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
6.24.2006
6.13.2006
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.
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.
6.11.2006
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.
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.
6.02.2006
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.
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.
5.26.2006
Thoughts of Home: Goats
My aunt's two Nanny-goats just kidded. One had twins. Here is one of the babies.
5.19.2006
Thoughts of Home: Chokecherries
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.
5.07.2006
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.
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.
5.03.2006
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.
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.
5.01.2006
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.
"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.
4.28.2006
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?
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?
4.27.2006
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.
Share with others.
Most importantly....TAKE THE TIME TO LISTEN TO THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU.
4.16.2006
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.
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.
4.14.2006
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."
Click here for more information on activism in Spokane and the "not-so-welcoming committee."
4.10.2006
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 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.]
4.06.2006
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.
- 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!
- Mix the ingredients well, let rise, punch down, knead, shape into loaves, cover with oiled saran wrap, put in warm place. Let rise again.
- Preheat the oven and stick the bread inside. DO NOT remove the saran wrap. Set the timer.
- 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!!!
- 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!!!
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.
4.02.2006
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.
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.
3.30.2006
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!!!
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!!!
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!!!
3.24.2006
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.
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.
3.23.2006
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.
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.
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