Water's Edge

Did you miss me? I was only gone two days, but thanks to a very generous invite by a friend to hang out with her at the coast, I come back refreshed.

From our room, you couldn't even see the ground. The mighty waves crashed up against rocks below. The sky shifted constantly from blue to gray to white and back to blue.

A verse kept running through my head during the two days and this morning I looked it up.

"Who shut the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb, when I made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness, when I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place, when I said, 'This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waters halt'?"

If not for those invisible limits, the condo on the rock would be swept away. But the creator holds back the seas with his invisible breath.

What beauty. What majesty. What a treat.

Leaf Dump

One of the most frustrating aspects of having neighbors is living with their choice of trees. The cottonwoods just over our back fence constantly drop either cotton or leaves into our yard to be cleaned up. I suspect the neighbor trained them to do that so they wouldn't make a mess in his own yard. On the few weeks a year when they're not dropping junk, they're busy sending up little shoots, recognizance spies who plan to infiltrate our grass.

In front is the brilliant yellow maple tree whose personal mission is to lay an even layer of leaves on the street and mask any hint of asphalt. Nice special effect until it rains. Then it turns to an even layer of brown sludge.

This tree law goes both ways. When some neighbors moved in behind us, they thought we were throwing grapes at their dogs. No, it was our cherry tree throwing cherries at them.

Sorry 'bout that.

What are You Doing Tonight?

*artwork by B and J

Teachable Moments in Civics 101

Togo wasn't officially a dictatorship when we lived there, but any country that has had the same president for more than 30 years might have a dictator.

Elections there were always hairy - hairy enough that UN task force sent in to monitor would throw up their hands in defeat and leave the country before election day saying, "Whatever happens, it's not our fault!"

We were often advised not to travel during elections in case of riots. And on the last occasion, our teammates were evacuated from the country for their own safety.

Any country that requires its citizens to vote and threatens them if they don't vote the right way has lost the meaning of democracy, or was never striving for it in the first place.

So, treasure your right to vote today. But also treasure your right to not vote. It's a sign of true freedom.

Happy Election Day!

An Opinion

I've been told this week that I don't have enough opinions.

Not so, I say. I have plenty. I just like to chest my cards.

Here's an opinion:

I think we should do away with Standard Time. I don't need light in the morning. I need it in the afternoon when the light fades away to darkness and rain and I have to do all my errands in the dark.

So there.

0 for 1 so far

I'm shocked.

Ted Stevens was convicted.

Shocker #2: he's still allowed to run for senate.

This has got to be the most exciting Alaskan political season since Soapy Smith roamed the streets of Skagway.

So, I'm 0 for 1. My second prediction was that he would be re-elected.

Wouldn't that be interesting?

Friendship

Martha Stewart and I don't get to hang out much since she's usually whipping up a fourteen layer cake or trimming ferns while I'm schlepping around the house in my sweats and trying to get the kids to finish their math assignments.

A couple of weeks ago, I did catch a few minutes of her show. I can't even remember what the subject was about, but the guest started talking about Amish friendship bread.

Martha had never heard of such a thing.

When the guest went on to explain how you get a starter from a friend and how you care for your starter for several days before baking bread for yourself, dividing the starter into more bags, and passing it on to a friend, Martha pooh-poohed the whole process as too complicated and time consuming.

Well, it is, a little. On the other hand, maybe no-one loves Martha enough to give her a mushy zip-loc bag of friendship.

I got a friendship bread starter this week and you know what I thought?

I HAVE A FRIEND!

Granted, I have to plan my trip this weekend around getting the bread baked, the starter divided, and all. But I might just be richer than Martha!

Pride Cometh

Ted Stevens, republican Senator from Alaska, has been in office my whole life. He was already a senior Senate member when I met him in 1985. This week, he may take the stand in his own defense in his trial over corruption charges. He's up for election next month. I'm predicting he'll be acquitted and re-elected. It'll be interesting...

This one you might not know. He's Frank Murkowski, junior senator from Alaska at the time (1986). He's probably best known right now for being the republican governor that was beaten in Alaska's most recent election by Sarah Palin.

And this one... I'm tempted to let you guess. Here's a hint - this photo was taken BEFORE another famous picture of him in May 1987.

Recipe

1. In early spring, prune grape vines.
   
2. As new sprouts grow, train them along existing wires
   
3. Water generously.
   
4. Shoo away birds, squirrels and children.
   
5. Wait for first frost.
   
6. Harvest grapes.
   
7. Rinse and remove from stems.
   
8. Fill dehydrator with stemless grapes.
   
9. Dry 12 hours, then 12 more, and probably another 12 after that, turning each grape by hand periodically.
   

Yield: 1 cup of raisins.

Missions Sunday

Tomorrow is Missions Sunday at my church. Missionaries are a special breed of folks who sacrifice a lot (sometimes more than they know) to live in a different place, speak a different language, eat different foods. They deal with homesickness, illnesses, and power outages, and they count all of these things as light and momentary troubles.

Tomorrow we'll try to raise the salaries for two missionary families. I'm trying not to worry, but it's a tough time to be asking people to give beyond their normal giving. The up side is that because of the global nature of the economic crisis, the dollar is, ironically, strong compared to other currencies.

Filling the Little Boxes

I haven't even flipped my wall calendar over to October yet and I know that all those little boxes are already filled.

Appointments, commitments, activities, projects. You know the feeling.

A daily appointment for me this month will be with my computer. I want to crank out another draft on a novel manuscript. That's 3000 words a day for 30 days. I'm already way behind. If it doesn't turn out right this time, I've got to retire it and work on something else. But I hate to shelf something that has such great potential.

It's like throwing away one of those plastic containers sliced meat comes in now.

So if you don't hear from me much this month, I'm chained to the other computer (the one without Internet). If you hear from me more, I'm avoiding my other project  'cuz I have writer's block.

"They're flying so fast," Tom said swiftly.

My dad gets a kick of of word games, plays on words, and birds of all sorts. The title of this blog is a nod to the first two (look up Tom Swifties if you don't know about them), and the subject is a nod to the third.

It's a bit out of order, a leftover from last weekend, but I thought it deserved to be posted. I took my dad to see the Chapman Swifts - not the rock group, the birds.

These west coast Vaux swifts gather and flock into a huge chimney at Chapman Elementary School every night in September. It's quite a sight to see and hear the thousands of birds gather and dive into the chimney.

Most of them fit with no trouble, but the last hundred or so would dive in, then sort of bubble out of the top of the chimney. They'd regroup and dive again.

The last bird to make it in got a loud cheer from the gathered crowd and the poor swift who became dinner for a peregrin falcon who swooped in for the kill got a sympathetic "Ahh!"

The Harvest is Plentiful

I must admit, I pick each tomato now with the wistful understanding that the harvest is nearly over. Two buckets full today, but by the end of the week, I expect winter to arrive.

But for this week, I'll keep enjoying the harvest. Here's what I've picked and processed lately.

