1516!!

According to an empty can of "Berliner Kindl" pilsener bier I brought back from Germany, the Reinheitsgebot (German beer purity law) was enacted in 1516. I know two people who will find that information important.

In Chelan

There's something about long road trips alone that is sorta fun. But it's even better to road trip with a friend. I'm in Chelan this week. Since I don't want to retype this entry, you'll have to go here to read it.

Prayers please.

Please pray for my mom. Yesterday while taking advantage of an unseasonably warm day on which to paint the house, her ladder slipped and she fell and broke her shoulder. Dad took her to the local small hospital and found that surgery ws required to repair the damage which was to the ball in the shoulder joint. Dad had to drive her two hours to Bismarck so that she could have the surgery and on the way they hit a deer, damaging the front headlight of their car and pushing in the front fender so the passenger door no longer opens. Please pray for them. I wish I could be there right now.

Marching with Zombies

We met at Jon's apartment, armed with assorted shades of pale makeup and blue and red bruise shades. Jon, his sister, and I caked our faces in the palest shade of makeup possible, shadowed under our eyes and cheeks, mussed our hair and added some fake blood at the corners of our mouths for effect. Then we shivered in the park with a bunch of white-faced strangers for at least an hour. Finally we stumbled and moaned through downtown at the back of the zombie horde. The rest of the horde was younger than us, with faces too pale and eyes too blackened to be realistic looking (in my opinion) and they kept throwing themselves against store and restaurant windows and walking way faster than any self-respecting zombie would shuffle. Especially across the street against the light. Although if you're dead I suppose it doesn't matter if you get hit by a car.
We ended at the mall, where a middle-aged man held the door for Jon and me as he told the toddler in his arms, "We better hold the door for these nice people. Otherwise they might eat our brains!" Jon replied with a "Nnnggggnhhh" and I moaned "Thhaannk yooouuu."
All in all it was a ghoulishly good time.

twilight and tractor engines

On Sunday Jon and Christopher and I joined Jon's church family at Greenbluff for a late afternoon of pumpkin carving and tractor driving, carmel apples and hot dogs. This event was hosted by a retired farm couple, one of whom collects antique International letter-model tractors. There were at least 6 tractors, the oldest dating back to 1934. I asked to drive his model M Farm-all because it reminds me of my dad's tractor. He helped me get it started and showed me the shifting pattern and how to adjust the choke, then sent me off across the field. As I puttered along in the twilight, across the wide open close-shorn meadow I listened to the sputtering growl of the engine and inhaled the exhause fumes that came back at me from the smokestack on the tractor's top. It reminded me so much of home. The sounds and smells took me back to riding on the tractor while mom and dad made hay or helping pick rocks or even later getting to rake hay and cultivate by myself. There was nothing better than riding home on the tractor at dusk, pleasantly tired and just starting to drouse to the sound of the tractor engine, looking forward to the glowing kitchen windows, washing the field dirt off your hands and face and out of your ears and then a warm supper before bed.

How it started....

I just want to send out a "thank you" to Katie, who introduced Jon and me over a year ago.
It's nice to have a hand to hold at lunchtime.

One, two threefourfive, six seven eight nine ten, ELEVEN, TWELVE!!

The title of this post should be sung, Sesame Street style.
Twelve months. That's how long it's been since one sweet young man, somewht girl-shy due to an oft-broken heart and a very shy young woman who thought she wouldn't get another chance at love finally figured out that the signals we were sending one another weren't all in our heads.
We've been a couple for one year. Happy Anniversary Jon.

My new favorite place ever!

Last night a friend and I decided to walk to downtown Portland and find Powell's Books. As we were walking through the parking lot we met some other VISTA's who were driving there so they gave us a ride. Powell's is fantastic!! It's an entire city block of books on several floors. While there we caught a book talk by auther David Callahan on his new book, Moral Center.

Food magic

I'm currently at In-service training in Portland for my Americorps position.
The sessions have been quite informative and engaging. Yesterday afternoon I learned about effective meeting facilitation. This morning I learned about "Shopping on the Edge" from Nutrition Magician, Tom Ohling. He advocates shopping from the perimeter of the grocery store where the fresh produce, dairy and whole grains can be found, rather than buying the prepackaged stuff in the center aisles of the store. We also learned the benefits of washing and blanching produce as soon as it comes home from the store to facilitate the speedy preparation of future meals. And he taught us to make quick and easy vinagrette and mayonaise.
Vinagrette: 1 part acid (lemon juice, pickle juice, vinegar, tomato juice, etc) plus 3 parts oil, and a littl mustard powder as an emulsifier, plus salt to taste. Voila! Vinagrette!

Also, it's notable to mention that the food at this training session is about a zillion times better than it was at the training in July. And there are actually options for the poor vegetarians this time.

"They made up their minds, and they started packing. They left before the sun came up that daaay."
Well, the sun had been up for about five hours when Christopher and I picked up Jon at his apartment. After two stops we headed west to the land of good friends, adorable babies, and cool cities having good food, better architecture and crazy traffic.... and adorable babies.
We listened to Tom Lehrer and Jonathan Coulton on the drive west, and when we got close enough to Seattle we tuned into KEXP, which happened to be playing Michael Frante live at Sonic Boom Records.
I'd brought along yarn and a crochet hook, intending to make a gift for the world's most adorable baby. I made a hat with little ear flaps and pestered Jon and Christopher from the back seat to tell me if they thought it would fit her or not.
We hurried through rush hour traffic hoping against hope that we'd make the Utilikilts store in time...and we did....but it had moved. This was disappointing, but we salved our souls with some really good Greek food in Pioneer Square. I'd never had babaganoush before. (They also mispelled spanakopita as "spanapikota" on one of their menus)
We pressed onward to Vancouver. It was strange going from freeway on the US side to what appeared to be a back alley in a residential area on the Canadian side. We passed a really cool-looking Buddhist temple shining in the darkness, decorated with what looked like Christmas lights. We had no problem finding my cousin's apartment in Kerrisdale. Inside Jon commented on the strangeness of old ornate mirrors and shelves paired with modern looking light fixtures. Her husband was out and the world's most adorable baby was already asleep in her crib. We enjoyed tea and sat and chatted until quite late.
The next morning we went on a walking tour of Kerrisdale. Annika (aka the world's most adorable child) wore the little hat I'd made and a dignified English lady in the elevator even commented on Annika and her cute little hat.
We went to a really neat little thrift store and a Please Mum store. Then we went back, ate delicious leftovers and took a driving tour of downtown Vancouver and Stanley Park and drove past Vancouver's version of the Little Mermaid statue in Copenhagen. We went to Ikea and then we were off again to Bellingham. On the way through the border the border patrol officer checked our ID's, asked our business in Canada and when we said we'd been visiting a friend he said "And how is it you came to have a friend in Canada?"
Right. So I guess Americans and Canadians don't mingle. It must be the vast language barrier between us.
In Bellingham we met Tiffany at Boundary Bay brewing company and had wonderful food and terrific beer. I've wanted to go to Boundary Bay ever since my first trip to Bellingham, when I couldn't go because I was only 20. After supper we went to our hostess's new digs where we dropped off our stuff and then went out for gelato. We pondered why on earth they don't serve the gelato in earth friendly cups made of corn plastic or paper. The cups they use are adorable, but aren't recycleable in Bellingham. We went to see where Tiffany works, a really really cool organic market and natural foods store. Much better than Huckleberry's even. Later we went to Nimbus for drinks.
We crashed at her place, and went out for bagels and coffee the next morning. The lines at Old Town where we intended to go, were too long. Then we hoofed it (hmm..."wheeled it?") back to Seattle where we saw the Dead Sea Scrolls, wandered a bit in the Pacific Science center and took many photos around Seattle Center. We were mistaken for bums while lying on the ground photographing the opera house.
Then we went to the pier, saw the preserved man and Mexican jumping beans at Ye Olde Curiousity Shoppe, ate at Ivars, and went back to Spokane.
I'll post the rest later, but for now you can also read of our adventures here.

