Momsie

Last night my friend Jen gave me a hug and said, "You smell nice," which led to a mini-discussion about my self-described "floral and peaceful" scent. This morning, when I realized I had just used the last of my enjoyable scented shampoo, I thought back to Jen's comment and it made me think of my mother.

There are two things that stand out strongly about my mother from my childhood and one is the way that she smells. Like powder and lily of the valley, even when she wasn't wearing any perfume or anything. I can remember smelling her clothes and thinking how she always has that comforting fresh floral smell and how nice it makes me feel. It's like getting in bed after you've just put on clean sheets and you get that whiff of clean linens rolling over you.

The other thing I think of is her hands. My mom, one, has beautiful hands. She would probably disagree with this but I think they are beautiful. A perfect tan color, nice oval nails that she always keeps neat and clean, and pretty, tapering fingers. But the best is that they're always soft and cool. She and I both have hands that tend to run a little cold (okay, let's be honest. In the winter our hands are like blocks of ice. Beware) and there was nothing better then my mom's cool hand on my forehead when I was feeling sick. That always made me feel better.

So that's it. Some quasi sappy thoughts on my beloved mom. I hope I can be like her when I'm a mom.

Rilke Strikes Again

I love you, gentlest of Ways,
who ripened us as we wrestled with you.

You, the great homesickness we could never shake off,
you, the forest that always surrounded us,

you, the song we sang in every silence,
you dark net threading through us,

You began yourself so greatly
on that day when you began us-
and we have so ripened in your sunlight
spreading far and firmly planted-
that now in all people, angels, madonnas,
you can decide: the work is done.

Let your hand rest on the rim of Heaven now
and mutely bear the darkness we bring over you.

-Rilke

This poem felt perfect for my mood on this rainy autumn day. A little melancholy, a little tired, a little too angsty to the point that I thought, "seriously? am I still 13?". But, beside those feelings, the brightness of the first coloful leaves, excitement about the second date and dine night with Joe and the gentle nudging to be a better me that I've been feeling this week that has left me secure in the "forest that always surrounded [me]" but disappointed about the darkness I can add to the world. Ah, poetry.

A suggestion

Dear Reader,

Someday you may live in an apartment. It might be on the second floor of a large house. You might have a two-year-old and wood floors. You might have a young married couple of, oh, I don't know... 27 years old, living beneath you. Maybe, just maybe, you should not give your small child a game play with that includes hurling solid objects (blocks? jacks? small rock? chicken bones (maybe she's a seer?)? ) onto the aforementioned wood floors thereby causing repetitive loud crashes for hours and hours and hours because some small children don't really feel the need for a new game. Just a suggestion.

Sincerely,
Sara

A photo album of Norman

This is Norman.

Norman likes to hide

He also likes to run on this wheel and apparently defecate while doing it. Why? I don't know. Maybe he runs so fast he can't hold it anymore but I am telling you, that wheel is crusted in pee and taped to the bottom of the cage so I can't take it out and clean it. I started wiping it and gave up. I don't know if I'll try again.

 

 

Not Bitten by the Baby Bug, Swarmed by it...

I know 23 people who, in the timeframe of December 2009 to December 2010, have had a baby. One had twins, so that's 24 babies. 24. Babies. I am surrounded. And mildly frightened. (This morning I came in to work to have my very pregnant coworker casually remark that she's having contractions and not to worry if she's breathing hard. WHA!?! Not worry?? I think she'll might rip my vocal cords out from sheer annoyance from me asking her "are you ok? how do you feel?")

Granted, most of these babies are casual friends, coworkers, acquaintences or far away so they don't have much impact on my life other than a zillion facebook pictures of ultrasounds and newborns (cute teensy toes! Love 'em!). In reality only three are directly in my path- my childhood friend Katie's little boy Carson, our friend's, the Massies, little girl Isla and now my coworker/friend Crystal's "little man" [insert name here] who will be crashing our girl's nights once he decides to enter this world. (Note: I decided to add pics later and "little man" decided to be born. Evan!)

Amanda and Isla (she's AUSTENtatious)

Katie and Carson

Crystal and Evan

It's a sincere pleasure to be able to cuddle and test the baby waters with these wondrous mini people but man-o-man are babies scary sometimes. So don't hold your breath for the Blumlings. I'm very content living vicariously through the babies around me at this time. Just throwing it out there.

Feelings of Fear

In a very revealing and honest article the authoress Anne Rice announced her renunciation of Christianity in a very gutsy and heart-wrenching move. The key phrase to notice is she renounced Christianity, not God. In her own words:

"For those who care, and I understand if you don't: Today I quit being a Christian. I'm out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being 'Christian' or to being part of Christianity. It's simply impossible for me to 'belong' to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I've tried. I've failed. I'm an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else."

