs of something to come. I am going to be induced on Thursday. I am determined to leave the hospital with a baby, I will stage a sit in if they try to send me home. A silent or not so silent protest. I think at this point it is a safe assumption that the novelty of pregnancy has worn off.

In other news I discovered a six inch rip in the back of my pants on Saturday, after walking around in three different stores! Hopefully no one noticed and if they did, may they have already forgotten what I look like.

Waiting

2011-02-19T18:24:00.002-07:00

The ninth month of pregnancy adds new meaning to the word waiting. He could literally arrive any day. Will he be sooner than later?

My mom was here for two days and we hung curtains and shopped for last minute baby items: essentials and wants. Mothers are wonderful things. I can only hope that some day I can be as good a mom as mine.

I have almost come to terms with the pain. Almost. Of course I haven't had said pain yet so I might be taking this back next post. What I mean is that I am resigned to the inevitable. It's gonna hurt. It's gonna hurt more than anything else I've experienced in my life. But the pain is only a means to an end. My reward for all the misery? A sweet baby boy and a lifetime of love and worry. Bring it.

2011-02-10T06:57:00.002-07:00

Trying to think of something to write that has nothing to do with pregnancy, babies, or parenting.

With Valentine's Day approach I am reminded of a love that is greater than ours and how we are to give the love we've gotten, from Him, away.

January

2011-01-29T16:01:00.002-07:00

I've got to get at least one post in for January. Mr. M is out in the garage tinkering away on the car. I need to put my feet up and so here I am.

Advice on child rearing abounds from all corners of the spectrum. All advice falls into either the "I am seeking your thoughts and wisdom and would like to know" category or the "I didn't ask you for all of your valuable knowledge and so why are you giving it to me like it's the only way to raise a child" category. My brain can't keep up. The cry-it-out method vs. the never let them cry it out method vs. the somewhere in between method? Co-sleeping or not to co-sleep? Swaddle or don't swaddle? Strict schedule vs. no schedule vs. flexible routine? How old is too old to keep a bottle? When do I take their pacifier away? Assuming of course that we allow them to have one. And if I allow them to carry a bottle around or a pacifier this automatically makes me an indulgent and idiotic parent that won't have control over their unruly child, right? To count or not to count: "You have to the count of three..." Everyone has their opinion and everyone is free to give it and free to judge you for whatever approach you take, including me. It all makes me rather hesitant to bring it up or discuss it, unless I'm among those in my "circle of trust."

All I know at this point is the kind of parents I want us to be and the kind of atmosphere I want our home to have. I want our kids to know that they are loved unconditionally, no matter what they do or don't do. I want them to understand who God is and who they are in Christ. I want them to know how to respect others. I want them to have compassion. I want them to feel safe to talk to us about anything. I want our home to be inviting and a place of refuge, not only for them, but for their friends. I want them to know that discipline is for their good. I want them to stand up for the things that are right. I want them to be able to know when they've done wrong.

Obviously these things don't just happen. Obviously there needs to be some major training and parenting that's taking place. Obviously we need God's help to accomplish any of these things. Obviously. Where a pacifier (or lack of) and a strict nap time fit into all this I don't know. I know that growing up we didn't have a bed time or a special day that we showered. The only routine thing I can vividly remember doing was sitting down and eating dinner together and going to church. And yet my brothers, sister and I managed to grow into four functioning, well adjusted adults who came from a home where they knew love and were taught love. I knew not only the love of my parents, but the love and grace of the Creator of the universe. And not that I always did the right thing, but I knew right from wrong. I knew what it meant to disappoint those I love. I knew forgiveness. And I, along with my siblings, all came to know Christ.

The need, for Mr. M and I on the cusp of parenthood, is prayer and diligence and the Word. God, help us to reflect Christ to our children. Help us to remember that we are not in a battle against our children but a battle for our children.

Question of the day

2010-12-29T10:35:00.002-07:00

One of Mr. M's fears since I've stopped working and am on the threshold of motherhood is that I will never get dressed again. That everyday will be a pajama day. So in light of this, is it considered deceptive when you change out of the sweats you've been wearing (all day) into jeans right before your husband gets home at 7:00?

Might I also add that now I know why pregnant women go to the grocery store wearing sweats. I haven't done this yet and will resist as long as possible.

Golden birthday

2010-11-29T07:41:00.002-07:00

Today is my golden birthday. I guess that means that I am 29 on the 29th. I don't know if it means I should do something extra special.

Mostly it is cold outside and snow drifts abound. I am also 27 weeks pregnant today. Six months almost complete. The baby is about 15 inches in total length and just over 2 lbs. Or so the pregnancy books tell me.

I don't feel older, but I do think it's strange that I've been alive on this earth for nearly 30 years. It doesn't seem like it should be that long.

Thank you, Lord God for the wonderful life you've given me. Thank you for my family and friends. Thank you for this new life growing inside me. Thank you most of all for Jesus because without Him I would be lost. Your grace and compassion astound me.

Glucose Testing

2010-11-17T13:49:00.002-07:00

My pregnancy glucose test is so gross that I had to blog about it. As I type this I am attempting to eat 15 very large, disgusting jelly beans. Jelly Bellies put these jelly beans to shame. I think eating 3 tablespoons of pure sure might have been less traumatizing. Need I say, "ick?"

Am I boring you?

2010-10-25T16:09:00.003-06:00

I am on the cusp of month 6 in my pregnancy and on a slippery slope. I had to ask myself the other day if I had turned into one of those people who talk about their children all the time. When I look back on conversations I've had with Mr. M, family, friends, and co-workers I realize that it is very possible I have arrived at my one-topic destination. True that I think about little else these days, but should that be an excuse for boring the socks off of those around me? Someone recently told me that I will lose my identity when I become a mom because I will no longer be known as EverydayAnne, but "Oh, you're {insert name of child}'s mom." It has begun. I am now much more fascinating to people because I'm pregnant. And my changing stomach holds more sway to strangers and friends then my face does. Sometimes I feel like saying, "Uh, I'm up here."

Vanity, vanity, all is vanity. None of this should matter at all and does it? No. I can't help but talk about the kicks I feel and the formalities of pregnancy. I want to talk about miniature size clothes with cute pockets and how to be a good parent. I daydream about story time, kisses, and hugs. What do I do when he's sick? How do we teach him about Jesus? What if he cries all the time? What if never sleeps? What if we're too lax? What if we're too strict? What do we say when he asks us the really tough questions? What do I do when I'm tired and don't want to parent? And the question Mr. M asks on a regular basis, "What if our kids are jerks?" Have
I bored you yet? I couldn't care less.

Buttons

2010-10-14T16:05:00.003-06:00

I haven't blogged in over two months. To give a detailed update would be exhausting for myself and for you. Interesting that the thing which causes me to blog again is not the fact that I'm 5 months pregnant nor is it the change in the season. But, a long time friend died today.

My brothers and sister and I joked often about my parents manx gray cat, Buttons, and how she was spoiled and evil. This last description we used to explain her spirited nature and how she would often scratch you if she didn't like how you treated her. But she wasn't evil or spoiled. She was a cat replete with personality. Blank gazes had no part in her daily habits. She was soft, cuddly when she chose to be, walked around like a miniature bear, knew exactly what she wanted from life and often got it. I think if she were an actual person she would have been a lawyer. Mr. M does not like cats, but for some reason whenever we came to visit she headed straight for his lap. I think she was trying to change his mind.

Buttons happened to us. She was the tiny unwanted kitten of an acquaintance that couldn't keep her. We already had three cats at the time, each of which has since died, so why did a fourth matter for this family of cat lovers? Besides this little minx cat was adorable, and stretched out on your lap in luxury. How could we not keep her? As Puffy, Lucy, and Squeaks slowly grew old and had to be put down Buttons remained, after all us kids had left, to greet Mom and Dad when they opened the front gate or gardened. She sat with them during movies or quiet moments near the wood stove in winter. She was our friend.

Vet bills, hair, and the inconvenience pets afford when out of town cause many people to find pets tiresome work. They don't see the benefit. But us animal lovers know the benefit. We've experienced it first hand. I personally find the hassles a small price to pay for the warmth of a loyal friend. Pets bless us in friendship and teach us patience and how to love and be loved. It is a blessing God grants us because they are part of His creation and He calls them good. And He calls it good when we can learn to be like Christ even if the teacher of our learning happens to bark or purr. Every good thing is from the Father of lights.

Their, There, and They're

2010-07-09T03:28:00.002-06:00

Up tonight and noticed I used the wrong "there" in the previous post. Problem noted and fixed. Thankfully my reader, who happens to be my mother, doesn't care, thinks I'm a genius, and loves me anyway. That's what mothers are for, right?

Summer days are here again

2010-06-02T21:30:00.003-06:00

Summer is already busy, but I have a head start on it because I've just finished reading The Wind in the Willows. My mind is geared up for adventure by day and the safety of home and friends by night. If only we all had a boat to row up and down the river in we might have a better perspective. To not wish away life and be content with only today is the real challenge. My contentment for today involves new plants, Mr. M, books, discussion, and warm air. Maybe a slight breeze here and there in the maple.

2010-05-23T18:44:00.005-06:00

I find myself missing the days of analog television. Despite the fact that we have a converter box the reception is hit or miss, depending on if the wind is blowing or someone is walking around upstairs. Tonight is the series finale of my favorite television show, "Lost." After six years the story is coming to an end.
I am crossing my fingers that the wind doesn't blow too much this evening.

Tea

2010-05-08T04:56:00.002-06:00

I love the way tea can bring people together. The third annual Pride and Prejudice tea is underway. The tables are set, the cakes are made, and the tea cups await their tea. I woke up an hour ago, starving. Amazing how much a fried egg can fix things, even at 4:40 in the morning. I will be getting up in 2 hours so should make my way back to bed. My house has turned cafe and a real tea room.