roadtrip, music and mingling

"And we're leavin'
in a jetpl...er..minivan!"

I'm super-excited for this weekend's roadtrip west with my boyfriend and another dear friend.

I'm not super-excited about the new responsibilities I've taken on at work. I was for awhile, but the words "steep learning curve" are getting old.

Last week our office had a reception to premiere a fund-raising video of three short television spots made for us. The film studio that produced the film also hosted the reception and since they had a piano sitting in the corner, guess who got asked to provide background music. Yup, that would be me. Jon's family was kind and let me practice on their really really nice baby grand piano. And I spent the next morning freaking out because I couldn't find my favorite piano book. And then that night I found it...in the file cabinet I bought specifically to store piano music. Apparently, when I actually do organize, I confuse myself.
Piano playing went fine. I played a little Debussy, Samuel Barber, a piece by Ross Lee Finney (who grew up in North Dakota!!) and a few simple jazz pieces. Sadly I didn't get to play any Chopin because they switched the piped in music back on after half an hour and set me loose to mingle and sample hors'douvres. (I'm not a mingler. Small talk makes me feel awkward. I'd have been happy at the piano all night.) I did manage to chat with some of my co-workers and discovered that one was entirely unhappy with his position, wanted to back to broadcasting work and told me that should I ever play craps to bet on 6's and 8's. Another co-worker revealed that although his son had received a college scholarship to a school in Ohio, he and his wife had not shown the son the acceptance letter, thereby forcing the son to attend a college closer to home. I felt thankful for my parents who supported me in making my own college decsions. Next time I'll stay at teh piano all night I think.

In the spotlight

I don't look for the spotlight. I generally avoid it. But somehow I keep ending up on Spokane's television airwaves. Last fall I volunteered with Youth For Christ and just happened to be the only person home when the director called looking for volunteers to appear in their "Faces of YFC" commercial. I simply looked at the camera, smiled and said "Hi, I'm Stephanei and I'm a face of YFC"
Today I returned from lunch just in time to be beckoned into the conference room. One of the new tv stations in town gave my place of employment an ad and we all lined up against the wall and joined hands to promote volunteerism. The ad will show in 2 weeks. I think the station is KHQ, but I"m not sure....the "new" station is what they said. I don't watch tv, so I probably won't see it.

roller coaster

I have what I need, and yet I never stop yearning. What are we longing for?
I'm seeking stability. In 24 years I have not yet managed to create for myself a peaceful place where I am safe and sane. The twenties seem to be the decade of "in-betweens" and "what next?"
I have an income and a place to rest at night. What I need is to stop searching and look at what I have. I need to take the tools and the bits and pieces I've been given and carve out something that will sustain me and those around me.
But the world doesn't seem to stop long enough for me to do that. Life is one long meeting. And then another and another. And every meeting I attend I manage to volunteer myself for something new. It's time to figure out where I'm going, what denomination I really want to be and look toward the future.
It's also time to head home. The janitors are here. I've never been at work this late before.

moving...again

So the really nice couple next door offered to rent a bedroom and bathroom to me for an amount that by Spokane standards is very minimal. I have mixed feelings about no longer being a Westminster House missioner....but I'll still be in the neighborhood.
I happened to mention to my co-workers yesterday that I like to write adn that it would be totally cool to write for the Inlander. Another co-worker who I didn't even realize was in earshot approached me today as I browsed the Spokesman Review in the breakroom and asked about my comment. I told him I'd interned at a newspaper office in highschool and written an article for The Figtree. I also free-lanced for local papers while in college. Turns out he has a connection with the editor of the Inlander and might be able to get me some writing opportunities. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

one year

So, I've been in Spokane one year.
It's been an eventful year to say the least. I participated in two weddings, found a boyfriend and felt my spirit renewed by his love and attention. (One of my most telling journal entries reads "Just when I thought life could get no stranger, I met a man in a kilt." It was only the second time I'd met Jon, and I was volunteering at Global Folk Art.)
I met many people this year, mostly Presbyterian, grew to adore the girls next door to Westminster House. I promoted Westminster House at two churches, volunteered at a Fair Trade Sale and a Fair trade store, travelled to North Dakota three times, and introduced Jon to my family in North Dakota.
I learned about liberation theology, and Calvinism and atrocities in Guatemala and Gambella, Ethiopia and Colombia.

It's funny. I'd intended to spend the year holed up in my room, preparing for seminary. I spent some time holed up in my room, but I spent more time out and about with Jon meeting people and doing things. But I didn't move much closer to seminary. Although I did preach two sermons and become a missionary to Guatemala. And could I have moved closer to seminary? Would I get a good recommendation now if I applied? Can I handle the East Coast? Am I called to Princeton as I once thought perhaps? Am I closer than I realize?

And I learned a lot about myself this past year. I've learned that the simple words "You're amazing" can empower and enliven.
I've learned that there are many people who care for me and I'm eternally grateful for that fact.
I've learned that I'm not necessarily comfortable relying on myself and just because I WANT to do something I dont' always find the gumption to reach out and do that something.

I've learned how easy it is to make mistakes, to not listen to the voices I should listen to and to listen to the voices I shouldn't. I've learned that a stubborn spirit will lead you nowhere and compromise is a good thing. I've believed in myself the most I've ever believed in myself this year. And I've believed in myself the least. And I've learned that I am not called to believe in myself, but God. I cannot rely on myself, only God.

The RV has been sitting at the corner for at least a year, blocking the view of the cross street. Every time I turn the corner I slow down and turn cautiously, and wonder how long until there is an accident there. Last night I was driving back to the house, thinking about a meeting I was a few minutes late for. I looked and saw nothing, turned right, and suddenly I was in the intersection and so was an SUV and I braked and my glasses flew off and I heard a crunch as my little car collided directly with the front driver's side bumper of a GMC Jimmy. I spent the next few minutes pawing frantically through my car for my glasses. People gathered. A fuzzy man shape in a blue shirt emerged from the driver's side of the SUV. He was ok. I was ok. My car was not okay. It still drives but there is a nice big dent in the middle of the front and the hood is crunched up. Jon and Christopher came up and were incredibly supportive. I was issued a citation since the GMC was to my right. My question right now is this: If I could get up to half the ticket removed by going to court for mitigating circumstances (ie. the RV that was blocking my view) is it worth it? I could save up to $70 from my fine.
I really didn't need a car accident right now.