I listened to the interview with tears in my eyes, completely understanding her feelings of confusion and grief. I feel the same way so often; anxious about labeling myself a Christian for fear that I will automatically change in people's eyes. That they will be afraid of my judgment. That they'll feel they have to hide themselves from me.

It's not the way it's meant to be, I know it's not, because it's not the way it was for Jesus. People flocked to him, followed him everywhere, especially the misfits. He gathered together the most unlikely group of confidants. Yet somehow, we seem to stray from that, not necessarily as individuals, but as a culture; Christians are known for hate, not love. What a tragedy.

I mention this especially because of the overturn of Prop 8. The conservatives are screeching in dismay, liberals are screaming with joy and the discord between the two sides are growing. Conservative Christians are standing in firm opposition and this is where my fear comes in- will this be another time of hate? Will people look at churches and Christians and will the first thing that comes to their mind be thoughts of hate?

[I sat on this post for a week or more, afraid to post it but today I was reading an article and reader's comments about the proposed mosque going up near ground zero and my heart sank. The most hateful sounding posts were coming from Christians. Again, reinforcement for people's belief that Christians are full of hate. Wonderful.]

I want to prod people to think- how can this be avoided? Fellow Christians, think carefully about the things you say, the comments you post, the blogs you write, the sermons you hear or repeat, the people you talk to. Who are you serving with this? a cause or God? is love motivating you?

I fear we, Christians, get too caught up in making stands, taking sides and winning fights. We worry about controlling the world and society. I'm worried about what those things do to us. How they can isolate us. Set us apart, but not in a good way- make us unapproachable. How can that be right?

It can't be, can it?

It's so easy to say and do things without thinking of the consequences. Find me 10 years ago and who knows what my stance would be. A lot more harsh. A lot more hateful. A lot more black and white (maybe the loss of that is bad, I don't know). Because I didn't have a face in my mind. But now, when I talk and think about gay rights, it's not a faceless mass anymore. It's people I love. It's people I don't want to hurt or see hurt by others. It's friends that I would never want to feel like they were not loved, welcomed and wanted in my life, because they are.

I could be wrong. I don't know what's right. And I doubt I'll ever be able to convince the vocal, "quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous" Christians Anne Rice speaks of to quiet down and try simply loving the people around them. But I can love the people around me. I can hope that at least those people will be able to think to themselves "not all Christians are judgmental jerks." And if enough of us do this, maybe everyone will be able to think that. Maybe someday our quiet majority of people loving other people like Jesus did will start a tide of love that will quell all those burning feelings of hatred and hurt.

Dare to dream, right?

[There's a lot to be said on this topic but this post is getting too long. I'm happy to get feedback and questions from anyone if you feel confused or perplexed about what I'm trying to say.]

Adventures in Hedgiesitting

During the last week I have been hedgehog sitting for my co-worker while she is on vacation in Hawaii for two weeks. I felt a little obligated since I was the one who found the little guy for sale on craigslist in the first place and her boyfriend was really not keen on the prickly addition to the family. Plus, she is bringing me back some Kona coffee. Yum.

Included in Norman's belongings (a playpen, a ball for rolling around, gloves, food, treats, and cage with wheel, [UNUTILIZED] litter box, half log, house and water bottle) was a hedgehog care book which I perused. It was then that I discovered, to my great dismay, that hedgehogs should not be moved from home to home when sitting occurs. Oops.

I tried my best to make Norman very comfortable and cozy. In response, he hissed and defecated everywhere. I retaliated with hedgie treats, bits of carrot and some wet catfood. He ate them in the dead of night and hissed. I tried to hold him on my lap on a towel while I watched TV so we could get to know each other like the book said. He tried to run blindly off my lap (over the knees, onto the floor) over and over and hissed when I stopped him. And defecated. I tried putting him in his ball to roll around so that he could get exercise. He hissed and curled up, refusing to move. I put him in his playpen. He, yes, hissed and defecated.

Finally, we had a breakthrough. He ran around in his ball for about 15 minutes and seemed very pleased. He ate some carrot from my fingers. He had a jolly time rooting around in a towel in a bin looking for food. I thought, yes! we've made it! The next night I was ready for another evening of play and good times, maybe even being able to hold him without the gloves.

Nope. He acted like we had never met. Pooped more than I could believe could fit in his body. Was horrified that I had attempted to put him in his ball.

I give up.