Amazing facts...

2010-05-01T05:46:00.003-06:00

...birds chirp at 5:46 in the morning, even if it's still dark outside.

Thinking about mini fruit tarts. Never made mini fruit tarts before and the product should be interesting. Today it took me a solid 15 minutes to decide on whether I should buy the 4 and 1/4 tartlet pans or the 3 and 3/4 tartlet pans. Who knew such decisions were possible? Mr. M declared that the smallness of the 3 and 3/4 pan should be the deciding factor. He reminded me that I like small things. Our only concern was the size of the fruit I planned to arrange on top. A slice of kiwi or one whole strawberry will cover a majority of tart. Other methods of slicing will be necessary. I spent seventeen dollars and purchased six. Later, I can let you know if this is outrageous.

I keep thinking about how easy they will be to ruin. Tea with your mutilated tart, anyone? A practice run may be in order.

A thought on barbarism

2010-04-23T15:20:00.002-06:00

The dictionary defines barbarism as: 1 savagery. 2 absence of culture. 3 ignorance. 4 cruelty.

What was considered barbaric one hundred or two hundred or five hundred years ago might not be considered savagery today. And what if the reverse were true? Hundreds of years ago people used wax for sealing letters or for helping them to read late at night or for various other useful, non threatening projects. Today hot wax is slathered on the bikini line, the brow, the lip, the legs, arm pits, the back or anywhere else with a hair follicle and then ripped off the skin taking the hair with it. A barbaric practice. Is it a necessary one? Woman with mustaches will tell you that it is, along with swimmers and men with really hairy backs and models, and probably actresses. And those of us who have experienced such rituals know the horrific necessity of it. Perhaps it is our own insecurity that drives us to the spa or beauty parlor? Maybe we have bought into what society tells us about where hair shouldn't be? Or what perfection really is? The "I won't be beautiful until every free loving strand of unwanted hair short or long is torn from my flesh" trend is very big right now. Five dollars and stinging pain is a small price to pay for hairless baby soft skin.

Spring

2010-04-19T21:46:00.002-06:00

The maple is beginning to leaf out. Soon we will have shade in the front yard. The lilacs will be loaded this year. Tulips are up. Pansies snuggled in the window box and in pots by the back door greet me when I leave and arrive home. Today it was eighty degrees. Too hot for spring. I am considering the benefits of making a paper chain to count down the last six weeks of school. Spinach, lettuce, onions and peas are sprouting. The anticipation for cherry tomatoes fresh from the vine and flower beds stalked to the brim encourages my ready soul for summer.

Another thought on aunthood.

2010-04-10T05:52:00.003-06:00

Three nieces and one nephew. My little quiver. They are wonderful things. It's amazing what being an aunt has done for my attitude toward children. I picture each of my students as a little Mr. T or Miss M. And in regards to students it does help to imagine them sometimes as if I could be their aunt. It lightens the weight of annoyance and anger I might feel at their shocking 6 year old behavior.

The unextraordinary life

2010-04-05T16:20:00.002-06:00

For some strange reason I often equate the extraordinary with the ability to sing, act, write, draw, play music, do mission work in a dusty or humid part of the earth, or offer humanitarian services to those dying of hunger, and of course do each with an attitude of perfect humility and genius. What a relief to be reminded that all the greatness we'll ever need is what Christ has done for us and continues to do in us. This I know, but it was encouraging to read the following from the Beth Moore bible study on Esther. Beth writes:

"To live for the greatness of God is to live the great life. Oh, I know we've heart it before, but what if it finally clicked? What if we awakened to what a dream-killer perfectionism is? To how pitifully small and unworthy a goal personal greatness is? We were meant for so much more.
Every one of us who embraces the glory of God as our purpose will end up doing great things precisely because we do God-things. His holy hand resting on the least act renders the ordinary extraordinary. Spooning soup into the mouth of the weak or manning the nursery so a tired mom can go to church are acts of high worship when offered in the name of Christ. He beholds the sight like a breathtaking work of art, tilting His head to study each subtle detail. "She has done a beautiful thing to me" (Mk 14:6)...Christ summons the disillusioned to the paradoxical bliss of spilling life lavishly, sacrificially for the glory of God and the good of man. Those with presence of mind and semblance of health are called to pour out the drink offering of their lives until the cup is overturned and every drop of energy slips-perhaps unnoticed, uncelebrated-- into the vast ocean of earthly need...In effect Christ says, "I'm already great enough for both of us," relieving the willing of their woeful burden. 'Just follow Me.'"

Forty dollars of garland and fake flowers for spring

2010-03-23T22:02:00.003-06:00

It has come to my attention that Mr M and I have different decorating styles. His style: neutral, more neutral, and if you're lucky blue. My style includes pieces of foam in the shape of rocks covered with fake moss, beaded spring green, periwinkle and lavender garlands, fake hydrangea's on a vine, marble stones, ribbon, cheerfulness.

I am learning, ever so slowly, to not ask the question, "Do you like it?" "Isn't it pretty?" "What do you think?" "Not bad for 50% off at Michael's, huh?"

Mr. M responded with medial to none enthusiasm regarding all the questions above and stated, "Great. More stuff to store."

Attempting not to take it to heart, remain persistent in a mature perspective, and to not dissolve in tears I simply say, with a tone, "Why can't you just think like a girl for once?"

I console myself with the fact he builds fences and digs ditches, fixes cars, works hard, and leaves the toilet seat down.

What 1 AM looks like...

2010-03-20T01:05:00.003-06:00

Even with blinds and curtains that cover the window, light from the neighbor's bathroom brightens the room.
Mr. M sleeping soundly.
Turning on my side.
Thinking of all the things I shouldn't have said or thought or done and all of the things I should have said or thought or done.
Creating lines of poetry which will be forgotten come morning.
Trying to pray.
Being distracted from praying.
Lying on my back.
Wondering why the person driving down the street is up so late.
Planning meals for the week.
Planning my next weekend.
Planning my summer.
Planning the next year.
Worrying about the next year.
Turning on my other side.
Praying again.
Quoting scripture under my breath.
Contemplating getting up.
Being annoyed that Mr. M sleeps so soundly.
Thinking of all the things I really shouldn't have said.
Wondering if I seem like the idiot I sometimes think people seem like.
Wondering about my quirks that annoy people.
Wondering how many of my quirks annoy people.
Worrying. Praying.
Sighing.
Sighing again.
Thinking about what time it is.
Contemplating getting up again.
Getting up.
Sitting and reading. Possibly praying.
Maybe sleeping.

2010-03-03T14:25:00.003-07:00

I have successfully flown to three places in a matter of two months and been gone for more weekends than I've been home. Portland, Seattle, Boise, Santa Fe and Roswell. February was busy. My meager travels are nothing compared to my retired parents who have "found their wings" and themselves from one end of the country to the other, between their visits to see grandchildren, elderly parents, and old friends, it is difficult to keep up with them.

What a blessing to be able to travel and visit friends and family! However, lately Dorothy Gale's old adage rings too true- There is no place like home. I enjoy the respite from my suitcase. What a pleasant feeling to be home amidst laundry and clutter and chores.

2010-02-23T22:21:00.002-07:00

Dear God,
I'm really wondering about you right now. And honestly I'm not really trusting you at all. My problem? The age old question: Why do you allow pain? I mean, how can you sit back and watch a father and husband be killed in a senseless car accident one mile from his home? What about his wife and two young sons? It makes me wonder about the security in my life with the people I love. Are you going to stand by and do nothing while something senseless happens to my husband or my family? I know I'm reacting out of fear and a screwed up perspective, but this particular instance really angers me for some reason. I know that the security we're promised while we live out our life on this earth is: salvation from our sins and that you'll never leave us. But, Lord.

I know, I know. Lean not on my own understanding. Trust Your heart when I don't trust Your hand. Your ways are not my ways. Can the clay say to the potter, why did you make me thus? Lord You are good and Your mercies do endure forever. One sparrow does not fall without You knowing. Be anxious for nothing. Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. Trust in the LORD. Commit your way to the LORD. Rest in Him. Rest in You? Show me, Lord.
Your Daughter.

Fundamental

2010-02-07T14:06:00.007-07:00

Today Mr. M and I sat on the couch with our tea. The sun warmed the living room through our ten foot window and we listened to a sermon on forgiveness. A huge fundamental truth about Christianity which we more often than not forget about, ignore, or misconstrue. Forgiveness is key. It is paramount. I can not pretend to be so eloquent as Mr. Begg so I have posted the link here: http://www.truthforlife.org/resources/message/forgive-us-our-sins/ But I was struck with the notion that I have no notion of what this truly means for me and for every Christian. God in His mercy and grace, through the death and resurrection of Christ on the cross, I am forgiven. The omniscient God, creator and judge of the universe, chooses NOT to remember. Through Christ my guilt is taken away. Through Christ I am free from sin. You are free, through Christ, your sins are forgiven. I just wanted to tell you.

Mendelssohn

2010-02-05T09:56:00.003-07:00

I am learning Prelude and Fugue in E Minor. Slightly ambitious. Okay. Very ambitious. But my piano teacher seems to think I can do this. When I listen to a recording of it I am terrified. No doubt I will be learning this piece for months and months and months. Years? I try not to think about all of the 10 and 13 year olds that come to her house for lessons blazing through Sonata after Sonatina after Nocturne after Concerto. It only depresses me. I find I have to remind myself, sometimes daily, that this is what I want. I don't have a parent standing over me with their agenda to make me a well rounded individual through music. I don't have some school pressing in on me for scholarships. And I don't have the drive and perfectionism to teach my own students some day in a room lined with plaques boasting all my accomplishments. Well, that would be nice. What I really want is to play better than I have in the past. I want to not have to struggle whenever I pick up a piece of music that has any degree of advanced technique. I want to hear the music I know has to be in me. I want to hear it done well. So I practice little by little and try to sit down everyday. Sometimes I am very successful when I practice. Many days other responsibilities overshadow anything that might lie waiting at the piano. So Mr. Mendelssohn prepare to be tortured for the next 12 months as I stumble my way over key after key.