Garden Salsa (8 quarts medium, 4 quarts mild)

Garden Spaghetti Sauce (simmer away right now)

Dried pears

Shaffer corn (8 quarts)

The last of the beans

This week I plan to pick grapes, pears (from the folks), potatoes, green chilies, and sweet onions.

You should come over. I'll make you a salad.

Descent

Coming down off the mountain into the valley, both literally and figuratively, I found that the ideals of the tea ceremony don't always translate to life outside the garden.

Along the banks of the Willamette River is a memorial to the Japanese Americans who were kept in internment camps during World War II, a sort of too late apology for the injustices placed upon them.

There was a palpable irony in the park, though, as it was inhabited by twenty or so street people eating the meal provided by the Portland Rescue Mission. From the tall, thin man who muttered constantly through his remaining 3 teeth, to the couple entangled beneath a blanket, to the man who had managed to cram more stuff in his shopping cart than I have in my house, each one has a story. Each one has suffered and offered injustice.

I heard someone say recently that history is being treated as an open courtroom where we can constantly go back and apologize for past wrongs, as if that makes a difference. As if it's our responsiblity to atone for the sins of our forefathers.

Might I suggest that a better way to atone for the past is to make a better future?

Chado

Chado - the Way of Tea

Wa - Harmony

Kei - Respect

 

Sei - Purity

 

Jaku - tranquility

Harmony, respect, purity, and tranquility are the four principles of the Urasenke method of Japanese tea ceremony. I found a bit of each in the Portland Japanese Gardens.

If you were to distill your life to its four basic principles, what would they be?

Oktober Already?

Christmas toys show up in the stores in August. Halloween sales start soon after. And Easter starts on Valentine's Afternoon.

Now it seems they've moved all the local Oktoberfests to the middle of September.

I'm sorry. I can't celebrate Oktober when I'm still picking peas from my garden.

Time flies fast enough. Why do we have to rush it?

More Perspective

 

Perspective

If you look closely, you can see the bi-plane I caught as I was wading up a canyon last week. A pretty cool shot from a narrow piece of ground.

My brother has a different perspective. He's a pilot and he takes some great photos from the air. You can see some of his pictures on his blog. Or you can check out his new aerial photography business at aboveallaerialphoto.com.

From my perspective, it looks pretty good.

A-Space

Despite the show's warning to not use it as a primary news source, I can't help myself. I love Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, the NPR News Quiz.

They always give me some little tidbit of useless information to store away in case conversation lags. This week's tidbit?

A-space.

Apparently, spies and secret agents are left out of the myspace/facebook social networking loop. At least they were! There's a new social networking system launching this week just for them.

In truth, it's probably a lot drier than it sounds. Still, it's kind of funny.

Disposable Clothing

If someone invented a soft disposable fabric that was disposable, I would so buy it. The way my wardrobe works now is that I buy two or three shirts at a time, wear them the first week I own them, wash and dry them, and then discover a stain down the front of each one.

I bought a new shirt last week and when I took it out of the laundry basket to put it away, I found I'd spilled something on the shoulder. I think it's olive juice. How is that even possible?

Maybe instead of a disposable wardrobe, I need a huge paper tent to drape over myself. Or maybe a hair stylist's cape.

Or maybe I should scotch guard all my shirts.

I don't think it's a reach to compare this to life. It's a mercy God's mercy is new every morning or I'd be walking around a complete mess all the time.

Midwife

There's nothing like bringing a baby into the world. Nothing. The birth of my three children is at the top of my list for wonder and joy. I've also been privileged to be in the delivery room for the birth of a friend's child. And I've been on hand for countless kittens. There's something incredible about new life breathing for the first time.

In a similar way, seeing a new book born makes me proud. Inspiration is, in a sense, the Spirit breathing through the author. I haven't yet seen one of my own books born, but I've had the chance to play midwife for a couple of them. Jessie, my mom's book, may be getting a new incarnation with a new distributor soon. 

I got to hold this little gem last night for the first time. Bon Voyage is the first in a series of devotional books for Christian travelers. This one's for cruise ship passengers. I've seen it in a bunch of incarnations for a couple of years, but there's nothing like holding a book you've waited for in your hands for the first time. 

Congratulations, Laurie!

Another Look

You know how there are things you drive by all the time without really seeing them?

There's a place on the sidewalk between my house and the mall that I've driven past a thousand times. It's a little platform with something sticking up from it and something fluttery wrapped around it, like a tattered flag.

Without ever putting words to it, I've always assumed it was a little voodoo shrine. That's not completely illogical considering I used to live in a place with shrines everywhere you looked, enough that I eventually looked past them as they became part of the larger landscape.

But this is suburbia. In America.

This week, I walked past that spot on the sidewalk for the first time and was surprised to see it was not a shrine at all, but a broken utility pole with warning tape wrapped around it.

Another piece put in the puzzle of what my surroundings look like. Another piece of the African me lost.

Learn From My Experience

It was a beautiful day, the last day of summer vacation. The perfect day for a walk. I parked the van in a sunny parking lot near a well-used trail and shooed kids and dogs onto the path. I grabbed my purse to take with me, along with a bucket in case we found berries. On second thought, I tucked my purse back in the car and hid it under some stuff between the seats.

You know where this is going, don't you? We returned to the van 15-20 minutes later to find a window smashed in and my purse gone.

Another car was also burgled - they lost a wallet.

I called my bank first to cancel my debit card. I knew to do that much. (skip 3 hours of phone calls, police reports, etc.) Dad and I hit the trail and started searching the bushes. Dad found purse and wallet less than a quarter mile down the trail behind a stand of trees. The only things missing were my cash and about $200 in gift cards - my birthday.

I spent a lot of time today trying to recoup those gift cards. I've had about half the cards replaced so far. Some of them I can't replace since I have no receipts or information about where and when they were purchased.

Here are the lessons I've learned:

1. Take your purse or wallet with you. It's way better than getting your window smashed in.

2. If you carry gift cards, keep the original receipt in a separate place. If you give a gift card, give the receipt as part of the gift or hang onto it.

3. Most people are nice. Despite the one bad apple, everyone I talked to in the parking lot yesterday was sympathetic and every customer service person I talked to today really did want to help me. Some went above and beyond what I expected of them. Judy, Mom and Dad, and a city worker named Tim all went out of their way to help.

Thanks for all the help. And thank God - seriously - that no one was hurt.

Perpective

Any illusion we have that we are in control is just that - illusion. It's like trying to tame the wind.

Hang on and enjoy the ride.

Trade-offs

Time is money.

At least that's what they say in America.

In other parts of the world, time is time and money is money. There's no practical way to trade one for the other.

Even after being back in the states as long as I was gone, I still find myself struggling with converting time to money. Maybe that's why I find such pleasure in doing things that don't necessarily pay for themselves.

Take gardening. The payoff for hours and weeks and months of work and waiting comes in a crop that would be cheaper at the farmers' market. But the satisfaction I get from harvesting and eating food I planted is worth the work.