Joe Blum is Awesome

My beloved husband's birthday is tomorrow and to my chagrin I'm not really getting to do anything great for him. We're going to Toronto to see Arcade Fire but he found the concert and got the tickets himself so I feel lame. So I am going to tell everyone a few reasons why I celebrate the birth of Joe Blum. And if you don't realize how awesome he is, shame on you. Go crawl inside a hollow log filled with beetles

1. Without Joe I would be a cat lady. We joke about this all the time but it's so true! I'm extremely reliant on him to get me out of the house doing things that I really want to do, but would be too uncomfortable or scared to do without that extra push. In my heart I'm still a shy, awkward person, but Joe combats this very well.
2. Best. Husband. Ever. I think the best thing is that he's just fun to hang out with. That's a pretty great quality in a lifelong companion.
3. Joe's one of the most sincere, kind and caring people I know. His first reaction is to like someone and be their friend. I have neither of those qualities so I admire him especially for that.
4. Funny! The first time I thought to myself, hey, there's something to this guy, was while watching a video in which Joe was lip-synching to Ace of Base's "I Saw the Sign" while dancing around campus. I tend to be a  little emo and too melancholy so that is some severely needed lightening in my life.
5. Hot. Ow ow!

Happy Birthday spouse!

My husband- the superhero.

A few important things

1. I'm obsessed with the hanging cherry tomato plant I got at the regional market. Obsessed. I talk to and stare at it every day. I danced around the house when the first tomato got an orange tinge. I'm not convinced it's a healthy obsession.

2. Today is beautiful and amazing. The first weekend we've been home in months and not had a million things to do. I finally got the last couple boxes unpacked, found my bandannas (two Ns?? Who knew!) (helpful since my hair is so short now), basked in the sunlight while I walked to the library and was able to get work done not in the middle of the night while slapping myself to stay awake. Work is much more pleasant when you aren't exhausted. 

3. This poem is amazing. Just stop reading now if you're not interested.

I read it here in you very word
in the story of the gestures
with which your hands cupped themselves
around our becoming - limiting, warm.


You said live out loud, and die you said lightly,
and over and over again you said be.


But before the first death came murder.
A fracture broke across the rings you'd ripened.
A screaming shattered the voices

that had just come together to speak you
to make of You a bridge
over the chasm of everything.

And what they have stammered ever since
are fragments
of your ancient name.

-Rilke

Some quick comments or my thoughts on that poem- maybe I just miss writing papers on amazing things I read.

It fills my mind with a burst of images. God's hands cupped warmly around my image as it's shaped from the dust. The singing that I imagined happened at the dawn of the world. The shrieks of grief and a lightening bolt of darkness as that first death shatters through a world fresh and brimming with life, love, hope. And now we're left with the fragment. Scared of the future, suffering at times, confronted with suffering often. And so the words are given to us- live loudly (to remind us, to point us in the right direction, to awaken us), die lightly (to soften it, to reassure us, to assuage our fear) and be over and over (because we forget too easily to be - alive, ourselves, in the moment).

Why my Sansa Clip is the Bomb-Diggity

So when I started my current job I was an untrained peon who spent the first month of my job cleaning dots off of scanned documents. Literally. I thought my brain would die. It was 8 hours a day of erasing dots in Paint. Dot. Erase. Dot. Erase.

So I obviously had to think of something to save my brain. 8 hours of music wasn't going to cut it so I thought of listening to recorded books. Now I did have a portable CD player that I dug up initially but I soon learned I could check out digital books from my library! Sweeeeet. Which led to me going to Best Buy to get something affordable with a screen so I could see what I was listening to. Which led me to my friend, my little blue Sansa Clip. I've probably listened to at least a hundred books on that. It's great for moments of mindless office work, going on walks, long car drives. It holds my place in the book I'm listening to. Oh, and it costs WAY LESS than an iPod.

But here's the kicker. At Christmas last year Joe and I left right after I got off work at 5 to drive down to VA. It was pitch black and it turned out I had dropped my Sansa on the ground in the parking lot behind our house. It was submitted to the Syracuse winter weather for a week before I found it- completely soaked- lying in the gravel where my landlord must have swept or shoveled it. Not a scratch. Not a hiccup. Still works perfectly.

And there's the issue of my spilling a glass of wine on it tonight and it not even caring ;)

All this to say, if you're looking for something to listen to books or music on, consider a Sansa! Reliable, tough and affordable.

That is the end of my Sansa plug.

Delciousness

Yesterday was (shamefully) my first trip to the Regional Market this summer. I've been so busy every other weekend, especially when we were apartment hunting, that I didn't have time to make it. But, let's not dwell on the past because yesterday I came away with the most delicious ingredients that became a tasty dinner. And it all started with a bunch of basil, near some nice red tomatoes, across from some zucchini, close to some garlic scapes, down the stall from amazing lemon-garlic fettuccine. A red pepper, some amazing fresh asiago cheese bread, mozzarella pearls and parmesan were added to these initial finds and a giant heirloom tomato that was calling my name elbowed out the initial tomatoes.

The result was some delicious, fresh pasta dressed with a smidgen of balsamic vinegar and accompanied by a CNY white wine, Arctic Fox.