January

2010-01-31T17:23:00.004-07:00

In the west the last day of January fades light blue. The kind of blue you see sometimes in pictures of glaciers. The kind of blue that makes you feel cold when you look at it. I have already had my daily cup of tea. Responsibility waits for me at the piano, the kitchen, and my bible. But like I said, the day is slipping away and here I am. Moments of calm and quiet often make me think of children. Someday, hopefully, there will be children running around my feet. Not this year. I think about the kind of mother I'll be and wonder if I'll be any good at it. Better then most? Worse then some? I'll no doubt look back on these silent moments and forget what they were like: no one clamoring for attention, no one reaching to grab my leg, no one calling out to me, no one crying, no one. I look forward to the not so peaceful moments when I have something to do besides my projects and my time and my thoughts. I am anxious to be outside of myself and emptied of me. Not this year. Not this January.

Appropriate preparation

2009-11-14T18:17:00.001-07:00

Dinner: meatloaf, mashed potatoes, broccoli. Last of the chrysanthemum’s cut and in a vase. Items from a craft bazaar purchased. Studded tires. Daily cup of tea. Piano tuned. A persistent chill in the house. Thoughts about wreath hanging and mantle arrangement. Christmas wish lists. Party planning. First or second autumn head cold. Wind stirs dead leaves by the back door. Sweaters. Heavy wool socks. Scarves. Banana bread. Mittens. Cookies. Stew. An extra blanket on the bed. Frost on the windows. Another winter.

Today...

2009-10-04T19:08:00.001-06:00

it snowed and snowed and snowed.

End of summer days

2009-09-18T18:43:00.003-06:00

We travel to Hawaii shortly. In the spirit of preparing for the journey I cut blooming flowers and stuck them in a vase so that I could enjoy them for the next few days. By the time I get back my flowers might very well have succumbed to a quick frost death. September is nearly over in my estimation. I am back to work two weeks ago and school feels as though it is grinding us all into the ground. Mr. M's cantaloupe crop has done very well this year. Even now I nibble on it, despite the fact that I don't like cantaloupe, it is possible I have been made a believer in this oh so sweet melon. Watermelon, however, is always preferable. Even in winter.

This afternoon I have not put down Fahrenheit 451. Leaves from the neighbor's birch are beginning to litter our driveway. Winter fashions line store shelves. I have stopped fertilizing the perennials. Soon we will be shrouded in weeks and months of cold wind and morning ice on windows. Baking will seem like a better idea than usual and the cupboard will run low on herbal and black tea. We are rebellious and sleep with the windows open. Hawaii is the last summer jaunt and of course we welcome it.

First in a very long time

2009-08-02T09:10:00.003-06:00

I wrote a poem. It is the first in a very very long time. Not perfect by any means so if my 3 readers have any feedback it is very much welcome.

Sand Dollars

Sunlight mirrors itself in the glass of soft
beach that extends beyond where she can see.

Down turned head twisting side to side,
slumped shoulders, baggy sweatshirt, pink hat,

despondent sighs do not hide her eagerness
to prosper from the sea’s exchange

of white money with the sand.
Broken in two dollars disappoint

with each brush of wave on the shore.

Tired of Michael Jackson

2009-07-16T09:13:00.003-06:00

I find it very sad when anyone dies, celebrity or not. Life is priceless and ought to be savored. Now I realize if you're the "king of pop" and you pass away there's bound to be cover story after cover story on your life and latest demise. However, how many times could the story possibly be written? It's only a matter of time before a TV movie is made. I'll bet one is already in the works. Don't even get me started on the subject of the city of LA paying the memorial costs, especially when many state and city workers are not even being paid. Okay, it has been short and to the point.

The fear of heights thing

2009-07-10T12:01:00.003-06:00

I'm not entirely sure when my fear of heights became an issue for me. Somewhere between my childhood and now. Fear of heights while hiking, fear of heights while standing on a bridge, fear of heights while painting my house, fear of heights while in an airplane, fear of heights while... you get the picture. I hope and pray that my fear does not climax to the point of tears and hysteria, like the woman I saw with her husband and three children at the Grand Canyon who would not stand any closer to the lookout railing than humanly possible. It's possible she was a solid three feet from the railing and she broke out in tears when her husband jokingly mentioned falling in.

Heights do not seem to phase Mr M. He has the ability to leap and bound over small or large boulders, skirt the edges of deep or terrifyingly deep chasms. Standing on the last safe step of a ladder does not make him queasy. This is one of the good reasons why opposites attract. He can do all the things I can't reach or refuse to reach. I clean bathrooms and cook in exchange for the ability to exercise my wimpyness.

A taste of something new

2009-07-01T02:40:00.002-06:00

I have often heard of people complain of their allergies. And when commercials might surface boasting that a certain drug could allow you to live your life if you suffered from allergies I felt relieved that I didn't have to succumb to drugdom.

I have now officially succumbed. I am using this space (since my three readers won't mind) to declare that I am now one of the, probably millions, who suffers from allergies. I find myself wanting to pop hydrochloride tablets and diphenhydramine like they are going out of style. At 2 A.M. I am searching web engines to see if I can overlap certain antihistamines. And for the first time ever I am about to check the pollen activity in my area on weather.com. It's a new feeling for me. A mixture of fear and dread really. Skipping through the fray with drugs in one hand and a kleenex box in the other does not seem like the epitome of a care free life to me. It's a new feeling, this one of co-dependence upon synthetic drugs. I wonder how it will play out in years to come, the constant sneezing and runny nose thing. Really you know I'm almost looking forward to it. Maybe I could be on a commercial.

How I survived one of the seven wonders of the world

2009-06-09T22:31:00.002-06:00

I saw plenty of mules during my trek in the Grand Canyon and I am happy to report that none of them were needed to drag me out. I am grateful for this 1.) because it would have been embarrassing 2.) they smell. I am also happy to report that Mr. M was very helpful and encouraging as I huffed and puffed, dragged my feet, took frequent stops, and quite often complained of my aching calves. I am once again happy to report that the weather was brilliant, the views incomparable and my hiking boots sufficient.

We began our shortish trek on Friday morning at 5:30 A.M. down the South Kaibab Trail. In tow was a walking pole, our state of the art cooling system otherwise known as handkerchiefs, wide brim hats, and a knee brace, not to mention of course water, jerky, and more water. As we descended I was overwhelmed with the magnitude of the sweeping vistas, layered colors of cliffs--whites, tans, burnt reds, greens-- and the detailed cracks, crevices, and fractures that were molded in the rocks and endless plateaus.

Seven miles and nearly 5,000+ feet later we arrived at Bright Angel Campground. Our campsite was next to a creek where we washed the sweat and dirt from our arms and faces. While exploring the canyon our backpacks at the camp were ferociously broken into by fat squirrels, despite the precautions we took right away by storing our food in the bins provided. Friday afternoon entailed lying around and reading and swatting flies away from our heads. The next morning we woke to the early tune of 4 A.M. and we were on the trail by 5.

Crossing the Colorado River on a foot- bridge in the dark is slightly eerie, but I recommend the experience if only to propel your imagination to greater heights of terror. The thing about Bright Angel Trail, which is so astonishing, is that it follows a lovely creek that travels beneath boulders and out of stone walls. The views from this trail are inhibited by mountain cliffs and it isn't until Indian Gardens (another campsite and ranger station) that the canyon really begins to widen. The top of the rim is accessible by eyesight. The last three miles of the 9.5 mile hike is grueling. It has been said that those who climb Everest develop a type of summit fever. This occurs when a person can see the top and feel like they are almost there, but in reality they are miles and hours off. They continue without heed to their oxygen or the warning signs of fatigue and many of them die. Similarly we could see the top. We could see buildings on the rim. It felt like an eternity to reach them all. Luckily we were not climbing the highest mountain in the world and rather than snow and ice we had dust, mules, and tourists to contend with— much milder elements. We ascended the rim in a whopping eight and a half hours with most of our time spent hiking the last half. It felt like I had actually accomplished something. It felt wonderful. I was exhilarated. It was exhausting.

Like a kid again

2009-05-29T15:28:00.007-06:00

Who really thinks they can live like a kid again? Getting summers off feels like I'm on my way. The anticipation of the last week of school can be intoxicating. Think of all you'll accomplish over the summer! I'm talking important stuff here-- all day wearing jelly shoes, riding bikes at the jumps, running through sprinklers, eating popsicles, camping out in the yard, sleeping in every day, staying up late every night, slumber parties on Wednesdays, buying $0.10 jolly ranchers and lemon heads, combing your hair only on Sundays kind of stuff. Great stuff. Paramount to childhood stuff.

Summers now won't be like when I was a kid. I know that. But I also know not to take long summer days-- or crickets at night, the cool of the shade, camp fires, sparklers at the Fourth of July, tubing the river, fresh garden tomatoes, kayaking the Snake, piano practice into the evening, one good book or two-- for granted. September comes swiftly.

Stuck on LOST

2009-05-23T14:48:00.003-06:00

I can't resist posting some of my theories and thoughts about my favorite show, LOST. Your thoughts are also welcome.

Jacob's nemesis (man in black) has been interacting with our castaways, since their arrival, in the form of the smoke monster (he controls it) and also the dead people that seem to crop up and make an appearance now and then. He has the ability to take the form of dead people. I also think that he has played as Jack's father, Christian. He has manipulated our castaways, particularly Locke. For some reason the man in black isn't allowed to kill Jacob, similar to Widmore and Ben's strange agreement.

