It Started with Some Mistletoe...

This is really an installment of Memories from Mondays Gone by...on a Wednesday.

About a decade ago...when I was still in Washington State, my youngest brother and I were the only ones still living at home. (Actually, I was living at home AGAIN. You know, they talk about the boomerang generation...adult kids that move back in with mom and dad...I'm more of a yo-yo.)  Anyway.  We had not had  a decorated Christmas in a couple of years and for some reason, Tim and I decided that we would be funny and hang a single sprig of mistletoe in the living room. 

So, we dig out the Christmas decorations and a step-ladder and attach the mistletoe to the light fixture in our living room.  Then we step back to admire our handiwork.  That's when our attention focussed on the step-ladder.  Evidently, we both had the same silly idea at the same time because we just smiled at each other and proceeded to decorate our metal "Christmas tree."

When Mom and Dad got home, they were greeted by a gleaming silver "tree" complete with garland and bows.

And I don't think they ever noticed the mistletoe.

It's a Hagedorn thing...

Hagedorn is my mother's maiden name.  They have this thing... they will...shall we say...veer...from the truth for the sake of a good story. 

So, the other day my mother says, "I told Danielle that you decided that Halle would have an easier time pronouncing 'Papa' and 'DeeDee' instead of 'Grandpa' and Grandma.'"

To which I responded, "Wait a minute. You're the one that said that you didn't want to be called 'Grandma'...I just said that Dad should pick something informal to match...like 'Papa' or something."

Her response?

"I know what the truth is...I'm just telling you what I told her."

Um...ok.

Overheard Bits & Pieces

Overheard in my math class today as the wind beat against the building...

R7: "Wow. Sounds like the Abdominal Slowman is out there...I mean Snowman...wait...what?"

Holiday Memories...

If I had had my computer I would have shared this memory closer to Thanksgiving.  Not because it is a Thanksgiving memory (because it is not...it is not even a holiday memory) but because I was reminded during Thanksgiving.

I spent Thanksgiving in Knoxville with my brother and his family. On the way there I saw a guy trying to get to Johnson City. I know all the warnings about picking up hitchhikers...but there I was, wondering if I could shift some of my stuff and make room for this guy.

See, my dad used to work in Portland, OR. And we lived in Twisp, WA (about 400 miles away) with my grandparents. And after work on Friday, he would hitchhike all night so that he could spend Saturday with us only to leave Sunday morning so he could be at work Monday morning. And I wonder how many people passed him by because they were afraid to pick up a crazy person... But to those of you who stopped to help him get home to his family...thank you.

Oh, and someone else stopped for Mr. Johnson City before I could and hopefully he was able to spend his Thanksgiving with his friends and family.

I Have Re-joined the 21st Century!

So...I have been without a computer for two weeks. This is my serious gaming computer that I splurged on. The silly thing was only a year old but the microphone and speakers didn't work, I couldn't disable the touchpad so everytime I typed the cursor would skip around, the SD card reader was useless and it would randomly toggle between battery mode and AC mode (letting me know this by rapidly flashing a message directly in the middle of my screen).  Seems to be working fine now though.  Yeah, warranties!

Here's the amusing part...when I went to check on the status, I told the geek that I hadn't heard anything from them and I just wanted to know what was happening with my machine... He looked at me with surprise and said, "You didn't get any of the emails?"  I guess I am one of the few people who still have dedicated technology...my camera is just a camera...my phone is only a phone...I have an ipod and a kindle...and they were working on my only computer...how was I supposed to know they were sending me emails??

Memories of Mondays Gone By...Thanksgiving Edition

I love Thanksgiving.  I love the food...the turkey, the stuffing, the sweet potatoes, the pumpkin pie.  I don't like the cranberry jelly but other than that... I even like the green beans.  I remember a Thanksgiving when I was about three, my mother asked me how many green beans I wanted. I answered "6."  That's a big number to a 3-year old.  My 5-year old cousin David overheard my answer and got all excited and proclaimed that he would take 6 green beans as well.  I also remember several Thanksgiving poker games where we used the vegetable tray instead of chips..."I'll see your radish and raise you an olive."

I love the football...Grandpa was very big on team loyalty.  My cousin Brent was the only one who ever dared to oppose him.  He was a die-hard Raiders fan in a Seahawk family.  I remember my mother cheering during the game.  Whenever her team was doing poorly she would yell, "Dang!"  Whenever her team was doing well she would yell, "Hot Dang!"

And I love the friends and family.  I love the hugs, the laughter, the memories (or exaggerated stories), and all the quirks and idiosyncrasies that make a family...yours.  Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  And I am very grateful indeed.

A Positive Outcome

I had to leave early tonight.  I just couldn't take it any longer.  If I had stayed...well...it wouldn't have been pretty.  But I am happy to report that no "yoots" were smacked upside the head during the making of this evening.

