My employer (big bank) is letting me work from home now. I asked for a few pieces of my office furniture for my home office. It is fully amortized, so they were happy to give me what I need (a desk and chair, a couple of file cabinets, two bookshelves). The office furniture is much nicer than my cast-offs and Ikea stuff, so I was very happy.
They said, however, that I would be responsible for moving it, since they were giving it to me.
No problem. Just a few pieces of office furniture. Yes, the desk was a little big, but it would be manageable.
(The silence you hear is God shaking his head and thinking, "she really is an idiot.")
So PH and I arranged to rent a UHaul truck on Saturday, along with a dolly and some furniture pads. I arranged with my office building management to have access to the freight elevator. I organized the space in the basement office (did I tell you my home office is in our basement?) to make the move-in easier.
(God is now waving his arms and crying, "No, no!")
Let me preface this part of the story by telling you that the entire month of March we had no rain. Zip. Nada. Nothing.
So we woke up Saturday morning to.....a driving rainstorm.
Ah well, we had raincoats, right? And sturdy, waterproof hiking boots, right? and work gloves?
No problem.
(God is rolling his eyes.)
We went to pick up the truck. We were not the only fools trying to move stuff on a very rainy Saturday. The line was long. It took us an hour to get our trusty chariot, a venerable beast with almost 200K miles on it. Smelled like an ashtray, and the brakes were a little sketchy, but it was reasonably functional.
Off we went to my office to get my stuff.
To access the door which leads to the freight elevator, you have drive into an access alley that serves a number of the downtown high-rise office buildings. Then for the last fifty feet, you have to back into an extremely narrow alley to my building's back door. I'm glad PH was driving - I would have scraped the wall and the truck in a dramatic fashion. We couldn't get the back of the truck under the door overhang, so it was clear that we and the furniture would get rained on, but we could handle it. Right.
The weekend security guy, Bill, was there for us. He's a lovely elderly gentleman who wanted to be very helpful, but he really didn't know how to operate the freight elevator. I was glad I had gotten a tutorial on it from the weekday concierge, Reggie. So up we went with our furniture dolly. It took four trips up and down the freight elevator to move out the stuff, including the desk, which turned out to be much heavier and larger than we recalled. (God is snickering now.)
On the last trip down, with the freight elevator packed full of stuff and us squished into the corner, the elevator went down and refused to stop at the access level. The door wouldn't open either.
We experimented with several different button combinations. It moved up and down, but the doors wouldn't open and it wouldn't go to the access level. Fortunately Bill had given us his cell phone number.
We called him and told him what was happening. "Well, I don't know much about that thing, but let me go down to the basement and push some buttons and see what happens."
Nothing happened.
He called back. "I'm going to call Stanley, the building engineer, and see what he says."
I played with buttons again. We jerked up a few feet, jerked down a few feet. The doors still wouldn't open.
I turned to PH. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?" You'd think after this many years of marriage, I would know that, but we'd never been stuck in a confined place before.
"Are you?" he asked.
"Nah. Just warm." The fan wasn't working in the elevator either.
Bill called back. "Stanley is coming in."
"How far does he have to come?" I was fearing he lived 20 miles out in the 'burbs. "It won't take long."
I took another shot at playing with the buttons, and, mirabile dictu, it worked. The elevator obediently went to the proper level and the door opened. I ran out and told Bill to call Stanley, hoping to save him the trip.
"No," Bill said. "I want him to get in here and show me how this thing works." I knew we'd want to be out of there before Stanley got there.
Loading the truck went pretty smoothly, although we got very wet. It was clear the desk was the biggest challenge. We drove home as the rain poured down, thinking how nice it would be if the rain stopped just for a little while so we could unload the furniture and take it with the hand truck around the back of the house to the basement level, which means a circuitous trip with a dozen or so stairs down around the perimeter of the house.
It didn't stop raining.
"Well," PH said, "if we can at least get the big pieces down using the furniture hand truck, then we can get the smaller things down there later when it's dry."
We got the big bookshelf and one of the lateral files down with minimal problems, despite the slippery slate stairs. We had to wipe the pieces down with a chamois.
Time for the desk. We got it on end, covered with a blanket and secured with a strap. There was only one problem. When PH was behind it, he couldn't see to steer (yes, it's that big). We made it down four of the stairs, when I suggested that this was too unsafe for just the two of us on a very rainy day. (God nods and thinks, "She's not so idiotic after all.")
So now my desk, one small bookshelf and a lateral file are sitting in my garage, waiting for the opportunity to put them where they belong. Maybe I'll just leave them there until we move to seminary housing. Maybe we'll take the desk apart and move it in pieces. Maybe the desk will grow moss in the damp environs of the garage and become something of an art installation...
And it is blissfully sunny outside.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Friday, April 07, 2006
Friday Five: Arts Alive!
Five performing arts experiences that transformed me:
1) recording the complete Bach Motets as a member of the Washington Bach Consort in the Bethlehem Chapel at Washington National Cathedral. It was at night, some 25 years ago. The echoes were beautiful. How something could be soft and crisp and sensual and spiritual at the same time, I don't know. All I know is that it was sublime.
2) my baccalaureate piano recital. An hour of difficult music, memorized. A surprisingly good performance, given my limited gifts. The Holy Spirit gets us through.
3) a performance of Chopin by my teacher's teacher, pianist Ruth Slenczynska. The first time a musical performance made me weep. I was 19. I think I wept because I knew I'd never be that good. I know I wept because I had never heard anything quite that transcendent.
4) my #1 stepson playing saxophone with a jazz combo in a nightclub that he was technically too young to be in. Playing amazingly, soulfully, in the style of Charlie Parker.
5) German baritone Thomas Quasthoff singing at the Kennedy Center. "Winterreise" beyond even the incomparable Dietrich Fischer-Diskau. An encore of "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" that spanned four octaves. All from a man who, as a victim of thalidomide taken by his mother when he was in utero, stands not four feet tall. And we all forgot his physical limitations in the transcendence of the music.
Two bonus picks:
- singing the Brahms "German Requiem" and the Hindemith "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed" under the baton of Robert Shaw at the National Cathedral. That man got sounds out of us that no one else could, and we were pretty danged good to begin with. He was near the end of his life, and was in deep communion with his Lord. It showed every time he raised his baton.
- sitting in on a private rehearsal of "Elisir D'Amore" at the Met - fourth row seats - with Pavarotti (while the instrument was still an amazement and before he started dying his hair and eyebrows) and Judith Blegen. Even when he was marking, the sound was ....words fail me.
Yes, my picks were all musical, many personal musical experiences. Sorry. That's where my soul lives.
1) recording the complete Bach Motets as a member of the Washington Bach Consort in the Bethlehem Chapel at Washington National Cathedral. It was at night, some 25 years ago. The echoes were beautiful. How something could be soft and crisp and sensual and spiritual at the same time, I don't know. All I know is that it was sublime.
2) my baccalaureate piano recital. An hour of difficult music, memorized. A surprisingly good performance, given my limited gifts. The Holy Spirit gets us through.
3) a performance of Chopin by my teacher's teacher, pianist Ruth Slenczynska. The first time a musical performance made me weep. I was 19. I think I wept because I knew I'd never be that good. I know I wept because I had never heard anything quite that transcendent.
4) my #1 stepson playing saxophone with a jazz combo in a nightclub that he was technically too young to be in. Playing amazingly, soulfully, in the style of Charlie Parker.
5) German baritone Thomas Quasthoff singing at the Kennedy Center. "Winterreise" beyond even the incomparable Dietrich Fischer-Diskau. An encore of "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" that spanned four octaves. All from a man who, as a victim of thalidomide taken by his mother when he was in utero, stands not four feet tall. And we all forgot his physical limitations in the transcendence of the music.
Two bonus picks:
- singing the Brahms "German Requiem" and the Hindemith "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed" under the baton of Robert Shaw at the National Cathedral. That man got sounds out of us that no one else could, and we were pretty danged good to begin with. He was near the end of his life, and was in deep communion with his Lord. It showed every time he raised his baton.
- sitting in on a private rehearsal of "Elisir D'Amore" at the Met - fourth row seats - with Pavarotti (while the instrument was still an amazement and before he started dying his hair and eyebrows) and Judith Blegen. Even when he was marking, the sound was ....words fail me.
Yes, my picks were all musical, many personal musical experiences. Sorry. That's where my soul lives.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Frederick Buechner at the National Cathedral
The Washington National Cathedral had a wonderful program last night, built around Frederick Buechner and his latest book (a collection of sermons). PH and I went, and other friends from my church were there as well. Buechner read from the book, "Secrets in the Dark", and there was a panel discussion about Buechner and the art of preaching with Tom Long (one of PH's homiletics profs at Princeton), Barbara Brown Taylor, a noted Episcopal homilist, and Gene Sutton, canon of the Cathedral and no mean preacher and professor of homiletics himself.
I've been reading Buechner for quite a while. Reading him was one of my spiritual disciplines while in the early stages of my discernment process. Oh, but to hear him! A beautiful deep, rich voice. I suddenly hear things in what I had read in his books differently, because I can imagine him and his crisp diction, stately pace, dramatic pauses.
His last word was on the importance of silence. He told us that our gift to him (his 80th birthday is coming up) should be to sit in silence for three minutes.
So we did.
I've sung in that space for a decade, with Cathedral Choral Society. I know how to deal with sound in that difficult space, where the reverberations can last for several seconds.
Oh, but the silence! What a lovely thing, and what a superb gift from a preacher without peer!
The silence was as much a blessing as his final words of benediction.
I've been reading Buechner for quite a while. Reading him was one of my spiritual disciplines while in the early stages of my discernment process. Oh, but to hear him! A beautiful deep, rich voice. I suddenly hear things in what I had read in his books differently, because I can imagine him and his crisp diction, stately pace, dramatic pauses.
His last word was on the importance of silence. He told us that our gift to him (his 80th birthday is coming up) should be to sit in silence for three minutes.
So we did.
I've sung in that space for a decade, with Cathedral Choral Society. I know how to deal with sound in that difficult space, where the reverberations can last for several seconds.
Oh, but the silence! What a lovely thing, and what a superb gift from a preacher without peer!
The silence was as much a blessing as his final words of benediction.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Lent Is About Waiting
As I wait for the letter from the Bishop, I'm meditating on patient waiting.
That's not my natural state of being. I much prefer to act. Thus, in preparation for putting our house on the market, I spent 90 minutes yesterday and 90 minutes today cleaning up the yard and bagging garden debris. I'm sore this morning; my back will be really sore tomorrow. It looks better though, and all the lovely daffodils, grape hyacinths, mertensia, and even a few tulips are in bloom, so the garden looks like what I hoped for: an English cottage garden. Of course, gardening, especially with perennials, is another exercise in waiting. We plant the bulbs in the fall, and they bloom in spring. Sometimes they don't bloom the first spring. Sometimes they naturalize over several years, so a small patch of yellow becomes a bigger one. I have a couple of perennial plants that were about three inches in diameter when I planted them five years ago. They're about a foot in diameter each now, and slowly spreading over the lower part of the front yard. Very pretty indeed.
Buried deep in the dirt of the yard are the seventeen year cicadas. They came up from the dirt two years ago, buzzing around like slow-moving helicopters, with their big red eyes and noisy whirrs. They wait, too, for their rebirth, every seventeen years. They come up, mate, lay their eggs in the bark of trees, and die. The nymphs fall into the dirt, to wait for seventeen years before their brief romantic interlude.
Here we sit, for forty days of waiting. We wait for the sad and horrifying tale of Christ's crucifixion. We wait for three days beyond it for His resurrection. We wait, and there is tension in the waiting, even though we know how the story ends. We wait because we need to be reminded of the glorious ending to the story, and our beginning in its ending.
So I am waiting, and trying to learn the lesson of patience. I don't have to wait seventeen years. I don't even have to wait from fall to spring, nor even forty days, most likely. Soon the letter will come, and with it the beginning of a new life, which celebrates His ending and beginning.
That's not my natural state of being. I much prefer to act. Thus, in preparation for putting our house on the market, I spent 90 minutes yesterday and 90 minutes today cleaning up the yard and bagging garden debris. I'm sore this morning; my back will be really sore tomorrow. It looks better though, and all the lovely daffodils, grape hyacinths, mertensia, and even a few tulips are in bloom, so the garden looks like what I hoped for: an English cottage garden. Of course, gardening, especially with perennials, is another exercise in waiting. We plant the bulbs in the fall, and they bloom in spring. Sometimes they don't bloom the first spring. Sometimes they naturalize over several years, so a small patch of yellow becomes a bigger one. I have a couple of perennial plants that were about three inches in diameter when I planted them five years ago. They're about a foot in diameter each now, and slowly spreading over the lower part of the front yard. Very pretty indeed.
Buried deep in the dirt of the yard are the seventeen year cicadas. They came up from the dirt two years ago, buzzing around like slow-moving helicopters, with their big red eyes and noisy whirrs. They wait, too, for their rebirth, every seventeen years. They come up, mate, lay their eggs in the bark of trees, and die. The nymphs fall into the dirt, to wait for seventeen years before their brief romantic interlude.
Here we sit, for forty days of waiting. We wait for the sad and horrifying tale of Christ's crucifixion. We wait for three days beyond it for His resurrection. We wait, and there is tension in the waiting, even though we know how the story ends. We wait because we need to be reminded of the glorious ending to the story, and our beginning in its ending.
So I am waiting, and trying to learn the lesson of patience. I don't have to wait seventeen years. I don't even have to wait from fall to spring, nor even forty days, most likely. Soon the letter will come, and with it the beginning of a new life, which celebrates His ending and beginning.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
No, I Haven't Fallen Off the Face of the Earth
I am still waiting for communication from the Bishop's office on postulancy. I emailed the coordinator last night , who told me (contrary to what I had been told by others) that I would get a letter with a date and time for an interview with the Bishop, and if he concurred with the COM recommendation, he would grant me postulancy then, followed up by a letter.
So here's how my tortured mind now works:
Scenario A: The COM recommended in favor, but talked of my somewhat checkered past, and he wants to meet with me personally to see if I'm scary or not;
Scenario B: although the COM recommended in favor, he's decided that ordained ministry is not for me, so he wants to meet me in person and explain;
Scenario C: Since he's due to retire soon, he just wants the pleasure of meeting with the candidates (after all, that's what the handbook said he would do).
Of course, the reality is probably much simpler - reminding myself of Occam's Razor at this point - but conspiracy theories and paranoia are so much more fun.
In the meantime, we are busily preparing to put the house ont he market. I've completed all the fun projects, involving tools and paint and such, so I'm left with the hard work of decluttering and storing the remaining things neatly. This is not my natural state of being.
I did have a conversation with my boss and his boss about my life-change. They were very pleased and supportive, and want me to make a proposal for providing a little part-time consulting assistance to get the bank properly transitioned into life without Mibi fixing all their little problems. Sounds good to me.
Now if the Bishop says no, the apple cart is upset again, but like Scarlett, I'll worry about that tomorrow...
So here's how my tortured mind now works:
Scenario A: The COM recommended in favor, but talked of my somewhat checkered past, and he wants to meet with me personally to see if I'm scary or not;
Scenario B: although the COM recommended in favor, he's decided that ordained ministry is not for me, so he wants to meet me in person and explain;
Scenario C: Since he's due to retire soon, he just wants the pleasure of meeting with the candidates (after all, that's what the handbook said he would do).
Of course, the reality is probably much simpler - reminding myself of Occam's Razor at this point - but conspiracy theories and paranoia are so much more fun.
In the meantime, we are busily preparing to put the house ont he market. I've completed all the fun projects, involving tools and paint and such, so I'm left with the hard work of decluttering and storing the remaining things neatly. This is not my natural state of being.