Both Jacob and "the man in black" are class "A" manipulators.

Jacob, although appeared to be the good guy cannot be fully trusted.

Sawyer and Juliet belong together. Mr. M refers to Kate as "home wrecker."

Richard was a person (possibly from a Spanish sailing ship) that landed on the island and Jacob somehow had the power to cause him to live for a very long time as an adviser to those who land on the island. He is one of Jacob's helpers just like Alana and her buddies.

Locke is dead dead.

The man in black and Jacob's age old argument: is man inherantly good or evil?

If Jack's plan works and they basically erase everything that happened to them what then? Desmond never gets to be with Penny, Sawyer and Juliet are never together, Claire gives up her baby, Charlie never dies, Rose goes home with cancer, Locke is crippled, Kate goes to jail, etc.

A new level

2009-05-17T20:03:00.003-06:00

Last night at 12:12 AM I was composing sonnets in my head. Not sonnets exactly. More like nasty, irate letters. I envisioned myself, pjs and all, marching over to the neighbors in the tan house and banging on their door until they made their dogs stop barking. We have barky neighbors. It's like they're barking right in our house. Four of them, or is it five? Recently the dog-neighbor named B came over and asked Mr. M if the dogs bothered us. He replied yes. She said she would keep them in after ten. We now know how good her word is.

The grass and weeds they have growing in their yard I guess puts our yard at risk for more weeds, or so Ms. S across the street was just telling us. She said if it gets worse we should call the city who apparently has enough power to make them mow their yard. Can the city make their dogs shut up too? This is an extraordinary power that I have taken for granted all this time if they can literally do both.

A quiet Friday afternoon

2009-05-15T16:40:00.002-06:00

I worked in my flower beds and said a small prayer for plants that might not have made it through the winter or our very on again off again spring. Mostly I hope my hydrangea lives to see its green leaves sprout. How long do I wait before I yank the dead ones out of the ground? I mean I want to make sure they're dead dead before I do it.

I guess the good thing about gardening is that you can always change things or move them or begin again. Start something new.

Small goal

2009-05-06T15:47:00.003-06:00

My small goal for the month is to get in good enough shape that I won't have to be hauled out of the Grand Canyon on the back side of a mule. Mr. M said that wasn't an option.

An everday teapot

2009-05-03T13:02:00.004-06:00

Teapots are a matter of course. An everyday teapot is a necessity. The trouble with an everyday teapot is that once one has found one it is entirely too difficult to use it for it’s intended purpose. What if I drop it in the sink or the tile floor and it shatters? It’s like having a nice pair of comfortable jeans specifically to be used for “work pants” but you never get them dirty because they are too comfortable or because your other pants make your hips look even wider. Instead of wearing them when you oil a fence you wear them to a school play, around the mall, on vacation, or a casual date with your husband to the local Mexican food restaurant.

I now have three teapots. The first I received I was certainly not going to use it everyday as it is far too beautiful and I am far too clumsy. It is for special occasions. The second was a birthday gift and it too is lovely enough for me to be paranoid about knocking it off the counter with my elbow. The third pot was given to me by Miss A. She thought it would quench my search for an everyday teapot and she was dead on. Fortunately it matches my dishes perfectly, is a unique shape, correct size, an altogether fine teapot and has narrowly escaped entrapment by my overly protective self. I am currently under going therapy and it little by little inches it’s way onto my counter tops out from under the protected wings of the dining room shelves.

The tulip is the perfect ode to spring

2009-05-02T16:30:00.005-06:00

It rained all night and I am glad. The best time to visit this part of the state is in April-May, in case you ever plan a trip through our windy part of the country. Come July this place will be drier than a burned piece of toast.

In my last post of 2008 I expressed my anxiousness to see the tulips bloom that I'd planted last fall. In all of their golden, purple, crimson glory here is my humble ode to spring.

An observation

2009-05-01T14:31:00.003-06:00

Everyday at 3:15 there is a thunderous roar of Chevy's, Geo's, and Blazers down my street. The high school is several blocks away and the students decide that they need to use 2nd Avenue as a short cut to where ever it is they go after school. They insist on driving at least 35-40mph. I've considered putting out cones or flares.

Last published in

2009-05-01T13:42:00.011-06:00

... January. Okay, so I am back in the realm of blogger, hopefully. My faithfulness to blogging is limited, at best. But I don't intend to spend this entire blog derailing my abilities so here goes.

Lately I have been studying Joel. A small book in the bible whose theme thus far seems to be centered around judgment, fasting, and repentance. Check out specifically Joel 2 (verses 12-17). During this study statistics from a survey (2003) on morality in America was brought to my attention and although I know people, including Christians, are sinful I was amazed to find out that the margins between what believers felt was moral and what non believers felt was moral was small indeed. For example 60% non-Christian felt cohabitation was okay and 49% of evangelical Christians agreed. This is only one example in a list that encompassed adultery, homosexuality, and pornography.

It got me thinking about how people, specifically the church in America, do not have an appropriate fear of God. How often do any of us really "tear our garments" and mourn our sin? How many of us humble ourselves before God for the wretches that we are? How many of us repent in the sincerity of our heart? We must, not only on an individual level, but on a national level as well. It is biblical. Check out: Jeremiah 18:5-10.

Did you know that the president and congress recognized our need for humbleness before God? In 1863 Abraham Lincoln delivered a proclamation appointing a National Day of Fast. Lincoln states at one point in the proclamation:

"And whereas it is the duty of nations as well as of men, to own their dependence upon the overruling power of God, to confess their sins and transgressions, in humble sorrow, yet with assured hope that genuine repentance will lead to mercy and pardon; and to recognize the sublime truth, announced in the Holy Scriptures and proven by all history, that those nations only are blessed whose God is the Lord."

http://showcase.netins.net/web/creative/lincoln/speeches/fast.htm

What president would dare to proclaim this today? I can think of none. If our nation will not humble itself we must humble ourselves. I must humble myself.

And that makes two

2009-01-27T21:49:00.002-07:00

Two years feels like a life time ago and like yesterday. Today was our second anniversary. I have been sick so we didn't really live it up. We managed to go out to dinner and then to Target where we bought various items we probably could have done without. Mr. M also finished remodeling the bathroom. All it needs is a door and a pretty shower curtain and we're set and, well, not to mention accessories with flowers on them or something.

Today I watched clips of the wedding video. At different hour intervals throughout the day I was remembering what I was doing two years ago--this morning at 9 I was having my hair done, 11:30 I was taking pictures, by 2:17ish I was walking down the aisle and so on. Many wonderful memories not only of the wedding day, but of the past couple of years. What a joy to look forward to 50 more!

The Second Annual

2009-01-10T10:24:00.002-07:00

Last year in April I hosted a Pride and Prejudice Tea at my house. Without the help of my sister I couldn't have pulled it off (despite the food being wonderful) because we would have had cold tea. She was my other pair of hands heating the water and steeping the tea. I had no clue it would be so involved. But, feeding 12 people
"teaish" things can as I discovered be very involved. I emerged from the weekend a little wiser perhaps and determined to continue the new tradition again the next year. Now, I am planning my menu and trying to fix a date. We will again have a feature movie, story provided by Jane Austen although this year I plan on not using an Austen story at all. Oddly enough it will still be a Pride and Prejudice Tea. I plan on having a mostly new menu so if you have suggestions for recipes I am open to them.

“Come, let us have some tea and continue to talk about happy things.”

Chaim Potok

Last post of '08

2008-12-30T22:58:00.003-07:00

Christmas draws to a close with the beginning of the new year. I am postponing decoration changes until the weekend. I like the slow death of a season rather than ripping it off as one might a band-aid.

The cheery stage of winter passes with Christmas. Mid January through March is a slow, exhausted exhale. We wait for the snow to melt and for the breeze to breathe warm and wonder if tulips and daffodils have lasted the winter. Will they be the first thing out of the ground to welcome spring? I long for their color already.

Don't let me give you the impression that I hate winter. It is not without its charm. I love sweaters, scarves, and blended tea, snow shoeing in powder up to my thighs, and the crisp clean perspective a fresh layer of snow provides. But the drudging that follows these joys cannot compare to soft grass and sunshine.

So my last post of 2008 looks to 2009 in wonder and amazement that another January is already upon us. Another year, another day to re-think and prepare, organize and manage. And then give it all up to God anyway; expel all our exhales in His direction and find understanding, patience, wisdom, and hope.

Still snowing

2008-12-22T05:46:00.003-07:00

Now, at almost 6 in the morning the snow is falling down instead of sideways, like it was all day yesterday. It is still and quiet out, as it should be, rather than howling.

Lights and ribbons and bows

2008-12-08T20:08:00.002-07:00

I have officially "decked the halls." At any moment it feels like the sky should let loose with snow and cover this old world with newness.

Twinkle lights and candles remind me this year of Jesus-- a soft piercing of warmth; a light in the dark.

How do we stop this?

2008-11-25T12:31:00.001-07:00

Author: Elisabeth Elliot
Source: Keep A Quiet Heart
Scripture Reference: Romans 1:28-31

Disposable Children

A ruling of the Internal Revenue Service now allows parents a tax exemption if a child intended for abortion lives for any length of time. The breathtakingly fancy mental footwork necessary to justify such action goes something like this: what was meant to be discarded is not a child. It is called a "p.o.c." (product of conception, which of course is what children and all the rest of us are). The bad news is that this disposable tissue turned out to be a child and (alas) was born. The good news is that you can get a tax exemption for a dependent child. The best news is that its dependence is only temporary. Call it a child, then, till you get your money. You need not go to the trouble of keeping it. You can call it tissue again and toss it out. Thus the abortionist's mistake becomes the taxpayer's windfall, and the doctor who orders the child abandoned (i.e., killed by neglect and sometimes by active means) is not charged with murder but paid for what is now called a postnatal abortion.

