Wherever you find Love it feels like Christmas

Merry Christmas friends. I know I haven't been updating this blog regularly, I've been otherwise writing occupied. But here is a quote from a blog I was reading today that I found poignant: 

"Check this out, and feel free to correct me if I get this wrong…

 According to Christians, Jesus taught a couple of interesting things. First, “love one another.” Second, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” (“Her” being a woman who cheated on her man.)

 According to Buddhists, Buddha taught a couple of thought-provoking things. First, “Hatred does not cease by hatred, but only by love; this is the eternal rule.” Second, “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.”

 According to Hindus, a couple of fascinating teachings come to mind. First, “Do not get angry or harm any living creature, but be compassionate and gentle; show good will to all.” (Krishna) Second, “Love means giving selflessly, excluding none and including all.” (Rama)

According to Muslims, Muhammad taught a couple interesting things as well. First, “A true Muslim is the one who does not defame or abuse others; but the truly righteous becomes a refuge for humankind, their lives and their properties.” Second, “Do you love your creator? Love your fellow-beings first.”

 According to Judaism, their scriptures teach a couple remarkable things. First, “Love your neighbor like yourself.” Second, “Examine the contents, not the bottle.”

 The greatest spiritual leaders in history have all preached love for others as the basis for all happiness, and never did they accompany such mandates with a list of unlovable actions or deeds. They never said, love everybody except..." 

I am not familiar enough with all of those other religions to say whether or not the author is correctly representing their beliefs but he likes to be accurate and he hasn't recanted so I'm acting on the assumption he was correct. That's my disclaimer.

But here's my two cents: This Christmas and this New Year I want to make this idea my mantra: Not to love everybody except... No except. And I know I won't really be able to do it. I'll see injustice and I will be enraged. My pettiness will win and I'll throw uncalled for hatred and anger all over the place. But I'm going to do my best to cut the except out of my life and get beyond my own prejudices and judgments.

My Husband Wins

Joe's New Web Series

Parenthood

Joe and I often bandy about ideas of what kind of parents we'll be- terrible? awesome? too weird for words? Will our kids think we're super awesome or will they want to hide their friends from us?

But more seriously, we think about our stances in life and wonder if our kids will be like us. Will they like indie music and reading? Will they be into book clubs, improv, community art, etc? Who knows. But when I listened to this act of This American Life I found myself cracking up/being a little scared. Here's a mother who is so passionate about the rights of a woman to have an abortion and her daughter comes home spouting anti-abortion beliefs. The mom freaks out and starts immediately trying to change her kid's mind. And I thought, whoa, that could be me. Not on that issue but something. What if my kid was like, "Mom, art is stupid! And I hate books!" I would be like, "YOU LOVE BOOKS! YOU WILL READ BOOKS UNTIL YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND!!" Hahaha....

in law shenanigans via [the] facebook

I'm a Blum by marriage, obviously. Growing up I didn't really see or spend time with my extended family, which I don't say in a "ohhh how saaaaad" type way, I just say it to let anyone who may read this know that I never had interaction with uncles and aunts until I married into the Blum family. Now I have a plethora of hilarious ones that say things like this:

Scottposted toJohn 

Did you get the invisible birthday gift I sent?

about an hour ago ·  ·  · See friendship

• • 

    John:  Could you repeat the question, please? I had the Cone of Silence down.

In case you're wondering, I'm STILL laughing. 

I also had this interaction with my  brother in law via facebook which gave me a good chuckle. 

Me: just made the bed with great smelling sheets pulled off the clothes line and crunched on some fresh peas from the CSA. Now, power yoga and book club. Life is good. 

Zac:  Sara, sounds like you are a mix of my mom (sheets off the line), aunt mary (power yoga), aunt martha (csa box), and grandma (book club). probably not what you were going for but thought id let you know you for sure fit in the family.

To which his Aunt Martha responded:

Marti: I'm not sure you want to be like me & Aunt Mary. We are pretty nutty. I can't speak for Vanessa [Zac's mom] because she's much more sane than any of us.

I've been described as "nutty" a few times myself so I'll take it. Ah, good times on facebook.

• • 
    

My First Race

On June 4th I ran my first 5K :-O ! That little emoticon dude was pretty much the way my insides felt the entire week leading up to the event. The part of my mind that is sane and reasonable kept saying, "You've run 3 miles before, you can do this. Everything will be fine, your friends and family are going to be proud of you and this is for charity for heaven's sake! Get a grip spaz monkey!" However the illogical part of my brain was screaming "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!! What's going to happen? What if I quit? What if it takes me a really long time to finish? What if the other runner's think I look silly? What am I going to wear? What should I eat before hand? What if I get a cramp? What if I get sick? What if I get trapped in a herd of people and can't escape? Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!"  It was the italicized side of my thought process that seemed to win over my emotions most often and led me to drive Joe nearly mad with my outbursts of "I'm so NERVOUS" all week long. Bless his heart.