Park fountain

I really should carry a camera with me at all times. Walking back from lunch I saw something that would have made a wonderful photo. The fountain is normally filled with shrieking children and hesitant adults. It stood silent and dry. A Spokane Parks Maintenance truck was parked next to it and orange barricades circled the manhole leading to the underground plumbing. All around the orange barricades a ring of children in still damp bathing suits lined up staring intently at the maintenance worker who shouted down the hole, "Can you hurry up and turn it on down there? I think they're going to through me down the hole in a minute!!"

...........

I woke up feeling despondant this morning. Guatemala trip is over, have to back to work, can't decide whether or not to move out of the house, not sure if they'll let me stay, can't go back to North Dakota for a long long time. I hung out with Jon and two of his friends who go back to elementary school last night. It was fun, but my heart aches for the friends I left behind. Alycia, Lisa, Katie, Krys, Glen, Catherine, Karisa.....especially those I didn't get to see on my trip to ND. Will I ever see you guys again? The future looks like this fuzzy gray empty space again. Am I really going to follow through with this Americorps thing? I'm not really facilitating this Earned Income Tax coalition thing....just showing up at work, sending a few e-mails and pretending to know what I'm doing. I don't WANT this job and didn't in the first place... and yet I applied for it just to have a job of some sort. I just feel lost and hopeless. And it's my fault. It helps somehow to write this all down.

How?

How do you eat a meal of tortillas and rice and an enormous bowl of soup when a little boy with hungry eyes is staring at you from across the room?
How do you fall asleep to a rainstorm knowing you're sleeping dry in a hotel bed while the local pastor and his five kids are in a stick home with a dirt floor that the water is possibly running right through?
How do you return to a materialistic society knowing your brothers and sisters have so little?

Guatemala

I signed onto the 12th delegation from the Presbytery of the Inland Northwest to the Mayan K'ekchi churches in Guatemala. I leave tomorrow with nine other people. We'll be gone until the 18th of August. I fully expect my eyes to be opened and my views of the world to be completely rearranged. I know there is deep poverty in this world, but have I ever REALLY looked poverty in the face? I've heard the heart breaking stories from someone very dear to my heart who has been to Guatemala twice. I've seen the sorrow in his eyes as he speaks of the people he met. Now I go to see for myself. I pray that I may be changed. I pray that somehow I might make some difference in this dark world. Or rather, I pray that God, would make some difference through me.
Right now I'm still struggling to pack.
Father...prepare me.

quotes from The International Journal of Servant Leadership

"The most difficult and true work of art is to love someone."

Vincent Van Gogh

"Many waters cannot quench love. Love is stronger than death."

(Song of Songs)

Happy Nine-month-i-versary Jon!!

So it's nine months today that Jon and I have been dating. We had lunch together and it's so nice to work downtown in an office and be able to walk over and meet him for luch.

singularity and community

It's interesting living in a city where we speak in plurals rather than singulars. My housemate chuckled once when I referred to the town "cop" rather than cops. My hig shchool, despite being rather cliquish, still only had "A goth" and "A cowboy" and maybe one or two "wannabe Gangsta kids" (I was the wierd bookish smart kid who never got in trouble and tried to be sorta hippie-ish or granola or whatever you want to call it. Word to the wise: when half your classmates have parents who raise beef cattle, giving a persuasive speech on why vegetarianism is good in English class will NOT win you any popularity points. Yeah, that was me.)
As someone who is used to standing alone and doing her own thing, it has been a definite struggle to operate as part of a community. I am called to community. We are all members of one body and each have our own unique and important gifts. Yet, somehow I managed to dive straight onto my face in the endeavor of living in community. Being vindictive, griping about people behind their backs and telling yourself you're just fine on your own are NOT healthy ways to be part of community. Anyway, I'm praying for change, and I've done a good deal of apologizing along the way.
No one said community was eas.y

utopia revisited

While I was doing Sidewalk Sonday School I was also in search of the perfect town. First I thought Claremont, SD was my Utopia. Then I thought it was Spearfish, SD, then Hot Springs and then I went to Holden Village and I liked that at first.....then there was Finland and Germany. Then I thought "Maybe Spokane..." But none of them are really Utopia.
And now I know. Utopia is really just the place I've left. Utopia is wherever I miss the most.
Home.
Ever since I committed to another year in Spokane I've been more homesick than ever.

Selling my soul for poverty wages

After wasting time worrying about job hunting, spending little time actually job hunting, and finally praying aobut the whole thing, I am employed.

Despite the time I spent fretting over the want ads with a highlighter, both positions actually came about through word-of-mouth.

Friday I started temporary work as an activities aide at an Adult Day Center. I will be helping take the clients from one activity to another, pushing wheelchairs and such. I'll also help out at lunch and then lead games and activities after lunch. My secret weapon is my ability to play piano and I'm expected to lead sing-a-longs every so often. The job lasts only a few hours each day and only for the month of June, but the people are friendly and the atmosphere is upbeat. Everyone in the program has lost some of their mental or physical capacity, but there is a certain light in their eyes. I plan to enjoy this more than taking orders for disgustingly expensive outerwear.

In July I embark on an entirely new adventure. At the urging of a friend from the Presbyterian Peacemaking Network, I applied for an Americorps position working with Spokane Neighborhood Action Program and The United Way. I was the only person applying that I'm aware of and they needed the position filled quickly, so naturally I was awarded the position. I'll be coordinating the C.A.S.H program. I'll explain more about this as I learn more, but for now I can say it involves grant writing, coordinating volunteers at free tax preparation sites and building awareness for a tax credit for working families.
I've signed up for a year of volunteer service as I'm completing a year of volunteer service. I'll get a subsistence wage and healthcare benefits, which means I'll be able to pay for rent and a little food, gas to get back and forth to work, and perhaps occasionally go to a doctor. Is this foolish? Perhaps. But I know that I cannot use my abilities simply to help someone get richer. There is more to life. I'm counting on the idea that although I won't be able to buy much I'll find fulfillment in the knowledge that I'm using my time and energy to do something of lasting importance.

Spring slips into summer

Memorial day has come and gone and I'm daydreaming about hikes in the mountains. The spring has been less than ideal, but I'm pressing on. I taught my last piano lesson a little over a week ago and we finished our last Logos session two days ago. As much as I want to say that I'll miss Logos, I breathed an enormous sigh of relief. Despite my four years prior children's ministry experience, the sad truth is that I really struggle to connect with kids. I want to teach them about the Bible stories and I want to come up with creative and exciting learning activities, but I really end up spending most of the time asking them to sit down and listen. Or to stop hitting each other. Or stop climbing up the shed. I don't mind one or two children for a short amount of time, but the noise and commotion of 50 children packed into a church sanctuary makes me want to curl into a ball and wait for them to go home.