Will you stand up against the outrage called "prochoice"? Do you understand its implications?

"Because they have not seen fit to acknowledge God, he has given them up to their own depraved reason. This leads them to break all the rules of conduct. They are filled with every kind of injustice, mischief, rapacity, and malice.... They are without natural affection and without pity" (Romans 1:28, 29, 31, NEB).

Sick at heart

2008-11-20T07:26:00.002-07:00

Lately, especially in light of the recent president elect, I have been sick at heart over the issue of abortion. My only consolation, grim as it is, is that this nation will be judged for the hundreds, the thousands of baby sacrifices it makes each year through the process of abortion. Below are some thoughts from Elizabeth Eliot.

Author: Elisabeth Elliot
Source: Keep A Quiet Heart
Scripture Reference: 2 Timothy 3:2-9 Romans 12:1-2

The Taking of Human Life

In the relentless effort to keep the world from squeezing me into fits own mold (see Romans 12:1-2, PHILLIPS) my mind is always making comparisons and connections and trying to test the world's reasoning by the straightedge of Scripture. When I read of the execution in Texas of Charles Brooks, Jr., by lethal injection, I made one of those connections. I remembered another news story a few months before about an unborn twin who was quietly dispatched, by means of a needle in its heart, while still in its mother's womb.

Medical science has advanced to the stage where it is possible to remove human beings from this world's scene cleanly and kindly (we tell ourselves) and without too much trauma to the executioners and the consenting public. Of the trauma to the victim we prefer not to let ourselves think too much.

One of the people I refer to, of course, was a full-grown man, convicted of murder. The other was far from full-grown. It was not even born. Nobody wanted it to be born because it happened to be not quite normal. A person, without question, but not quite a normal person. So, since the mother very much wanted the normal twin to be born, she was very glad to be able to get rid of the abnormal one in such a handy way.

In a Time (Dec. 20, 1982) essay about the Brooks execution, Roger Rosenblatt writes of the public's eagerness for a "gentle killing," yet its hunger also to know the details of the prisoner's last dinner and last words, his position on the stretcher, and how the tubes were hooked up which would carry the poison into his bloodstream. Strange that there should be this fascination at a time when there is strong protest, at least in the media, against the death penalty for criminals. There is no protest in major magazines against the death penalty for unborn children and no corresponding eagerness for pictures or descriptions of just how it is done. Few people are willing to scrutinize the details of what happens to the tiny bodies who are daily, at the request of their mothers, and with the consent of the Supreme Court, being disposed of by sophisticated chemical, pharmaceutical, and mechanical techniques.

The correction facility in Texas and the abortion facilities in hospitals are equally thorough in their efforts to make sure that the method works. Imagine the embarrassment if Charles Brooks had managed to slip out of the straps that bound him to the gurney, or if the silent fluid had somehow been obstructed in the tubes! Nobody wants that to happen. It is a major disaster, too, when an abortion produces a living child instead of a dead one. Some awful scenes have taken place in hospital nurseries when a baby has been taken there who had been intended for the garbage can. What is wanted in the cases of both the murderer and the undesirable fetus is death, pure death, the "spectacle of life removed."

Do not misunderstand me. I believe that capital punishment is both necessary and just. I believe that abortion is murder. Both are appalling to anyone human, it seems to me. Surely, no matter what our convictions and public declarations may be, we shrink inside at the hideousness of it all. But one is commanded by God--evil must be dealt with by public justice--and the other is forbidden. We cannot, without His express direction, take human life into our hands. Let us not imagine that we can somehow palliate the stark and shocking fact of death by making it private. Only a few people, including four reporters and Brook's girlfriend, were allowed to witness his death. An abortion is now called a private matter, to be decided solely by a woman and her physician. Let us not, by making it quick, easy, and clean, evade the truth that somebody is being killed.

Rosenblatt in his essay looks for the day when we may "drive out the barbarians." Is it barbaric, then, to mete out judgment in this form to a murderer, but somehow civilized to send a lethal poison into the heart of an as yet sinless child?

Paul wrote to the young minister Timothy to warn him of the sort of evil he must guard against. "Men will love nothing but money and self... men who put pleasure in the place of God, men who preserve the outward form of religion but are a standing denial of its reality. Keep clear of men like these.... These men defy the truth, they have lost the power to reason, and they cannot pass the tests of faith" (2 Timothy 3:2, 5-6, 8-9, NEB). God help us not only to stand for the truth, but to obey it scrupulously that we may not lose the power to think as Christians.

Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do...

2008-10-20T14:28:00.004-06:00

I read this today. Please. Is it just me or is there something askew here?
http://news.cincinnati.com/article/20081020/NEWS01/310200028/1055/NEWS
Not that 89 year old ladies should be above the law, but come on men in blue isn't there some drug dealer or molester you could be putting behind bars? Maybe they'll lock her up with all of the parents who spank their children? With any luck her friends can get together and post her bail with their social security checks. Oh wait, but they need those checks to buy food.

There is obviously no room in the world anymore for good old fashioned consequences. What did the kids learn in this case? It certainly wasn't responsibility or respect. If I was her. I wouldn't have given it back either.

End of summer

2008-10-03T22:30:00.004-06:00

Midnight spatterings of rain
against the window keep time for her.
Her breathing holds to the wet beat
of pooling water. Puddles disrupted
by cars remind her he is asleep
steady in his dreams till morning.

Aphids

2008-09-19T15:27:00.002-06:00

Pear shaped green and red bodies massing on the ends of rose bush limbs some how gives me the creeps. Aphids creep me out. I sprayed them with poison this morning, for the third time since July. I used a concentrated dose. I want those rascals dead.

The distance between two places

2008-09-16T17:33:00.005-06:00

The memory of my adventure to the other side of the North American continent is increasingly distant these days. Was it really only a month ago? I drive past vistas of dry grass, sage, tumble weeds, and haze and wonder why it hasn't rained here since June. And as I drive I am reminded that there are places in the world where life is green longer than the month of May. Where inspiration laps at your heals, wave after warm wave, and blue shells scatter the monotony.

Another September Day

2008-09-03T16:09:00.003-06:00

To update you:

A week and a half into school and it doesn't feel as though we broke for summer. The kindergarteners are as cute as ever. Compared to last year this class is mild mannered, reserved, not as boisterous, or naughty. A nice group of kids however, I miss my favorite little faces that I now see in First Grade. I'm sure this group will grow on me.

My friend Lois-E-Lane had her baby... a little boy named Kellen and he is adorable.

I returned from Prince Edward Island, unscathed, despite sitting on an airport tarmac while a huge rain and lightning storm kept us grounded. Pictures of the trip will be posted when I can.

Weather has cooled some. Which is a great relief from the heat. Fall is in the air.

Mr. M has just finished installing yet another window upstairs.

The time for me to buy an acoustic piano is now. My mother has kindly loaned me her electric piano which has been wonderful to use, but I need an instrument of my own. The hunt thus far has proved slightly enlightening and some what frustrating. Why do people never tune their pianos? I have not been impressed with what Wurlitzer, Kimball, Story and Clark, or Yamaha, have to offer.

I can not be accused of not blogging. This should suffice until real inspiration hits.

A victim of small crime...

2008-08-05T15:35:00.002-06:00

but a victim nonetheless. During the night someone decided that the two pots, blooming with petunias and marigolds, on my front porch needed to be lifted. As in stolen. We're talking your average run of the mill flowerpots. Two faint dirt rings mark the place where my pots used to be. Like chalk outlines at a crime scene. Could the assailant/s have been any tackier? Who does that? No doubt some pubescent on a dare; your run of the mill hick who wanted something Terra cotta for shooting practice? Clay pigeons not sufficient enough, apparently. Oh wait, you have to pay for those.

Porch lights obviously do nothing for protecting your home. Not like a pit bull, or a concrete fence, or a concrete fence accented with razor wire, or a concrete fence accented with razor wire and a touch of voltage plus a pit bull.

I have always felt relatively safe in my little neighborhood, but this has heightened any suspicions I might have carried with me. I won't feel comfortable again for a while. I know, I know this is a small crime and many people suffer from much worse. I know those who have. But it's the principle of the thing. The fact that someone came onto my property and stole something that belonged to me that I lovingly tended, no less... I mean what could stop them from breaking window and letting themselves in while we were gone or better yet while we were sleeping? I am very angry about this.

The Gentle Island

2008-07-10T11:15:00.006-06:00

Since I was a little girl Anne of Green Gables has been one of my most favorite characters. Hence the multiple "Anne" references in my profile. I have always wanted to travel to Prince Edward Island. It was one of the first places I wanted to go when I figured out that "world traveler" is listed as an occupation by some. Well, I am no where near a world traveler, but this is one destination that is not going to slip away.

Thanks to the resources of my very dear friend, Miss S, both of us will be soaking in the eastern Canadian sun on the place known as the "Gentle Island" aka, PEI, in less than one month. I can not begin to explain my excitement. The itinerary at this point includes biking along the Confederation Trail, high tea at the White Sands, an evening of theater, and sand in the toes beach days. Not to mention the interesting sites and beautiful coastlines that we will also experience as we stop in Nova Scotia.

It doesn't seem real, but I know it is.

A rose by any other name

2008-07-09T16:08:00.002-06:00

A row of rose bushes came with the house when we bought it last summer. Neglected and wild looking I thought they might need to be removed. In the fall I trimmed and fertilized, even the smallest of bushes, hoping that perhaps it might bring these shrubs back from the dead.