Take garage saling. There's no guarantee you'll find a treasure every time you go out, but the pleasure of the hunt makes the day worthwhile.

Take dumpster diving, Sara's term for digging for treasures at our Goodwill outlet store, which we did yesterday afternoon. We dug and sorted and looked and laughed. It took a good part of the afternoon, but I found enough clothes for the kids to get us through the next season, some books for some missionary kids, a fun Christmas decoration (still in its box), and a radio headset for my husband to wear while he works.

Price: $20 + 3 hours
Payoff: the thrill of the hunt

Girls Night Out

It's amazing to me how a group of serious, composed women can transform itself into a pack of silly gigglers when the kids and husbands aren't around.

That's what happened last night when I joined 6 of my friends (aged 30-something to 60-something) at the theater to watch Mamma Mia! First off, let me say that Pierce Brosnan in a musical was exactly what I dreamed it would be. But Meryl Streep was great and the humor in movie had us all cackling like a bunch of hens. (side note: there was enough inappropriate content that I was glad my mother wasn't watching it with me.)

No, more like giggling like a bunch of teenagers.

It felt good to laugh. I should do that more often.

In Memory

Mom's only brother, Sam, passed away today after and long, traumatic illness. To the many of you who prayed for him over the past few months, thank you so much.

I always thought it was cool to have an Uncle Sam. We used to shout, "Uncle Sam! Uncle Sam! May we cross your river dam?" in the dusky midnight of Alaskan summers. Maybe no one else was thinking about a real uncle Sam, but I was.

I didn't grow up around Sam and his family, but on our summer visits to California's Central Valley, I collected a heart full of memories. Two smells come to mind - cows and chocolate. It was fun to visit Sam's farm and drink goat milk like Heidi of Switzerland fame, pet the chinchillas in the barn, and moo to the cows. To drive between Grandma and Grandpa's place and Sam's place, we had to go right past the Hershey factory. I'd always look up at the kiss-shaped streetlights and gulp in great big breaths of chocolate air. Sometimes we even got to go in the factory and watch them make delicious wonderments like Hershey bars and Reese's Pieces.

I don't think the temperature ever dropped below 100 on those summertime visits. But in the winter, the valley is damp and foggy. Early morning light barely presses its way through the mist to reveal the silhouettes of hundreds of birds nesting in the trees about the farm. But inside Sam's house, it was always toasty warm.

And Sam always had a special way of greeting us. A special treat, a trip to the fruit stand, a cherry picking trip, a breakfast out at Brian's place, Sam loved to share the things he loved. A favorite memory is of going out to a restaurant when our twins were 2. We'd just come from Africa and the kids had never seen helium balloons before. Sam got them each a balloon and they thought he'd hung the moon.

In recent years, it's been fun during our rare visits to share book recommendations. Sam loved a good read, both for himself and for the many young minds he guided as a school librarian.

I'd appreciate continued prayers, especially for my mom and for Sam's wife and children. And if you've got anyone in your family you haven't hugged lately, do it soon.

The Day After and the Elixir of Life

I awoke this morning to an impressive symphony of lightning, thunder and car alarms. A peek out the window tells me the 100 degree weather this week is doing wonders for pinking up the tomatoes. A cool breeze sneaks in through open windows.

I'm going to go make a pot of tea (thanks, M & D!) in my new French press (thanks, L!) and dream about sharing more cups of tea or coffee at Starbucks and Peet's (Thanks, P, G, D and E!)

I have an unscheduled day ahead of me (Thank heavens!) which I hope to spend with family and with a manuscript that needs polishing.

What are you doing today?

Black Streamers and the Kiss of Death

It's my birthday.

I came home from lunch to a house covered in black crepe paper streamers and signs announcing my age to the world.

Nice.

Thanks, oh sibling who might receive the self-same signs in the not-so-distant future. You shouldn't have. No, I mean it. You SHOULDN'T have.

Can I really be halfway through? Is this mid life? Or is it true what they say? Is this the new 30?

I know some of you are approaching some milestones. How are you feeling? Is it just a number? Or is it the beginning of the end?

The Social Scene

This has been a very social couple of weeks for us. We've had people drop in from out of town... and from out of country. We've had kids spend the night and company over for dinner several tiems.



And we've been graced with a visit from a little guy who will be part of our lives for a very long time to come. Meet Elijah.



Eli is a month old now and completely portable. (My brother's first child and the first grand-SON on my side of the family) We took him to REI and Powell's books yesterday.

You never saw so many Portlandians so eager to hold doors, step aside, even gawk.


One woman with an Andy Warhol book the size of a small office building did a complete about-face to get a closer look at the baby.


At this age, even the screaming and diapers are cute. At least they are when you're the auntie who always has the option of handing him back.

Making Lemonade

At a birthday party last night, the guest of honor opened a gift that had already been used. Not just used, used up. I'm guessing the gift came from a garage sale and the givers didn't know it was already used. When the birthday boy discovered it (after the givers left), all the other adults made suggestions of how he could enjoy the parts that were left.

Lemonade.

The squirrels are back. Technically, they never left. They've spent the summer preparing places in the garden to bury walnuts. And now the fantastic feat of removing every single walnut from both huge trees begins. Maybe I could try loving squirrels more than I love walnuts. Or carnations. They eat those, too.

Lemonade.

My friend came home from Alaska with 50 pounds of halibut. 3 of the vacuum sealed bags didn't seal, so that fish needs to be eaten right away. Darn. We're having halibut for lunch today.

Lemonade.

I love the redemption themes that run throughout the stories God writes, both in in the Bible and in the lives of his people. He takes things that are broken or missing parts and makes them whole. He takes garbage and makes it into art. He restores, renews, refreshes, redeems, recycles.

He takes the bitter and makes it sweet.

Life Lessons

I bought the wrong brand of toilet paper.

24 rolls.

It was on sale.

Whaaa!

In Memory

I may have learned more from Angie Long than from almost anyone else, though I don't know if I ever had her as a teacher.

In a culture where all adults went by Mr. or Mrs., I can't remember ever calling Angie anything but Angie Long - first and last names together, always. She was the woman at church who was happy to let me sit by her.

4th row back on the gospel side, Angie Long always had gum in her purse, as well as a pencil stub and paper and a little metal number puzzle. A little girl's dream.

She'll probably be best remembered for her pies, especially her chocolate cream pie. And I'll always remember her for her hospitality. Whenever we went to dinner at her house (fried chicken, mashed potatoes and, of course, pie), she made us kids feel welcome. I remember playing with the legos in the basement, match-box cars, and a huge plastic coke bottle. Even if Mom and Dad talked forever, Angie Long had things for us to do. A game of aggravation could last the whole evening.

It's hard to imagine Juneau without Angie. She lit up those dark winters. Our love and prayers go out to her family, both physical and spiritual. She'll be dearly missed.

the More Things Stay the Same

This is my favorite picture of my husband from the olden days, snapped at a picnic not long before I met him. I think it captures his smile and his ease.

Our youngest was looking at this photo the other day.