I did have a conversation with my boss and his boss about my life-change. They were very pleased and supportive, and want me to make a proposal for providing a little part-time consulting assistance to get the bank properly transitioned into life without Mibi fixing all their little problems. Sounds good to me.
Now if the Bishop says no, the apple cart is upset again, but like Scarlett, I'll worry about that tomorrow...
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Yay!!!!!
I got the call this morning that I had been hoping for. The Commission on Ministry was satisfied with my interviews yesterday, and has recommended to the Bishop that I be named a postulant.
It will not be official until I get the Bishop's letter, but he generally accepts the Commission's recommendation, so it looks like I'll be going to Big Old Seminary in August.
I am so very grateful to the Lord, to my husband and children, to my parish family, to our extended family, and to all of you, who have been so encouraging and kind to me.
P.S. Sophia, I took your advice, and reminded myself to breathe periodically while in the interviews. Best advice I could have gotten!
It will not be official until I get the Bishop's letter, but he generally accepts the Commission's recommendation, so it looks like I'll be going to Big Old Seminary in August.
I am so very grateful to the Lord, to my husband and children, to my parish family, to our extended family, and to all of you, who have been so encouraging and kind to me.
P.S. Sophia, I took your advice, and reminded myself to breathe periodically while in the interviews. Best advice I could have gotten!
Friday, March 17, 2006
Aaaah
The Commission on Ministry interviews this morning went well. I thought I did an adequate job, but after we were done one of the Commission members told PH that he thought it was the best interview he had ever participated in, and that he thought it felt rather like a coronation at the end of a long process.
Un peut trop.
I found the experience very intense, and although they didn't ask snarky questions, they asked some challenging ones. After it was over, and PH and I went to the car, I cried for a bit, relieving some of the stress of the experience, I think. PH took me out for a nice little French bistro lunch.
I hope his words are prescient. I expect to get a call tomorrow or Sunday letting me know what they will recommend to the Bishop. If I get the thumbs up from them, it's pretty certain the Bishop will OK me as well.
Thanks, Lord. The Lorica of Saint Patrick did well by me this morning, I think.
Now I really DO need to declutter the house!
Un peut trop.
I found the experience very intense, and although they didn't ask snarky questions, they asked some challenging ones. After it was over, and PH and I went to the car, I cried for a bit, relieving some of the stress of the experience, I think. PH took me out for a nice little French bistro lunch.
I hope his words are prescient. I expect to get a call tomorrow or Sunday letting me know what they will recommend to the Bishop. If I get the thumbs up from them, it's pretty certain the Bishop will OK me as well.
Thanks, Lord. The Lorica of Saint Patrick did well by me this morning, I think.
Now I really DO need to declutter the house!
St. Patrick's Breastplate (The Lorica)
I arise today
Through a mighty strength,
the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness
Of the Creator of Creation.
I arise today
Through the strength of
Christ's birth with His baptism,
Through the strength of
His crucifixion with His burial,
Through the strength of
His resurrection with His ascension,
Through the strength of
His descent for the judgement of Doom.
I arise today
Through the strength of
the love of the Cherubim,
In the obedience of angels,
In the service of archangels,
In the hope of the resurrection
to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In prediction of prophets,
In preaching of apostles,
In faith of confessors,
In innocence of holy virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.
I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendour of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.
I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me:
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak to me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's host to save me,
From snares of devils,
From temptation of vices,
From every one who shall wish me ill,
Afar and anear,
Alone and in a multitude.
I summon today all these powers
between me and those evils,
Against every cruel merciless
power that may oppose my body
and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of women and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.
Christ to shield me today
Against poisoning, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So there come to me abundance of reward.
Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every one who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye of every one who sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
I arise today
Through a mighty strength,
the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness
Of the Creator of Creation.
-Transl. Kuno Meyer
Happy Saint Patrick's Day. Ceid Mille Failte! My favorite part of the Lorica, one of my favorite prayers, is "spells of women and smiths and wizards." Who knew smiths could cast spells?
Through a mighty strength,
the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness
Of the Creator of Creation.
I arise today
Through the strength of
Christ's birth with His baptism,
Through the strength of
His crucifixion with His burial,
Through the strength of
His resurrection with His ascension,
Through the strength of
His descent for the judgement of Doom.
I arise today
Through the strength of
the love of the Cherubim,
In the obedience of angels,
In the service of archangels,
In the hope of the resurrection
to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In prediction of prophets,
In preaching of apostles,
In faith of confessors,
In innocence of holy virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.
I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendour of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.
I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me:
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak to me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's host to save me,
From snares of devils,
From temptation of vices,
From every one who shall wish me ill,
Afar and anear,
Alone and in a multitude.
I summon today all these powers
between me and those evils,
Against every cruel merciless
power that may oppose my body
and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of women and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.
Christ to shield me today
Against poisoning, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So there come to me abundance of reward.
Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every one who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye of every one who sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
I arise today
Through a mighty strength,
the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness
Of the Creator of Creation.
-Transl. Kuno Meyer
Happy Saint Patrick's Day. Ceid Mille Failte! My favorite part of the Lorica, one of my favorite prayers, is "spells of women and smiths and wizards." Who knew smiths could cast spells?
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Transitions
Tomorrow morning, while I'm up at Big Old Seminary getting grilled by the Commission on Ministry, StrongOpinions will be on a plane to go visit Semi-useless Boyfriend out in WI. he's improving, though still a bit immature.
I'm transitioning back to graduate school. She's transitioning into adulthood, and college.
It's exciting and frightening and we each have fears about the other's transition.
She does seem excited about going off to college. I am also excited about going to seminary.
Thirty-six years difference in age isn't really so much after all.
I'm transitioning back to graduate school. She's transitioning into adulthood, and college.
It's exciting and frightening and we each have fears about the other's transition.
She does seem excited about going off to college. I am also excited about going to seminary.
Thirty-six years difference in age isn't really so much after all.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
It May Not Be Cherry Blossom Time Yet
but it's springtime in our garden. In the top picture, you can see the fish swimming arounf a bit, the azaleas greening up, and some daffodils in the sunlight.
Here are the fish in all their glory, and to the right, banks of daffodils and the waterfall.
Here are the fish in all their glory, and to the right, banks of daffodils and the waterfall.
What a Week!
Sunday was doing the Adult Sunday School program on the Mission trip, plus serving as Lay Eucharistic Minister for the 11 am service, plus running back to sing the anthem with the choir. Sunday afternoon was finishing painting the downstairs bathroom and removing the wallpaper and painting the upstairs bathroom (they're both pretty small). Sunday evening was cooking dinner, then going to lead our Emmaus/First Acts spiritual formation group.
Monday was work, interspersed with restoring the assorted stuff that needed to be hung, put back, washed up, organized in the two bathrooms. Also some organizing and tossing of stuff in my office, plus a white paper to be written for my boss. Monday night was Koine Greek class.
Tuesday was not one, but two doctor appointments, one of which was the annual ob-gyn funfest ("Yes, you still have a belly full of fibroids, but there have been no changes, so we won't do anything about them. Yet."). A quick run to the hardware store for picture hangers and to return the bottle of wallpaper stripper that I didn't need after all. A stop at the library (one of my favorite places in the world). Another white paper for the boss. Sending $$$ off to StoneMason to help get his car properly registered in NorthCountry state. Writing a check for StrongOpinions' housing at Buddhist University. Cooking dinner for Tuesday night (Dijon pork tenderloin) plus a beef stew in the crock pot for later this week. In the evening, running the quarterly meeting of our church's endowment fund. I'm searching for my replacement as chair - once I get to seminary, I won't have time for this. Oh, and I also put out massive quantities of garbage - see, I really AM decluttering!
Today (once I get done with paperwork here in my home office) I'll go downtown to meet PH. The company is letting us take whatever furniture we want out of my old office, since it's already fully amortized and it just costs them money to move it elsewhere. PH's nonprofit agency will be the prime beneficiary, but I will also get a grown-up desk for my home office and a couple of bookshelves. Yowza! Then in the late afternoon I'll get my hair cut and the roots done (gotta look nice for the interviews on Friday). Tonight is choir practice.
Tomorrow is wide open, so I'm hoping to fit in a mental health pedicure at lunchtime.I have to run interference on some deals the bank is working on that have had hiccups, so that should fill much of the day. Thank goodness there's nothing in the evening. I may just fill the tub with hot water and stay in it for several hours, periodically refilling it with more hot water. Candles, scented bubble bath, and some Ian McEwen to read.
Friday morning is usually our women's Bible study at 7:30 am. I'm wondering if going to that before my interviews, which start at 9:50) might be soothing, or just more stressful from a scheduling standpoint. The good news is that one of my dear friends is having a little dinner get-together for us Friday night. What would I do without my friends?
Heaven only knows what Saturday will bring, but I know I'll be at icon-writing at noon.
Then all I'll have to do is sit around and wait for the phone call telling me whether the COM gave me the thumbs up or not.
Ah well, if the worst happens, at least I've got a freshly painted and decluttered house!
Monday was work, interspersed with restoring the assorted stuff that needed to be hung, put back, washed up, organized in the two bathrooms. Also some organizing and tossing of stuff in my office, plus a white paper to be written for my boss. Monday night was Koine Greek class.
Tuesday was not one, but two doctor appointments, one of which was the annual ob-gyn funfest ("Yes, you still have a belly full of fibroids, but there have been no changes, so we won't do anything about them. Yet."). A quick run to the hardware store for picture hangers and to return the bottle of wallpaper stripper that I didn't need after all. A stop at the library (one of my favorite places in the world). Another white paper for the boss. Sending $$$ off to StoneMason to help get his car properly registered in NorthCountry state. Writing a check for StrongOpinions' housing at Buddhist University. Cooking dinner for Tuesday night (Dijon pork tenderloin) plus a beef stew in the crock pot for later this week. In the evening, running the quarterly meeting of our church's endowment fund. I'm searching for my replacement as chair - once I get to seminary, I won't have time for this. Oh, and I also put out massive quantities of garbage - see, I really AM decluttering!
Today (once I get done with paperwork here in my home office) I'll go downtown to meet PH. The company is letting us take whatever furniture we want out of my old office, since it's already fully amortized and it just costs them money to move it elsewhere. PH's nonprofit agency will be the prime beneficiary, but I will also get a grown-up desk for my home office and a couple of bookshelves. Yowza! Then in the late afternoon I'll get my hair cut and the roots done (gotta look nice for the interviews on Friday). Tonight is choir practice.
Tomorrow is wide open, so I'm hoping to fit in a mental health pedicure at lunchtime.I have to run interference on some deals the bank is working on that have had hiccups, so that should fill much of the day. Thank goodness there's nothing in the evening. I may just fill the tub with hot water and stay in it for several hours, periodically refilling it with more hot water. Candles, scented bubble bath, and some Ian McEwen to read.
Friday morning is usually our women's Bible study at 7:30 am. I'm wondering if going to that before my interviews, which start at 9:50) might be soothing, or just more stressful from a scheduling standpoint. The good news is that one of my dear friends is having a little dinner get-together for us Friday night. What would I do without my friends?
Heaven only knows what Saturday will bring, but I know I'll be at icon-writing at noon.
Then all I'll have to do is sit around and wait for the phone call telling me whether the COM gave me the thumbs up or not.
Ah well, if the worst happens, at least I've got a freshly painted and decluttered house!
Monday, March 13, 2006
Thank you, Lord
We had our bimonthly Emmaus Bible Study/Spiritual formation group meeting last night. It's such a wonderful source of growth and support for me, and leading it has given me many lessons.
There was special good news last night. You may recall my asking for prayers for my friend N, who has been in a terrible depression, and had been hospitalized following a suicide attempt. N, with spouse, was with us last night, a first foray amongst people beyond the immediate family. I had taken N to lunch last week, hoping this would encourage further interactions once again.
Thank you, Lord, for the start of the long healing process for N. Thank you for reminding us that You are the Great Healer. Thank you for a loving community to welcome N back "into the world."
There was special good news last night. You may recall my asking for prayers for my friend N, who has been in a terrible depression, and had been hospitalized following a suicide attempt. N, with spouse, was with us last night, a first foray amongst people beyond the immediate family. I had taken N to lunch last week, hoping this would encourage further interactions once again.
Thank you, Lord, for the start of the long healing process for N. Thank you for reminding us that You are the Great Healer. Thank you for a loving community to welcome N back "into the world."
Saturday, March 11, 2006
For all that was, Thanks. For all that will be,Yes.
Spring is here. We're experiencing some extraordinarily warm weather - feels like about 75 degrees outside right now - and the garden is responding. My little "tete-a-tete" daffodils are blooming, the Virginia bluebells are swaying in the breeze, and the fish in the pond are swimming around merrily. StrongOpinions notes that they have spawned again. I think we're back up to at least 25 fish ranging in size from 1/2 inch to 7 inches. I took an hour-long walk early this morning up and down the undulating hills in our neighborhood. 'Twas delight.
I got word today that I actually am scheduled for my Commission on Ministry interviews this coming Friday - you'll recall there was something of a snafu when one of the parties in the process didn't get her paperwork in on time, but that seems to have been overcome - and, best of all, they're holding the interviews at Big Old Seminary (20 minutes drive from home) rather than Diocesan Retreat Center (2 hours drive). They scheduled me for first thing in the morning, so I can go in and get it done rather than fretting all morning and turning myself into a giant wet squished Kleenex. We can leave the Seminary when we're done and go drink Jameson's or green beer to either celebrate or console me. The last good thing is that they are supposed to let us know before the weekend is out what the results are, rather than waiting and waiting and waiting. These are good things.
Thanks, and yes.
I got word today that I actually am scheduled for my Commission on Ministry interviews this coming Friday - you'll recall there was something of a snafu when one of the parties in the process didn't get her paperwork in on time, but that seems to have been overcome - and, best of all, they're holding the interviews at Big Old Seminary (20 minutes drive from home) rather than Diocesan Retreat Center (2 hours drive). They scheduled me for first thing in the morning, so I can go in and get it done rather than fretting all morning and turning myself into a giant wet squished Kleenex. We can leave the Seminary when we're done and go drink Jameson's or green beer to either celebrate or console me. The last good thing is that they are supposed to let us know before the weekend is out what the results are, rather than waiting and waiting and waiting. These are good things.
Thanks, and yes.
Friday, March 10, 2006
RevGals Friday Five Meme: Hair
1) Do you like your hair?
Reasonably well.
2) Have you ever colored your hair? If not, would you consider it?
It is colored right now - a light reddish-brown. It's much lighter than my natural color (dark brown), but since my natural hair color is no longer dark brown, but a mishmash of grey, white, and brown, it seems to work well.
3) What's the longest you've ever worn your hair? The shortest?
Longest: all the way down my back when I was in college.
Shortest: the imfamous pixie cut, which made my face look like a full moon.
4) When and what was your worst. haircut. ever?
The aforementioned pixie cut, although the bowl cut came in a close second.
5) Tell us a favorite song or scene from a book or movie dealing with hair.
From Debussy's "Chansons de Bilitis" , text by Pierre Louys:
La Chevelure
Il m'a dit: "Cette nuit, j'ai reve. J'avais tas chevelure autour de mon cou. J'avais tes cheveux comme un collier noir autour de ma nuque et sur ma poitrine. Je les caressais et c'etaient les miens; et nous etions lies pour toujours ainsi, par la meme chevelure, la bouche sur la bouche, ainsi que deux lauriers n'ont souvent qu'une racine. Et peu a peu, il ma semble tant nos membres etaient confondus, que je devenais toi-meme, ou que tu entrais en moi, comme mon songe." Quand il eut acheve, il mit doucement ses mains sur mes epaules, et il me regarda d'un regard si tendre, que je baissai les yeux avec un frisson.