This spring the bushes exploded with red blossoms.

I'm not sure if these particular roses lack fragrance or if it is a result of neglect. I had intended to remove the roses, but I think I'll keep them around for a while. Perhaps my novice rose tending abilities will be transformed into rose expert abilities? Even if it doesn't, I love having the extra color around.

In with the new

2008-06-30T15:32:00.004-06:00

The renters next door have vacated. The long time home buyers to the right of us have also moved. The neighborhood has a new definition of solitude.

Restless

2008-06-20T20:17:00.002-06:00

What is it about summer that makes a person restless? Must be the warm weather. The chance of fun. Tonight I have discovered that ice cream is a good, but temporary remedy.

Ohio

2008-06-10T10:50:00.006-06:00

Mr. M and I recently returned from a trip to Ohio. Once we arrived a lovely time of eating, visiting with family, and enjoying the picturesque countryside ensued. Mr. M's aunt lives in a log home in the middle of thick verdant woods. In Ohio they don't water their lawns. They don't have to, not with 30+ inches of precipitation a year. Shrubs, hard wood, brambles, poison ivy, and red barns cover the rolling hills of Eastern Ohio.

Now I understand what deep dark woods really are and why early pioneers might have suffered fear at the thought of the forest. I had no sense of direction while I was there.

We walked and gawked down High Street in Mt. Vernon enjoying the verandas, rhododendrons, and gables, of old Victorian homes.

The Amish, much to my surprise, populate the area where Mr. M's family lives near Knox and Holmes county. It was interesting to see men, women, and children wearing straw hats and bonnets and riding around in black buggies and it was easy to feel like you'd entered a time warp.

100 posts

2008-05-25T17:55:00.002-06:00

I realized as I signed on this afternoon that it is my 100th post. And in honor of the occasion the first real irrigating has commenced for the summer. Flood irrigation is a great way to meet ones neighbors and get free rhubarb from them. Ruth across the street came and gave us a bag of rhubarb. Sundays will be the day I will smell like irrigation water and get fresh vegetables.

Tomorrow I will go to the store and buy pots of varying sizes and flowers to go in the pots. I plan on making lemon bars and reading my book. I realize that I can't spend all of my summer vacation in one day, but I am getting a head start since school ends on May 30th.

And something I should have mentioned first is that today my dad ran his first marathon. He turned 63 this May.

Wind

2008-05-21T15:37:00.001-06:00

Last night we came home to this. The wind blew through the night and even now at almost 4 in the afternoon it is still fierce.

Hints of something new

2008-05-12T18:43:00.015-06:00

Our spinach, new grass, and rock pathway! And mysterious tulips that have popped up everywhere.

Love thy neighbor....

2008-05-07T17:22:00.003-06:00

"Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?" And Jesus said to him, " 'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the great and foremost commandment. The second is like it, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself...' " Matthew 22:36-37

In an effort to utilize the avenues for complaining I blog today about the above verse and my difficulty in dealing with the literalness of Jesus' commands. Really, God? All of my neighbors? He couldn't possibly mean the continual speaker blaring, child yelling, swearing and swearing at children rearing, cigarette smelling, balls thrown in our yard playing, all at 11:30 at night discourse, could He? I know the answer. You don't have to tell me. I also know the simplistic answer of walking across my short yard to ask them to turn the music down. Or of phoning the cops when it gets to be midnight and the noise is still booming.

I think the issue for me is beyond that. I really wish that they would move away. I don't want anything to do with them. Frustration mounts when I think about them. I wish that they knew Jesus, but I want someone else to tell them. So here I am, all words and grumbling.

Five children, a single mother, and no father is no way to grow up.

My genuine prayer for them is to know the hope of Christ. The prayer for myself is compassion and patience. And boldness to share hope with them. It seems that I stumble constantly and am miles away from walking next door.

Adventures in "para-ing"

2008-04-24T13:59:00.003-06:00

The yearbook was successfully submitted three weeks ago. Now we wait until it arrives from the publisher. In the mean time what is this little para supposed to do with the publishing class now? In one word: school newsletter. Okay, that was two.

I was very thankful for the internet as I embarked on this lesson planning venture. Since I have no background in journalism I figured this was a great place to start. Frustration ensued, through which I created a ruberic that made me proud. Now if only the children understood everything I was attempting to impart to them. Eventually, with an interpreter, we might be able to understand one another. Four girls in the class have restored my faith in eighth grader humanity. I am thankful for their "on top of things" attitude and ability to complete work on time. All of the students are good kids however, despite the occasional flippancy.

In the mornings I work with the Kindergarten, which leaves no room for boredom. I have yet to decipher between when a child really needs to use the bathroom and when they only think they need to use the bathroom (no doubt their other purposes include talking with friends, climbing on the back of the toilets, and fixing their hair. Yes I have seen them do all these things). My teacher seems to have this talent mastered. I am a sucker for pleading eyes, a squirmy body, and a little voice that says, "Mrs. R. I really have to go bad." What you must do, do quickly, I say. Or something like it. They are cute though. I admit to having my favorites.

The first night

2008-04-18T20:54:00.002-06:00

So this is the first time I have babysat my nephew over night. It is 8:54pm. The lad was put into bed 50 minutes ago and has called me once since. Are we in for a long night? It shall be decided.
I always wondered what kind of aunt I would be.

Twice today Thomas put a finger in my face and said "booger." His concerned, almost three year old face held it out to me, in offering. What could I possibly use that for? I thought, and it was once in your nose and now it is on your finger and in my face. I could only confirm it's identity and inform him that it was icky and he shouldn't eat it. No kleenex in hand the second time it happened I told him to wipe it on the grass.

For dinner tonight we had taquitos, spinach salad with tomatoes and orange slices. He asked for more tomatoes and spinach and left most of his taquitos uneaten. I was not too surprised considering we ate stir-fry the other day and he expressed his love for Tofu.

Two posts in one day...

2008-04-16T19:49:00.003-06:00

am I insane? No. I have something else to say. It has come to my attention recently that I love to bake. I do. Baking of course is entirely different than cooking. Cooking involves olive oil and onions, vegetables and side dishes and menu planning. Baking is sublime in that you just need 3 over rippened bananas, some flour, a dash of salt and presto! Granted there is a little more to it than that. I started out slow with cookies and am now venturing out into the world of breads and cakes. Ah, what other adventures in baking awaits?

I want to believe....

2008-04-16T19:45:00.003-06:00

that this is going to be a good movie. Come on Mulder and Scully don't disappoint! Or should I say Carter don't disappoint. July 25th is when the new X-files movie opens. I'm there.

Chores...

2008-04-05T12:31:00.002-06:00

We still have them as adults. Today I am cleaning my house. It's amazing how dirty it can get with only two people living here. I wonder what kids will be like? Better not to wonder I suppose.

A Gardener's Shears

2008-04-03T20:08:00.003-06:00

I was able to venture out day before yesterday. The wind was slight and the sun warm. Kneeling beside the leaf and dead-plant flowerbeds for two hours left me aching. But what a relief to scrape away moldy leaves from the beds and dried hollow stems. Winter equals rest, or death and spring, rebirth. The analogy is used often, almost to the point of cliche, but it never feels more true than when we engage ourselves in the affairs of the earth. And I don't mean the affairs of the world, but the solid stuff we stand on-soil and seed.

As I raked and pulled away the dross that surrounded my perennials I could not stop thinking about how much God loves us- enough to do the same for us. His gardener shears wrench the weeds away, His hands dig us free. Out of decay and into His marvelous sunlight, fresh air and renewal. With each year that passes we are that much more mature and rooted. Throughout the summer He will continue to prune, shape, and tend. Unlike my neglectful hand and forgetfulness His hand is continually mindful. His care constant.

Post another day

2008-03-27T14:32:00.001-06:00

I've been blogging here at the library. I had a nice post all put together and now it is lost forever in cyber-land. I suppose I was never meant to share my thoughts on that subject. I'm disgusted with it so I'm going to go home and blog another day.
The computer is broken, again.

I survived and other news

2008-03-10T15:20:00.003-06:00

I played my pieces quite well, I thought, and am proud of myself for at least trying. Glad that's over. The judge had good things to say, but forgot to give some constructive criticism.

In other news my phone has died leaving me powerless. Technically the display died which means I can't access ANYTHING on my phone. No phone numbers, no pictures, zilch. I can however accept calls and call out, just no phone book. Just my speed dials 1-6. Remember the days when you used to have to memorize all of your friend's phone numbers? I still remember some too from third grade!

I feel like I'm walking around with a portable rotary phone.

Piano festival

2008-03-05T17:22:00.004-07:00

It is good to have a goal. I began taking piano lessons, again, this past November. I informed my teacher that I had no interest in playing in recitals or concerts (I had plenty of experience with them in high school) and since I am an adult she allowed this small favor. To me it was a huge favor. However, she did encourage me to play in an upcoming piano festival. "It's good to have a goal," she said. I was hesitant as I have the tendency to not know a C from a G when I play in front of people. Oddly enough I have found that I agree with her. I have enjoyed working towards something and witnessing my hours of practice come to some kind of fruition. Moments in which I am not quite myself I believe I'd even like to show people this small feat-- I imagine myself in a crowded recital hall (standing room only), falling into the music, playing my heart out.

We'll see how much I agree after this Saturday, which is when I play my two pieces in front of just one person, Judge #9. I am not competing, a fact which takes the edge off, yet I am still nervous. I don't have to have my pieces memorized since I am only playing for comments, yet I am still nervous. I have been practicing for weeks and I can play the Bach and Rhapsody very well (hardly a mistake) when I am in my living room, yet I am still nervous. Nerves often remain. I try to remember that we must move forward despite nerves or fear or fear of failure.