"I never saw this picture of Daddy before," she said.

I was surprised she recognized him.

"Does it look like him?" I asked.

"A little. And I recognize his shirt!"

Pretend Money

When I went to upgrade my cell phone the other day, the salesman went on and on about what a great deal I was getting, saving hundreds of dollars. Thing is, I expected to get a free update, so in my mind, any money I spent was more than I planned on.

So, even though I was "saving" money, I was really spending it.

Have you ever seen Deal or No Deal? It's interesting to watch the way people react to the numbers on the board. Say a player gets an offer of $120,000 but opens some cases that drive the next offer down to $90,000. Invariably, the play feels like he's lost $30,000 and has to keep playing until he gets that money back.

The money was never his in the first place! Until it's in hand, it's imaginary money. My advice... take the deal! (One of many reasons I'll never be on that show. I wouldn't be able to sustain the drama.)

It's been interesting to watch reports on the high price of gas. I know it's affected us all and has driven up the cost of groceries and other goods, but it seems like our thinking on gas prices is warped. People will drive across town to save 3 cents a gallon, easily spending more on fuel to get to the distant gas station than they're saving.

Buy One, Get One Half Off! The posters at the shoe store scream. What a bargain. I'm saving so much. Only I don't need two pair of shoes. So I can spend $20 for the pair of shoes I need, or $30 to go home with that pair plus another that wasn't on my list. Why can't I just take 25% off the first pair? That's the same thing, right? But psychologically, it feels like I'm getting a good deal.

Only as soon as you hand over the cash or swipe the card, it's not pretend money any more.

Decompression

I'm one of those people who needs margins in my life, plenty of time and space to separate activities. I'm making a margin right now.

I'm coming down off 4 days of learning, talking, encouragement, and reconnecting at the OCW Summer Coaching Conference for Christian writers. I sat at the feet of Melody Carlson for hours on end, gleaning from her wisdom and experience. I sat at the dinner table with editors from publishing houses like Kregel, Bethany, Focus on the Family, and Harvest House. I talked with agents and writers and teachers, Christians all.

These conferences are always so charged with emotion. It takes courage to take a story out of your head, put it on paper and hand it over to be either enjoyed or rejected. Vulnerability doesn't always feel good.

But these words are treated gently at OCW. Gently and with grace.

Tomorrow I will start back to work, polishing, creating, writing again. But for this afternoon, I'm just going to breathe.

50 things about me

This one's from Shelli. Play along if you want.

1. Do you like blue cheese? yes
2. Have you ever been to Yellowstone Park? Yes
3. Do you own a gun? no.
4. What are your favorite songs? Be Thou my Vision, Blessed be Your Name, Before the Throne of God Above
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? no
6. What do you think about hot dogs? It's my goal in life to never eat one again.
7. Favorite Christmas song? O Come, O Come Emmanuel
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Irish Breakfast Tea
9. Can you do push ups? the girly kind
10. What was the name of your first pet? Yoyo
11. What's your favorite piece of jewelry? the necklace my husband got me in South Africa
12. Favorite hobby? writing, scrapbooking, gardening, reading... how am I supposed to choose?
13. Secret weapon to get the opposite sex? apparently, all I had to do was exist :-)
14. Do you have ADD? nope.
15. What one trait do you hate about yourself? lack of self discipline
16. What's your middle name? Kay
17. Name 3 thoughts you are thinking at this exact moment? my foot itches, I need to call the massage therapist, how did our bank account empty so fast this month?
18. What did you buy yesterday? Nothing!
19. Favorite vegetable? anything fresh out of the garden
20. Current worry right now? next week's writing conference commute
21. Current hate right now? the constant mess
22. Favorite place to be? on foreign soil
23, What did you do to bring in the New Year? pretended it was Christmas Eve
24. Name three people who will complete this? Sandi, Dad, Lori
25. Believe in God? Absolutely
26. Do you have an unusual skill? not really
27. What shirt are you wearing? blue t-shirt
28. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? I don't think I ever have
29. Can you whistle? yes-but not a dog whistle, which I'd love to learn
30. Favorite color? greens and blues
31. Would you be a pirate? no, but my kids would
32. What songs do you sing in the shower? it varies
33. Favorite girl's name. I'm not allowed to show favorites on this one.
34. Favorite boy's name? right now it would have to be Elijah Hugh
35. What's in your pocket right now? no pocket
36. What made you laugh last? sliding down the water slide with my daughter
37. Best bed sheets as a child? well-worn
38. Worst injury you've ever had? I might have broken my ankle, but it's up for debate
39. Who is your loudest friend? Shelli :-)
40. Do you like where you live? mostly
41. How many TV's do you have? 2, soon to be 1
42 . How many dogs do you own? one
43. What would you do if you hit a deer while driving? I've done this while driving a borrowed car. I think I waited to see if the deer would get off the road (she did), then I drove to where we were staying muttering "Oh no, oh no, oh no" or something like that until I saw my husband and then I started bawling.
44. What is your favorite book? I can't choose.
45. What is your favorite candy? I like a bunch of kinds, but right now, Whoppers
46. Favorite Sports Team? the USA in the upcoming Olympics
47. What were you doing at 12 am last night? reading
48. What was the first thing that you thought of when you woke up this morning? Good-bye Honey
49. What songs do you want played at your funeral? You choose. Do you think I should donate my body to science?
50. Does someone have a crush on you? I hope so.

The High Dive

Watching the kids at swimming lessons this week reminds me of my early times at the pool. I was afraid to get my face wet, afraid to open my eyes under water, afraid to jump off the edge of the pool.

And the queen mother of all, afraid to jump off the high dive. From the water, the high dive didn't look so high, but as I climbed up the ladder, I found myself questioning the decision to climb. Once someone else started climbing the ladder behind me, it was too late to turn back. You don't want to known as the kid who chickened out on the high dive.

From the end of the board, it felt like the world was swaying. The bottom of the pool looked so far away. So many thing could go wrong. What if the water didn't slow my fall? What if I did a belly flop? What if I accidentally inhaled?

I fear a lot more things now that give me that same feeling. Boring grownups things like what if my husband loses his job or what if my kids don't turn out right or what if homeschooling was the most colossal mistake?

I think the high dive reminds me that often the fear of something is worse than the threat. As far as I know, no kid ever died jumping off the high dive at our pool. And in my past experience, there's never been a time, no matter what my circumstances, that God didn't sustain me until my feet could touch the bottom.

A Blast from the Past

Ever have those moments that remind you of way back when? Like when you hear a song you haven't heard in a while? Or smell hot tar that reminds you of summer walks with Grandpa?

I stepped into my childhood yesterday at the Bonanza Shooting Gallery. It was exactly like the gallery I used to love to shoot at down at the Olde Tyme Mall. Only both of us are about 30 years older. I've got to say, much as I hate to see myself age, at least I'm not musty, dusty, and threadbare like the skunk that kept spraying me every time one of the kids hit his target. In the scheme of things, I've fared better than the animatronic, state-of-the-art (in the 70's) shooting gallery.