The ingredients were so beautiful, I had to take pictures :)

My battered soul... or ego... or elbow.

Dear Lady Who Showed Us a  Townhouse Today,

I have a few tips for your next showing:

1. Know which townhomes are for rent and when and what they have in them. Walking into a place and having you say, that the one we rent "might" look like the one we're in or it "might not" and repeating that phrase about carpets, dishwashers, washer/dryers, rent prices... etc. is not really helpful to us. 
2. Maybe meet us on time? 
3. Check and make sure the maintenance guys haven't just painted the stairs to the basement so that the person (me) you're showing the townhouse to proceeds to slip on the stairs and fall down several of them (I was holding the railing and stopped myself) and end up covered in gray paint

*If the aforementioned accident does occur, do not get snippy when the victim (me) calls you to say that her shirt also has paint on it (I couldn't see the back until I went home to change to go back to work) and will also need to be replaced as well as her shoes and pants.

Sigh. Farewell my faithful black pants. Farewell black shoes. Farewell awesome magenta plaid shirt.

Yes, this is what occurred when Joe and I went to check out a townhouse as a possible future location for our living. I take a little comfort in the fact that my self-proclaimed clumsiness was not the cause of this mishap, though I still felt embarrassed and my elbow is now angry with me. Word to the wise- if you smell fresh paint, step carefully.

but what does eternity indicate?

What is known I strip away;
I launch all men and women forward with me into THE UNKNOWN.
The clock indicates the moment—but what does eternity indicate?

-W.W.

Thanks to Little Mike for asking to borrow Dead Poet's Society so that I re-explored Leaves of Grass and found the above lines to nourish my soul at the uncertain time of my life. Jobs, apartments, cities, friends... are all swirling around me. Lots of potential changes in the future and seemingly NEVER enough time to do everything I want to do as well as everything I need to do (pesky sleep and food).

These are the moments the clock indicates. Tick tick tick- moment moment moment- time flies. And don't get me wrong, moments are important. I've been living off of Switchfoot's Needle and Haystack Life with the words we are right now....it's no accident we're here tonight, we are once in a lifetime. In this lifetime the present is all we have.

All forces have been steadily employ’d to complete and delight me; 
Now on this spot I stand with my robust Soul. -W.W.

But last night, as I crept through the dark to the bathroom and tried not to bash into any walls or our suitcase on the floor, I caught a dim glimpse of myself in the mirror and felt my soul crawling beneath my skin. In that brief glance I felt my deepest being reach out for eternity and cry for God to bless me with a moment of clarity- to see what really matters, to open my true eyes that stay sleepy and half-closed too often. And my soul took a deep breath.

See ever so far, there is limitless space outside of that;
Count ever so much, there is limitless time around that.


My rendezvous is appointed—it is certain; 
The Lord will be there, and wait till I come, on perfect terms;


(The great Camerado, the lover true for whom I pine, will be there.)

-W.W.

Unexpected company

~opens door~
"Oh! Snow! I didn't expect to see you today. It's been what... a month or so since you left Syracuse? I didn't think you planned to come back until November... oh, no no no, I'm not trying to say I'm not glad to see you, I was just surprised is all. Yes, of course, we've known each other for years.... let's not talk about that time I spent in California, you know it only makes you upset. So.... umm... are you planning on staying long? Oh no? Oh, um, shucks. Of course I'm sad to see you go, let's not have this fight again. Well, yes, of course I love Sunshine. No, no, I love you both, just in different ways. Let's not make this more difficult than it already is, why don't we just enjoy the time we have together. Would you like some tea?"

It's a Battle of Me VS the SERRATED KNIVES

I have never seriously cut myself with a smooth edged kitchen knife. We've always been good friends. However, I firmly believe serrated knives are out to get me. Most recently I neatly sliced off the tip of my left pointer finger (just the ball of my finger, not the nail or bone) with a bread knife. A mere month later that same finger was cut with yet ANOTHER serrated knife while doing dishes at the cafe I volunteer at. Only moments ago one of my steak knives violently twisted toward my fingers while I was cutting (no blood spilled). Coincidence? I think not!

At this point I would be only mildly surprised to enter the kitchen one night to find all serrated knives plotting my demise.

Will April 16th always make me sad and homesick?

You see, I want a lot.
Maybe I want it all:
the darkness of each endless fall,
the shimmering light of each ascent.

So many are alive who don't seem to care.
Casual, easy, they move in the world
as though untouched.

But you take pleasure in the faces
of those who know they thirst.
You cherish those
who grip you for survival.

You are not dead yet, it's not too late
to open your depths by plunging into them
and drink in the life
that reveals itself quietly there.