The Tresses
He said to me: "last night I dreamed. I had your tresses around my neck. I had your hair like a black necklance around the nape of my neck on an my chest. I caressed it and it was mine; and we were bound forever thus, by the same tresses, mouth on mouth, just as two laurel trees often have only a single root. And little by little, it seemed to me, so intermingled were our limbs that I became you or you entered into me like my dream." When he finished, he gently put his hands on my shoulders, and he looked at me with a look so tender that I lowered my eyes with a shiver.
I've sung this in concert a couple of times. very intense, very sensual. The best of what Debussy can be. Some of my best singing, even if I do say so myself...
Reasonably well.
2) Have you ever colored your hair? If not, would you consider it?
It is colored right now - a light reddish-brown. It's much lighter than my natural color (dark brown), but since my natural hair color is no longer dark brown, but a mishmash of grey, white, and brown, it seems to work well.
3) What's the longest you've ever worn your hair? The shortest?
Longest: all the way down my back when I was in college.
Shortest: the imfamous pixie cut, which made my face look like a full moon.
4) When and what was your worst. haircut. ever?
The aforementioned pixie cut, although the bowl cut came in a close second.
5) Tell us a favorite song or scene from a book or movie dealing with hair.
From Debussy's "Chansons de Bilitis" , text by Pierre Louys:
La Chevelure
Il m'a dit: "Cette nuit, j'ai reve. J'avais tas chevelure autour de mon cou. J'avais tes cheveux comme un collier noir autour de ma nuque et sur ma poitrine. Je les caressais et c'etaient les miens; et nous etions lies pour toujours ainsi, par la meme chevelure, la bouche sur la bouche, ainsi que deux lauriers n'ont souvent qu'une racine. Et peu a peu, il ma semble tant nos membres etaient confondus, que je devenais toi-meme, ou que tu entrais en moi, comme mon songe." Quand il eut acheve, il mit doucement ses mains sur mes epaules, et il me regarda d'un regard si tendre, que je baissai les yeux avec un frisson.
The Tresses
He said to me: "last night I dreamed. I had your tresses around my neck. I had your hair like a black necklance around the nape of my neck on an my chest. I caressed it and it was mine; and we were bound forever thus, by the same tresses, mouth on mouth, just as two laurel trees often have only a single root. And little by little, it seemed to me, so intermingled were our limbs that I became you or you entered into me like my dream." When he finished, he gently put his hands on my shoulders, and he looked at me with a look so tender that I lowered my eyes with a shiver.
I've sung this in concert a couple of times. very intense, very sensual. The best of what Debussy can be. Some of my best singing, even if I do say so myself...
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Oy, vey!
So today, StrongOpinions is on the phone with her stepmom, who has two almost grown children from her prior marriage. She lets out a yelp. I say "What's the matter?"
Blondie, StrongOpinions' high school senior stepsister, just recently got busted for possession while driving. Trouble-with-a-capital-T, StrongOpinions' 21 y.o. high school dropout stepbrother, has gotten his girlfriend pregnant, so they are about to embark upon a traditional shotgun wedding. T has major anger management issues, is not gainfully employed, and has a bit of a substance abuse problem.
No wonder she yelped.
My ex and the stepmom frequently comment negatively about StrongOpinions, and PH's and my raising of her.
StrongOpinions is about to leave for college in August after graduating from high school a year early, is about to compete in the snowboarding Nationals for the seventh year in a row, is working, is taking a glassblowing class, and spent a week hammering, sheetrocking, and demolishing with our mission team rebuilding homes in the Gulf. She asked me today how hard it would be to also take a nursing course after college so she could do AIDS work in Africa (she's planning on majoring in peace studies with a minor in environmental studies).
I think we did a pretty darned good job with the kid.
Blondie, StrongOpinions' high school senior stepsister, just recently got busted for possession while driving. Trouble-with-a-capital-T, StrongOpinions' 21 y.o. high school dropout stepbrother, has gotten his girlfriend pregnant, so they are about to embark upon a traditional shotgun wedding. T has major anger management issues, is not gainfully employed, and has a bit of a substance abuse problem.
No wonder she yelped.
My ex and the stepmom frequently comment negatively about StrongOpinions, and PH's and my raising of her.
StrongOpinions is about to leave for college in August after graduating from high school a year early, is about to compete in the snowboarding Nationals for the seventh year in a row, is working, is taking a glassblowing class, and spent a week hammering, sheetrocking, and demolishing with our mission team rebuilding homes in the Gulf. She asked me today how hard it would be to also take a nursing course after college so she could do AIDS work in Africa (she's planning on majoring in peace studies with a minor in environmental studies).
I think we did a pretty darned good job with the kid.
St Cass's Meme: Do You Wear a Cross?
Do you wear a cross?
99.9% of the time.
Is there a particular time or place that you consider wearing a cross?
Since wearing one is the norm, what I consider is when NOT to wear it. Only rarely.
Where do you wear it?
I wear a cross on a necklace, usually outside of my clothing.
What does the cross look like?
I have two crosses, one an antique gold one, and one silver Celtic one.
Who gave the cross to you or did you choose it?
The antique one is my grandmother's, given to me a long time ago. The silver one is one I purchased from a favorite silversmith in Newport, Rhode Island.
Is this your favorite cross, if so, why?
I love them both equally.
What does wearing a cross mean to you?
It tells me I'm am here because of God and I am called to serve Him.
99.9% of the time.
Is there a particular time or place that you consider wearing a cross?
Since wearing one is the norm, what I consider is when NOT to wear it. Only rarely.
Where do you wear it?
I wear a cross on a necklace, usually outside of my clothing.
What does the cross look like?
I have two crosses, one an antique gold one, and one silver Celtic one.
Who gave the cross to you or did you choose it?
The antique one is my grandmother's, given to me a long time ago. The silver one is one I purchased from a favorite silversmith in Newport, Rhode Island.
Is this your favorite cross, if so, why?
I love them both equally.
What does wearing a cross mean to you?
It tells me I'm am here because of God and I am called to serve Him.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Back from Sin City USA
I've just returned from several days in Las Vegas, where I was attending a bankers' conference. Yes, you read that right - bankers in Las Vegas. Not just any bankers, but bankers who are so risk-averse that they won't make loans to small businesses without a government guarantee. God has a sense of humor.
Las Vegas has given up on its "family-friendly" advertising. You've heard the ads: "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."
It's a place where you see a lot of things that are best left to Vegas.
Not being a gambler or much of a drinker, particularly in Lent, I got up early every morning for Morning Prayer and a long walk up and down The Strip, since the fitness center at Faux-Italian Palazzo where I stayed charges $35 a day for the privilege of sweating there.
This is what I saw on my morning walks:
Las Vegas has given up on its "family-friendly" advertising. You've heard the ads: "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."
It's a place where you see a lot of things that are best left to Vegas.
Not being a gambler or much of a drinker, particularly in Lent, I got up early every morning for Morning Prayer and a long walk up and down The Strip, since the fitness center at Faux-Italian Palazzo where I stayed charges $35 a day for the privilege of sweating there.
This is what I saw on my morning walks:
Baseball-style cards advertising escort services with soft-core porn shots of pretty young girls with little in the way of clothing on (somebody's daughter, somebody's sister, maybe somebody's mother)
Latino and Native American minimum wage workers picking up the cards and otherwise cleaning the entrance areas of the hotels and casinos
Prostitutes in tight clothing with tired faces heading for home (again, somebody's daughter, somebody's sister, maybe somebody's mother)
People gambling at the low-rent casinos that have doors open to the street - they look as if they really can't afford to gamble
A scattering of homeless people - the high numbers of security people seem to make the Strip area not particularly friendly to those poor souls
Other walkers and joggers
A freshly-washed beautifully pale blue sky.
Seems like a place where a little morning prayer could do some good. One can only hope.
Monday, February 27, 2006
From Sunday's Washington Post, A Voice of Courage:
This op-ed was in Sunday's Washington Post. Glad somebody is speaking out on this. Archbishop Akinola, BTW, attended the same Big Old Seminary that I'm to go to in August. Interesting.
A Gospel of Intolerance
By John Bryson Chane
Sunday, February 26, 2006; Page B07
It's no secret that the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion are engaged in a bitter internal struggle over the role of gay and lesbian people within the church. But despite this struggle, the leaders of our global communion of 77 million members have consistently reiterated their pastoral concern for gays and lesbians. Meeting last February, the primates who lead our 38 member provinces issued a unanimous statement that said in part: "The victimization or diminishment of human beings whose affections happen to be ordered towards people of the same sex is anathema to us."
We now have reason to doubt those words.
Archbishop Peter J. Akinola, primate of the Church of Nigeria and leader of the conservative wing of the communion, recently threw his prestige and resources behind a new law that criminalizes same-sex marriage in his country and denies gay citizens the freedoms to assemble and petition their government. The law also infringes upon press and religious freedom by authorizing Nigeria's government to prosecute newspapers that publicize same-sex associations and religious organizations that permit same-sex unions.
Were Archbishop Akinola a solitary figure and Nigeria an isolated church, his support for institutionalized bigotry would be significant only within his own country. But the archbishop is perhaps the most powerful member of a global alliance of conservative bishops and theologians, generously supported by foundations and individual donors in the United States, who seek to dominate the Anglican Communion and expel those who oppose them, particularly the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Church of Canada. Failing that, the archbishop and his allies have talked of forming their own purified communion -- possibly with Archbishop Akinola at its head.
Because the conflict over homosexuality is not unique to Anglicanism, civil libertarians in this country, and other people as well, should also be aware of the archbishop and his movement. Gifts from such wealthy donors as Howard Ahmanson Jr. and the Bradley, Coors and Scaife families, or their foundations, allow the Washington-based Institute on Religion and Democracy to sponsor so-called "renewal" movements that fight the inclusion of gays and lesbians within the Episcopal, Methodist, Presbyterian and Lutheran churches and in the United Church of Christ. Should the institute succeed in "renewing" these churches, what we see in Nigeria today may well be on the agenda of the Christian right tomorrow.
Many countries have laws restricting marriage on any number of grounds. Some of these, such as age, kinship and marital status, for instance, are prudent, while most of us believe other sorts of restrictions, including race and religion, are oppressive and indefensible. Our global community has certainly achieved no consensus on the issue of same-sex marriage or the related issues of civil unions.
But the Nigerian law has crossed the line in several important respects. Its most outrageous provision deals not with marriage but with "same-sex relationships" and prohibits essentially any public or private activity in any way related to homosexuality. It reads in part: "Publicity, procession and public show of same sex amorous relationship through the electronic or print media physically, directly, indirectly or otherwise are prohibited in Nigeria."
Any person involved in the "sustenance, procession or meetings, publicity and public show of same sex amorous relationship directly or indirectly" is subject to five years' imprisonment.
The archbishop's support for this law violates numerous Anglican Communion documents that call for a "listening process" involving gay Christians and their leaders. But his contempt for international agreements also extends to Articles 18-20 of the United Nations Universal Declaration on Human Rights, which articulates the rights to freedom of thought, conscience, religion, association and assembly.
Surprisingly, few voices -- Anglican or otherwise -- have been raised in opposition to the archbishop. When I compare this silence with the cacophony that followed the Episcopal Church's decision to consecrate the Rt. Rev. Gene Robinson, a gay man who lives openly with his partner, as the bishop of New Hampshire, I am compelled to ask whether the global Christian community has lost not only its backbone but its moral bearings. Have we become so cowed by the periodic eruptions about the decadent West that Archbishop Akinola and his allies issue that we are no longer willing to name an injustice when we see one?
I also feel compelled to ask the archbishop's many high-profile supporters in this country why they have not publicly dissociated themselves from his attack on the human rights of a vulnerable population. Is it because they support this sort of legislation, or because the rights of gay men and women are not worth the risk of tangling with an important alliance?
As a matter of logic, it must be one or the other, and it is urgent that members of our church, and citizens of our country, know your mind.
The writer is Episcopal bishop of Washington.
A Gospel of Intolerance
By John Bryson Chane
Sunday, February 26, 2006; Page B07
It's no secret that the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion are engaged in a bitter internal struggle over the role of gay and lesbian people within the church. But despite this struggle, the leaders of our global communion of 77 million members have consistently reiterated their pastoral concern for gays and lesbians. Meeting last February, the primates who lead our 38 member provinces issued a unanimous statement that said in part: "The victimization or diminishment of human beings whose affections happen to be ordered towards people of the same sex is anathema to us."
We now have reason to doubt those words.
Archbishop Peter J. Akinola, primate of the Church of Nigeria and leader of the conservative wing of the communion, recently threw his prestige and resources behind a new law that criminalizes same-sex marriage in his country and denies gay citizens the freedoms to assemble and petition their government. The law also infringes upon press and religious freedom by authorizing Nigeria's government to prosecute newspapers that publicize same-sex associations and religious organizations that permit same-sex unions.
Were Archbishop Akinola a solitary figure and Nigeria an isolated church, his support for institutionalized bigotry would be significant only within his own country. But the archbishop is perhaps the most powerful member of a global alliance of conservative bishops and theologians, generously supported by foundations and individual donors in the United States, who seek to dominate the Anglican Communion and expel those who oppose them, particularly the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Church of Canada. Failing that, the archbishop and his allies have talked of forming their own purified communion -- possibly with Archbishop Akinola at its head.
Because the conflict over homosexuality is not unique to Anglicanism, civil libertarians in this country, and other people as well, should also be aware of the archbishop and his movement. Gifts from such wealthy donors as Howard Ahmanson Jr. and the Bradley, Coors and Scaife families, or their foundations, allow the Washington-based Institute on Religion and Democracy to sponsor so-called "renewal" movements that fight the inclusion of gays and lesbians within the Episcopal, Methodist, Presbyterian and Lutheran churches and in the United Church of Christ. Should the institute succeed in "renewing" these churches, what we see in Nigeria today may well be on the agenda of the Christian right tomorrow.
Many countries have laws restricting marriage on any number of grounds. Some of these, such as age, kinship and marital status, for instance, are prudent, while most of us believe other sorts of restrictions, including race and religion, are oppressive and indefensible. Our global community has certainly achieved no consensus on the issue of same-sex marriage or the related issues of civil unions.
But the Nigerian law has crossed the line in several important respects. Its most outrageous provision deals not with marriage but with "same-sex relationships" and prohibits essentially any public or private activity in any way related to homosexuality. It reads in part: "Publicity, procession and public show of same sex amorous relationship through the electronic or print media physically, directly, indirectly or otherwise are prohibited in Nigeria."
Any person involved in the "sustenance, procession or meetings, publicity and public show of same sex amorous relationship directly or indirectly" is subject to five years' imprisonment.
The archbishop's support for this law violates numerous Anglican Communion documents that call for a "listening process" involving gay Christians and their leaders. But his contempt for international agreements also extends to Articles 18-20 of the United Nations Universal Declaration on Human Rights, which articulates the rights to freedom of thought, conscience, religion, association and assembly.
Surprisingly, few voices -- Anglican or otherwise -- have been raised in opposition to the archbishop. When I compare this silence with the cacophony that followed the Episcopal Church's decision to consecrate the Rt. Rev. Gene Robinson, a gay man who lives openly with his partner, as the bishop of New Hampshire, I am compelled to ask whether the global Christian community has lost not only its backbone but its moral bearings. Have we become so cowed by the periodic eruptions about the decadent West that Archbishop Akinola and his allies issue that we are no longer willing to name an injustice when we see one?
I also feel compelled to ask the archbishop's many high-profile supporters in this country why they have not publicly dissociated themselves from his attack on the human rights of a vulnerable population. Is it because they support this sort of legislation, or because the rights of gay men and women are not worth the risk of tangling with an important alliance?