The grand prize, then and now, was to hit the target on the player piano player and make him have to play.

I'm not sure the kids caught on to the wonder and charm of this blast from the past. The fun of it was not in the actual experience, but in the memories.

Third Place Causualty

Most Americans have a third place. Your first place is your home. Second place is work (though my second place is church). And third place is that home away from home where you feel comfortable hanging out.

My third place closed down.

Cafe D'vine was a coffee shop connected to our local Christian bookstore. I could get a cup of chai or a blackened chicken wrap and type away at my work in progress. Or I could meet a friend there for a leisure chat. I could walk next door to the bookstore without stepping foot outside. It had a fireplace, a lending library, and a whole room full of smiling faces.

I was in there a month ago. The place was full. But today when I went, the sign on the door said that because of the economic downturn, Cafe D'vine is closed.

Where will I find another third place that's so perfect for me? Will it be Bubble Fusion, the funky east meets west tea shop? I doubt it. The purple suede psychiatrist couches don't exactly lend themselves to open conversation. Another tea house up the street just closed down, too. Brewed Awakenings is too far, Starbucks is too noisy, the library doesn't encourage visiting.

I'll probably end up at Barnes and Noble, though its corporate feel lacks the homey atmosphere of Cafe D'vine.

Do you have a third place? Tell me about it. And enjoy it while you can.

Genetics

I've confessed to being a list maker before. I love the sense of accomplishment when everything gets crossed off the list. I like the security of knowing I'm not forgetting anything.

Turns out, my youngest is a list maker, too. Before she even knew that words required vowels, she was scrawling out lists. I'm constantly finding scraps of paper around the house.

One recent list read:
pizza
mlk
brush

Another, an 8 1/2" x 11" paper, had one small word in the center:
BELT

The other day, she was going to spend the night with a friend. "Pack enough clothes for 2 days," I said.

"Why don't you just write down what I need on a list?" she suggested, "Then you won't have to keep saying it over and over."

Why don't I just do that? So, I did.

Made For Each Other

Did you ever see such happiness on one face, such trust on the other? Welcome to the world, Elijah! We can't wait to meet you.

To see more pictures of my new nephew, visit his daddy's site.

Two Advantages

Two good things about losing 3 teeth in a week (according to the loser)

1) You can slurp gaspetti real good.

2) You can drink through a straw without having to put it between your teeth.

I wish I'd had my camera!

We took the six-year old on an impromptu outing today, to an outdoor fair with booths and games and bouncy houses. She took her turn on the blow-up slide, raced me on the obstacle course, and jumped for a few minutes in the bouncy castle.

The last choice was the inflated Velcro wall. She watched another little girl dress in a funny suit, run at the wall and bounce off.

"You wanna try?" I asked.

"Mm-hmm." She kicked off her flip-flops and let the attendant help her into a Velcro suit meant for someone 6 times her weight. She couldn't even move. No way could she jump.

"Maybe I should throw her against the wall," her daddy joked.

The attendant said he could. The child gave her approval.

"One, two, THREE!" He tossed her out and up.

And she stuck.

Like a fly on flypaper. Like a starfish on a rock.

She had to be peeled down one limb at a time. She laughed at first, then went quiet.

In the car on the way home, she gave her opinion. "I stuck better than anyone else!"

Name That Tune

I've known for a long time that different songs share the same tune. The ABC Song, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and Baa Baa Black Sheep, for example, all roll along to the same notes.

The Battle Hymn of the Republic has been used as a tune for all kinds of irreverent songs.

Here's one I'd never noticed before.

I may never march in the infantry,
ride in the cavalry,
shoot the artillery.
I may never fly o'er the enemy,
But I'm in the Lord's army!

And, equally fun to sing, but not in church...

Great big globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts,
Mutilated monkey meat,
Chopped up parakeet.
Alligator eyes swimming in a pool of blood,
and I forgot my spoon!

I'll never be able to sing the first song again without ending it with, "But I remembered my straw!"

A Touch of Honesty

Alas, not every dinner is as perfect as last night's. Tonight, the menu looked more like this:

Guy: 2 slices of leftover pizza, the last slice of blueberry pie
Me: A glass of malted milk, a handful of raw kale, 1 asparagus spear, 4 grapes, a chocolate bar
Child 1: a kiwi and something else, I think
Child 2: a cup o'noodles, a handful of strawberries
Child 3: a peanut butter and honey sandwich, potato chips

I feel neither as full nor as satisfied as I did last night. I'm not near as proud of my prowess as gatherer or provider. But the random stuff in my fridge is mostly gone.

Hunters and Gatherers

I derive great pleasure from placing food on the table that I planted, harvested, and prepared.

I am a gatherer.

In the past few days, I've picked strawberries, spinach and lettuce from my garden, and harvested kale and radishes along with my mother and mother-in-law from a friend's garden.

Tonight's dinner (eaten outside in the sunshine which has finally shown its face), consisted of Walla Walla sweet onions and kale, a green salad from the garden with fresh radishes, blueberry pie (picked last summer), and fresh-baked baguettes.

The meal would have been incomplete, though, without the provision of the hunter. The piece de resistance was a moose roast, a melt-in-your-mouth cut of meat that would never have made it to table if it was up to us gatherers.

I suspect each of us is, to some extent, either a hunter or gatherer. Are you?

I Miss the Rains Down in Africa

I lay awake last night listening to the thunderstorm, the first night storm in over a year.

I miss the rains down in Africa - the boiling clouds overhead, the hope of relief from the heat, the crack of thunder and the drumbeat of rain hitting the hard, red clay.

Last night, I was homesick.

Time Flows Downhill

Like a snowball that starts at the top of a hill and gains speed as it grows and descends, time seems to accelerate as it rolls along.

For those of you marking time with me, my twins will turn 13 tomorrow. I think my pregnancy with them lasted longer than this whole 13 years. I want to hold back the clock. I want to deny that their time at home is more than 2/3 done, that in 2 years they'll be begging for their driving permits, that they might be taller than I am any day (I know - no big accomplishment!).

I want to dig my heels in and slow time down, but I know it doesn't work that way.

I wonder if Methuselah thought the last 300 years of his life flew by in a wink. I wonder if Adam said, "I'm 412... no, wait. Make that 422. I lost count."

I wonder if Jessica will wish away being 13 in order to land on 14, her ideal year. She wants to be 14 forever.

Don't we all.

Car Parts for Sale

As a missions committee, we're trying to raise enough funds to purchase a reliable vehicle for Andrew and Aimee Jo Martin, our missionaries in Uganda. We've divided the responsibility with a couple of other churches and our goal is that our church will collect $20,000 by the end of July towards the purchase of this vehicle.



As part of our fund-raising effort, we had the idea to split the car into parts and ask members to sponsor various parts. Here's a picture of what's been "purchased" so far.


2 weeks down, 4 to go. I'm praying the funds will come through.