-Rilke

What happened at Virginia Tech April 16, 2007 isn't something I like to talk about. It's something I sometimes feel like I want to talk about, but when I start I want to stop. The Hokies I love understand the ache that terrible day has left in my heart.

So let me just say, 4/16 makes me remember how precious life is, how loving God is, how much I love my family and friends, my hometown and school. And I'll pray for the families and friends that lost people they loved and hope that they can grip God for survival.

He is Risen

At that moment they heard from behind them a loud noise — a great cracking, deafening noise as if a giant had broken a giant’s plate…. The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan.

“Who’s done it?” cried Susan. “What does it mean? Is it more magic?”

“Yes!” said a great voice from behind their backs. “It is more magic.” They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself.

“Oh, Aslan!” cried both the children, staring up at him, almost as much frightened as they were glad….

“But what does it all mean?” asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer.

“It means,” said Aslan, “that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward.”

-CS Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: "Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever."
-Revelations 1:17-18

A note of thanks

I have been volunteering at a cafe designed to fund a non-profit organization that counsels and supports people affected by eating disorders. The opportunity kind of fell in my lap and I have really loved it. Eating disorders are distressingly prevalent in our society and I'm happy I can help such a great group of people as they help others.

Yesterday I was browsing over the books the cafe had on sale and ran across one called Andrea's Voice: Silenced by Bulimia by Doris Smeltzer with poems and journal entries and letters from her daughter Andrea Smeltzer. I started reading it during a lull in business because I had heard it was a pretty amazing book and I've had a really hard time putting it down. Some parts are painful to read, Doris is brutally honest. She doesn't make any excuses, her goal is complete disclosure in the hope that their story can help others. One thing that she mentions throughout that book is how she unwittingly reinforced the ideas of body dissatisfaction, unrealistic goals, dieting, etc. Ideas that had been ingrained into her, she in turn ingrained into her daughters as a societal norm. It would be hard to break that subconscious cycle.

But while I was reading this I thought of two instances in my formative years that have really helped me with this issue. It's hard to feel bad about yourself and like your body is gross. And there have surely been moments that I have struggled with those feelings. But I feel like under those moments or struggle and "fat days" I have a foundation of confidence to fall back on because of my mom, my brother and now, my husband.

When I hit puberty I hit it hard. At least hard for me. I didn't want to start wearing bras or any of those other rites of passage that made you a woman. I was satisfied where I was. So I wasn't keen on getting hips, breasts or a "womanly shape." But, I remember very clearly my mom telling me sometime that there are all different shapes and that we would never be "skinny minis" but that was okay. What mattered was being healthy and happy. And that little chat made a world of difference. I could look at myself and think, hey, I'm okay. I've got wide hips and I've got a pretty sturdy bone structure and that's cool. I can balance a laundry basket on my hips like you wouldn't believe.

Later, when it was more about boys and less about me, my brother Jason said something to me along the lines of, stand up straight, walk with confidence, be yourself and guys will like you. I remember him going on to say how different guys like different body types and he liked girls with figures like mine. And that meant the world to me. I haven't had a million boyfriends or anything, but my brother really helped me feel attractive and worthy.

Now, of course, I have my beloved husband who makes me feel great all the time (or tries to- even he can't combat a really bad PMS day). I just feel really blessed. Now I don't know if these things make or break having an eating disorder. Maybe my psyche and personality were never prone to them. But, they have given me a lot of mental peace and a measure of confidence when facing our wretched "thin culture." I just wanted to share how grateful I am to my family.

Rilke is Amazing

I'm reading off and on some poetry from Rilke's Book of Hours. Amazing. I love it. On that note, this is the poem I've been obsessing over today.

I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.
I want to free what waits within me
so that what no one has dared to wish for
may for once spring clear
without my contriving.

If this is arrogant, God, forgive me,
but this is what I need to say.
May what I do flow from me like a river,
no forcing and no holding back,
the way it is with children.

Then in these swelling and ebbing currents,
these deepening tides moving out, returning,
I will sing you as no one ever has,
streaming through widening channels
into the open sea.

Impressions from Battlefield Earth: A Saga of the Year 3000

Firstly- wow. How did this movie get made?? Oh, right, John Travolta.

Secondly, lies that Battlefield Earth told me:
- less than a week in a flight simulator is all it would take to learn to fly a jet
- you can rip the guts out of a nuclear warhead and use it as a bomb without any (to our knowledge) understanding of bombs
- fighter jets, walkie talkies, books in a blown up, decaying library and who knows what else can apparently remain in tip-top condition for a thousand years! Splendid!