However, the positive outcome is this:



I am extremely thankful for my upbringing.  I'm not sure that I can adequately communicate just how grateful I am for the way I was raised.  So, I am going to just list some of the highlights.

I am thankful...

1. I was not given everything I wanted
2. we did not replace the TV when it broke
3. we took our vacations in the woods
4. that sometimes we were awakened in the middle of the night to witness the northern lights and meteor showers
5. that I was spanked when I was disobedient
6. I was required to do my homework...myself
7. laughing was strongly encouraged
8. I did not ALWAYS get presents for my birthday or Christmas
9. my mother taught me to be creative and resourceful
10. my father taught me to be diligent and perseverant
11. I was taught to value books
12. that striving for mediocrity was not an option
13. I wasn't allowed to blame other people or situations for my own actions
14. that disrespect (toward anyone) was not tolerated
15. I was taught the importance of empathy

I am thankful that my parents loved me enough to see that I grew up...well.

Moments from Mondays Gone by...

I know that it has been a while since I've shared a Moment from Mondays Gone by but I was thinking about youth trips today.  Working with the youth at my church is the part time job that I am giving up to go back to school so I realized that I will not be going on a youth trip...at least for a while.  So...I am sharing one of my favorite youth trip moments as previously shared in another blog post.


We Were Making Great Time Until…




I went to Virginia this last weekend with our high school youth group. We took 3 vehicles…the van (an 11-seater), the bus (a 15-seater), and my personal car. We left the church at 5:30ish so had to make our way through DC traffic. Once we got off the beltway the van and the bus moved into the HOV lane. I, however, only had one individual in my car and was unable to do anything but watch them leave me sitting in traffic.



About an hour and a half later, while eating dinner, one of the youth leaders says, “Hey, where’s Janet?”



Meanwhile, back in my car, my co-director calls as says, “Where are you?” and I’m thinking, “uh…not very far from where you left me…” (skipping ahead…) I pull over at this scary gas station to wait for them. After going inside for my own dinner (Coke and Cheetos) I go back outside to sit in my car. I realize that the scary gas station is seriously in the middle of nowhere. It is pitch black out, it is late enough that there is very little traffic, I look over my left shoulder and notice that there is a creepy motel on the hill above the scary gas station and suddenly realize that no one would be able to hear me scream…



Half hour later I have a passenger and I am the caboose once again. And after one more bathroom break we started to make great time until…









…we hit the…







…tree.





Yes…all three vehicles.





Yes…the same tree.



The tree happened to be hanging over the highway. The van driver saw the tree at the last moment, swerved slightly and only ended up with a cracked windshield and a bent antenna. The bus driver didn’t see the tree until it was trying to get on the bus and ended up with a cracked windshield, a missing antenna, broken running lights and a completely sheared off side mirror. The bus was large enough that it bent the tree as it went by so it snapped back into place just in time for me to drive through it. I muttered a soft “ooew. I shouldn’t’ve hit that.” Thankfully, my car suffered no damage…because she’s short.



All in all, no one was hurt, we got to our destination and we all had a great weekend!

The Beginning of Change...

I quit.






Just one of my jobs...the part time one...





So I could go back to school.





Well, sort of.  See, I've actually been enrolled in seminary for the last eight years but for the last four years I've been able to say, "I only have 6 classes left."  Meaning--"I haven't done anything in four years."  Seriously.  It is time to change that.  Especially since I've already paid for it...completely.  In fact, I've already paid for the 6 classes I need to finish my Bachelor's degree AND the classes needed for my Master's degree.

This is step one.

One Down...Three to Go

That's right.  1st quarter of school done.  I still have some grading to do... And I have to compile the report cards... But still.

Fog

Yesterday, while working on my photography blog, I took some time to look through some of the other photography blogs that I follow and I saw this great image of a motorcycle and road sign in the fog.  As I admired the image I started thinking about fog and I realized that that is where I am.  In a fog.

See, everything is muted in the fog.  Colors are muted.  Sounds are muted.  Even time seems muted.  And visibility.  Sometimes your visibility is so muted that you feel like you are the only one on earth.

Now, ever notice that when you are trying to see through the fog your instincts are to shine some light on it...but the light only illuminates the fog.  And the brighter the light...the brighter the fog. 

Ok.  So here's the thing.  I'm in a fog.  Everything is muted.  My joy is muted.  My worship is muted.  My passion is muted.  And my visibility is definitely muted to the point of feeling very disconnected...from everything.  And everytime I add a new ministry or activity or job all I succeed in doing is lighting up more fog. 