Power Struggle

Our family computer has some personality quirks. Like... it has memory problems and randomly shuts down programs when its brain gets too full. And... the USB plugs in the back just went out, so we have to use the 2 slots in the front.

2 USB slots.

1 keyboard cord.

1 mouse cord.

1 printer cord.

1 flash drive.

3 MP3 players.

Which device will get priority? I tend to think the keyboard and mouse should be plugged in (though trying to print something from the flash drive is like trying to get the fox, the chicken, and the corn across a river).

37 pounds

• The weight of my 6 year old before we went strawberry picking yesterday.
• The number of pounds of strawberries that made it onto the scales after we'd picked for two hours.
• The amount of strawberries we might have consumed that didn't quite make it into our buckets.
• How much sugar it will take to process all these berries into jam.
• How much weight I'll gain if I eat all that jam.

Pride

I've got to take a minute to brag on my brother's photo site. If you haven't taken the time to check out wyattjourney.com, you're missing out. Take a look at yesterday's photo - spectacular!

The Neighborhood Grouch

Remember when you were a kid, there was an old lady in your neighborhood that never talked to you unless she was yelling?

"Get off my grass!"

"What are you kids doing?"

"If I catch your dog on my property one more time..."

I might have turned into that lady. I don't mind when kids come over to play when my kids are out with them, but when I catch a half dozen boys up the walnut tree...

"Everybody down! Go play in your own yard."

And last night, when I caught a bunch of them red handed, picking my under ripe strawberries...

"Get over here! Don't you toss that berry off in the bushes. I SAW you pick it."

The problem is two fold. One: what kind of parents are letting their kids play in my back yard without knowing where they are? If one of the kids falls out of the tree, I'm pretty sure that's my fault. Two: (here's where the grouch comes in) I planted those berries, I tended them, watered them, weeded them and have been watching for them to turn red. About 3 more days and the first ones will be ready for tasting. Or-at least-they would have been. Now I'll have to wait another week or so.

I think what I'm discovering is that, while I like to share, I like to do it on my own terms. If I give food to the neighbors, I want to pick it, bag it, and hand it over with a smile.

Is this a pineapple story, where I'm trying to hang onto something that really doesn't belong to me? Or am I just eager to enjoy the fruit of my labor?

Self Esteem

We had a certificate night with some other home schoolers last night. It was a chance to praise each child for an area of excellence. For us, this was a good year academically.

My husband presented each of our children with a certificate, said some good words about each one and we gave them each roses.

On the way home, the youngest asked, "Why do people give other people flowers?"

"To make them feel special," I said. "Do you feel special?"

She didn't skip a beat before boasting,

"I AM special!"

Gorge-ous

The kids were wondering why every hike we take seems to end at a waterfall. What can I say? When you live near the mountains and it rains all the time, what other destination is more likely?

What a Funeral Should Be

Ira Pirtle died this week at the age of 93.

His funeral this morning was what a funeral should be. He lived a long, productive and happy life. His children and friends and grandchildren(and even his son-in-law) rose up to call him blessed.

People shared stories that made me laugh, that made me cry, that made me remember.

Ira was a joy to know, from his impish twinkling eyes, to his ready word of encouragement, to his insatiable appetite for pie. He lived a full life, loved well, and will be fondly remembered.

He lived his life so close to God that his departure from this life was no great struggle, rather an easy hop across the headwaters of the Jordan into the land of promise.

Well over 200 of us gathered to remember Ira and I know of many, many more who wish they could have been there.

Bon voyage, Ira. And thanks for all the ways you've laid foundations for those of us who come behind.

The Answer

Used Car Lot

This was our driveway this morning. The cars, left to right, are

• the totalled Toyota Sienna which will go to salvage later today


• my husband's 1980 Toyota pickup


• the rental car, a Dodge Grand Caravan


• our "new" Honda Odyssey, the replacement for the wrecked van

Someone rang our doorbell asking to buy one of these vehicles.

One guess. Which one?

Eco-Terrorism

Yesterday, I did something I've wanted to do for a very long time. I hiked a 4-mile portion of the Pacific Crest Trail (only about 2,000 miles to go). I was a little nervous about parking the rental car at the trail head, but - hey - it's just us good guys out on a lovely spring day, right?

Um, wrong.

While we were on the hike, someone stuck a bumper sticker to the rental car. A good one.

By a good one, I don't mean the sticker's message was one I want to share with the world. I mean it's got great adhesive and it's going to be a pain to remove carefully enough to not damage the paint.

What kind of person goes out of their way to put stickers on other people's stuff? I can't imagine doing something like that... just like I can't imagine attacking someone going into a fur store or spraying graffiti on the side of a house or egging a car or blowing up a mailbox.

It seems like there are better ways to get a point across.

Teddy Roosevelt Speaks

It's not every day you get to sit at the feet of a past president and listen to him regale the crowd with stories of his failures and triumphs. But last night, we got just that opportunity.

Teddy Roosevelt, our 26th president, was a joy to listen to. From leading the Rough Riders in the Spanish American War, to starting the National Parks system, to winning the Nobel Peace Prize, to championing the digging of Panama Canal, this president accomplished so much in his lifetime.

It was my privilege to invite and host Joe Wiegand, Teddy Roosevelt repriser, and his family on their 48-state tour in honor of TR's 150th birthday. In meeting them, I was impressed by their dedication to this dream. They left their home and a stable life to experience God's faithfulness day by day on the road. They trust him to provide the next venue and enough funds for gas and food. And at each stage, they acknowledge God's providence... like the fact that last night's show was dedicated to Andrew Shields, a local soldier who died in Afghanistan this week... and that the chaplain who delivered the notice to his family was in the audience last night.

Joe is not shy in his reprisal about letting Roosevelt share his own faith. He uses the president's own words to express God's faithfulness in the midst of extreme tragedy.

Take a look at his website and see if he's heading your way. His performance is worth an evening of your time. And if he's in the neighborhood but not performing in your town, drop him a line to see about acting as his coordinator for your area.

It's worth it.

Total Loss

A quick update for those who asked about me and my car. Yesterday, the other guy's insurance company called to say they're declaring my car a total loss.

A total loss.

What a sad phrase. We're trying to work through our insurance to renegotiate a settlement that will be enough to replace this van (that I was planning to drive for another ten years or so).

But I'll tell you what has really been a total loss...

My week.

I've spent more time with insurance agents, car rental lots, body shop guys and mechanics, advice nurses and chiropractors than I ever care to again. Even conversations with friends go something like this:

"I'm so sorry your fish died and/or your house was robbed and/or your children are in juvie. Did I tell you they're totalling my car?"

Besides all that phone time, I've lost a week's worth of work. With the older kids farmed out, I had planned to get a ton of writing done.

I've written two pages.

And they're not that good.

So, as you can see, I not feeling very Pollyanna-ish right now. Honestly, I know this isn't the worst situation in the world. It's just an inconvenience (or as Barb reminds me, a light and momentary trial).

Still...