Thirdly, impressions from the film:
- wow, did they ever love slow motion. About every ten minutes there was a slow motion sequence.
- NEVER have I heard echoing used like that in a movie. Somebody says something dramatic and echo, echo, echo... for example, "You're not staying here for five more cycles, you're staying for 50 cycles! (50 cycles, 50 cycles, 50 cycles...)"
- someone is obsessed with breaking glass. First there was the slow motion scene where Johnny crashes through about 8 plate glass windows while he's passing out from the tranq. laser. He lands in the pile of shards but emerges with only one cut on his forehead! Yay Johnny! Then later, when the dome is collapsing, huge chunks of glass fall smashing to the ground, shattering all over- again and again and again.
- what is up with this species that they don't care when a limb gets sliced off?

If anyone has arguments about why this film is awesome, lay 'em on me.

Logic Can Be a Bitter Enemy

I've always prided myself on how logical I am. I try to think things through before I make decisions, I like pro/con lists, I like facts, I like data, I like certainty. Even snap choices I make I can usually draw a line of logic from what I heard to what made me respond. But logic can only take you so far. Because, as I am dismayed to continue discovering, my logic doesn't always apply. Humans are too complex. The word chicken can trigger really different responses from people. Marty McFly would completely freak out if I called him my little chicken and possibly take a swing at me while he yelled, "Nobody calls me chicken!" Marty would have no way of knowing that "little chicken" is one of my most ultimate terms of endearment. How could he know?

So I find myself trying to understand the world around me based on my logical conclusions. But, it doesn't really work out that way and I insert my foot in my mouth at best and end of feeling like an utter failure at worse.

I was reading My Utmost for His Highest yesterday and at one point Chambers says how uncertainty and realizations of our short comings are these devastating moments for us. We fret and cry and beat ourselves up when really they are moments that are just right. Chambers posits that it is in these moments of loss and spiritual poverty that we are open to letting God fill us and lead us. Instead of gasping in fear or frustration we should be sighing with elation, thrilled about the new challenges and adventures ahead. Not something that comes naturally to me and frankly, one of the reasons I married Joe was because I knew he would never let me stagnate. No matter how much I might naturally resist it, he would bring that adventure into my life that I really need.

Yet, I'm having trouble swallowing this one today, I really am. I like to fix things, I like to know what's happening and it's really hard for me to be patient and wait for things to play our around me. But, my friend Matt Rogers said once, many years ago, "We prove what matters to us by what we're willing to wait for and by how we're willing to wait for it." And I find that the things that are hardest for me to be patient about are the ones I want enough that I can be willing to wait for them.

So here's to prying open my grip on uncontrollable things and not trying to make things or people act the way I want them to. Cheers.

Maybe I'm a genius?? Or was a genius...

I just had this quasi creepy moment reading something and thinking, huh, how insightful. Then I realized... I wrote it. About five years ago. Hmm... what does that say about me? Maybe I've gotten stupider over the past five years! Unfortunate to say the least. You're always hoping that you're improving in life, not devolving. Curse. Instead I'm going to tell myself that I am not growing stupid, it's just that God blessed me with a moment of insight when I needed it. That will make me feel better.

I also just realized that I used to literally blog every day my last semester of college. Is it just because I was a semi-narcissistic college student who thought all their thoughts were like precious gems couple with probably having more time on my hands than I realized? Or was it a worthwhile activity? I must ponder this.

Super Powers?

My co-worker Jen just said to me- "If I could have any super power it would be..."
(Dramatic pause- what would she say? fly? breathe under water? weird plant powers like Poison Ivy? walk through walls??)
"...hibernation."
Interesting.
When I questioned her about missing out on life she got a dreamy look on her face and said, "I can dream about it." She then went on to say how great it would be to get all fat and sleep for months and then BAM, wake up in time for spring, ready to go. Now, I must say, most creative super power I have ever heard.

And the Award goes to...

ME! For living through nearly 27 years with no cavities, in spite of a five year absence from the dental chair (not recommended). There are so many people I need to thank-

First, I would like to thank my hygienist, Monica, for delivering the joyful news as well as my dentist for telling me I have "beautiful teeth." Thanks doc. ~wink~

Secondly, I would like to thank my oral-b vitality toothbrush, without which I surely could have never lived this dream.

To my mom and dad of course, for instilling good oral hygiene and buying me Acts Kids.

And lastly, I would like to thank God, for giving me these remarkably resilient teeth. Thank you!

Warning- Heavy Topic

Preface: I don't usually write about this topic, because I know it's a hot button and very emotional topic. I know that I get very emotional about it and I know that it could hurt people and make them feel that I judge them. I don't. Truly, I don't.

I just started the book Unwind by Neil Shusterman and frankly, it's breaking my heart. Granted, my heart was already feeling pretty cracked and shakey before I even started reading this book, so it wasn't too hard for it to start fracturing along the fault lines. But I think the part that is hurting me the most is that though in Shusterman's imaginary America abortion has been abolished, parents not wanting their babies and innocent people dying hasn't changed. At one point, one of the characters muses, "Which was worse...to have tens of thousands of babies that no one wanted, or to silently make them go away before they were even born?"