As a matter of logic, it must be one or the other, and it is urgent that members of our church, and citizens of our country, know your mind.
The writer is Episcopal bishop of Washington.
Finally Finished!
PH's Christmas sweater, that is. Better late than never! I think you can see now why it took so long (besides procrastination on my part).
Stress
Well, the cabaret was a great success - we raised over $14,000 for mission trips to the Rosebud Sioux in S Dak, and to the Gulf Coast for rebuilding. I didn't trip over my feet in the dance numbers, our rendition of "A Little Priest" was a rousing success, and PH's solo (he who never sung until I started dragging him with me to choir eight years ago) was lovely.
Yesterday, the vestry voted in favor of acceptance of the recommendation of the Parish Discernment Committee that they commend me to the COM for the interviews. I didn't doubt that it would happen, but being a worrywart, I feared a hiccup or two. They will fax the letter of commendation and the PDC report to the Bishop's office today.
I am STILL waiting on the letters (two of them) from my COM represesentative. One should have been done after our first meeting almost a year ago, my rector should have responded, and there should be another from our meeting several weeks ago. Shame on me for not following up with her after the first meeting to ask the whereabouts of the letter, but now the deadline is Tuesday and I'm stressing in a major way. I called the bishop's office on Friday to verify they hadn't received them yet, and asked the bishop's wonderful assistant if she would call the COM rep to ask where the letters were. I called the COM rep's church this morning and got voice mail for everyone, which must mean they're all in a meeting or at Starbuck's or something (yes, that's catty, but it's Monday, and I'm stressed out). Realistically, I don't think they'll keep me out of the interviews if the letters are a day or two late, but this is the last hurdle, and I'm slightly freaked out by her inattention to what she committed to do. Trying to just take deep breaths...
Yesterday, the vestry voted in favor of acceptance of the recommendation of the Parish Discernment Committee that they commend me to the COM for the interviews. I didn't doubt that it would happen, but being a worrywart, I feared a hiccup or two. They will fax the letter of commendation and the PDC report to the Bishop's office today.
I am STILL waiting on the letters (two of them) from my COM represesentative. One should have been done after our first meeting almost a year ago, my rector should have responded, and there should be another from our meeting several weeks ago. Shame on me for not following up with her after the first meeting to ask the whereabouts of the letter, but now the deadline is Tuesday and I'm stressing in a major way. I called the bishop's office on Friday to verify they hadn't received them yet, and asked the bishop's wonderful assistant if she would call the COM rep to ask where the letters were. I called the COM rep's church this morning and got voice mail for everyone, which must mean they're all in a meeting or at Starbuck's or something (yes, that's catty, but it's Monday, and I'm stressed out). Realistically, I don't think they'll keep me out of the interviews if the letters are a day or two late, but this is the last hurdle, and I'm slightly freaked out by her inattention to what she committed to do. Trying to just take deep breaths...
Friday, February 24, 2006
Friday Five Friendship Meme
Name five friends who were there when you needed them.
Mom - who was the steel in my spine while going through an awful divorce and who taught me to speak my mind. That occasionally led us to some rather prickly conversations, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I see much of her in StrongOpinions, who was a mere sprout when she passed.
PH - who taught me that loving after loss is deeper and richer than I could have imagined. He also gently has encouraged me to try many things I thought I wouldn't like (ranging from Wagner to pickled herring) and has been my rock through my illnesses and my discernment process, which resemble each other more than I care to admit.
LyricSoprano - to whom I can tell ANYTHING without feeling judged, and who shares my very quirky sense of humor (which causes us to misbehave regularly in choir).
MathTeacherSIL - I didn't know what good friends we'd become when I first met her - we were so very different. I've laughed with her, shared parent-of-teenager struggles with her, gone shopping with her, had my eyebrows waxed with her...that's true sisterhood!
SeminarySIL - she has the biggest heart in the world, and I love her thoughful mind, too! She also has passion for family that I, who have had so little in the way of family, really cherish. She was the first in PH's family to make me feel really welcomed, for which I'll be forever grateful.
DocSIL - she reminds me so much of my early mothering days, when I had more questions than answers. I still have questions, but I'm more at peace about the fact that I don't have answers. A great doctor with extraordinary patience. I wish some of that (the patience part) could rub off on me.
And because I can't leave well enough alone, I'm adding a couple of bonus entries:
MIL - because mothers-in-law get a bad rap, and I'm the most fortunate of women to have one who loves me like a mother and respects me like an adult, and not just because her son loves me.
L - She started out as my priest and became a dear, dear friend. She has the mind of a university don and the joie de vivre of a twenty year old, and shares my frustration over clothes for women priests. And on our road trip to the Gulf Coast, we both got a wicked case of the giggles...
Mom - who was the steel in my spine while going through an awful divorce and who taught me to speak my mind. That occasionally led us to some rather prickly conversations, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I see much of her in StrongOpinions, who was a mere sprout when she passed.
PH - who taught me that loving after loss is deeper and richer than I could have imagined. He also gently has encouraged me to try many things I thought I wouldn't like (ranging from Wagner to pickled herring) and has been my rock through my illnesses and my discernment process, which resemble each other more than I care to admit.
LyricSoprano - to whom I can tell ANYTHING without feeling judged, and who shares my very quirky sense of humor (which causes us to misbehave regularly in choir).
MathTeacherSIL - I didn't know what good friends we'd become when I first met her - we were so very different. I've laughed with her, shared parent-of-teenager struggles with her, gone shopping with her, had my eyebrows waxed with her...that's true sisterhood!
SeminarySIL - she has the biggest heart in the world, and I love her thoughful mind, too! She also has passion for family that I, who have had so little in the way of family, really cherish. She was the first in PH's family to make me feel really welcomed, for which I'll be forever grateful.
DocSIL - she reminds me so much of my early mothering days, when I had more questions than answers. I still have questions, but I'm more at peace about the fact that I don't have answers. A great doctor with extraordinary patience. I wish some of that (the patience part) could rub off on me.
And because I can't leave well enough alone, I'm adding a couple of bonus entries:
MIL - because mothers-in-law get a bad rap, and I'm the most fortunate of women to have one who loves me like a mother and respects me like an adult, and not just because her son loves me.
L - She started out as my priest and became a dear, dear friend. She has the mind of a university don and the joie de vivre of a twenty year old, and shares my frustration over clothes for women priests. And on our road trip to the Gulf Coast, we both got a wicked case of the giggles...
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Please pray...
for dear friend N who has been battling a crippling deep depression for several months. N has just been taken to the hospital, having taken an overdose of pills. We hope N was found in time. PH saw the ambulance when he was coming home from work (N lives around the corner) and is now taking our assistant rector over to the hospital. I think it's going to be a long night for us all.
Dear Lord, sometimes the darkness falls like a curtain and weighs so heavily upon us. Help us to know that there is light, and it is found in You. Help us to know that healing is possible, with Your help. Hold N in Your loving arms, and N's family, who have tried so hard to help their loved one. Teach us the words to say, the tasks to do, the prayers to pray, to help this family, and N's whole community. This we pray in your name. Amen.
Dear Lord, sometimes the darkness falls like a curtain and weighs so heavily upon us. Help us to know that there is light, and it is found in You. Help us to know that healing is possible, with Your help. Hold N in Your loving arms, and N's family, who have tried so hard to help their loved one. Teach us the words to say, the tasks to do, the prayers to pray, to help this family, and N's whole community. This we pray in your name. Amen.
Whistle and Fish's Cat Meme
Many thanks to St Casserole, who introduced us to Whistle and Fish, her two ginger kittens, who are the authors of this meme.
1. What's your favorite food?
Mia: Fish (sorry, Fish kitten). Tilapia or salmon are best, but I will get up and amuse my humans by begging like a dog for just about any fish at the dining room table.
Spooky: The leaves from my human's alstromeria, which I then promptly throw up.
2. What is your favorite toy?
Spooky: Twist ties. Rubber bands. Paper on the desk. Anything but those sappy cat toys, unless they're doused in catnip.
Mia: The blanket under which I hide (note that I hate dangling participles. I'm an educated cat.)
3. What is your best trick?
Spooky: It's not a trick; it's a feline imperative. I sit at the backdoor and cry to go out on the sunporch. I sit there on the porch for 38 seconds and then cry to come back in. My record for getting my humans to get out of their chairs to let me in or out is eight times in ten minutes.
Mia: The aforementioned hiding under the blanket. That's a feline imperative as well.
3. What is your favorite human trick?
Mia: Ignoring me. I want to be alone. Except when there is fish on the dining room table and I want some.
Spooky: Cleaning out my LitterMaid self-cleaning cat box. I then immediately re-enter it and leave a gift. It's so much fun!
4. What human rule do you break often?
Spooky: Sitting on the dining room table in the afternoon sun.
Mia: Sitting on my human's pillow and shedding on it.
6. What are you glad your human does NOT know about you?
Mia: I am a tiger, not a tiger kitty. If I so chose, I could rip them to shreds. I do not so choose, since they do occasionally give me bits of fish from the dining room table.
Spooky: I am panthera panthera, and I kill dust bunnies. I act like the alpha cat around here, but the gecko definitely makes me nervous...
1. What's your favorite food?
Mia: Fish (sorry, Fish kitten). Tilapia or salmon are best, but I will get up and amuse my humans by begging like a dog for just about any fish at the dining room table.
Spooky: The leaves from my human's alstromeria, which I then promptly throw up.
2. What is your favorite toy?
Spooky: Twist ties. Rubber bands. Paper on the desk. Anything but those sappy cat toys, unless they're doused in catnip.
Mia: The blanket under which I hide (note that I hate dangling participles. I'm an educated cat.)
3. What is your best trick?
Spooky: It's not a trick; it's a feline imperative. I sit at the backdoor and cry to go out on the sunporch. I sit there on the porch for 38 seconds and then cry to come back in. My record for getting my humans to get out of their chairs to let me in or out is eight times in ten minutes.
Mia: The aforementioned hiding under the blanket. That's a feline imperative as well.
3. What is your favorite human trick?
Mia: Ignoring me. I want to be alone. Except when there is fish on the dining room table and I want some.
Spooky: Cleaning out my LitterMaid self-cleaning cat box. I then immediately re-enter it and leave a gift. It's so much fun!
4. What human rule do you break often?
Spooky: Sitting on the dining room table in the afternoon sun.
Mia: Sitting on my human's pillow and shedding on it.
6. What are you glad your human does NOT know about you?
Mia: I am a tiger, not a tiger kitty. If I so chose, I could rip them to shreds. I do not so choose, since they do occasionally give me bits of fish from the dining room table.
Spooky: I am panthera panthera, and I kill dust bunnies. I act like the alpha cat around here, but the gecko definitely makes me nervous...
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
1000 things
...to do until we can sell our house. I spent today going back and forth between the computer doing "work" work, and painting the trim in my home office room. StrongOpinions is supposed to be doing the painting work and says she wants to do the painting work to earn money, but always has something else to do when she could be painting. So I guess I will tackle the downstairs hallway next.
At some point I need to start tossing things. Please kick me in the derriere and get me moving on this. I have also decided to sell my grand piano, since moving it is such a bear, and just get a little keyboard to keep me happy until I can settle into a real home again. Grieving a bit about that. It was my first major purchase after my divorce, and it was something of a staement of independence and self-reliance. Ah, well, I don't need such statements any more, do I?
(Your cue to say, "Mibi, snap out of that kind of self-pitying nonsense.")
PH and I spent the weekend at Big Old Seminary nearby, at a conference for prospective students. A wildly diverse group, ranging in age from 23 to 70. The students did a variety show which was quite fun, including three of the largest men in the class in tutus dancing to Swan Lake, several musical numbers of varying quality, and a "Community Norms Enforcer" skit which teased one of the quirkier Old Testament profs and the Dean, who took it with remarkable grace. My brain is full of ideas for classes that I want to take, planning to get two biblical languages done when i'm only really required to take one, and what kind of housing will work best for us, and will accomodate all our stuff (even after tossing the truly extraneous). There are some off-campus townhouses that aren't bad. PH and I had dinner with the Dean of Admissions and her husband - delightful evening. I'm only slightly terrified by the overwhelming change that this will mean for us.
Vestry votes on my recommendation on Sunday afternoon. I think it will go smoothly, but I'm still praying. The vestry needs to fax the commendation with the report by next Tuesday. Nothing like getting it done just under the wire. The Lord is laughing at me trying to "manage" this process...
We're doing a Mardi Gras on Saturday night at church to raise money for our two mission trips (one back to the Gulf, and one to the Rosebud Sioux reservation in South Dakota). Dinner, silent auction, and a cabaret. I'm singing "A Little Priest", a mordant ditty from "Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street." The little priest in question has been baked into a meat pie. Should definitely raise a few eyebrows. Hopefully my blasphemy won't affect the vestry vote.
Off to choir practice.
At some point I need to start tossing things. Please kick me in the derriere and get me moving on this. I have also decided to sell my grand piano, since moving it is such a bear, and just get a little keyboard to keep me happy until I can settle into a real home again. Grieving a bit about that. It was my first major purchase after my divorce, and it was something of a staement of independence and self-reliance. Ah, well, I don't need such statements any more, do I?
(Your cue to say, "Mibi, snap out of that kind of self-pitying nonsense.")
PH and I spent the weekend at Big Old Seminary nearby, at a conference for prospective students. A wildly diverse group, ranging in age from 23 to 70. The students did a variety show which was quite fun, including three of the largest men in the class in tutus dancing to Swan Lake, several musical numbers of varying quality, and a "Community Norms Enforcer" skit which teased one of the quirkier Old Testament profs and the Dean, who took it with remarkable grace. My brain is full of ideas for classes that I want to take, planning to get two biblical languages done when i'm only really required to take one, and what kind of housing will work best for us, and will accomodate all our stuff (even after tossing the truly extraneous). There are some off-campus townhouses that aren't bad. PH and I had dinner with the Dean of Admissions and her husband - delightful evening. I'm only slightly terrified by the overwhelming change that this will mean for us.
Vestry votes on my recommendation on Sunday afternoon. I think it will go smoothly, but I'm still praying. The vestry needs to fax the commendation with the report by next Tuesday. Nothing like getting it done just under the wire. The Lord is laughing at me trying to "manage" this process...
We're doing a Mardi Gras on Saturday night at church to raise money for our two mission trips (one back to the Gulf, and one to the Rosebud Sioux reservation in South Dakota). Dinner, silent auction, and a cabaret. I'm singing "A Little Priest", a mordant ditty from "Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street." The little priest in question has been baked into a meat pie. Should definitely raise a few eyebrows. Hopefully my blasphemy won't affect the vestry vote.
Off to choir practice.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Yay!
I got word late yesterday afternoon that I have been accepted into the MDiv program at Big Old Episcopal Seminary nearby.
I went Monday afternoon for the interview. I thought it went reasonably well, but spent the next 24 hours replaying every question and every answer in my head, wondering if I had done a good job or failed miserably. I sent a thank-you email to the coordinator, and she replied with the good news.
Of course, the acceptance is contingent upon my success at the diocesan Commission on Ministry interviews next month.
Yes.
Another thing to be neurotic about.
For a month.
So tell me why I'm not losing weight under the stress (dang)!
In other good news, Useless Boyfriend sent StrongOpinions a lovely bunch of sunflowers for Valentine's Day. Maybe he isn't quite so useless after all.
I went Monday afternoon for the interview. I thought it went reasonably well, but spent the next 24 hours replaying every question and every answer in my head, wondering if I had done a good job or failed miserably. I sent a thank-you email to the coordinator, and she replied with the good news.
Of course, the acceptance is contingent upon my success at the diocesan Commission on Ministry interviews next month.
Yes.