I keep reminding myself that children don't become belligerent bullies overnight. I know that most of these kids aren't getting three nutritious meals a day. Many go home to dim houses that haven't been cleaned in ages and smell of sweat, greasy food and dog. Many don't have parents who care enough to keep track of where they go, or their parents are in prison, or working too many hours a day.

Jessica and I were settling in for the evening as the doorbell rang. A smallish boy with dark hair and bluish circles under his eyes stood on our front walk. I could see a larger boy crouched behind the picket fence next door.
"What's up guys? It's 10:30 at night!" I said.
"We're just walking around" the little one replied. The older one came out from behind the fence.
We invited them in for awhile and Jessica made them hot chocolate. We asked if they'd come to Logos before and the larger one said he'd gotten kicked out for fighting. He slouched in the chair, his hood covering his eyes. I asked the younger one what he liked in school. He said "science."

I wondered where the bluish circles under his eyes came from. Had he been crying? His expression was permanently wistful. He got very quiet and looked up at the ceiling, then at the walls.
"I don't know why, but I haven't gotten any letters from my uncle lately."
"Where's your uncle?"
"He's in jail."
"How long has it been since you got a letter?"
"A month. He used to write all the time. He has seven more months to go."

"You don't hear from your dad either, do you." said the older one.
"No."

"Do you live with your mom?" I asked.
"No, she's in jail too. I live with my grandma."

They finished their cocoa and they left at 11:00 pm to walk the few blocks home in the dark.

Later I was remembered these boys had come last fall. We'd kicked them out because they'd started fighting with another boy in our living room. We'd asked them to leave two our three times and it wasn't until I flipped off the TV in front of them and Jessica told them they absolutely HAD to go NOW that they left. On our front walk they had stolen his coat and taunted him. I grabbed one by the shoulders, made him drop the coat (he tossed it) and I told them to "JUST GO HOME!" I remember the righteous indignant fury I'd felt then. Now I know where they come from. Now I feel only pity.

Thoughts of Home: Goats

My aunt's two Nanny-goats just kidded. One had twins. Here is one of the babies.

Thoughts of Home: Chokecherries

These chokecherry bushes grow next to the "Oil Shed." Now they have dainty white blossoms. This fall those blossoms will become small deep purple chokecherries with almond flavored stones in the center and a thick bitter sweet tart flavor.

Thoughts of Home: Lilacs

They call Spokane the lilac city, but I still haven't seen any lilacs that rival these bushes outside the kitchen window at home in North Dakota. Maybe I'm just not looking very hard.

What a weekend...

Bloomsday, a visit from a North Dakota college friend, and Jon's firm's 15th anniversary celebration, all rolled into one big weekend.
Tomorrow about 45,000 runners will stream through the streets of Spokane in the 30th annual Bloomsday celebration. The entire route is 12 kilometers. I briefly considered walking the race but the registration deadline blew past me, like an "Elite" runner from Kenya. If I want to walk 7.46 miles I can walk that distance without paying the registration deadline any time I like. Maybe I'll do Bloomsday next year.

Ashley is here for the weekend! It's fortunate that she picked this weekend, since she gets to partake in the Bloomsday festivities. We've had fun exploring downtown, shopping a bit, and taking the city bus.

And to top it all off I got to meet one of the richest men in Spokane and partake in an evening that included champagne and appetizers, a toast to a 15-year-old design and architecture firm and lots of fancy people in evening dress. We celebrated the firm's fifteen-year anniversary at the Davenport Hotel, which is owned by Walt Worthy, one of the firm's clients. The festivities began here, in the Hall of Doges, then moved to here for the evening meal. It was a bit overwhelming at moments, but overall the evening was most memorable and enjoyable.

Editors!! Hmph!

I wrote an article on a subject very near and dear to my heart. I did THREE interviews. I stayed up late working on the article and when I sent it to The Fig Tree I had edited it very well. I'd sent a check copy to the person I'd written it about and edited the piece to reflect his input. I had done my best to let his words and his passions come through in the article and I'd thought the best way to do this was to quote him as accurately as possible. When it came to questions of editing his quotations for length I turned to the Associated Press's "Styleguide and Libel Manual" which I was given by a professional freelance writer. The AP styleguide made it very clear that in news stories quotations should NEVER BE ALTERED.

The published version of my article has been altered. I understand that editors edit...that is their job. But they changed the entire tone of my article and they altered Jon's quotes. They removed words so they don't really sound like what he actually said. They changed my title. And they refer to him on their website as a YOUTH. Right....he may be young and handsome but he's in his upper twenties.

All writing should be clear and concise, true, but is it not "writing down to the reader" if you condense all your articles into flat bitesize morsels? Shouldn't an article draw the reader in? Shouldn't the reader WANT to know more? Shouldn't they be inspired?
I wrote the article to share with readers what I heard.......a compassionate impassioned man who wants his nation to know that poverty exists and we need to do something about it.

Cars, Trucks and Other Things With Wheels

This is from the Wasthington State Department of Ecology Vehicle Emissions Testing Department Website:

"If your vehicle is missing a gas cap, it will need to be replaced before the vehicle can be tested. "

WHY are people driving around without their gas caps???? More importantly, how did this become an important enough concern that they had to post it in the FAQ section of the emissions testing page?? If you lose your gas cap, isn't it a priority to buy a new one....RIGHT AWAY?
I will forever wonder just what percentage of Washington drivers have lost their gas caps and not bothered to replace them.

This is in the same vein as the very nice woman who rolled down her window at a stoplight and called across to me "Your car is leaking! You're leaking gas!!"
It was Easter Sunday and I was on my way to Jon's parents house and running a few minutes late. I was also in the middle of four lanes of traffic and didn't smell any gas fumes. I knew that if I WERE leaking gas, the fumes would be coming into my car and my gas gauge would be dropping. I pulled over at the next Zip Trip, left the car running, and walked around it to check for anything dripping out. There was nothing. However, it had been frosty that morning and the end of the exhaust pipe looked wet. I can only surmise that this woman saw the condensation dripping from the end of my exhaust pipe, which is perfectly normal, and CONCLUDED THAT I WAS LEAKING GAS!!!!

I'm sure she is a sweet woman, and I appreciate her kind heart...but she scared the heck out of me for a few minutes...and she needs to learn the difference between the gas tank and the exhaust pipe!!!!!

Now, I must admit, that although I claim to be in good control of my vehicle, I'm sorta clueless about Washington traffic laws. You see the county I grew up in has no traffic lights. I first learned to drive in a vintage Volkswagon Beetle in the middle of a field. I was twelve. My parents let me drive the Volkswagon and farm vehicles on the gravel roads around the farm, over to Grandma's farm and occasionally into town.
(I believe at this time North Dakota State law allowed unlicensed farm children to drive their parent's farm vehicles provided they were within one hundred miles from the farm. When equipment breaks down somebody's got to make a parts run to the nearest implement dealership, you know?)