I think that people who believe in pro-life kind of believe that if abortion could only be made illegal, everything would change and lives would be saved. People would change. I may have even thought this at some point. But, as my brother often says, you can't legislate morality. No law can change someone's heart or feelings. No law will change that gut-wrenching desperation, fear, hopelessness and overwhelming feelings of impossibility that accompany an unwanted pregnancy. Even now, married and wanting to have babies with Joe the timing right now would be awful. If I realized I was pregnant right now I would cry and not because I was happy.

But even empathizing with the women and girls who feel driven to abortions, it still breaks my heart. Maybe now it's worse because there are so many beautiful little babies showing up around me and the prospect of having my own becomes more and more real. Holding my dear friend Amanda's baby was magical- she was so tiny, I'd forgotten how tiny a newborn is. And she was perfect and sassy and pink, raising her eyebrows at me and giving me looks of "seriously, your hands are cold" through slitted eyes. She is wonderful. And wanted. So wanted. We'd prayed for her and loved her all through those nine months. And all through those nine months and the pregnancies of other friends and aquaintances I thanked God that these babies are wanted. That they will be loved and cherished. And that thought gave me some comfort. Because there's nothing I can really do about abortions or abused and neglected children that some would say are better off dead. I can give money to organizations that help them, I can always be ready to take one of them into my home, I can pray for them; but day to day I can't really stop what's happening to them. But I can love the children around me. I can love my own, even if they show up unexpectedly. That will count for something, I hope.

Mother Teresa once said, "Please don't kill the child. I want the child. Please give me the child. I am willing to accept any child who would be aborted, and to give that child to a married couple who will love the child, and be loved by the child." She did it too. She took any baby that was brought to her by a mother that wouldn't or couldn't care for it. I don't want to start some Pro-life/Pro-choice debate. I'm not looking to make enemies or hurt anyone. I know and deeply love people who have made the choice to end their pregnancies and even though I grieved for them and their babies, it didn't make me love them any less. That's why I think Mother Teresa's example of using love, not anger or violence or debate or even laws, to bring the change she wanted to see in the world was so admirable. She didn't try to argue with people or change them. She opened her arms to everyone. She made it her goal to love everyone. And that is mine as well. And if by some miracle, anyone ever runs across this blog who is pregnant and doesn't want that baby, I want it. I will help you. God will help me to do it.

Butter Rum

Seriously, is there a better lifesavers flavor than butter rum? I had nearly forgotten about this tiny circle of bliss when my coworker brought them in. And now I am savoring one here in the silence of my office. Alone. With tastiness.

Oh butter rum lifesaver, you make me think of creme brulee and all its deliciousness. And I long for that creamy dessert...

Now, I'm officially rambling.

Here is what is currently distracting my mind:
 ~ I have cried an inordinate amount this weekend due to movies and TV shows. We just saw UP which is basically a sobfest, I revisted Sleepless in Seattle which I can never get through dry-eyed, and much to my horror (I literally avoided watching the end of Dr. Who series two because I was dreading this moment so much) Rose Tyler and the Doctor are SEPARATED maybe FOREVER. Oh, that single tear coursing down David Tennant's cheek just plucked at my heartstrings

~I'm obsessing about reading every book on a 100 Must-Read book list Shana sent to me months ago. Obsessing. I think about it more than is normal, I'm sure of it.

~ Cross-stitching for baby Murphey. Can I finish before he makes his debut as an independent being on this planet??

The End.

Office Forwards

All the time I get the goofy office forwards in my inbox. Most of the time they are so stupid or crude I can feel my brain cells dying while I read it:

Brain Cell: No no no! Don't even open it! DON'T DO I- AAAAYYYIIIIEEEEE.... ~cough cough~ (dead)

However, sometimes they are amusing like the one I received today with crazy animals. And I BURST out laughing and terrified everyone. Which is why I now have a print out from today's office forward hanging in my cubicle that says:

HAHAHAHAHA

As a side note to cranky people who act like the Twilight books are some sort of downfall of civilization (hello people, reality TV?), I have a few questions:

1. Did someone tie you to a chair or in some other way remove your freewill and force you to read them?
2. Have they (the books) in some way hurt you?

If the answer to both of these is "No" shut yer trap and move on with your life! People can read what they want to read and that's that. Sure, I think that certain books are drivel but if that's what people want to read instead of Salinger, what can I say? At least they're reading! Sheesh.

That's Amore

I was just doing a little reading/editing of a story an inspiring Lindsay wrote and got quite the shove when the following words showed up on the page:

We are one in the spirit,
We are one in the Lord
We are one in the spirit
We are one in the Lord
And we pray that our unity
May one day be restored
And they'll know we are Christians
By our love, By our love
And they'll know we are Christians by our love

A song I haven't thought of in years and years, but an idea I've been thinking about almost constantly for the past few weeks and one that has hovered in the back of my mind for much longer.