Another thing to be neurotic about.
For a month.
So tell me why I'm not losing weight under the stress (dang)!
In other good news, Useless Boyfriend sent StrongOpinions a lovely bunch of sunflowers for Valentine's Day. Maybe he isn't quite so useless after all.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Working with Hands and Hearts
Members of our team pose with a lady whose home we rebuilt (interior sheetrocking and finish work) while in Mississippi. She's in the center with the red turtleneck on. I'm on the left with the white hat and black vest over red t-shirt. StrongOpinions is on the right in the black sweatshirt. The lady is currently living in the FEMA-provided trailer you can see behind us. We are hoping the finish carpentry and appliances and such will get done quickly, and that she can be back in her home by Easter. This is a story of hope amidst the ruins; there are many of these, but there are also people who are still in dire straits. While we were able to rebuild this lady's house, her next door neighbor's house was demolished while we watched. the house across the street, not 50 yards away and the same vintage as the one demolished, survived the storm with minimal damage. Such was the capricious nature of the hurricane.
Back from Mississippi
We drove all night from Mississippi to Virginia, in anticipation of a major snowstorm which is now pummeling the east coast.
I'm too tired physically and emotionally to blog about the trip, where we working on repairing hurricane-damaged houses on the Gulf Coast. St. Casserole's posts about the extent of the damage and its impact on the people there only begin to tell the story.
I'm glad to be safely home. I'm glad StrongOpinions and I went down to do the work. She was awesome, by the way. It was wonderful, and useful, and traumatic. It's going to take me a while to process it and to be able to blog about it.
I'm too tired physically and emotionally to blog about the trip, where we working on repairing hurricane-damaged houses on the Gulf Coast. St. Casserole's posts about the extent of the damage and its impact on the people there only begin to tell the story.
I'm glad to be safely home. I'm glad StrongOpinions and I went down to do the work. She was awesome, by the way. It was wonderful, and useful, and traumatic. It's going to take me a while to process it and to be able to blog about it.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
From this morning's Writer's Almanac
So how does this guy know me so well? Thanks to Garrison Keillor for putting this out there for us.
Poem: "Change" by Louis Jenkins from The Winter Road. © Holy Cow! Press.
Change
All those things that have gone from your life, moon boots, TV trays, and the Soviet Union, that seem to have vanished, are really only changed, dinosaurs did not disappear from the earth but evolved into birds and crock pots became bread makers. Everything around you changes. It seems at times (only for a moment) that your wife, the woman you love, might actually be your first wife in another form. It's a thought not to be pursued.... Nothing is the same as it used to be. Except you, of course,You haven't changed ... well, slowed down a bit, perhaps. It's more difficult nowadays to deal with the speed of change, disturbing to suddenly find yourself brushing your teeth with what appears to be a flashlight. But essentially you are the same as ever, constant in your instability.
Poem: "Change" by Louis Jenkins from The Winter Road. © Holy Cow! Press.
Change
All those things that have gone from your life, moon boots, TV trays, and the Soviet Union, that seem to have vanished, are really only changed, dinosaurs did not disappear from the earth but evolved into birds and crock pots became bread makers. Everything around you changes. It seems at times (only for a moment) that your wife, the woman you love, might actually be your first wife in another form. It's a thought not to be pursued.... Nothing is the same as it used to be. Except you, of course,You haven't changed ... well, slowed down a bit, perhaps. It's more difficult nowadays to deal with the speed of change, disturbing to suddenly find yourself brushing your teeth with what appears to be a flashlight. But essentially you are the same as ever, constant in your instability.
Being baked as we speak...
X-rated Brownies
1 c sugar
2 large eggs at room temp
pinch salt
5 oz best-quality semisweet chocolate (I use Lindt Excellence)
3 oz best-quality unsweetened chocolate (I use Callebaut)
2 sticks (1/2 pound) unsalted butter
¼ c all-purpose flour
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 c miniature chocolate chips
¾ c chopped walnuts
¾ c dried tart cherries (you can also use Craisins)
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Butter an 8 or 9 inch square pan.
In a large bowl, beat the sugar, eggs and salt for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, melt the chocolates and butter in a double boiler over a low flame, or carefully in the microwave. When the mixture is about ¾ melted, take it off the heat and stir until everything is completely melted and the mixture is smooth. Cool to lukewarm and fold gently into the sugar/egg mixture. Fold in the flour, vanilla, and chips, walnuts and cherries.
Spread the mixture into the prepared pan and set in the middle of the oven. Bake them for 25 minutes. They will look not quite done. This is as it should be. Cool on a rack for 6 hours.
These are VERY rich, and will make 32 small but deadly brownies.
This time, some of the semi-sweet was replaced by Scharffenberger Chocolate Nibby Bars (they have bits of cocoa beans in them). Once these are cooled and cut, they'll go in the freezer in anticipation of the trip to the Gulf. I figure I owe St. Cass something more northerly with chocolate since she shared Quotidian Grace's chocolate cake recipe with us!
1 c sugar
2 large eggs at room temp
pinch salt
5 oz best-quality semisweet chocolate (I use Lindt Excellence)
3 oz best-quality unsweetened chocolate (I use Callebaut)
2 sticks (1/2 pound) unsalted butter
¼ c all-purpose flour
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 c miniature chocolate chips
¾ c chopped walnuts
¾ c dried tart cherries (you can also use Craisins)
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Butter an 8 or 9 inch square pan.
In a large bowl, beat the sugar, eggs and salt for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, melt the chocolates and butter in a double boiler over a low flame, or carefully in the microwave. When the mixture is about ¾ melted, take it off the heat and stir until everything is completely melted and the mixture is smooth. Cool to lukewarm and fold gently into the sugar/egg mixture. Fold in the flour, vanilla, and chips, walnuts and cherries.
Spread the mixture into the prepared pan and set in the middle of the oven. Bake them for 25 minutes. They will look not quite done. This is as it should be. Cool on a rack for 6 hours.
These are VERY rich, and will make 32 small but deadly brownies.
This time, some of the semi-sweet was replaced by Scharffenberger Chocolate Nibby Bars (they have bits of cocoa beans in them). Once these are cooled and cut, they'll go in the freezer in anticipation of the trip to the Gulf. I figure I owe St. Cass something more northerly with chocolate since she shared Quotidian Grace's chocolate cake recipe with us!
Even if you don't watch the Super Bowl...
If you want to see some cool footage of the mission station in the Congo where PH grew up, and where his father was the surgeon for over 30 years, there will be a piece on ABC world News Tonight this Friday. The piece will also be aired during the Super Bowl pregame coverage somewhere between 4 and 4:30 EST.
PH's dad will be over there for the next couple for weeks for a short-term trip to assess continuing needs at the hospital. Part of his legacy continues to be the local docs and nurses he trained. What a guy!
Here's why there will be coverage:
http://www.covchurch.org/cov/news/item4724.html
"Doctor Roger", in the center of the picture, is PH's dad.
PH's dad will be over there for the next couple for weeks for a short-term trip to assess continuing needs at the hospital. Part of his legacy continues to be the local docs and nurses he trained. What a guy!
Here's why there will be coverage:
http://www.covchurch.org/cov/news/item4724.html
"Doctor Roger", in the center of the picture, is PH's dad.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Counting the days
...until StrongOpinions and I head south to the Gulf Coast for our mission trip. I'm staging our stuff in Stonemason's bedroom. It now looks like the staging point for the Allied expeditionary Forces before D-Day in WWII. I think I'd better pare down the piles, given that we have lots of tools and other such equipment to fit in the truck as well. Now, will I be able to fit something yummy and chocolate to leave with St. Casserole?
StrongOpinions came home last night from North Country, having successfully qualified for the snowboarding nationals. She was, as usual, unhappy with her visit with her dad. I wish he'd listen to her instead of telling her his opinions about how she is. Sigh. I got an earful in the car on the drive down from the airport, but she calmed down considerably by the time we got home. hardest thing in the owrld to do is just to let her vent and not comment.
I'm ready to do some stuff with my hands instead of my head...
StrongOpinions came home last night from North Country, having successfully qualified for the snowboarding nationals. She was, as usual, unhappy with her visit with her dad. I wish he'd listen to her instead of telling her his opinions about how she is. Sigh. I got an earful in the car on the drive down from the airport, but she calmed down considerably by the time we got home. hardest thing in the owrld to do is just to let her vent and not comment.
I'm ready to do some stuff with my hands instead of my head...
Monday, January 30, 2006
RevGals Procrastination Meme
1. Are you a procrastinator?
I am a recovering procrastinator. This means I do get most things done on time and I do start them at a reasonable time before they're due. I don't always stay diligent about completing the task at hand, and I often get distracted by other things I'd rather do, or need to do. I got my devotionals done on time, although I did the last one and a half today. I got stuck on how I wanted one of them to move and it needed to cook in my brain a bit longer.
I told you I was recovering.
2. If so, what is your favorite way to procrastinate? And what task are you most likely to put off?
a. Reading, knitting, blogging, cooking, knitting, sleeping, eating, knitting, reading, reading, reading...
b. Expense reports, cleaning, exercise, taxes, cleaning, bills, cleaning...
3. If not.... share your best time-management method.
Actually, I have something to offer, even though I'm still a work in progress: I do the hardest thing first thing in the morning before I can get distracted by other things. This implies correctly that I have a running list of stuff that needs to get done. It works reasonably well most of the time. Often it's a phone call I don't want to make.
Off to Greek class. BBL.
I am a recovering procrastinator. This means I do get most things done on time and I do start them at a reasonable time before they're due. I don't always stay diligent about completing the task at hand, and I often get distracted by other things I'd rather do, or need to do. I got my devotionals done on time, although I did the last one and a half today. I got stuck on how I wanted one of them to move and it needed to cook in my brain a bit longer.
I told you I was recovering.
2. If so, what is your favorite way to procrastinate? And what task are you most likely to put off?
a. Reading, knitting, blogging, cooking, knitting, sleeping, eating, knitting, reading, reading, reading...
b. Expense reports, cleaning, exercise, taxes, cleaning, bills, cleaning...
3. If not.... share your best time-management method.
Actually, I have something to offer, even though I'm still a work in progress: I do the hardest thing first thing in the morning before I can get distracted by other things. This implies correctly that I have a running list of stuff that needs to get done. It works reasonably well most of the time. Often it's a phone call I don't want to make.
Off to Greek class. BBL.
Back to Blogging
I spent most of the weekend at our diocesan annual council. I was braced for conflict, with resolutions flying about with all sorts of flame-throwing adjectives contained therein. happily, this was not how it turned out. The rhetoric was tempered, the resolutions were middle-of-the-road, with a focus on working together despite our differences, and comments were more mild in tone than in past years.
Here's the resolution that was the final result on the issue of working through our differences on the issue of human sexuality and the Church's response to it:
R-17s (substitute for R-1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 15)
Adopted by the 211 th Annual Council. Text pending final review.
Whereas, We in the Diocese of Virginia, members of the Episcopal Church in the United State of America and members of the Anglican Communion, united in Christ, called to live out our witness, are “gathered in the spirit” and moved by thanksgiving for the many gifts that mark our life together now, and over the last 400 years; and
Whereas , The Lambeth Conference and Windsor Report have called us to acknowledge and respond with compassion and understanding to the pain and suffering of those who, because of their sexual orientation, endure marginalization and rejection; and
Whereas , The bonds of affection and civility within the Anglican Communion, the Episcopal Church in the United States, and the Diocese of Virginia continue to be strained as a result of the actions of the General Convention in 2003; and
Whereas , Bishop Lee, through his leadership, honesty, integrity and sincerity, models grace and civility in the midst of disagreement; and
Whereas , Bishop Lee, Bishop Jones and Bishop Gray provide witness to our unity in Christ in their efforts to keep us in relationship to one another; and
Whereas, One of the historic strengths of our Anglican tradition is our capacity to hold together persons with different, even conflicting, emphases in their understanding of the gospel; and
Whereas, We are defined by our mission in Christ to the world and not by the disagreements that lead us to focus on our internal life; now therefore be it
Resolved, That, for the purpose of advancing mission and the spread of Christ’s kingdom, the Diocese of Virginia commits itself to seek the highest degree of communion possible with those members of the Body of Christ with whom we find ourselves in disagreement, and will make every effort to cooperate as co-laborers in the Episcopal Church of the United States of America within the Anglican Communion; and, be it further
Resolved, That, we commit to attend to our differences in a spirit of listening to one another, in order to witness to unity in Christ’s mission; and be it further
Resolved, That, following the model of Bishop Lee, Bishop Jones and Bishop Gray, we commit ourselves to seek always to be respectful of one another and to stand together at the foot of the cross.
It was a masterful piece of wordsmithing - as you can see, it combined a number of other resolutions, some of which were pretty inflammatory in tone - and attempts to amend it to reintroduce those elements were soundly defeated. Now all we have to do is live it.
Whether the relative lack of armwrestling and poking out of eyes at this council is a result of folks being tired with this whole battle, I don't know. I do know, though, that most of us want to focus first and foremost on doing the good work of the people of God. This discussion is important, but it's not the only thing we are called to address. The last I checked, there were still a lot of poor people, and hurting people, and struggling people. We have work to do, rather than fight each other. General Convention in June may fan the flames once again, and we may still see schism, but I'm hoping and praying we'll continue to talk rather than walk away from each other. I guess you can call me Pollyanna.
The bishop called for the election of bishop coadjutor, essentially a bishop-elect, who will co-lead with him as part of the transition to his retirement in 2010. Right after I get ordained, God willing - hard to tell what the impact of that might be, but change, particularly after having Peter Lee as our bishop for 20-plus years, will be difficult.
One of the great joys of the council was a series of meditations and a sermon by the Bishop of Liverpool, James Jones. Brilliant. One of those very soft-spoken but powerful preachers. Everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats listening intently to his message of love and reconciliation. We Episcopalians are not known for our preaching. This bishop is the exception to the rule, and what a gift his preaching was to us.
Other more personal good news: I'm now on the calendar for the March meeting of the diocesan Commission on Ministry, and we finally were able to set up a meeting with my COM representative, who's been out of pocket for several weeks. Now if I can just get my PDC Chair to finalize his report and get the vestry to sign off, life will be much easier. Oh, and I've got a date for my seminary interview - two days after I come back from the mission trip with StrongOpinions, so I hope I'm not too fried.
Last but not least, StrongOpinions completed qualifying for snowboarding nationals in two disciplines this weekend. Plus she won a week at snowboarding camp in Oregon. Yowza!
Here's the resolution that was the final result on the issue of working through our differences on the issue of human sexuality and the Church's response to it:
R-17s (substitute for R-1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 15)
Adopted by the 211 th Annual Council. Text pending final review.
Whereas, We in the Diocese of Virginia, members of the Episcopal Church in the United State of America and members of the Anglican Communion, united in Christ, called to live out our witness, are “gathered in the spirit” and moved by thanksgiving for the many gifts that mark our life together now, and over the last 400 years; and
Whereas , The Lambeth Conference and Windsor Report have called us to acknowledge and respond with compassion and understanding to the pain and suffering of those who, because of their sexual orientation, endure marginalization and rejection; and
Whereas , The bonds of affection and civility within the Anglican Communion, the Episcopal Church in the United States, and the Diocese of Virginia continue to be strained as a result of the actions of the General Convention in 2003; and
Whereas , Bishop Lee, through his leadership, honesty, integrity and sincerity, models grace and civility in the midst of disagreement; and
Whereas , Bishop Lee, Bishop Jones and Bishop Gray provide witness to our unity in Christ in their efforts to keep us in relationship to one another; and
Whereas, One of the historic strengths of our Anglican tradition is our capacity to hold together persons with different, even conflicting, emphases in their understanding of the gospel; and
Whereas, We are defined by our mission in Christ to the world and not by the disagreements that lead us to focus on our internal life; now therefore be it
Resolved, That, for the purpose of advancing mission and the spread of Christ’s kingdom, the Diocese of Virginia commits itself to seek the highest degree of communion possible with those members of the Body of Christ with whom we find ourselves in disagreement, and will make every effort to cooperate as co-laborers in the Episcopal Church of the United States of America within the Anglican Communion; and, be it further
Resolved, That, we commit to attend to our differences in a spirit of listening to one another, in order to witness to unity in Christ’s mission; and be it further
Resolved, That, following the model of Bishop Lee, Bishop Jones and Bishop Gray, we commit ourselves to seek always to be respectful of one another and to stand together at the foot of the cross.