March

2008-03-01T16:52:00.002-07:00

Is it March that is supposed to roar in like a lion? If so, the lion has landed.

Today, the first of March, the wind is pure and unadulterated. Fierce and cold, yet strangely sunny. Yesterday I sat and tried to plan my flower beds. Cosmos zinnias, delphiniums, daisies, possibly peonies, and hydrangea for the shady spot under the window.... more lilac bushes? It's more of a wish list. We'll see how it all turns out. I am ready for warm weather and hope that this wind takes the cold air with it.

Why you should not read Villette

2008-02-26T14:37:00.002-07:00

This is a rant.

Jane Eyre is one of my most favorite books. Villette is not. If you decide that you want to read something else by Charlotte Bronte and you pick up Villette in the bookstore, put it back down and..... read something else, even if it's not Bronte. Read something else.

I admit that the book does have some finer points. I like Lucy Snowe and she isn't wholly bad. As the main character she comes up with some very poignant truths which I felt the need to underline as I read. But overall the book is arduous, discouraging (spoiler) and when there seems to be a light at the end of all Lucy's turmoil and unhappiness the light is snuffed out by tragedy. I've never toiled through such a book to be completely dissatisfied in the end. And I am not a "it always has to end happily" kind of reader. There, I'm done.

The first spring you own a house...

2008-02-11T15:07:00.000-07:00

... you discover many things:
1. Sudden anxiety over what to plant in the flower beds.
2. A quizzical brow on all things related to home improvements.
3. Basements leak.

The snow is melting. Our basement is leaking. On one wall in our basement we have gray barn wood (incidentally this artistic throw-back to who knows when accounts for the gapping whole in the fence). The previous owner slapped this barn wood against the foundations concrete, no vapor barrier, no insulation, just a breeding ground for centipedes and grotesque spiders. Three feet of damp carpet also tells us that this wall is an avenue for leaks. Mr. M, in his quest for fixing everything in sight, has been threatening to dispense with said barn wood. Now with chance in one hand and motivation in the other the flame has been lit and our Project Superhero has got on with the dispensing. I arrived home today to a torn-up basement. Oh, sweet bliss that is our home.

What is the #1 question women ask?

2008-01-17T15:50:00.000-07:00

Where have all the good men gone?

Is that a song? If it isn't, it should be.

I ask the above question on behalf of all of my beautiful, Godly, witty single female friends.

As a result of recent conversations regarding this issue I've found myself frustrated, annoyed, saddened, and angry with the lack of quality Christian men out there who either a.) don't exist or b.) fail entirely in their success to even begin to pursue a woman.

A friend of mine once told me that marriage is a blessing not a promise; with this in mind, and working under the truth that it is God who completes us, makes us whole, and in the end is all that we need, I am still anxious for my friends (especially those friends whose desire is for marriage). Since I am no where near a matchmaker the only thing I can offer these friends is prayer, which often times among the pain and grief of unfulfilled desires doesn't seem like enough.

One year out of many

2008-01-09T21:02:00.000-07:00

It may be a little early for me to begin crooning about my first wedding anniversary.

Practically every day this month I have been caught by flashbacks to a year ago. Memories of minute wedding details, hair-do possibilities, shoe dilemmas, and of course a wee bit of anxiety over what this whole marriage thing would be like.

Now, with a year under my belt (hardly anything amazing to those who have been married for decades) I still can't believe this wonderful, affectionate man married me. Months ago a friend was good enough to have me listen to the song "You Picked Me," performed by A Fine Frenzy. The chorus goes something like this:

Like an apple on a tree
hiding out behind the leaves
I was difficult to reach
but you picked me
like a shell upon the beach
just another pretty piece
I was difficult to see
but you picked me.

What a blessing. This is where I write something sentimental and cliche like, "Let love reign!" Well I'll shout it then.

A Christmas worth having

2007-12-27T15:17:00.000-07:00

On this, the 27th day of December 2007, it is official that our first Christmas celebrations are a success. Following the consumption of 7 pumpkin pies, a pan of truffle brownies, baked goods, as well as a 26lb turkey and three pans of authentic chicken enchiladas, everyone is fat and happy and brimming with good cheer, not to mention the occasional episode of heartburn.

Now it is over. Almost. Tomorrow our guests will return to their respective homes. We will clean our bathrooms, wash bedding, return our kitchen to some semblance of order, take a deep breath and welcome in the New Year.

I will chase away the after holiday blues with a bottle of sparkling cider, one final listen to a favorite Christmas album and wrap up the ribbon and ornaments on the tree.

What a blessing family is and what a joy.

Baking Cookies

2007-12-19T16:11:00.001-07:00

Last Saturday I baked cookies--cranberry bread with walnuts, chocolate chip cookies, lemon bars, cranberry gems, and chocolate mint top cookies. All arranged aesthetically on a papered plate which was then delivered to 5 neighbors. I have always wanted to do this. It was such a joy to see neighbor faces brighten a little as I passed the plate of goodies into their hands. Perhaps it should become a tradition.

O Christmas Tree....

2007-12-11T16:18:00.000-07:00

For the time being we have fixed our computer. I am back to blogging on my irregular schedule in our messy little office.

We have retrieved our Christmas tree from the mountains where I grew up. The tree, despite our best efforts, leans. Yet it is a fully functioning Christmas tree with ribbons and red beaded garland and white lights -- not to mention the various glass bulbs and ornaments that I have collected since I left home. I think it is a fine tree and will suit us very well for our first Christmas together. Actually it is beautiful.

On our drive home from getting the tree I started to hum "O Christmas Tree" and only the lines that most people know. "O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree, how lovely are your branches..." Mr. M commented that it seemed like a terrible song from a moral standpoint as it pays homage to a tree rather than to Jesus. I suppose in one sense he is right. On the other hand I want to give the excuse, "But, it's just a song." So is it just a song or part of one of those common subtleties that pulls our attention farther away from the gift given us and all praise to God? Thoughts? I later found how all the verses read:

1.O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, how true you stand unchanging.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, how true you stand unchanging.
Your boughs so green in summertime, remain so green in wintertime.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, how true you stand unchanging.

2. O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, thy message is enduring.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, thy message is enduring.
So long ago in Bethlehem was born the Savior of all men
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, thy message is enduring.

3. O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, thy faith is so unchanging.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, thy faith is so unchanging.
A symbol sent from God above, Proclaiming Him the Lord of Love.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, thy faith is so unchanging.

Mr. M on my birthday

2007-11-30T13:48:00.000-07:00

Our computer has decided that it no longer desires to function. I am at the library. Inspiring place that it is for blogging.

I have a cold. Thank you to all the children at school who were willing to share it with me.

Yesterday I turned 26. And yesterday Mr. M outdid himself. He had the day off and rose early with me and made me breakfast before I left for work. For dinner he made homemade tomato basil bagels and ministrone soup with spinich salad and baked me my favorite cake- chocolate with chocolate frosting and even bothered to cover the top with shaved pieces of chocolate!
He also took me to the movie 'Enchanted,' and as a gift he made me a coat rack for the back door entry way. Needless to say it was a pretty wonderful birthday!

In no particular order...

2007-11-25T13:24:00.000-07:00

I am thankful for:

Mr. M and marriage
Jesus, the light and the salvation of man
A wonderful and fun family
A wonderful and fun family of in-laws
Friends
Peppermint hot chocolate
Pumpkin pie
Night skies full of stars
A yellow house
Freedom to worship God, in spirit and in truth and that-
His mercies are new every morning
Piano lessons
Cranberries
Beethoven sonatas
Christmas songs
God's word, the bible
The people in my life who love me enough to chasten, admonish, and encourage me.

How to account for a sweet tooth

2007-11-08T16:41:00.000-07:00

I have a sweet tooth. Guilty.

Did my mother eat cotton candy while I was in the womb? Copious amounts of chocolate? Or just inject herself with a syringe full of sugar? These are things I'd like to know. I suppose I ought to ask her. Are my sweet cravings merely the result of living in a society that has been pepped up on too much salt and sugar for the past 75 years?

The result of such a craving, as you know, can create extended waste lines, broadened thighs, and cavities. And yet I remain unmoved. I can't give up sweets. Confession: I have literally thanked God on several occasions that I am not diabetic.

I should have known this is how it would always be since my favorite game as a child was Candy Land.

"...I'm your density - I mean your destiny."

2007-11-03T09:02:00.000-06:00

In the midst of catching up on my bible study I came across this verse yesterday.

1 Thessalonians "For God has not destined us for wrath, but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep, we will live together with Him." 5:9-10

How sad it is that people spend all of their lives trying to figure out what they are to do and what it is they are destined for; and the entire time God is saying, "Your destiny is me! It's me! Look over here!" Unlike those who don't believe, what a hope those have who do believe (1Thess 4:13).

If you have never heard of a Precept Upon Precept study by Kay Arthur you should check it out. The bible study I am in is studying Philippians. Arthur is an amazing teacher.

More Kenyon

2007-10-19T17:16:00.000-06:00

Let Evening Come

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don't
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.

- Jane Kenyon

Classic taupe and cottage white

2007-10-14T19:39:00.000-06:00

Over the weekend my parents came to visit and we painted my living/dining room. The colors are creamy and wonderful and warm. I am excited to start adding accent colors: deep reds, browns, and greens. Now it comes down to the perfect curtains, the cozy lamp, and the unoffensive yet tasteful vase full of something that pulls the room together. All of which, especially the "something," has yet to be determined.

Then what? I've become like one of those parents who only talks about what cute thing their child has said or done recently, "Yesterday Teddy said....on Wednesday Lucy played..."
Instead of diapers and formula I'm nursing grass seed and room decor. I suppose we all have our vices. I will try to listen to more NPR this week or read a newspaper. I'll get enlightened, eventually.