A couple weeks ago I was staying at a friend's house and had the immense pleasure of meeting his mother. She and I bonded immediately, feeling completely comfortable talking about the most awkward of subjects. When she asked me about my beliefs, I felt utterly at ease telling her about my Christian faith even though I knew it was not something we had in common. While we talked I finally, in a desperate desire to express my deepest beliefs and, in what I believe was God giving me the right words to express my heart, I told her what I have seen and learned from my parents: that love is what really matters. And that truly trying to genuinely love God and love the people around me takes up all of my efforts and leaves little time for worrying about the many questions for which we have no answers.

Jesus, when asked what was the greatest of all of the commandments answered, "The most important one is this: 'Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself .' There is no commandment greater than these."

Whenever I read those verses I dream. If only we would really do it. If we could all unify in love and not bicker about when to baptize or what will happen in heaven or how much to tithe or the million other things that divide the family of Christ from one another. A terrible division. And beyond that family, I imagine (a lot like John Lennon) what it would be like if I could truly learn to love everyone. If I could see the overwhelming, beautiful, priceless value in every person, in spite of my personal feelings. Is it possible to disagree, yet still love? And not just a mild kind of, "oh sure, I love that person cuz God says I gotta" type of love, but the kind that makes you really go the extra mile. The kind that Jesus talks about the Good Samaritan having or when he says that if you see someone without a coat, take yours off and hand it over. (Ouch. I love my coat.)

It seems impossible in my own life, let alone on a global scale. But there are hints and glimpses of the great love we're capable of and the wondrous results; enough that I want to see more. I want to see how much we can do. And for the sake of heaven, I want people to know we are Christians by our love not by our rules or judgements or politics or creepiness. And when I say I'm a Christian, I want to  leave it at that and not need to go any further because does the rest really matter? Do we need to say anything else if we're walking in His steps? I hope not because boy oh boy can I get tongue-tied.

Brilliant

A strange thing has occurred since I returned to work this week after a trip to England to see the sights and my brother and sister-in-law. People would come up to me and say something like, "soooo... how was England?" in a tone of voice that suggested that it most likely sucked. They would often follow this up with a story about how their mother hated England with a firey passion or how they had heard that the British are much meaner to Americans than even the French. Oh, and English food is terrible. And so is the weather. (PS SARA- What a STUPID trip to take. Oh, wait, your brother lives there and you were visiting him? Oh. Oh, ok.)

I found it all very shocking because in spite of my amusement at how poorly the UK was able to deal with their snowfall and how incredibly expensive things are (except at Poundland! where everything is a pound! wooohoo!) I very much enjoyed England. And here are some reason why I think Britain is GGRRRRR-eat (HA)

First, in the food category (take that!)
Black Currants!
Please America. Please. Please please please bring these back into the mainstream. They are delicious and I love the flavor, especially in tea. I'm begging you.

Pheasant!
And other game birds. We just don't eat a lot of game birds here and I think that's a shame because I like them. So there.

Desserts (aka Puddings!)
Seriously, in America, I barely ever am tempted to order dessert because everywhere has the same things- cheesecake, ice cream, some sort of brownie. Blah blah blah. I know I'm weird, I know that, but I love custard. Love it. And in England it is so easy to find a pudding served with hot custard! Amazing. And Harry Potter is right, treacle tart is delicious. I have to learn how ot make that...

And those are just the stand outs. We also greatly enjoyed the curry, cornish pasties, chips of course and Joe was crazy about mushy peas (they did not win me over though I admit they are better that regular peas). Cheeses! Weird soups! It was good stuff.

Some other things about Britain that are cool:

- Derren Brown. Coolest magician/mentalist/almost scary because he's so awesome I've ever seen.

-Pantomime! A theatre production that is unlike anything I've ever seen. Think musical meets improv meets mayhem. It was so fun.

- Castles!

- British authors! CS LEWIS! TOLKIEN! (I got to go to the pub they hung out in. Where I ate the treacle tart! Which I knew about through ROWLING!)

I really could go on but people don't like to read long posts. They just look at them and think "Yikes, not even gonna try" and since I waxed eloquent about the food I have to stop now. But I just wanted people to know we had a great trip. Thanks Aaron and Becky for having us and showing us around. Thanks Joe for boldly driving on the wrong side of the road. And thanks Caerphilly Castle for still having part of the set from an episode of Dr. Who up, which piqued my interest and introduced me to an amusing show (David Tennant, you are great. Which is another thing about England- hot actors. All my most favorite eye-candy actors are British. Ow ow.).