It was a masterful piece of wordsmithing - as you can see, it combined a number of other resolutions, some of which were pretty inflammatory in tone - and attempts to amend it to reintroduce those elements were soundly defeated. Now all we have to do is live it.
Whether the relative lack of armwrestling and poking out of eyes at this council is a result of folks being tired with this whole battle, I don't know. I do know, though, that most of us want to focus first and foremost on doing the good work of the people of God. This discussion is important, but it's not the only thing we are called to address. The last I checked, there were still a lot of poor people, and hurting people, and struggling people. We have work to do, rather than fight each other. General Convention in June may fan the flames once again, and we may still see schism, but I'm hoping and praying we'll continue to talk rather than walk away from each other. I guess you can call me Pollyanna.
The bishop called for the election of bishop coadjutor, essentially a bishop-elect, who will co-lead with him as part of the transition to his retirement in 2010. Right after I get ordained, God willing - hard to tell what the impact of that might be, but change, particularly after having Peter Lee as our bishop for 20-plus years, will be difficult.
One of the great joys of the council was a series of meditations and a sermon by the Bishop of Liverpool, James Jones. Brilliant. One of those very soft-spoken but powerful preachers. Everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats listening intently to his message of love and reconciliation. We Episcopalians are not known for our preaching. This bishop is the exception to the rule, and what a gift his preaching was to us.
Other more personal good news: I'm now on the calendar for the March meeting of the diocesan Commission on Ministry, and we finally were able to set up a meeting with my COM representative, who's been out of pocket for several weeks. Now if I can just get my PDC Chair to finalize his report and get the vestry to sign off, life will be much easier. Oh, and I've got a date for my seminary interview - two days after I come back from the mission trip with StrongOpinions, so I hope I'm not too fried.
Last but not least, StrongOpinions completed qualifying for snowboarding nationals in two disciplines this weekend. Plus she won a week at snowboarding camp in Oregon. Yowza!
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Prayers
...for friends who are hurting with ills both physical and emotional.
...for the Church, that we remember the Great Commission and the greatest Commandment, forget legislating consensual sexual behavior, and stop claiming those who oppose us are heretics.
...for discernment.
...for loving each other even when we're unlovable.
...for rest and renewal, even when we don't think we have time for it.
But most especially, thanks for God's faithfulness and His many gifts, some of which we don't easily recognize.
...for the Church, that we remember the Great Commission and the greatest Commandment, forget legislating consensual sexual behavior, and stop claiming those who oppose us are heretics.
...for discernment.
...for loving each other even when we're unlovable.
...for rest and renewal, even when we don't think we have time for it.
But most especially, thanks for God's faithfulness and His many gifts, some of which we don't easily recognize.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Why I'm Not Looking Forward to Diocesan Council This Friday
Aaarrrrgggghhh. Jesus weeps:
Virginia parish demands leader 'repent'
By Julia Duin
THE WASHINGTON TIMESJanuary 23, 2006
Virginia's largest Episcopal parish, in a letter to the church's 2,200 members, yesterday called on Virginia's the Rt. Rev. Peter J. Lee to "repent and return to the truth" over supporting the ordination of the openly homosexual bishop of New Hampshire. Leaders of the Falls Church Episcopal said in their eight-page, single-spaced letter that "no compromise on this issue is possible," although they refrained from specific threats. In the past, the parish's rector has threatened schism. "A Christian leader does not approve of sin, or purport to declassify it," the letter said to Bishop Lee, who backed the 2003 consecration of the Rt. Rev. V. Gene Robinson of New Hampshire. "Rather, he calls sinners to repentance and proclaims the Good News that sin can be forgiven and new life can be obtained in Christ." The letter was sent to Bishop Lee on Oct. 4 but was not made public until yesterday. Calls to the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia yesterday for comment were not returned. Bishop Lee, however, did meet with parish leaders soon after the letter was sent. The letter is modeled after Matthew 18:15-17, which advises Christians that "if your brother sins against you," one is to first privately show him his fault, then repeat the message accompanied by "two or three witnesses." If the exhortation still is ignored, Christians are to "tell it to the church," the pattern that church leaders followed yesterday. If still nothing happens, the offender is to be treated "as you would a pagan or a tax collector," the verses say. But church leaders made no threats from the pulpit yesterday about the letter, just a casual mention by one of the priests that congregants might be interested in picking up a copy of it after the service. The letter was signed by Falls Church senior warden Sam Thomsen and junior warden Teri Ballou. The church, the letter said, wished to express its "grief at your complicity in the errors of the 2003 Episcopal General Convention," which approved the election of Bishop Robinson, a divorced homosexual man living with a male lover. Bishop Lee and all but one of the lay delegates from the Diocese of Virginia, the country's largest at 90,000 members, agreed to the election. The letter next cited numerous Scriptures for the bishop to "bring you back to the standard that God has always called His people to uphold" in terms of sexual purity. The bishop not only fell short of calling Virginia Episcopalians to that standard, it said, but he later defended his decision about Bishop Robinson.
The letter reminded the bishop of his public statements that homosexuals should be included in church life just as Gentiles were by Jewish leaders 2,000 years ago, then slapped down that reasoning as "selective and careless exegesis that could be invoked to condone and sin, sexual or otherwise." The letter, which pleaded for the bishop to affirm "unequivocally" that sex is reserved for marriage between a man and a woman, was released six days before the Diocese of Virginia's annual convention in Richmond. It was the culmination of a series of private discussions between diocesan officials and the Rev. John Yates, rector of the Falls Church Episcopal who last summer took 20 clergy to confront the bishop. "He [needed] to know there are many of us who will not accept the new morality," Mr. Yates said in a Nov. 13 sermon. "We will not go [along], and it may mean major schism." Leaving the diocese would mean a huge battle between the diocese and the Falls Church Episcopal for the church's $17 million in assets and historic property in the middle of downtown Falls Church city. The church, whose $4.26 million budget just edges the diocese's $4.21 million budget, was founded in 1732. Church law says that a departing church must cede all of its assets to the diocese.
Virginia parish demands leader 'repent'
By Julia Duin
THE WASHINGTON TIMESJanuary 23, 2006
Virginia's largest Episcopal parish, in a letter to the church's 2,200 members, yesterday called on Virginia's the Rt. Rev. Peter J. Lee to "repent and return to the truth" over supporting the ordination of the openly homosexual bishop of New Hampshire. Leaders of the Falls Church Episcopal said in their eight-page, single-spaced letter that "no compromise on this issue is possible," although they refrained from specific threats. In the past, the parish's rector has threatened schism. "A Christian leader does not approve of sin, or purport to declassify it," the letter said to Bishop Lee, who backed the 2003 consecration of the Rt. Rev. V. Gene Robinson of New Hampshire. "Rather, he calls sinners to repentance and proclaims the Good News that sin can be forgiven and new life can be obtained in Christ." The letter was sent to Bishop Lee on Oct. 4 but was not made public until yesterday. Calls to the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia yesterday for comment were not returned. Bishop Lee, however, did meet with parish leaders soon after the letter was sent. The letter is modeled after Matthew 18:15-17, which advises Christians that "if your brother sins against you," one is to first privately show him his fault, then repeat the message accompanied by "two or three witnesses." If the exhortation still is ignored, Christians are to "tell it to the church," the pattern that church leaders followed yesterday. If still nothing happens, the offender is to be treated "as you would a pagan or a tax collector," the verses say. But church leaders made no threats from the pulpit yesterday about the letter, just a casual mention by one of the priests that congregants might be interested in picking up a copy of it after the service. The letter was signed by Falls Church senior warden Sam Thomsen and junior warden Teri Ballou. The church, the letter said, wished to express its "grief at your complicity in the errors of the 2003 Episcopal General Convention," which approved the election of Bishop Robinson, a divorced homosexual man living with a male lover. Bishop Lee and all but one of the lay delegates from the Diocese of Virginia, the country's largest at 90,000 members, agreed to the election. The letter next cited numerous Scriptures for the bishop to "bring you back to the standard that God has always called His people to uphold" in terms of sexual purity. The bishop not only fell short of calling Virginia Episcopalians to that standard, it said, but he later defended his decision about Bishop Robinson.
The letter reminded the bishop of his public statements that homosexuals should be included in church life just as Gentiles were by Jewish leaders 2,000 years ago, then slapped down that reasoning as "selective and careless exegesis that could be invoked to condone and sin, sexual or otherwise." The letter, which pleaded for the bishop to affirm "unequivocally" that sex is reserved for marriage between a man and a woman, was released six days before the Diocese of Virginia's annual convention in Richmond. It was the culmination of a series of private discussions between diocesan officials and the Rev. John Yates, rector of the Falls Church Episcopal who last summer took 20 clergy to confront the bishop. "He [needed] to know there are many of us who will not accept the new morality," Mr. Yates said in a Nov. 13 sermon. "We will not go [along], and it may mean major schism." Leaving the diocese would mean a huge battle between the diocese and the Falls Church Episcopal for the church's $17 million in assets and historic property in the middle of downtown Falls Church city. The church, whose $4.26 million budget just edges the diocese's $4.21 million budget, was founded in 1732. Church law says that a departing church must cede all of its assets to the diocese.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
25 Questions No One Would Think to Ask
From Songbird:
1) When you looked in the mirror first thing this morning, what was the first thing you thought?
Dang. Bad hair day.
2) How much cash do you have on you?
$60. I think. Maybe $40. Plus three stamps and a Metro fare Card.
3) What's a word that rhymes with TEST?
Messed (well, it's pretty darned close.)
4) Planet?
Jupiter. I'm way out there today. I spent most of it on Capitol Hill. Nuff said.
5) Who is the fourth person on your missed calls?
The office, telling me I need to fix someone else's problem IMMEDIATELY!
6) What is your favourite ring on your phone?
Mozart Jupiter Symphony, or rather a synthesized version of it. Rather strange, but I haven't heard it on anyone else's phone, so I can always recognize that it's my phone ringing.
7) What shirt are you wearing?
Black cotton knit turtleneck. The Duofold one, as opposed to the one I wore while working today, which was a black ribbed cotton Talbots one. I think my fetish for black sweaters and black shoes has gotten the better of me.
8) What do you label yourself as?
Cranky but still hopeful.
9) Name the brand of shoes you've recently worn.
New Balance once I got home; Josef Seibel while working the halls of Congress.
10) Bright room or dark room?
Dark, with a lovely little halogen lamp giving me the little light I do need.
11) What were you doing at midnight last night?
Sleeping, and grinding my teeth on my nice new night-guard.
12) What did the last text message on your phone say?
"I'll be home in a little while. " It was from StrongOpinions, who always texts me when she doesn't want to argue with me about when she should be home.
13) Where is your nearest 7-11?
A quarter mile away. Not a high-frequency place for me to visit, as I'm trying to stay away from Twinkies and Ho-Hos.
14) What's a saying you say a lot?
Oh, well... (usually after I've done something stupid.)
15) Who told you they loved you last?
PH.
16) Last furry thing you touched?
Spooky the neurotic cat.
17) How many drugs have you done in the past three days?
Synthroid, Celebrex, Aciphex, Actonel, vitamins, low-dose aspirin. Also caffeine. Also a very nice glass of Sancerre. Can you tell I'm a middle-aged woman?
18) How many rolls of film do you need to get developed?
None. Digital camera. But I *do* need to put pics in albums. Someday. (This is an exact copy of Songbird's answer, which is an exact copy of Terminal's answer, and is just as true for me.In fact, it's probably a universal truth for all of us with digital cameras.)
19) Favourite age you've been so far?
I like them all, except 41, when I got divorced. Twas not a good year.
20) Your worst enemy?
Unrealistic expectations.
21) What is your current desktop picture?
A gorgeous white lily from our front garden last year; a bank of these lilies overlooked the fish pond. See upper right hand corner of this post.
22) What was the last thing you said to someone?
Yes, I got your email with instructions for the conference call.
23) If you had to choose between a millions bucks and being able to fly, which would you choose?
The bucks. I'm afraid of heights!
24) Do you like someone?Like? Or “like” like?
RGBPs. The women on the retreat with me last weekend. RLP. Other blog pals. The folks with whom I'm going on the mission trip. Our neighbors Bob & Dan, and Dave & Betsy. My spiritual director. The only "like" like is PH, whom I actually like like like like...
25) The last song you listened to?"
"The Fisher King" by Carrie Newcomer. Before that, the Mozart Requiem, to help PH decide which movement to play for his staff meeting on Thursday. They are psychotherapists, after all.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
- Thomas Merton, "Thoughts in Solitude"This prayer of Merton's is one of my favorites. I have a copy of it, in fact, tucked into my wallet, for easy reference when I'm feeling particularly confounded.
It's an apt metaphor for my life these days.
An anonymous medieval mystic wrote a treatise called "The Cloud of Unknowing." I feel like I'm in that cloud a lot. The good news is that it's all right, indeed appropriate, to be in the cloud.
I say "I don't know" a lot these days.
"Are you going to stay in the area after seminary?"
"I don't know."
"Are you thinking of a parish ministry?"
"I don't know."
"Would you like to work in a big church or a small one?"
"I don't know."
"Are you [insert any question here]?"
"I don't know."
For someone who's a control freak, this isn't easy.
I like lists.
I like knowing what comes next.
I like Mapquest and Quicken.
I don't love not knowing what comes next.
And yet, my greatest spiritual growth has come at times when I've been in the cloud, not knowing what was going to come next - during my divorce, when I was in between jobs, when I was traversing the rough waters of congregational conflict as a church's lay leader. I had no choice but to give up control and hand it over to God.
The comforting part of that surrender of control, as Merton says in the prayer, is knowing that God will be there for me, even (perhaps especially) if I misstep.
I still don't know where this journey will lead, but I do know I am not alone. I trust Him. He hasn't always led me where I thought I was going, but He's always led me somewhere interesting.
And so, once again, I step on to the path, not seeing the endpoint, except to know that I'll know it when I get there. I think.
Back Home
I just returned from a two and a half day retreat with our parish's women's contemplative prayer group. I did a bit of writing whilst there that I want to share with you, but I need to do a bit of cleaning now that i'm home, so I'll be back later, probably after our meeting on logistics for our Mississippi mission trip. Blessed Sunday!
Friday, January 20, 2006
RevGal Friday Five: Pleasures
Do I have to stop at five? Thanks to Songbird, here goes:
1. PH's arms around me.
2. Whipped cream. Of course, I could combine #1 and #2, but that might be too risque for this webring...
3. My living room couch, a good book, an afghan on my lap, the Spooky cat on the afghan, and uninterrupted Sunday afternoon (plus a fire in the fireplace in the wintertime).
4. An "I love you" note from one of my kids.
5. A gift certificate to the bookstore, my favorite yarn store, or my favorite cookware store, and the time to go shop.
Of course, it goes without saying that the greatest pleasure of all is too ubiquitous to even be mentioned - CHOCOLATE!