Then there was the walnut

2007-10-11T17:20:00.000-06:00

It has come to our attention recently that we have an English Walnut tree in our backyard. This is very good news since we were under the impression that we had a Black Walnut tree. Apparently Black Walnuts are toxic to many other plants.

Ironically this new fact makes me like the tree more. It isn't a very beautiful tree. It hasn't been pruned properly (the branches have grown out in odd angles) and many of the limbs are rotten or dead. But for its sad-self sake I wish it the best and that it come back to health and grow many walnuts for our second autumn in this house.

No bulls for me

2007-10-02T16:22:00.000-06:00

So my new job not only involves being a teacher's aide in the kindergarten classroom, but also the aide for the middle school publishing class (which has no teacher or curriculum or basic classroom approach since the first day of school). Lucky me. These eighth graders want to do yearbook. I've never done a yearbook before. I don't even know how to teach. Not to mention that this is a new school with no previous program for a yearbook. No computers, no cameras, no real budget. Thus far we have played Taboo, pictionary, and today I made them interview each other and give a report to the class on what they found out about their classmates. And what about grades? At this point everyone is still passing. I think everyone will be passing come December. Talking with my superiors has not helped the matter and I have been given little vision for this forgotten class.

This is the part where I kick myself for not taking any journalism classes in college and for volunteering to be an aide in this teacherless classroom.

I have attempted to take the bull by the horns several times. The bull unfortunately weighs more and I have an aversion to being skewerd.

Why couldn't it have been a reading class? I can do reading. I can do discussion about books. I can do novels.

Because I haven't written much else lately

2007-10-01T15:56:00.000-06:00

I was tagged by Ms. Lane so I guess I'll spill a little about Mr. M.

1. Who is your man? Mr. M.
2. How long have you been together? Since December 18th, 2003. Weird.
3. How long did you date? 3 and 1/2 years
4 . How old is your man? 26
5. Who eats more? It depends who is hungrier. But since he's the guy, probably him.
6. Who said "I love you" first? Yours truly. Is that considered too forward (or desperate?)
7. Who is taller? He is one of those people who brags because he's tall.
8. Who sings better? He has the voice of an angel. Only not a girly angel, a manly angel.
9. Who is smarter? This answer is entirely circumstantial.
10. Whose temper is worse? Mine. I tend to ball my fist up
11. Who does the laundry? We split 50/50. He does his and I do mine. For the most part. I am anal about how my laundry is done and I have trust issues. He's lucky if he gets to wash my dirty socks.
12. Who takes out the garbage? 50/50
13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? Yours truly
14. Who pays the bills? Mostly me.
15. Who is better with the computer? Mr. M. Though I'm not bad.
16. Who mows the lawn? We share this one.
17. Who cooks dinner? Mostly me.
18. Who drives when you are together? Mostly Mr. M.
19. Who pays when you go out? It all comes from the same place.
20. Who is most stubborn? We vie for this honor, unfortunately.
21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong? Me.
22. Whose parents do you see the most? I think we keep this one pretty even.
23. Who kissed whom first? After a year and a half of dating Mr. M gets the "I kissed her first" honors.
24. Who asked whom out? Mr. M. asked me to coffee. I guess this could be considered the first date. But he didn't call it that, so I'm skeptical. He said he wanted to talk about Europe and see all my pictures since he was making a trip there soon. Who knew?
25. Who proposed? Mr. M. I blogged about it.
26. Who is more sensitive? Is this too obvious? I am.
27. Who has more friends? At this point in this town... we're batting about 0/0. But in other places we have many friends.
28. Who has more siblings? I do.
29. Who wears the pants in the family? I like to think I do, but I like I said earlier he's taller than me.

Here and there news

2007-09-19T17:05:00.001-06:00

I gave my blog a facelift.

Recently Mr. M and I travelled to the coast. Over 1,300 miles and 20+ hours in the car. Despite the long trip it was worth it to see the ocean, tour a lighthouse, watch for whales, and stay in a bed and breakfast.

I started a new job. I am a para-educator at a charter school, part-time. I think it will be a good thing.

I have had trouble adjusting my body to waking up early.

We roto-tilled the backyard. Next step... manure rich soil and grass seed.

I have been attending a ladies bible study through my church. I enjoy the laughing, prayer, and fellowship with these woman...despite the age gap.

After much deliberation it is decided that my nephew does in fact know who I am and refers to me as "Ni-ni." Short for Auntie Nina... short for something else. This is a great relief on my part as I was sure the two year old was forgetting all about me.

San Diego or bust....

2007-08-31T16:41:00.000-06:00

I hadn't really thought about the fact that I had never been to a zoo until earlier this week when I went to the zoo for the first time in my life. My mother says that she was a bad parent after I told her this fact. I, however, don't think that it's an atrocity that I didn't see a monkey in real life until I was 25, or a tiger, zebra, leopard, python, or meerkat for that matter. But I can't believe that I waited this long. I love the zoo!! I am a huge fan. I want to go to a really big zoo now. San Diego or bust! I think I enjoyed it more than my nephew. It's a good thing I wasn't embarassed about my "oo's" and "aww's" either.

I think my favorite animal was the.... meerkat. Who else could make sitting on their haunches like that look comfortable? My challenge for you this week... go to the zoo.

Which came first...

2007-08-19T00:36:00.000-06:00

I noted to Mr. M the *other day that we were embarking on our first day hike/excursion since we were married. He commented back that I have a thing for "firsts." I admit that I do. I don't understand where my facsination began. Perhaps this quirk is due to the fact that I like milestones. Those momentous occasions that make us sure beyond shadows or doubting that whatever we went through to get to that specific and glorious point in our lives was worth the inconvenience or pining, impatient waiting. It's important to take note of them - especially "firsts." First kiss, first boy/girlfriend, first car, first vacation without parents, first job, first baby, first blossoms of spring and I could continue.

The sad thing about "firsts" is that they can tend to become tarnished once the excitement is over-- less important, just another part of another ordinary day, mingled with other old memories we only dream up when sleep evades us. And then we find ourselves saying, "Ah, remember when..."

*I wrote this towards the end of June, but was interrupted and didn't finish and post it till now.

And they're off....

2007-07-27T19:12:00.000-06:00

No doubt you are tired of hearing about this yellow house.

After a marathon weekend in which my in-laws were a mover's salvation (kudos to J and B). We have offically moved into the basement! My very own basement. One coat of varnish is on the hardwood floors and it looks lovely. Can't wait to finish it up so we can move upstairs! And, since the backyard was all weeds, up to my chin, we have also been taking barrels of dead leaves, rotten compost piles, weeds, and garbage to the county dump. The next thing I need to conquer is the irrigation. Has anyone ever done flood irrigation? Apparently there is a ditch master who turns the irrigation on for you if it's your lucky day to water. Our day is Sunday.

This ditch master is a bit of mystery. How does one become a master of ditches? Does the ditch master have an inflated sense of self because he (or she) has the high honor of being known as "The Ditch Master?" It would be tempting to allow the ego to run wild. If I were a ditch master I'd consider touting my title, thus indicating my power, thus gaining me mass amounts of respect or fear. And the ending would turn out badly I'm sure, at least in my case, as I don't know how I could handle the power.

As a final note I will add that my white french doors are quite charming.

Looking out the window from my basement....

2007-07-16T15:40:00.000-06:00

.... I see cobwebs. The spiders outside on the house must die, and soon. We have already done the inside bug-bomb thing and the shampooing the carpet in the basement thing and now we are amidst the cleaning all in site thing and ripping the carpet out of the living room to refinish the hardwood floors underneath thing. A house is work. I told Mr. M Saturday night that I wasn't sure I was cut out to be a homeowner since I hate bugs so much. Too late now. I also know why people buy new houses instead of 49 year old houses.

Despite the bugs and the heat and weedy jungle that is my backyard I like my little yellow house. Each day we spend here, working, it feels more and more like our own. The learning curve is huge considering I have never refinished wood floors or grown grass from nothing but dirt and seed. I have heard that the trial and error method is the best.

We will begin trickling all of our stuff over this week as we get this place in living order, will say goodbye to our apartment on Monday, and will continue the journey of home ownership.

On buying a house

2007-06-21T16:49:00.000-06:00

If I had a first born I suppose that I would be required to give he (or she) up as well, along with my birthdate, social security number, checking account number, tax information, income, height, weight, shoe size, bra size... well I digress. You understand of course that my signature and new name become engraved in my head with every passing day and legal and binding document I sign. "It's not over to the fat lady sings," and not that I'm being pessimistic but I am not utterly convinced that this house thing is a done deal until we actually close. Much could happen between now and three weeks from now. I'm convinced. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to blab it all over the place?

The end of a career?

2007-06-12T11:15:00.000-06:00

Well, I have ended what could have been the career of my life. My last day as a barista will be June 21st. I'm a little sad to go. Afterall, I just got the hang of things and I was beginning to know the people around me. The short of the long of it is that the schedule was not allowing me to tend to the other priorities in my life and the company was unwilling to bend much. I still wonder if it was the best thing to quit. I hate quitting, especially since I don't see myself as a quitter. It was nice to postpone "reinventing" myself, at least while it lasted. Now I'm back to square one.

Square one, incidently, looks a little bit different this time around as it involves the purchase of a house. Yes, a house. We have bought or rather are in the process of buying a house. It is a cute little yellow house with a big oak tree in front, hardwood floors, arched doorways, and plenty of potential for something great. Looks as though I get to postpone reinvention a while longer as my life will soon be overtaken with packing and unpacking, scraping and painting, pulling weeds and planting. We don't have enough stuff to fill this yellow house, with its four bedrooms and 2,000 square feet, which is where yard sales will come in handy. We will have scores of room for house guests.