The summer after the eighth grade, when I was 14, I took driver's education at school. This involved watching videos, coloring the book of ND rules and regulations with highlighters when we were supposed to be paying attention and a trip with other students through the big cities of Harvey, Velva and finally Minot. I got my learner's permit by taking the computer touch screen test at the DMV in Minot. Three months later, as I was starting the ninth grade I took my driver's license test...and just barely passed. I mean, I SAW the little old lady in the cross walk. And I stopped for her. But the person administering the test had already told me to turn left...BEFORE I saw the elderly woman. Yeah...I stopped in the middle of the intersection. The elderly woman really didn't seem fazed.
When it came time to parallel park, the administrator simply asked me to back next to the curb behind a single car. I don't know if it was too difficult for her to find two cars to parallel park between in Harvey, North Dakota or if she feared the damage I might inflict on the second car. I simply remember breathing a sigh of relief when it was all over.

I still can't parallel park to save my life.

Thinking, doing, being, breathing...

There's got to be a balance somewhere between "doing things" and just "being" and hanging out with people.
I feel guilty if I'm not doing things and accomplishing something. I should be practicing piano, cleaning my room, finding a good job, teaching piano, making food, weeding the garden, (which hasn't yet been planted), writing, ...SOMETHING!! Just DO SOMETHING!!

And yet.....It's also important to rest, relax, learn...just be....just sit and think and process and absorb. Just sit on the porch and talk with people....just go for walks with people.

Where is the balance? Too much "doing" and you get frustrated, cranky and resentful of people who aren't doing as much. Not to mention exhausted and resentful of your lack of time to yourself.

Just "being" and nothing gets done. The garden overgrows with weeds, your diet degenerates into oversalted canned crap and the piano skills disappear. Not to mention the stresses of kicking yourself for your joblessness and wondering if you'll ever survive as a responsible adult...or if you'll just starve quietly in a rundown house with a scrawny stray cat because you don't have the wherewhithall to get up and DO something.

Gah!!!

I feel like that old beer commercial with the penguins...."Do be do be do......"

Where is the balance?

It's not about me

Use the gifts you've been given.

Share with others.

Most importantly....TAKE THE TIME TO LISTEN TO THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU.

Easter Kitty

We dyed the eggs. That was fun. Someone suggested eating one of the extra egg-dye tablets. Money was offered and a nibble was taken, turning a tonge deep green.
Then Ellie strolled by, all black and snowy white fur. And we had all this extra dye. There was only one thing we could do. We caught her, and stroked her into complacency. We tried dipping one snowy paw into a cup of dye. She complained and struggled. Then we took a red dye tablet and dipped it partway into a cup of dye. We rubbed the tablet along her silky fur, petting and calming her all the while. As I type this, I have a black and white tuxedo cat with a reddish streaked ruff and reddish streaked belly purring on my chest. We should dye the cat EVERY Easter.

Buckshot for Prez!

Apparently Ole Buckshot Cheney is comin' to town. He'll be at the Davenport Hotel on the 17th at 5:30 pm to help some senator in a fundraising campaign. Word on the street has it he'll be met by a "not-so-welcoming" committee dressed in blaze orange and wearing targets. (For their protection of course!!) As far as I can tell the quail down by the river don't seem the least bit concerned. Of course, he doesn't hunt quail...he hunts his friends. Me, I'm not taking any chances. I'll be out of town that day.

Click here for more information on activism in Spokane and the "not-so-welcoming committee."

Easter Landslide

Jon and I celebrated Palm Sunday at University Presbyterian Church in Seattle. We worshipped with around a thousand other people (at the 10:00 a.m. service....there were six services). Now begins the Easter landslide. Maundy Thursday is coming, followed by the darkness of Good Friday...break for Saturday, wherein we don't celebrate anything but we do dye the eggs and get ready for Easter Sunday dinner and such. Then Easter Sunday. He is Risen! Hallelujah!! Sunrise Service (at a cemetary nearby...we did the initial planning this morning....Westminster House is in charge of leading it.) Followed by regular service and Easter dinner.....and then I hop the train to ND!!!!!
HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME.....
I've NEVER been away from home for this long before...EVER.

HOME...HOME...HOME.

That is pretty much the main thing on my mind this week. Never mind the fact that I'm STILL jobless....and haven't started really looking for a new job yet. Nevermind that the next door neighbors believe it's perfectly acceptable to sing karaoke loudly and off-key until 11:30 pm and roughly 8 feet from my bedroom window. Nevermind that my car and room are both

gawd-awful messes.

In North Dakota there are new crocuses poking their heads out of the ground and baby chicks about to hatch. I hope to be there to see them. And of course mom and dad are there...and the cats...and my room...and my horse.

[My horse and I are going to have a chat when I get there. I'll say "See, Bandito, you're BIGGER than I am, by about 1500 lbs. And when you freak out at inanimate objects, like the mailbox. I tend to fall off of your back. This creates scar tissue in my neck. I know you understand scar tissue because it's probably in your foot and shoulder. The same thing that makes you limp and nearly sent you to the glue factory, sometimes makes my neck hurt." And he'll probably just look at me with big worried eyes and shove his nose into my chest, sniff me a couple times, and go back to eating hay...silly horse.]

IESG #2 - Shiny Bread

If you remember, I started the Introvert's Everything Survival Guide last fall. The first post involved chapstick and its potential for addicition. This time we're going culinary.

IESG #2 - Shiny Bread

Perhaps you've seen photos of loaves of bread in cookbooks or magazines like "Taste of Home." They look hot and delicious, fresh from the oven, with a sheen across the top that could only mean they were brushed with oil or melted butter. Good bakers recommend brushing your loaves of bread with some form of melted shortening to make the top crust tender. I have another way of getting that nice sheen.

1. Find a good bread recipe in a cook book. I recommend Betty Crocker's cookbook. There are also many recipes at allrecipes.com...Here's a good one!
2. Mix the ingredients well, let rise, punch down, knead, shape into loaves, cover with oiled saran wrap, put in warm place. Let rise again.
   
3. Preheat the oven and stick the bread inside. DO NOT remove the saran wrap. Set the timer.
4. When the timer beeps, come running inside from whatever it was that you were doing. Say to yourself "Wait a second....did I forget to remove the saran wrap?!! UH OH!!!
5. Remove the bread from the oven. The saran wrap has magically DISAPPEARED!!! Your bread has a nice plasticy shine on top.....and look! There's even plastic goo melted to the sides of the bread pan. YUM!!!

disclaimer:
There are in fact two loaves of bread, made with a recipe from Betty Crocker's cookbook, with a "nice plasticy sheen" sitting on top of the Westminster House oven right now. Yes, I did forget to remove the plastic wrap before baking. Should you ever be invited to the Westminster House for fresh baked bread, I suggest you think twice and ask who did the baking.

little hurts

It hurt to feel left out of a secret.