But I survived. I survived and I met my initial goals for this race- 1. No walking and 2. Finish in less than 30 minutes. *(a couple miles in I added 3. Do not vomit. I witnessed several people vomiting around me. Yuck.) I'm taking nothing but great feelings away from this experience. My friend Scott ran with me for the first 2 miles when my nerves were jangling terribly and both helped me navigate the crowds and kept me focused on his hilarious chatter and occasional bursts of songs. For the last 1.1 mile when I was on my own I got discouraged for a second and thought I was gonna stop and walk but I was able to reach inside somewhere and keep going. And, best of all, when I was approaching that finish line I saw my husband smiling at me and heard my friend Mandy cheering me on. I felt euphoric.  Everyone was so positive and encouraging, I didn't feel slow or lame or even average. I felt awesome. And really sweaty.

So my first race is in the books and it won't be my last. After the race was done and over the following day I realized something- I don't care anymore that I'm slower than a bunch of my friends and whoever else. I don't suck, I'm working hard and I'm having a good time. Running is something I literally never thought I could do and I did it! With lots of encouragement from the people around me, I did it. So, let me take a moment to be cheesy and thank Joe, Mandy, Mark and Danielle for being inspirational and really encouraging to a newbie; Scott for being my buddy for this race and my parents for treating me like I'm a rockstar for accomplishing this. Sorry, the cheesiness had to happen. It's my way.

I got up this morning with the eye of the tiger and finally conquered this stupid loop that had been giving me trouble the past couple weeks. Take that stupid loop! Take that dumb small hill that seems real tall! Take that lungs that sometimes wheeze and make me want to quit! Look out green lakes hill that I hate, you're next!

Group Centergy

I joined a gym a few weeks ago so I've been trying out some of the different classes to see what I like. I've decided that even though it kicks my butt, I love Power Yoga and so I'd been looking for something else similar that matches up with my schedule. Thus, Group Centergy on Sundays which is described as a class in which you "grow longer and stronger as you explore this 60 minute journey of yoga and Pilates movements." Journey is a good word for my first day visiting Group Centergy.

It began with catching the cool down for the previous class "Group Power". A male instructor was guiding the class through the cool down while intermittently singing along to the music (Coldplay, "Fix You"). It gave the strange impression of workout karoke whenever he would burst into song ("TEARS STREAM DOWN YOUR FAAAAACE AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII") which made me look at the schedule posted outside the door so I could be certain to not take a class with him since I would certainly dissolve into hysterical laughter. Turns out, he's a sub so I have no idea who he is. I will just avoid all male instructors.

Karoke, I mean Group Power ended, and myself and a few others wandered in to spread out our yoga mats and stretch a little before class. Even though this was my first time I decided to be brave and sit near the front so I would have a good view of the instructor. Shortly after getting settled with my mat out and shoes off, a little woman, I would guess mid-60s, wandered over and spread out her mat right next to mine, almost overlapping. Anyone who has taken a yoga/pilates class, has a sense of personal space and/or common sense would know that two people can not possibly be that close to one another and not kick/hit each other repeatedly throughout the class. Unsure of what to do next, I stared at the woman who began chattering away about how she has a broken metatarsal and therefore will be wearing her shoes during class. I expressed my condolences as I eased off my mat and began slowly inching away. The whole time she maintained direct eye contact so I felt obliged to explain why I was shrinking away from her. In an effort to sound nice I explained I was going to move over so I could see the instructor more easily. She then replied that I'd better move since I had taken her spot and that was her spot and she was certainly not going to move. I did not burst out laughing (+1 Sara) and instead apologized for taking her spot. Which I will never do again. Ever.

Class was somewhat confusing, especially since we had a substitute instructor who didn't always seem 100% sure of what was going to happen next. At the end of class she approached me (she knew it was my first time as she had all newbies raise their hands before we started) and asked where she had seen me before. I said nowhere that I knew of and she insisted that I had taken her NIA (don't even ask) class. Nope. Haven't. Don't plan to. Then she told me that she hadn't noticed any mistakes during class when she was watching me except that I should really try to step my foot all the way forward to between my hands when coming out of down dog into the lunge. I said thank you for the critique, smiled and went about rolling up my mat. She hovered. I looked up and, uncertain of what to do, just kept awkwardly smiling. She said, "is there anything else I can help you with?" I had no idea how to answer that question so I panicked a little. Should there be? Didn't she just tell me I didn't make any mistakes? What would I need help with? I said, "umm... no I... don't think so... is there?" and she said, "any poses you want help with?" More panic. "Umm... I... I don't really know... is there?" She had no answer. I had no answer. We left it at that. Awkward.

This will not be the end. I'll prolly give Group Centergy another shot sometime and see what it's like with the regular instructor. At least I will know not to take that woman's spot next time.