Simplify

My friend gave me a sign. It says

S
I
M
P
L
I
F
Y

Problem is, I've got it leaning up against the wall behind my printer and a stack of books. So, really how it reads is

S
I
M
P
L
I
F

Hopefully, I'll get it hung soon as a reminder to keep down the clutter, both in the house and in my spirit. On the other hand, if things keep going how they are, soon I might only be able to see

S
I
M
P

which is old slang for SIMPLETON.

Which might be about right.

Rewriting the Rewritten

Somehow the famous history stories of childhood take on a gilded glow.

In fourteen hundred ninety two
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

Doesn't that sound lovely?

Until someone rewrote history to let us know of the atrocities Europe wreaked on the "New World."

But today I stood on the deck of a replica of the Nina, the ship Columbus sailed back and forth 3 times across the ocean blue and, I've got to say... I'm impressed. Only 66 feet long, with no accommodations for the crew other than a piece of deck and captain's quarters that looked more like a foot locker than a place for the explorers of new lands... there is no way I would have set out on that boat into the unknown. It takes a special sort of chutzpah to take on so dramatic a task.

So, whatever bumps in history the famous voyage brought about, I'm still thankful Cristobal trusted this little ship enough to carry out his exploration. I, for one, love it here.

The Sounds of Silence

I don't know what your life is like, but I rarely - and I mean RARELY - am alone. In my almost 13 years as a parent, I've only been completely alone a handful of times for more than a few minutes at a time.

Tonight I've had 5 hours, just me and the dog.

It's kind of strange. What do you do with 5 whole hours to yourself? Here's what I did...

• I planted a few more seeds in the vegetable garden where nothing had sprouted.
• I killed a few weeds and watered the flowers out front.
• I put together the church announcement slide show for Sunday.
• I ate 2 cookies, then went back and ate 2 more, just to make it even.
• I updated my list of newspapers in Oregon, preparing for a big news release I need to send out tomorrow for an upcoming writers conference.
• I watched the National Spelling Bee, the only spectator sport I enjoy, probably because it only happens once a year.
• I picked out the book I'm going to fall asleep to.

Perhaps more telling is what I didn't do...

• I didn't vacuum, though the living room needs it.
• I didn't put the boxes up in the shed (I only climb ladders if there's someone around who can dial 9-1-1)
• I didn't write. I'm actually getting a couple of quiet hours in the morning when I can create.
• I didn't fix dinner. Imagine. Cookies and popcorn. I couldn't live on it, but it was easy and tasty.
• I didn't put my clothes away. I'll have to clear them off my side of the bed before I sleep, but they've laid in there all night and haven't said a word.
• I didn't call my husband... or my mom... or my friends.
• I didn't go to a store or a movie. I thought about it, but thought that would ruin the effect of being alone.

Some of you are alone a lot. Others, never. What would you do with 5 hours all by yourself?

Change of Plans

On my way to pick up a friend's child for a play date, I was struck (quite literally) by the way unexpected events derail our plans. We go about our lives as if we're in control, but a million different events, over which we have no control at all, can change those plans in a heartbeat.

It's amazing how priorities are realigned in the midst of chaos.

By the way, I'm fine. A little stiff tonight. I'll see how I feel in the morning. The car will need major work, though - hopefully I'll get permission from insurance to get the work started tomorrow.

If you have to get rear-ended (which I don't recommend), it's nice to get hit by someone who promises to pray for you.

Endless Summer

Officially, it's over. The 2007-2008 school year, that is. Unofficially, I still want the kids working on French a few times a week, one of the older kids has about 45 minutes worth of work to do before she's free and the younger one really shouldn't stop practicing her handwriting.

Officially, though, we're on summer vacation.

Long, hot, lazy days sprawl before us, promising relaxation and sun.

If you buy that, you don't live in America. Somehow, the summer is filling up with swimming lessons and camping trips, birthday parties, doctor appointments, and standardized testing, visits from grandparents and the promise of a new nephew. Alas, those lazy days of summer seem to be reserved in the minds of those of us with memory loss.

This summer, I want to write. I want to catch up with all my friends, clean out the pantry and the cabinet under the bathroom sink, and grow a freezer full of vegetables. I want to walk through the farmers market with the generation before me and hold a baby in my arms from the generation after.

I want to make the world a little bit better place and help my kids to do the same.

What are you doing this summer?

Drumroll, Please...

And the winners from the book drawings are...

Dum-da-dum!

Blindsided goes to Zack, who entered by phone.

Every Secret Thing goes to Linda. (can you send me your address?)

Greg is our only double winner with Vessel of Honor and A Promise for Ellie.

The Bible or the Axe goes to Sandi (I drew it randomly, I promise!)

Shelli won The Parting.

And the Max and Me Mysteries go to Jackie.

Ta da!

I'll try to get these in the mail on Tuesday. Congrats to all the winners and, to those who didn't win this time, keep coming back. Maybe I'll try this again some time!

And now, back to our regularly scheduled blog.

Day 5 - Mysteries for Kids

Okay, last day of the book giveaway for this round (though I still have at least enough to do another week).

Today's books happen to be by a friend of mine, Pat Rushford. Pat's been writing mysteries for teenagers and adults for years. She's one of those people who's good at anything she tries - nurse and counselor, retreat organizer, conference director, quilter and knitter extraordinaire.

These are the first two books in her Max and Me mystery series. I'd say they're best suited to kids 10-13.

Jessie is twelve, smart, and bald. Leukemia has taken away her hair and her strength, but not her desire to be like the other kids her age. Her friend Max sees beyond her illness and drags her into all kinds of adventures.


Most of the books on my review shelf look like they've never been read.

These don't.

They're still in good shape, but two young people snatched these up and read them before I had a chance.

They gave the thumbs up.

I do, too.

Write a comment if you'd like to have them.

Day 4 - Into Africa and Out Again

Vessel of Honor by Melvin J. Cobb is a fictionalized account of what happened to the Ethiopian chamberlain of Acts 8 after his return to his homeland. He feels the need to rectify old relationships, right past wrongs, and turn his back on the ruthless ways of his past. How will his changes affect those who depend on him?


I love the idea of this book and I'm excited about the line it comes from, the Institute for Black and Family Development. This imprint, in association with Moody Publishers, is reaching out to the African-American Community with stories and books that shed light on their culture and their history.


Another book by the same imprint is The Bible or the Axe. This is the true story of William Ochan Levi, a Christian who grew up as a refugee in Uganda. When he returned to his homeland of Sudan, he faced persectution, arrest and torture. This is the story of his escape from his jihadist captors and his war-torn country. It raises the question of how we should fight, with the worldly weapons or the word of God.

Leave a comment if you want a chance at these books.

Day 3 - Prairie Duet

I got hooked on Christian fiction reading the prairie romances of Janette Oke and the sweet, simple stories of Grace Livingston Hill. Though the genre has grown to include thrillers and contemporary stories, literary fiction and mysteries, the backbone of the market belong to historical fiction.