I've long struggled with the notion that I was inferior to my family.
I know that I AM good enough...for my boyfriend, for God...and on some days, for myself.

It's myself that's the problem. My family loves me, and they don't believe I'm inferior.

Sprung

Spring has sprung
it's time to fly
on wings of sun and earth and sky
I hear the Robins' chorus sing
Spring is here
It's Spring
It's SPRING!!!

I wrote that in elementary school.
I still feel that way about spring.

The sun and earth and sky feel a bit farther here and I feel a bit as though those wings had been clipped. You can't spread your wings when there are houses and cars and parking meters and people in the way.

I want to walk down to the lake and listen to the geese and ducks coming back from the south, to find the little green plants peeking through the slush and water and mud, to watch the water rushing through the coulee, to find the piles of ice on the lakeshore where the wind pushed them.

I"ll never forget the warm spring night we walked out into the pasture hills and I could feel the warm and cool air currents caressing my face as I walked through them. The Northern Lights came out and as they danced eerily across the sky a flock of ducks flew overhead, just low enough that we could hear the "whoosh" of their wings. It sounded like the northern lights...airy and surreal.
I want to hike up to the hillsides and see the crocuses blooming....hundreds and hundreds of little fuzzy pasque flowers covering the dried prairie slopes.

The crocuses here are in neat, bright little rows edging our flower beds. Also we have an abundance of little blue flowers coming up in our yard and flower beds. And the potting plants are out at Lowes which means I can plant things soon. Hooray!!!

Purposeful puzzling

There is purpose in these puzzles we live. The peace of leaving Mountain Gear assures me that my decision to leave was wise. I do not know how to change the business practices that I cannot agree with. I do know that the stress of answering phone calls from angry customers has contributed to the tension in my back. I hope to find other employment that is less stressful and I have not forgotten the dream of a place in West Central for kids to participate in the arts.
I am discovering that sometimes wounds do NOT heal as I thought they had. I remember jumping off the dock at Camp of the Cross in summer 2003. The dams further south had been raised and enough water released to lower the water level to around 3 feet. I discovered this as I landed hard and felt my ankle turn as I hit the mucky bottom. I may have had the camp nurse tape it for me and I limped around after my campers the rest of the week. I assumed it simply healed.
Apparently not. Jon and I went to "V for Vendetta" at the IMAX on Friday. I had a tension headache when we went into the movie and that is all. When we walked out my foot hurt so much I had to limp back to his apartment. This is bizarre and has never happened before, but the chiropractor explained that with chiropractic therapy comes increased nervous system function. For me that means a three year old injury feels as if it happened last week.
And I thought I had a high pain tolerance. So much for THAT thought.

rant

I am counting hours.
Before Christmas I fell into a decent seasonal job at a local outwear and outdoor equipment company. I signed on as a call center representative after Christmas. The pay sucks but the employee gear discount is sweet. Then I realized how the corporate world works. I realized how much all the other employees dislike working here. I walked into REI the other day and realized how friendly the employees are and how nice the store is.
I could have continued at this job, but I didn't know a lot about myself and I didn't take the time to learn more about the company and those around me, so I huffily quit under the guise that I would spend more time searching for piano students.

musings

There is something wonderful about clicking the "create" button. What will I create with the clicking of these keys? Will it be worth reading? Will it somehow inform or brighten your day?
I believe in the idea that if I'm taking the time to write something for you, it should be something that will be worth your time to read. I have not always lived up to this idea. Hopefully my ranting about work is at least entertaining, but it is not necessary for you to know the frustrations of trying to please customers who simply cannot be pleased. We live in a society of instant gratification. Sometimes we must just deal with what life dishes out.

Surely you're joking.......

• Fed-ex delivered the package to your NEIGHBOR? Was the driver dyslexic that day?
• Your customer service has REALLY been THAT HORRIBLE? I mean, we get a bit touchy sometimes, but we do try to be polite.
• oh good! you liked the gloves...and you're ordering two more pair? That's not a joke, that's a person I like.
• YOUR dog chewed through your watchband and you're being irritable with ME?! Train your dog!! You expect free expedited shipping? Get over it.

wedding bel.....er.., bagpipes

There was a wedding on Saturday the 11th of February. It involved two of my cousins, my aunt, my uncle and myself, various other people, including my mother, my boyfriend, a lovely social worker from El Salvador, a softball player who made the wedding cake and a photographer from TBN who happened to be a first cousin of the bride. The wedding ceremony itself included a bagpipe, organ and snare drum processional, an operatic bass solo sung by the father of the bride and an oboe solo by her sister. The ceremony ended with a blessing of the couple done by the someone from First Presbyterian in Mendocino, California. He blessed the couples' eyes, ears, mouths, hearts and finished by kneeling on the steps of the dais in front of over 300 people and blessed the couples feet.

The Secret

Every superhero needs a good secret weapon. I'm no superhero, but the closest thing I have to a hero or a weapon is my mother. Here's why:

After earning a degree in biology from Minot State University my mother joined the Peace Corps. She was sent to Ethiopia where she spent two years teaching science in a school in the village of Hosanna, near Addis Ababba. (accent on both first syllables please.) She returned home, experienced culture shock and chose to return to Ethiopia. Unfortunately the Peace Corps program in Ethiopia had disbanded due to unrest in the country. She went to the headmaster of her school in Hosanna and asked for a job. He accepted her back and she spent the next two years there teaching as an independent person living in the Ethiopian culture. When she returned she'd been changed physically and emotionally. This was in the early seventies.
She married my father in June of 1977. I was born in 1982. We lived on a small farm in Central North Dakota. If you look at a map of the US you will see that this is the middle, of the middle, of the middle of nowhere. There is nowhere else on the North American continent that is farther from a major city. Dallas, Seattle, LA and New York City are all on the coasts of our continent. This is the center.
After my mother's experiences in Ethiopia she was somewhat committed to raising her child in such a way that if that child ever became a missionary to a third world country, she would not deal with culture shock. We had an automatic washer and dryer for awhile. Then mom donated them to HavIt, an organization in a nearby small town that provided housing and work for the developmentally challenged.
I know how to wash clothes using an old-fashioned wringer washer. Should you ever wonder how, I will tell you. I will also describe the experience of a 5-year-old who accidentally sticks her little fingers through the wringer with the clothes.
Part of the reason she donated the automatic washer and dryer was that we have iron rich well water on our farm. Our clothes received rust stains. We didn't install a shower until I was in junior high. I developed a rusty sheen on my hair after this installment. It was about this time that she purchased a microwave from the nearby thrift store. She also purchased a new color tv and a vcr. I'd grown up with used black and white televisions that only really got CBS and PBS.
This was also when I first got heat in my upstairs room. Dad got an electric baseboard heater from the local electric company and strung wires up through the wall to put electric heat in my room. Up to this point I'd gotten by with an electric blanket. The temperature drops to negative 30 degrees outdoors in the winter. The average temperature in my room in January without heat was around 50 degrees.