1. PH's arms around me.
2. Whipped cream. Of course, I could combine #1 and #2, but that might be too risque for this webring...
3. My living room couch, a good book, an afghan on my lap, the Spooky cat on the afghan, and uninterrupted Sunday afternoon (plus a fire in the fireplace in the wintertime).
4. An "I love you" note from one of my kids.
5. A gift certificate to the bookstore, my favorite yarn store, or my favorite cookware store, and the time to go shop.
Of course, it goes without saying that the greatest pleasure of all is too ubiquitous to even be mentioned - CHOCOLATE!
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Grrrr
The report wasn't ready, so the vestry didn't vote last night. This means that they'll have to vote and turn around their letter of support for me virtually instantaneously next month, to make the deadline for me to participate in the Commission on Ministry interviews in mid-March.
For want of a nail, the seminarian might have to wait for another whole year.
For want of a nail, the seminarian might have to wait for another whole year.
Allie's Donuts
If you live in a big city, you get your doughnuts at Dunkin Donuts (up north) or Krispy Kreme (down south). The Dunkin Donuts are cakier and heavier. The Krispy Kremes are airier, more like a quickly fried piece of air. For those of us who love doughnuts, each has its glories.
If you live in Rhode Island, particularly the West Bay, though, you don’t eat chain-store doughnuts. You eat Allie’s Donuts.
Allie’s sits on the road that used to be the main thoroughfare between Providence and the southern part of the state, and its bridge to Newport. In recent years, an elevated highway has taken the traffic above the route, so it requires a certain effort and foreknowledge to take the local road to enjoy an Allie’s donut.
Allie’s has donuts of many flavors, and good non-froufrou coffee, but to me there is one reason, and one reason only, to go to Allies’s.
Maple-frosted doughnuts.
A moment of silence, please, while we sigh in the memory.
I
My love and I were going to South County to pick up his sons. He was divorced. His sons were five and nine, and the adjustment had been difficult for them. I was mad about him, and wanted things to go well with the boys. Driving south from Providence to retrieve the boys from their mother’s house, where I had recently moved to be near him, we stopped to pick up a box of doughnuts. The place was unprepossessing, no more than a winterized shack really, but there were many cars and trucks parked in the lot. In true anti-establishment Rhode Island form, there were no lines painted in the parking lot, so the patterns of the cars and trucks were random, and finding an identifiable spot was a challenge. He ran in while I waited in the car. Did I tell you it was winter, and it was cold? He came back about fifteen minutes later (there had been a long line) with a box of doughnuts and cups of coffee. He said, “Have one.”
“Before we get the boys?”
“Once we pick the boys up, the doughnuts will be gone in five seconds. Eat yours now.”
And so I did. It was maple-frosted. It was still warm, the frosting was still somewhat gooey, and it was pure delight. It was the Platonic ideal of maple-frosted doughnuts. It wasn’t too airy or too caky. It was light, but full of flavor. It filled my mouth with its richness (but not too rich), its warmth (but not too warm), its mapleness (real, not chemically modified corn syrup). It was the doughnut equivalent of good sex.
Perhaps some Valium was part of that doughnut’s secret, because I suddenly wasn’t quite so worried about the boys and whether they would like me.
Of course, they did like me. I had brought them Allie’s Donuts.
II
We had been married for several years. We had made three babies, two more boys and a girl. We were raising the aforementioned two boys, whose mother was a troubled soul unable to care for them. Things were sometimes good, sometimes tense. I was working several hours away and commuting home on weekends – this is a long and complicated story, and I will spare you its awkward details. It was not a good situation, except financially. Every Friday afternoon, I drove several hours home. I did the laundry, cooked several meals to be frozen for use later in the week, cleaned the house, did the thousand things one’s children need when you’re in a commuter marriage, tried to give my angry husband the attention and love he wanted, and usually didn’t breathe for the whole time I was there. There was no time, and no air. Every Sunday night, after supper, I would leave and drive the several hours back to my job in another state.
I craved Allie’s Donuts on those trips back and forth. I needed some sweetness without expectations. Of course, the timing was all wrong. Allie’s was out of the way, and wasn’t even open when I was driving. Weekends were too full with work and Little League and soccer games to make the trip for doughnuts.
There was a hole in my heart, and it wasn’t just missing Allie’s Donuts, although they made a damned good symbol.
III
We were divorcing. I couldn’t find work in our area, so I had to take a job in Washington. I couldn’t take the kids out of state, so they had to stay with him until things were settled. On Valentine’s morning, I drove away from the home I had lived in, brought my babies home to, cooked in, wallpapered, loved and loved in.
My daughter, then six, said “I’m not ready for this.”
She wasn’t alone. I wasn’t ready either.
I headed south to the new job.
I didn’t go directly; I took a detour. I had to get some doughnuts. I had to stop at Allie’s.
I got a dozen maple-frosted dougnuts. One cup of black coffee.
I ate the dozen doughnuts like Sherman marching through Georgia, relentlessly, one after the other.
When I was done, I pulled over to the side of the road and was sick.
The sweetness seemed disconnected, empty, meaningless. I couldn’t taste the maple flavor. Something was wrong with me, more than the broken heart, more than the longing to have the children with me. I had lost the woman who had first tasted those doughnuts so many years before.
IV
It is a warm day on the crest of summer, and I am driving north to retrieve my children from their father’s house. Several years have past. He is remarried, I am about to be remarried, and some, but not all, of the pain of the past few years has settled down to a dull memory of an ache. My husband-to-be is with me in the car.
“We have to make a detour,” I say.
“Aren’t we going to be late?” he answers.
“This will only take a minute. It will make the kids happy.”
And so, we turn off the highway, go the new back way to Allie’s – I only get lost once – and get a dozen doughnuts. Half maple-frosted, half with colored sprinkles. Time for new traditions, new tastes. Two large cups of black coffee, which lead me to ask the question: why isn’t coffee a sacramental element, or is it?
We get to the house, my old house, one I had decorated with love and care and imagination. It looks tired, and unkempt. Several unfinished repair projects are in evidence, most notably the beautiful front porch, which looks like it is about to separate from the body proper of the house and collapse. We knock; the dog, white in his muzzle now, barks wildly. The children come running to the door and open it, smothering us in hugs and kisses.
Then they stop.
Like pointers, they raise their noses in the air…
“Allie’s!” they cry.
Any pain, any stress, any wondering whether the summer would go well, ends with that cry.
Another bridge crossed, with Allie’s Donuts.
If you live in Rhode Island, particularly the West Bay, though, you don’t eat chain-store doughnuts. You eat Allie’s Donuts.
Allie’s sits on the road that used to be the main thoroughfare between Providence and the southern part of the state, and its bridge to Newport. In recent years, an elevated highway has taken the traffic above the route, so it requires a certain effort and foreknowledge to take the local road to enjoy an Allie’s donut.
Allie’s has donuts of many flavors, and good non-froufrou coffee, but to me there is one reason, and one reason only, to go to Allies’s.
Maple-frosted doughnuts.
A moment of silence, please, while we sigh in the memory.
I
My love and I were going to South County to pick up his sons. He was divorced. His sons were five and nine, and the adjustment had been difficult for them. I was mad about him, and wanted things to go well with the boys. Driving south from Providence to retrieve the boys from their mother’s house, where I had recently moved to be near him, we stopped to pick up a box of doughnuts. The place was unprepossessing, no more than a winterized shack really, but there were many cars and trucks parked in the lot. In true anti-establishment Rhode Island form, there were no lines painted in the parking lot, so the patterns of the cars and trucks were random, and finding an identifiable spot was a challenge. He ran in while I waited in the car. Did I tell you it was winter, and it was cold? He came back about fifteen minutes later (there had been a long line) with a box of doughnuts and cups of coffee. He said, “Have one.”
“Before we get the boys?”
“Once we pick the boys up, the doughnuts will be gone in five seconds. Eat yours now.”
And so I did. It was maple-frosted. It was still warm, the frosting was still somewhat gooey, and it was pure delight. It was the Platonic ideal of maple-frosted doughnuts. It wasn’t too airy or too caky. It was light, but full of flavor. It filled my mouth with its richness (but not too rich), its warmth (but not too warm), its mapleness (real, not chemically modified corn syrup). It was the doughnut equivalent of good sex.
Perhaps some Valium was part of that doughnut’s secret, because I suddenly wasn’t quite so worried about the boys and whether they would like me.
Of course, they did like me. I had brought them Allie’s Donuts.
II
We had been married for several years. We had made three babies, two more boys and a girl. We were raising the aforementioned two boys, whose mother was a troubled soul unable to care for them. Things were sometimes good, sometimes tense. I was working several hours away and commuting home on weekends – this is a long and complicated story, and I will spare you its awkward details. It was not a good situation, except financially. Every Friday afternoon, I drove several hours home. I did the laundry, cooked several meals to be frozen for use later in the week, cleaned the house, did the thousand things one’s children need when you’re in a commuter marriage, tried to give my angry husband the attention and love he wanted, and usually didn’t breathe for the whole time I was there. There was no time, and no air. Every Sunday night, after supper, I would leave and drive the several hours back to my job in another state.
I craved Allie’s Donuts on those trips back and forth. I needed some sweetness without expectations. Of course, the timing was all wrong. Allie’s was out of the way, and wasn’t even open when I was driving. Weekends were too full with work and Little League and soccer games to make the trip for doughnuts.
There was a hole in my heart, and it wasn’t just missing Allie’s Donuts, although they made a damned good symbol.
III
We were divorcing. I couldn’t find work in our area, so I had to take a job in Washington. I couldn’t take the kids out of state, so they had to stay with him until things were settled. On Valentine’s morning, I drove away from the home I had lived in, brought my babies home to, cooked in, wallpapered, loved and loved in.
My daughter, then six, said “I’m not ready for this.”
She wasn’t alone. I wasn’t ready either.
I headed south to the new job.
I didn’t go directly; I took a detour. I had to get some doughnuts. I had to stop at Allie’s.
I got a dozen maple-frosted dougnuts. One cup of black coffee.
I ate the dozen doughnuts like Sherman marching through Georgia, relentlessly, one after the other.
When I was done, I pulled over to the side of the road and was sick.
The sweetness seemed disconnected, empty, meaningless. I couldn’t taste the maple flavor. Something was wrong with me, more than the broken heart, more than the longing to have the children with me. I had lost the woman who had first tasted those doughnuts so many years before.
IV
It is a warm day on the crest of summer, and I am driving north to retrieve my children from their father’s house. Several years have past. He is remarried, I am about to be remarried, and some, but not all, of the pain of the past few years has settled down to a dull memory of an ache. My husband-to-be is with me in the car.
“We have to make a detour,” I say.
“Aren’t we going to be late?” he answers.
“This will only take a minute. It will make the kids happy.”
And so, we turn off the highway, go the new back way to Allie’s – I only get lost once – and get a dozen doughnuts. Half maple-frosted, half with colored sprinkles. Time for new traditions, new tastes. Two large cups of black coffee, which lead me to ask the question: why isn’t coffee a sacramental element, or is it?
We get to the house, my old house, one I had decorated with love and care and imagination. It looks tired, and unkempt. Several unfinished repair projects are in evidence, most notably the beautiful front porch, which looks like it is about to separate from the body proper of the house and collapse. We knock; the dog, white in his muzzle now, barks wildly. The children come running to the door and open it, smothering us in hugs and kisses.
Then they stop.
Like pointers, they raise their noses in the air…
“Allie’s!” they cry.
Any pain, any stress, any wondering whether the summer would go well, ends with that cry.
Another bridge crossed, with Allie’s Donuts.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Breathless
I'm holding my breath.
Tonight the vestry may be voting on whether to endorse my request to become a postulant and go to seminary. I say "may" because it's unclear whether the chair of the Parish Discernment Committee has actually finished writing his report saying they endorsed me. Rationally, I know the vestry will vote to confirm. Still, I worry. Oh Mibi of little faith! The juxtaposition of my impatience and my lack of control of the situation brings out the worst in me - I spent an hour last night pestering poor PH for the reasons why he thinks I will be a good priest and why I'm much nicer than his former wife. I returned the favor and told him how much better he is than my former husband, of course. I had the easier case to make.
I'm breathing a sigh of relief.
StrongOpinions has wanted - passionately - to come on our mission trip to the Gulf Coast next month to rebuild homes destroyed by the hurricane. The ground rules say you have to be 18. She is three months shy of 18. The Powers That Be decided that she's a mature almost-18 (true) and her mother will be there with her (also true). She, being the kind of girl she is, cannot imagine why anyone wouldn't want to come and help. We'll see if she feels quite the same way after a week of manual labor. I do enjoy long car trips with her, which is a good thing, since the drive will take 18 hours. We may need to hide the power tools from each other by the time we get there. A little closeness is different from a lot of closeness. Still, I'm so glad she will be doing this with me. She's still up visiting her dad, and I mailed her Marcus Borg's book on the similar sayings of Jesus and Buddha. She was so excited to get it. I'm blessed being her mom.
I'm sighing - ironically, of course -about politics.
I am shaking my head at the Speaker's vague attempts here in Your Nation's Capitol to apply some ethical standards to the House of Representatives. Nothing like shutting the door after the horse is out of the barn.
And then I get to read some poetry - ReverendMother's latest jewel, plus some new stuff from Billy Collins' "The Trouble with Poetry."
I breathe easier.
Tonight the vestry may be voting on whether to endorse my request to become a postulant and go to seminary. I say "may" because it's unclear whether the chair of the Parish Discernment Committee has actually finished writing his report saying they endorsed me. Rationally, I know the vestry will vote to confirm. Still, I worry. Oh Mibi of little faith! The juxtaposition of my impatience and my lack of control of the situation brings out the worst in me - I spent an hour last night pestering poor PH for the reasons why he thinks I will be a good priest and why I'm much nicer than his former wife. I returned the favor and told him how much better he is than my former husband, of course. I had the easier case to make.
I'm breathing a sigh of relief.
StrongOpinions has wanted - passionately - to come on our mission trip to the Gulf Coast next month to rebuild homes destroyed by the hurricane. The ground rules say you have to be 18. She is three months shy of 18. The Powers That Be decided that she's a mature almost-18 (true) and her mother will be there with her (also true). She, being the kind of girl she is, cannot imagine why anyone wouldn't want to come and help. We'll see if she feels quite the same way after a week of manual labor. I do enjoy long car trips with her, which is a good thing, since the drive will take 18 hours. We may need to hide the power tools from each other by the time we get there. A little closeness is different from a lot of closeness. Still, I'm so glad she will be doing this with me. She's still up visiting her dad, and I mailed her Marcus Borg's book on the similar sayings of Jesus and Buddha. She was so excited to get it. I'm blessed being her mom.
I'm sighing - ironically, of course -about politics.
I am shaking my head at the Speaker's vague attempts here in Your Nation's Capitol to apply some ethical standards to the House of Representatives. Nothing like shutting the door after the horse is out of the barn.
And then I get to read some poetry - ReverendMother's latest jewel, plus some new stuff from Billy Collins' "The Trouble with Poetry."
I breathe easier.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Dr. King
I'm remembering the legacy of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King today, as we celebrate his birthday. It's a legal holiday here in the USA. I'm trying to remember how we are called to make change in this world, which is still so very broken.
I had the pleasure of singing that wonderful old spiritual, "My Lord, what a Morning," at church yesterday. It was the closest thing to a remembrance I could offer at our very non-diverse church. Nothing was mentioned of Dr. King at the service, which seemed sad to me. When you have had a prophet in your midst, why wouldn't you continue to celebrate him?
So today I'm thinking more of Dr. King as I do a thousand little things around the house (laundry, cleaning, making a batch of beef stew, shredding old financial documents). Perhaps others have more transcendent ways of honoring him. I can only say a prayer and do my work. Perhaps that's the best tribute to a man who continually - in the face of great danger - said his prayers and did his work.