Lauraine Snelling, with her Red River of the North Series, has put the town of Blessing on the map.

Literally.

Her North Dakota stories are so popular and have brought so many people to the area looking for the town of Blessing, that the town of Drayton's city council proclaimed it's town the official site of the settlement of Blessing.

A Promise for Ellie is the first book in the Daughters of Blessing series, the continuing story of the next generation in the Red River Valley.

Beverly Lewis has made a name for herself writing novels about the Pennsylvania Amish. Her books, based on real life events, tell the stories of simpler times. But not as simple as we like to think. The Parting is the first book in the Courtship of Nellie Fisher series. It tells the story of one young woman in a community at its breaking point.

Do you wish you had these books in your library? Leave a comment, they could be yours!

Day 2 - Every Secret Thing

Every Secret Thing by Ann Tatlock is the story of a teacher who returns to her own high school to teach. The place and the people stir up memories and bring up old questions. She opens her heart to new people and, in helping them work through their problems, finds she must deal with her own.

Every Secret Thing tells its story in a more layered, a more pattered way, than I've come to expect from Christian fiction. I found it to be a good read.

If you'd like a copy of this book, leave a comment and I'll pick a name at random at the end of the week.

5 Day Give-Away

One blessing of doing book reviews is that I have new books show up in my mailbox from time to time. Some I ask for, others I don't. And while most of them get read, very few fit my criteria for review.

So, for this week, I'm going to pass a bit of the blessing on to you. Each day I'll post a different book, with a little blurb about it. If you'd be interested in a free copy of the book, leave a comment and I'll choose at random who gets each one. I've read some of these books, but not others.

Today's pick is Blindsided by Calvin Miller, published by BH Publishing Group in September 2007.

"The only one who saw it coming was the one who could not see."

Calvin Miller, best known for his book The Singer, presents a modern thriller. In this tale, a blind priest and pet wolf hold the key to breaking up a Muslim terrorist group in Seattle.

Interested?

The Winner Is?

Hmmm...

There seems to be a bit of discrepancy in the counter. The 15,000th visitor could have been from Juneau or from Yelm.

The Yelmer will get something for being the probable 15,000th visitor. And the Juneau-ite might just get a prize for effort!

Thanks for playing. I'm cooking up something a little different for next week. ("Different?" you say. "I didn't know there was a theme for this blog.")

Just wait and see!

True Love

The old oven fizzled and sparked,
Electrical blue currents arched.
With a pop and sput,
microwave went kaput,
And they saw that it no longer warked.



He stayed up until midnight and past,
To put in the new one, right fast.
Cuz' he knew in the morn,
She'd be awfully torn
'Tween the ov'n and skillet, ir'n cast.

One good turn another deserves,
So she cranked out some meals and preserves.
25, if you please,
Some for now, some to freeze,

"Love you, too," she did say with hors d'oeuvres.

tunnel vision

When I was doing my student teaching at the School for the Deaf, there was a middle school girl (deaf, of course) who had just found out she was losing her vision. Her eyesight was expected to grow narrower and narrower over the coming months until the last blurry spot of light finally blinked out. Her brother suffered the same disease and had committed suicide.

I think about that girl from time to time. I wonder how she's doing, if she ever adjusted to the darkness. The silence, she was already used to. She was one of the brightest stars in the signing club, dancing and signing the words to "High Cotton" and "Wind Beneath My Wings."

I think about her on days like today when I am jolted out of my little world to be reminded that people in Oklahoma and Missouri spent Mother's Day in the path of tornadoes, that the people of Myanmar still don't have the basic help they need, that the mothers of central China are digging for the children in the rubble left by an earthquake.

Every person is the center of his or her own universe. Everyone interprets the world through his or her own set of eyes. Today was a reminder to me to open my eyes a little wider, to fight against my own narrow view of life.

Just Like Me

1. She's short... or, in the words of Wilbur, low to the ground.

2. She's serious most of the time, with bursts of energy and enthusiasm.

3. She likes to sleep in the sun.

4. She enjoys a good cuddle as long as it's gentle.

5. She doesn't have much to say.

6. She loves the smell of a nice, juicy steak.

7. She'd overdose on chocolate if she could.

8. She naps before bedtime.

9. She appreciates a little recognition once in a while.

10. She loves her family.

Out Standing in Her Field

It's been a year since I blogged about some women I know who were facing breast cancer treatments. Jane had a tough time with chemo and surgery. I prayed for her lots and missed hearing her talk about her cherries and strawberries and all the other fruits she loves to can.

I stopped by to pick some rhubarb at Jane's today and it was so good to see her back out in her garden. It's where she belongs.

I guess I'm getting to the age when I'm always going to know someone with cancer. Anita's on my prayer list now. Her search for 3 good things in every day and her view of cancer as an opportunity have elevated her to hero status for me. I love the attitude that took her to the hills to offer her thinning hair to the birds for their nests.

Jane and Pam, Carol and Larry and Allen. Anita and sweet Linda. There's a strength and beauty that is born through their suffering.

Chances Are...

My blog visitor counter should roll over to 15,000 some time in the next week or so. If you are visitor #15,000, post a comment and I'll send you something. (Knowing me, probably a book)

I'll try to say something worth reading between now and then so you have a reason other than a MAJOR PRIZE for stopping by.

Good luck!

The Little Guy

We have some new neighbors in the garden, a pair of chickadees who have chosen to nest in a birdhouse one of the kids made years ago. I thought I was going to have to call this picture "evicted" as a couple of bossy sparrows tried to kick the chickadees out. Lucky for the chickadees, the sparrows were too heavy, broke off the little perch, and had to move to a place with a sturdier front porch.

So, the little guy triumphs.

Have you heard of The Rebelution? It's a teen-led movement encouraging teens to rebel against the low expectations of the world. The idea that we can set out own goals and reach for them shouldn't be earthshaking, but it is. We've been programmed to reach for the lowest common denominator and we've succeeded spectacularly.

And then there's the chickadee.

Do you have any stories to share about great things being accomplished by the little guy? (No Napoleon jokes, please.) Any kids who have done spectacular things?

Unfinished Business

Leonardo da Vinci took years, sometimes decades, to finish a painting. He was such a perfectionist, he would work on a picture for a time, then set it aside to work on it later. Some of his most famous paintings remained unfinished after his death. He couldn't bear to let his creations go until they were exactly how he wanted them.

I might be related to da Vinci. Or at least my father is. He has a series of paintings he's working on which may never see the light of day as he adjusts, tweaks, repaints, and corrects.

I know the feeling.

I got another rejection back on my book proposal yesterday. It's the 3rd of three that said, "I really like this idea, but it needs some MAJOR work to make it shine."

My first reaction was to throw up my hands and say, "I quit. I'm just not a writer." My second reaction, though, is to say, "I really believe in this story. I want to make it work." What I don't want to do is chase after the market. I've tried that and it's a lot of work for a very unsatisfying result.

So, now my question is, do I leave the manuscript in the archives while I pursue something else or do I take it out and give it another go?