This is how I grew up. This is my life. Please understand and please do not think I was abused in any way. I always knew that my parents loved me. This was the life that they CHOSE.

Books have always had the utmost importance in our family and the walls of my parents home are covered with books still. We did not talk much as we spent winters together in our farm house. We simply curled up with a book and a cat, each in our own seperate room of the house. The wind howled outside and the blizzards raged. And I lost myself somewhere in a book.

random thoughts

Sherman Alexie is from the Spokane area. He's the author of "The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven" which is the book that the movie Smoke Signals is based upon. Jim Boyd is also a local, I think. There is a music store here that sells his music. (He is a Native American folk singer.) Smoke Signals has some scenes that were shot here. Also, the movie Bennie and Joon was shot in Peaceful Valley, which is a small neighborhood near the river and under the Maple Street Bridge.

(I tried riding my bike across the Maple Street Bridge at around 8:30 p.m. one evening this past fall. The pedestrian lane is basically a fenced "tunnel" that is suspended over the river next two four lanes of traffic. Halfway across I came across a small bicycle that someone had removed the seat from and left on the concrete walkway. "Why is that there?" I thought. Had someone been accosted and had their bicycle wrecked? THAT was when I looked around and realized I was trapped in a tunnel with no way out and if someone should try to stop me or harm me I was trapped. To my right was a street with traffic and to my left was hundreds of feet of empty space with a swift moving river below. And I couldn't go either direction anyway because there was a chainlink fence on either side of and above me. That was when I started peddling as hard as I could. I shot out of the bridge tunnel, peddled up a small hill and recognized a transient person sitting listening to a radio in the shelter of another bridge. I was out of breath but his presence startled me again and I peddled harder. When I reached Jon's apartment I was breathless and a bit sheepish. I now ride my bike mainly in the daylight, and NEVER across the Maple Street Bridge.)

Monday again

There are days when you pray "Lord, just give me strength."
Today is one of them. This was one of the more amazing and draining weekends of my life. One amazingly beautiful wedding, combined with a horrid cold, my mother being in town and my boyfriend giving two really really great presentations on his trip to Colombia.
We thought the stress was over. Then Sunday evening he checked his e-mail and found this. Pray for Mauricio and Gilberto. If you're activism minded please e-mail me or leave a note in the comments section.

"Do all the good you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, for as long as ever you can."

I think that is roughly similar to something some great Christian thinker once said. I've forgotten who.

Life as a Lackey

I want a "smite" button on my keyboard. No fair.
Those of you who are Far Side fans know that only God gets a "smite" button. Oh well.
Why does Dale want Stratos Gloves? Who is Dale anyway? Does he really exist or did someone make up all these test orders?
Why do I have to take up precious brain space with things like the function of the F4 key?
Will I get in trouble for blogging at work?
I should behave.

This is good.

I have an amazing boyfriend.
And good friends
and a job.
And I'm "employed" by a good ministry and live with good people.

This is good.

oh yeah. My family is pretty nice too. They support me.

Just another Manic Monday

I'm sitting at my new "job" waiting to be trained. If they fire me, I may rejoice but in the meantime it's decent money and means I can get really cool outdoor clothing and gear at a reduced price. My day and my week are looking insanely busy, but I can deal with that. I did survive five years of college and campus ministry involvement. And somehow I worked at least an hour of piano practice into 5 out of 7 of my weekdays during my last two years of college. I can handle this too.
But what is their deal? I am being paid to sit here and wait for other people so they can "train" me. (I am not a dog.)
Nevermind the fact that I actually worked here for two weeks during the Christmas season. But I was working random seasonal work then.

community

I like living alone.
I miss the prairie.
stupid community building.
I hate talking to people.
wah wah wah poor me.

hmmmm....

The frustrating thing about having goals and dreams (like an afterschool progam) is that you have to stay put awhile to accomplish them. If I go through with this I'll have to do all my wandering in my head for awhile.

art and music as healing

I have this bizarre notion that perhaps my purpose here is to bring arts and music to the kids of West Central. I started by teaching piano lessons, but I really only have two students, and they are from families that can afford a piano teacher. The ones I want to teach are the kids next door who's mother could never afford it. I have this dream that this will all expand into some sort of art's-centered after school and summer program here. Kids need something creative and contructive to do to occupy their time.
The fine arts can be incredibly healing. Blues musicians deal with feelings of sadness and depression by writing songs. German expressionist painters dealt with the emotional landscape of their time and country by painting strong broad strokes with intense screaming deep colors. A scream of anguish in a painting, so to speak.
I can think of no better way for children to deal with the fact that mom and dad beat them. Or that mom and dad can't afford to pay the rent and the whole family will have to move. If mom and dad can't pay rent, they sure as hell can't afford a child therapist.
I don't know what I'm doing at all. But I have a few tools to start with. I have a collection of keyboards. I have the internet. I have piano training and teaching materials. I have a basic knowledge of crafts and some basic drawing skills. I am surrounded by people who care about children and West Central. I know a woman who is studying children and art therapy, or something similar. And I give a damn about these kids.
Most of all I can do what I really know how to do. Pray...and keep walking.

Introducing a Stranger

If you look to the right of the page you'll see that I have added Kristin to my list of friends' blogs. Unlike all the other blogs listed there Kristin is someone I have never actually met. I discovered her blog last winter when, due to a lack of contact with my peers I spent hours a day reading people's blogs and surfing the internet. I had surfed over to Jessica's blog and was randomly clicking on HER list of blog friends when I discovered Debaucherous and Dishevelled. I was intrigued by the writing style and she was talking about her soon-to-be-born baby. I kept coming back because I wanted to see the promised pictures of this new little human. Her writing style continued to entertain me. A year later, I still wander over to her blog, only now there are regular pictures of the baby and the dog.

Strong Women

• Strong women race Arabian horses into strong North Dakota winds.
• Strong women wash their laundry with old-fashioned wringer washers because they gave the automatic washer and dryer to charity.
• Strong women spend a couple hours after school in the field hauling rocks by hand with their mother.
• Strong women travel half-way across the country in small cars and sleep by the side of the road because they don't want to pay for a motel.
• Strong women haul small square bales through 3 foot snow drifts in sub-zero temperatures with a homemade toboggan so the cattle and horses will have a warm place to sleep.
• Strong women go out and pitch hay to the horse when the wind chill factor is negtive 60 degrees.
• Strong women respect the people around them and do not use them.
• Strong women dig most of a quarter mile of potatoes on their own, then haul them into the yard with the pickup and wash them with the garden hose on the lawn.
• Strong women get up at 6:00 a.m. to walk three miles before work.
• Strong women survive child abuse, divorce, depression, thyroid disease, multiple sclerosis and much more and still live "normal" productive lives.
• Strong women care for their aging parents in their homes.
• Strong women care for other people's ageing parents as well.
• Strong women journal as a form of therapy.
• Strong women learn to bite their tongue rather than using it as a weapon.

tirade

I used to be enraged by men who disrespected and used women. Now I'm disgusted by women who use men. Have I been guilty of that?