A Magic Moment on the Sidewalk

We knew as soon as we locked eyes that our connection was something special. I managed to keep my cool and walk casually towards him, but he abandoned all decorum and rushed towards me with tail held aloft and amber eyes gleaming. We had a few golden moments there on the sunny sidewalk as I stroked his gray fur and cooed "you're a pretty boy, you're such a pretty boy" and he purred like a propeller. But, alas, the moment had to end. I explained to him that I had a [deathly allergic] husband and our relationship had no future. We would just have to cherish this time, hold it in our hearts and carry on with our lives. When I straightened up to keep walking home, he froze in shock. The hurt and confusion emanating from his eyes was palpable. I assured him once more that this was not a fling, it was simply a connection that wasn't met to be. Resolutely, I squared my shoulders and walked away, only turning once to look back. He remained frozen in shock, paws in the process of walking forward to rub against my leg when I had delivered the news. This is the picture of him I will carry with me until the day we might once again meet on a sun-drenched sidewalk.

Run Sara, Runnnnnnn

At the end of February I decided to start running even though I've always hated it. (I have terrible memories of running "the mile" in high school) After a couple attempts in college to start running I had pretty much decided that running was not in my cards. I just couldn't do it. I didn't have the body type or the joints to sustain it.

So what on earth possessed me to take up running? I love to be active and last summer I tackled a couple of hikes I never would have thought possible. With much wheezing and feeling like death, I dragged myself up mountains and reveled in the beautiful vistas that made the torture worth it. As this summer approached I thought, wouldn't it be nice if I didn't feel like death while dragging myself up mountains? This thought gave me the courage to try snowshoeing and then, when the snow started melting, to start running. 

Last Saturday I headed out for my second  2.75 mile run thinking I would complete this one, skip the third 2.75 and be able to run my first 5k distance on my 28th birthday. (How poetic) When pain in my knee severe enough to make me want to cry (I might have. Just a little) stopped me about 1.5 miles in, sending me limping home,  I was discouraged and upset.  Just shy of my first big milestone! How long would I be out? Did I need to see a doctor? Would I be able to not suck at my first 5k race?! (I'm nervous)

After self-diagnosing runner's knee I took off three days from running. Tonight was the night. I was scared, irrationally so.  I started out telling myself, "Just make it a mile" but when I got outside I decided I was going to try for 2.5 at least and go the last 1/4 if my knee wasn't too painful. 

I ran the whole 5K! In 29:45 which is just 45 seconds shy of my initial 5K goal time, which I know might seem slow to some people but when I started I just hoped I'd be able to run 5K under 30 minutes.  And my knee was okay, not at all painful during the run and the post-run pain was easily fixed with ice. 

Elation :) 

Almost my birthday

It's almost my birthday. I'm nostalgic by nature and though aging thus far has not freaked me out (maybe 30? 40?), I always get introspective at my birthday. I have three things I'd  really like to focus on this year (not in this order of importance).

1. Feeling confident. I've started running and while yes, it's important to me to be healthy because you've only got one body so you might as well take care of it, the thing I've loved the most is how it tests my confidence. I find my brain/lungs/legs screaming at me "WHAT THE CRAP ARE YOU DOING!? I CAN'T DO THIS, I CAN'T DO THIS!" and somehow find another part of my brain that calmly replies, "Um, yes. Actually, I can." 
2. Testing myself. Pushing my brain, opening my mind, reading and thinking and not shying away from things that scare me. I've found in myself a lot of stagnant beliefs and thoughts that I use to define my life. It's time to air out the old brain and start examining some of these things. We want to have kids some day and as I really faced that thought (scary) I realized I needed to know what I was going to teach them. Yikes!
3. Being kind. I'm not a naturally nice person. Even when I try to be it comes out awkward. I give a bad impression to people and I say stupid things. I get really riled up and angry towards people I think are cruel or ignorant, which seems okay as they are (in my opinion) a) cruel and b) ignorant. But it's not okay if I really believe that to "love your neighbor as yourself" is something I should strive for.

On the note of #3, I was reading this blog posting and I liked this. It's not the first time I've ever heard it but I think it bears repeating because this world can use all the love it can get and I have a hard time actually acting like all of these people she mentions are my neighbor.

It is only when we consider our enemies as human beings - with a story of their own to tell - that we can learn what it means to love our neighbor. Because your neighbor is the gay kid who hanged himself in his own backyard. Because your neighbor is the bully who harassed him every day in English class because he feared what was different. .... Your neighbor is both the man who wants to burn the Koran, and the man who sees the Koran as the holiest of books. Your neighbor is also the man holding a [ironically] rainbow striped "God Hates Fags" sign, and the grieving father of a soldier killed in Iraq whose funeral is being picketed. They are all human, all people with a past, a present and a future. And they are all your neighbor.

Hmmmmmmmm

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.