I had the pleasure of singing that wonderful old spiritual, "My Lord, what a Morning," at church yesterday. It was the closest thing to a remembrance I could offer at our very non-diverse church. Nothing was mentioned of Dr. King at the service, which seemed sad to me. When you have had a prophet in your midst, why wouldn't you continue to celebrate him?
So today I'm thinking more of Dr. King as I do a thousand little things around the house (laundry, cleaning, making a batch of beef stew, shredding old financial documents). Perhaps others have more transcendent ways of honoring him. I can only say a prayer and do my work. Perhaps that's the best tribute to a man who continually - in the face of great danger - said his prayers and did his work.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
A Fast As My Fingers Will Let Me
I'm continuing work on the incomplete Irish Fisher Gansey which was one of PH's Christmas gifts. It appears it will now be his Valentine's present (along with a really neat red plate from a pottery artist friend of a friend). I will finish the body tonight, and will start the sleeves forthwith. If it isn't his Valentine's present, it will be his Father's Day present, or maybe his Labor Day present...I do promise to post a picture of it when and if it's done. I have a lovely pattern for a lace branches and leaves scarf that could be used as a stole over an alb if I were feeling that creative. It's next in the knitting project queue before I start in on the Norse sweater for DSIL. As Songbird ( http://revsongbird.typepad.com/ ) says, knit without ceasing! Two pair of socks to be knit in there somewhere, too...and I should start something for impending grandbaby #3, who is due sometime in April.
Next week is our church's Women's Retreat, so I should get some good knitting time then, out overlooking the Patuxent River. A good time is had by all at this event, even though we usually are there at the same time as another group's silent retreat and we have to decamp to the furthest basement room so we can party with our wine and cheese without disturbing anyone. Silence is not something our group can do with much success. We usually try to do one meal silently and can't even quite manage that. Nothing like reinforcing the stereotype.
After several days of weather up into the 60's, we are shivering and watching the trees shake in a cold wind. Feels like it's down to the 30's right about now, which we're definitely not used to. We lost electricity at the church during icon writing class today, probably due to the wind. My vision is not really sharp enough to do the work in natural light. Ah, well, we were close to the end of class anyway. The Baptism of Jesus by John is going slowly, slowly, slowly. These works go at their own pace - at God's time, not ours.
In this sense, it's rather unlike the knitting, which only goes as fast as my fingers will let me.
Next week is our church's Women's Retreat, so I should get some good knitting time then, out overlooking the Patuxent River. A good time is had by all at this event, even though we usually are there at the same time as another group's silent retreat and we have to decamp to the furthest basement room so we can party with our wine and cheese without disturbing anyone. Silence is not something our group can do with much success. We usually try to do one meal silently and can't even quite manage that. Nothing like reinforcing the stereotype.
After several days of weather up into the 60's, we are shivering and watching the trees shake in a cold wind. Feels like it's down to the 30's right about now, which we're definitely not used to. We lost electricity at the church during icon writing class today, probably due to the wind. My vision is not really sharp enough to do the work in natural light. Ah, well, we were close to the end of class anyway. The Baptism of Jesus by John is going slowly, slowly, slowly. These works go at their own pace - at God's time, not ours.
In this sense, it's rather unlike the knitting, which only goes as fast as my fingers will let me.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Almost Empty Nest
StrongOpinions leaves tomorrow for a month at her father's house. A chance for her to spend some time with him, I hope, and a chance for her to get some quality snowboarding time, as this will probably be the last year that she competes (she's nationally ranked). She was up at midnight doing laundry. It's a fact of life that she never does this stuff during ordinary waking hours. I suppose I should be happy that she's doing it at all, rather than expecting her mother to do it. Her room looks like a tornado hit it, but I am told it will be cleaned up before we take her to the airport tomorrow.
I took her to lunch today at a new restaurant her in the 'burbs that serves excellent vegetarian stuff as well as stuff for me. It was delicious, and the conversation was interesting as well. She's such a passionate and thoughtful person. I'm enjoying this evolving relationship - I am her mother, but she views me as a friend to whom she can talk as well.
It seems painful, then, to be seeing her off, this time for just a month, in a few months for college, just when the friendship is blossoming.
Some things don't change. I have to take care of Moses the gecko and take her beloved Saabie out for periodic drives while she's gone.
I took her to lunch today at a new restaurant her in the 'burbs that serves excellent vegetarian stuff as well as stuff for me. It was delicious, and the conversation was interesting as well. She's such a passionate and thoughtful person. I'm enjoying this evolving relationship - I am her mother, but she views me as a friend to whom she can talk as well.
It seems painful, then, to be seeing her off, this time for just a month, in a few months for college, just when the friendship is blossoming.
Some things don't change. I have to take care of Moses the gecko and take her beloved Saabie out for periodic drives while she's gone.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Spare Space
The tree is naked and shedding and waiting at the curbside for pickup. The ornaments and the Santa collection are boxed and returned to their hidey-hole under the stairs. I've swept and vacuumed up the pine needles, and the regular pictures and mantel tchotchkes are in their usual places.
The living room looks surprisingly bare after the excess of Christmas decorations. It's soothing to have this kind of clear space back in the room.
Our living room windows have no curtains (or window treatments, as they're currently called). I like looking out at the trees, even in their gray and brown bare state right now. The living room couch (with the afghan I knitted for my late mother 25 years ago) is my favorite place in the world, and the only things that make it better are a cup of tea, a good book, and a Hershey's Kiss.
While all the Christmas things were up, it wasn't quite as enjoyable. Too many visual distractions, perhaps. It's good to have some spare space again.
The living room looks surprisingly bare after the excess of Christmas decorations. It's soothing to have this kind of clear space back in the room.
Our living room windows have no curtains (or window treatments, as they're currently called). I like looking out at the trees, even in their gray and brown bare state right now. The living room couch (with the afghan I knitted for my late mother 25 years ago) is my favorite place in the world, and the only things that make it better are a cup of tea, a good book, and a Hershey's Kiss.
While all the Christmas things were up, it wasn't quite as enjoyable. Too many visual distractions, perhaps. It's good to have some spare space again.
Friday, January 06, 2006
RevGal Household Items Friday Five
Thanks to Songbird and St. Casserole:
Things I love:
1) Bleach (and anything with bleach in it). Yes, I know it's very strong, but it disinfects, it kills mold, it whitens.
2) Swiffer. In a house with wood floors and two cats, it's remarkable how effective the swiffer is at getting up the reams of cat hair we seem to find every week.
3) Formula 409 with Orange Oil. Nothing better for the kitchen, including the stainless steel vent hood. It degreases like nobody's business.
4) Microfiber cloths. I particularly like them for washing windows with just water, no windex or anything.
One thing that isn't worth spit: Pledge with orange oil polishing cloths. The polish doesn't absorb into the wood. Regular old Guardsman seems to do the job much better.
Now do I use these things anywhere near as frequently as I should? I aim for once a week. I don't always succeed. I suspect once I get ordained, I won't have time for housework, so maybe I'll get a cleaning service then.
As part of my preparation for selling the house, I'm trying to de-clutter and organize little pieces of our lives. This morning, for about an hour, it was choral sheet music. I've sung in choral groups of varying sizes and abilities for forty years, so I have a lot of sheet music. I managed to organize a box full and toss a lot of illegally copied or otherwise yucky stuff. Small victories!
I normally do my house cleanup (or what FlyLady calls "House Blessing") on Saturday, but I've got a meet of the delegates to our diocesan council - the infamous pre-council meeting, and since the tree and the Santas all have to come down Saturday evening, I think the house will not be more than cursorily cleaned this week. it will be an accomplishment to get the needles from the pine swept up. Ah, well, so be it.
My heart is pure (mostly), even if my house isn't.
Things I love:
1) Bleach (and anything with bleach in it). Yes, I know it's very strong, but it disinfects, it kills mold, it whitens.
2) Swiffer. In a house with wood floors and two cats, it's remarkable how effective the swiffer is at getting up the reams of cat hair we seem to find every week.
3) Formula 409 with Orange Oil. Nothing better for the kitchen, including the stainless steel vent hood. It degreases like nobody's business.
4) Microfiber cloths. I particularly like them for washing windows with just water, no windex or anything.
One thing that isn't worth spit: Pledge with orange oil polishing cloths. The polish doesn't absorb into the wood. Regular old Guardsman seems to do the job much better.
Now do I use these things anywhere near as frequently as I should? I aim for once a week. I don't always succeed. I suspect once I get ordained, I won't have time for housework, so maybe I'll get a cleaning service then.
As part of my preparation for selling the house, I'm trying to de-clutter and organize little pieces of our lives. This morning, for about an hour, it was choral sheet music. I've sung in choral groups of varying sizes and abilities for forty years, so I have a lot of sheet music. I managed to organize a box full and toss a lot of illegally copied or otherwise yucky stuff. Small victories!
I normally do my house cleanup (or what FlyLady calls "House Blessing") on Saturday, but I've got a meet of the delegates to our diocesan council - the infamous pre-council meeting, and since the tree and the Santas all have to come down Saturday evening, I think the house will not be more than cursorily cleaned this week. it will be an accomplishment to get the needles from the pine swept up. Ah, well, so be it.
My heart is pure (mostly), even if my house isn't.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Absurdity
I couldn't resist planning ahead. I've found my next big knitting project, a sweater for my sister in law. Here's the Dale of Norway pattern: http://www.beaellisknitwear.com/images/enlarged/torino2006.jpg
Yes, I am insane.
Yes, I am insane.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Deadlines
It seems I cannot get things done without a deadline.
It also seems it's hereditary.
StrongOpinions is trying to get her college applications done before going north to her dad's house for a month or so. She had three essays to write for the college she is most interested in (hippy-dippy Buddhist college in Boulder) - one a statement of interest, one a decription of a transformative event in her life, and one a narrative about what she wants to do with her education. She is given to grand pronunciamentos, so these read like a cross between Ayn Rand, the Dalai Lama, and Jim Wallis. Could be worse. Reading her observations on her life so far, and my recollection of what REALLY transpired, is an interesting experience. I have to keep reminding myself that my purpose is not to correct her perceptions, just look for grammatical errors and typos that spellcheck missed. My tongue is bloody from biting it.
My deadline is to finally finish PH's Christmas sweater. It's a complex Aran, with a 36 row repeat, so it's taken much longer than sweaters usually take. I worked on it for a couple of hours last night, while watching a marvelous NOVA special on savants and my guilty pleasure: "House."
Meanwhile a couple of beautiful new books await my attention, Walter Brueggemann's "Theology of the Old Testament" and Jaroslav Pelikan's new commentary on Acts. Of course, what am I reading? The Phil Rickman nystery novel. Why eat cruciferous vegetables when you can have a Snickers bar?
Plus, I'm a couple of chapters behind on New Testament Greek - terrified by aorist verbs. Got to get cracking on that. Plus I am moving my downtown office stuff back to the house, and I've got files to organize. Plus I have a couple of advisory memos to write to the bosses...
Procrastination is my middle name (actually, the second middle name, after Chocolate).
It also seems it's hereditary.
StrongOpinions is trying to get her college applications done before going north to her dad's house for a month or so. She had three essays to write for the college she is most interested in (hippy-dippy Buddhist college in Boulder) - one a statement of interest, one a decription of a transformative event in her life, and one a narrative about what she wants to do with her education. She is given to grand pronunciamentos, so these read like a cross between Ayn Rand, the Dalai Lama, and Jim Wallis. Could be worse. Reading her observations on her life so far, and my recollection of what REALLY transpired, is an interesting experience. I have to keep reminding myself that my purpose is not to correct her perceptions, just look for grammatical errors and typos that spellcheck missed. My tongue is bloody from biting it.
My deadline is to finally finish PH's Christmas sweater. It's a complex Aran, with a 36 row repeat, so it's taken much longer than sweaters usually take. I worked on it for a couple of hours last night, while watching a marvelous NOVA special on savants and my guilty pleasure: "House."
Meanwhile a couple of beautiful new books await my attention, Walter Brueggemann's "Theology of the Old Testament" and Jaroslav Pelikan's new commentary on Acts. Of course, what am I reading? The Phil Rickman nystery novel. Why eat cruciferous vegetables when you can have a Snickers bar?
Plus, I'm a couple of chapters behind on New Testament Greek - terrified by aorist verbs. Got to get cracking on that. Plus I am moving my downtown office stuff back to the house, and I've got files to organize. Plus I have a couple of advisory memos to write to the bosses...
Procrastination is my middle name (actually, the second middle name, after Chocolate).
Monday, January 02, 2006
Discombobulated
This Monday holiday thing has me very confused.
Woke up at 7:30 am, an all-time late wake-up, and finished the last chapter of a mystery novel (Phil Rickman's "The Cure of the Souls", and thanks to St Casserole for turning me on to this series about an Anglican woman priest who does deliverance ministry). PH was already up and making coffee, bless him. He had an early meeting downtown.
At 8 a.m. StrongOpinions crawled into the bed - a cricket had escaped from Moses the gecko's environment and was chirping all night.
At 8:30 a colleague called up for a mutual complaining session about the head of the trade association we are noth involved with.
At 9 a.m. I went downstairs, read the paper, and signed PH and me up for a photo for the church directory (note to self: lose 20 pounds by January 21st).
At 9:15 I noted on the calendar that I am going on a mission trip to Pascagoula, MS in early February to help rebuild one of our sister churches there, St John's Episcopal Church. St. Cass, is that fairly close to you? If so, can we get together for a cup of coffee?
It's now 11 am. I've gotten dishes done. Should I:
a) do the last 20 rows of StrongOpinion's Andre the Giant scarf, then sew it and block it?
b) go downtown and do expense reports and get StrongOpinions' cell phone replaced, although the Verizon store may be closed for the holiday?
c) start the other Phil Rickman novel I got from the library?
d) bake a pumpkin cheesecake (low-carb, of course)?
e) go back to bed?
Hard to decide what to do first on a holiday Monday!
Woke up at 7:30 am, an all-time late wake-up, and finished the last chapter of a mystery novel (Phil Rickman's "The Cure of the Souls", and thanks to St Casserole for turning me on to this series about an Anglican woman priest who does deliverance ministry). PH was already up and making coffee, bless him. He had an early meeting downtown.
At 8 a.m. StrongOpinions crawled into the bed - a cricket had escaped from Moses the gecko's environment and was chirping all night.
At 8:30 a colleague called up for a mutual complaining session about the head of the trade association we are noth involved with.
At 9 a.m. I went downstairs, read the paper, and signed PH and me up for a photo for the church directory (note to self: lose 20 pounds by January 21st).
At 9:15 I noted on the calendar that I am going on a mission trip to Pascagoula, MS in early February to help rebuild one of our sister churches there, St John's Episcopal Church. St. Cass, is that fairly close to you? If so, can we get together for a cup of coffee?
It's now 11 am. I've gotten dishes done. Should I:
a) do the last 20 rows of StrongOpinion's Andre the Giant scarf, then sew it and block it?
b) go downtown and do expense reports and get StrongOpinions' cell phone replaced, although the Verizon store may be closed for the holiday?
c) start the other Phil Rickman novel I got from the library?
d) bake a pumpkin cheesecake (low-carb, of course)?
e) go back to bed?
Hard to decide what to do first on a holiday Monday!
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Happy New Year!
I'll be back later, but I have to tell you a miracle happened last night! PH and I both stayed awake until midnight!
I think that's the first time that happened in a loooonnnngggg time. Guess we really are old poops!
N.B. I have now used my entire exclamation point quotient for the month of January.
I think that's the first time that happened in a loooonnnngggg time. Guess we really are old poops!
N.B. I have now used my entire exclamation point quotient for the month of January.
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