I used to despise Walmart and refuse to shop there. Now I realize that they are simply one of many capitalist corporations screwing over the little guys to make a profit. But refusing to shop at Walmart while living surrounded by people who shop there because they can't afford to shop elsewhere would be utterly hypocritical. Especially when I grew up surrounded by people who shop at Wal-mart because they couldn't afford to shop elsewhere.
I believe in supporting local businesses, but I will occasionally spend a dollar or two at Walmart simply so I can say "I understand" to the girls next door. The third grader said to me the other day, "I know Wal-mart is bad for the world, but when your family is like ours, sometimes you have to shop there."
Her mother is 25 and she and her husband are supporting two girls of their own, plus her sisters two children. I no longer have any patience for those whe "refuse to set foot in Wal-mart" yet are not in solidarity with the poor either. That is hypocrisy. I'm sure I've been guilty of hypocrisy myself many time.

My father actually DEFENDED Archer Daniels Midland corporation on the phone the other day. He pointed out that they are simply another capitalism driven corporation that makes a profit by screwing over the poor farmer and that is simply the way this country works. Yes, but my father IS the poor farmer who is being screwed over by ADM.

I want to crawl in a hole, or run and hide in the jungle, but that will never accomplish anything.
I believe it was Gandhi, or maybe someone else who said "We must BE the change we wish to see in the world."

and now, a word from our sponsor

"One of the many advantages of being cool like me, is that you don't get eaten by cannibals!!"
-Brak,
Space Ghost, Coast to Coast

Wanderlust revisited

January is the month of "what if's?" and "what next's?" It seems that every day I learn something new and the world becomes a little broader. Even my little car now feels too small for me. So....what next?
My stint with the Westminster House is over at the end of August 2006. I now have a boyfriend in the mix and I'd rather not spend copious amounts of time far away from him, but I don't want to feel as if I'm trapped in the city of Spokane either.
What next?
Short term staff at Holden Village again?
Another trip to Europe?
Volunteer ministry at The Shelter, a youth hostel in the center of Amsterdam's Red Light District?
Move back to North Dakota for a few weeks?
Bum around, come and go and be ever on the move?
When does Wanderlust end? When does one settle down? And where does one settle down?

I have a magnet that I bought at an art shop in Taos, NM. It has a photo of a rusted VW beetle and it says "If you can't find it where you're at, where will you wander to find it?"

This has always been my moto.

24

If 24 continues as it started it will be much much better than 23 was. Not that 2005 was a horrible year for me, seeing as how the last four months of it involved starting life in a new city, meeting a really great person and falling in love with that person. But 2005 also involved enduring a stressful children's ministry and even more stressful "servant staff" position at a Lutheran Bible camp and retreat center. I began 2005 feeling enormously depressed. I was depressed to the point where I hated getting out of bed in the mornings and didn't want to speak to any human being because I was convinced I had nothing of value to say to anyone. My body showed physical symptoms of this as well, but I was in central North Dakota, had little money and didn't know who to talk to.

Since I've moved away, I've found people who seem to value me as a human simply because I exist and I started talking with someone who has a PhD in psychology. I've also recently discovered that bearing the weight of that much stress can quite literally destroy your back. I've started intensive therapy sessions with a chiropractor here in town. Hopefully three daily therapy sessions with head and shoulder weights and cervical traction will strenghthen my spine and restore my back and neck to their natural function. (All those time I fell off of my horse didn't do much for my neck either.)

All this to simply say that age 24 is starting off with much more hope than 23 did. Last but not least was my birthday itself. I did my daily therapy session, got some financial help from my mother, and took myself downtown to find a nice outfit. I only intended to get a skirt, but I fell victim to a really nice sales clerk and a clearance rack at Macy's. When I left I was outfitted top to bottom, shoes and jewelry included. Then Jon took me to Mizuna's for supper and it was wonderful. We watched a movie together and I ended the day at home watching The Constant Gardner and crocheting with my housemate and her boyfriend. And then I did my therapy before bed.

True Peace

But the wisdom that comes from Heaven is first of all pure, then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. Peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness.

James 3:17 (NIV)

17But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure. It is also peace loving, gentle at all times, and willing to yield to others. It is full of mercy and good deeds. It shows no partiality and is always sincere. 18And those who are peacemakers will plant seeds of peace and reap a harvest of goodness.

James 3:17 (New Living Translation)

James 1

Be doers, not hearers. Be quick to listen and slow to speak. James knew what he was talking about.

January

I'm really glad that Jon is back. It was good to see him at the airport on Saturday night. This is the main little flame flickering in my current January dark. Of my three piano students, one has decided she is too busy for lessons and other can't take lessons this month. This leaves me with decidedly less income with which to pay some impending doctor fees. crap. Therefore the job search is back on again. In the meantime I've been hanging around the house due to the cloudy weather and my lack of finances. (And lack of boyfriend being in town. I'm really glad he got to go learn about how God is at work in Colombia though.) Hanging around the house has not been all bad. Here's why:

• I've started refinishing a five-drawer dresser. I'm an eighth of the way finished removing the paint from the first drawer. No, maybe I'm a tenth of the way finished.
• I'm currently in the middle of three crochet projects. One is a scarf, another a belt and the third is some sort of rug or something I'm making from plastic grocery bags cut into strips.
• I cut an old pair of jeans into triangles and I'm learning how to quilt....by hand.
  

wow

The school where I went from Kindergarten to Grade 11 has a website.

Urban Survivor

Take four intelligent capable post-graduate people. Put them all together in a house in the poorest neighborhood of a city. Make them live in community and work together. Watch them grow into young adults, each committed to a relationship. Will they actually spend time together? Will they flip out and want to kill each other? Will someone be voted out of the house? Only Ellie and Howard truly know the answers, and they're respectively feline and aquatic. Ellie meows occasionally. Howard just hides under the leaves of his fake water lily. They ain't talkin' that's for sure.

New Year

So I've learned a few things.

• I'm compulsive. If I have to compulsive about something, I choose to be compulsive about buying things that are healthy for me.
• Working out at Curves is a good way to get in shape and enjoy the company of other women
• Not all men can be trusted. Some of them will try to stalk you for six years.
• My last name is NOT Frankhauser and I choose to live my own life.
  
• I have a tendency to build resentments.
• I want to destroy any man who I ever see hurting a woman or hurting me.
  
• I dislike control
  

Beauty in the Breakdown

I just finished watching Garden State. Yes, there is Beauty in the Breakdown. Go watch the movie and live your life.

Those who grow...

Perhaps True Love means that those who can be irreverent must learn to become more reverant.
I only know that January is the month for hibernation.
January is the month when growing things rest quietly.
To that end, I'm putting my blog to bed for awhile.
Rest well.
Sleep easy.
I'll catch y'all on the flip side.