Yesterday I shared about change coming.  I still don't know what it is but I know that getting out of this fog is an absolute necessity.  And yet I'm hesitating.  I don't know if it is because I am afraid of what is outside the fog or if I am just worried about what people will say when I start shutting down some of the activities, ministries and jobs...  Or maybe I do know and I'm just afraid to be that transparent and vunerable here.  Possibly more on that later...

Has Anyone Seen October?

I don't even know where to begin.  Seriously.  This is actually my third attempt at this post.  I woke up this morning realizing that it was November.  It seems like yesterday was September.  And yet October didn't just slip quietly by...in fact, it camped out on my front porch and even punched me in the face a couple of times.  First, there was the accident.  Thankfully I was not injured but Ursula Sinead Popodopolis did not fare so well.  29 days and 1300 (my cost) dollars later we were finally reunited.  Then, my house flooded.  This happens enough times that it is pretty much routine, but still.  At the same time that my house flooded, I got a major head cold that lasted a week but had a lingering cough.  October is, of course, a lovely time of the year for allergy sufferers (sarcasm alert).  And we had a spelling bee, all-day-out-of-town field trip and a leadership conference at school.

And among all this activity there has been some internal drama as well.  I don't know what God is doing in me (of course, I rarely do...I rather enjoy that about Him) but change is coming.  And it's big.  And deep.  Lately I have been feeling very strong yearnings.  For what, I don't know...yet.  But there is this sense of urgency as well.  Yeah. It sounds strange to me, too.  A strong, urgent yearning for...?

But, whatever it is, my life is in need of some altercations.  More on that later.

Bits & Pieces

Here it is...the beginning of week two.  Now that I am back in school I have the opportunity to share with you the bits and pieces of conversation that I overhear from my middle school students.

O (7): "When is my birthday this year?"...
T (7):  "When was your birthday last year?"
O (7):  "It was on one of the days of the week."

Yeah...that narrows it down...

A (8): "Where's her face?!  I just had her face!"

I can't even begin to explain that...
...or this....

K (6): "Ooh...Turtles wearing scarves.  Now I get it."

But my favorite...

Starting my car to go to work this morning I hear the very last line of a story before the newscaster moves on to the next one...

"The musician known as "Bongo Jesus" was finally tazered into submission."

...and after sharing that sentence at work one of my co-workers offered this bit:

"Sounds like he was a little too bongo and not enough Jesus."

Then Why Am I Still Sitting Here?

So today was the day that teachers went back to school.  We don't see students until next Tuesday but I got up early this morning...packed my lunch and got out of the door exactly on time. 

I take the Parkway to work.  It's not as bad as it sounds because as everyone is trying to get into DC I am trying to get out.  This usually makes for a pleasant drive...usually.  See, even though the Parkway is a "scenic drive" most people treat it like it's the Autobahn...and when maniacs drive...accidents happen.

Anyway, I hit traffic and turn to the radio station that is going to tell me what and where the delay is so I can choose an alternate route if needed.  Six minutes later I am completely stopped (with the car in park) as I listen to the traffic report.  The northbound freeway (parallel to where I am...) is shutdown...all lanes...due to a truck dumping a load of wood and the parkway is slow (I'm thinking, "I want to be on that part of the parkway") due to an accident just two exits ahead of me so I decide to stay put.  Now, ten minutes later, when the next traffic report comes on, I am in the exact same place...I have not moved...and the lady says, "All northbound lanes on the freeway have been shutdown and you would be better off taking the parkway as the earlier accident is gone."  And I'm thinking, "Gone?  Where did it go?  And why am I still sitting here?  Did anyone bother to tell the two guys in front that when the accident disappeared they could continue commuting?" 

It was a full three minutes more before I could put my car in gear and continue on my way to work...Nothing like showing up late on the first day...

Goodnight, Summertime.

Well, this is it.  Tomorrow I go back to school and the insanity.  I am not nearly as rested or prepared physically, emotionally or mentally as is the norm at the end of August.  This is my last few moments of summer.  You were much too fleeting.  Goodnight, Summertime.

Um...Slow Down!

Ok.  Here it is mid-August and...well...nothing.  Usually my summers are filled with adventure and...you know...blog fodder.  However, this summer not so much.  First of all, I got sick on the last day of school and was sick for more than a month.  Then I spent a couple weeks doing some cleaning and organizing (I would love to do a total makeover of my living quarters before the end of September...).  Then I left for my brother and sister-in-laws (which is where I am as I write this) which has been wonderful...

I'm not going to say "but"...I'm not.

It did, however, dawn on me today that I only have a week left before I head home and then only two weeks before school starts.  I ONLY HAVE THREE WEEKS BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS!!!  I am not ready for school to start.  Not physically.  Not emotionally.  I. Am. Not. Ready.

Oh, boy.

This Memory Is Brought to You by My Mother...

Today my mother asked me if I wanted her ashes.  And that question and the resulting thoughts that went through my head eventually led to this memory being shared with you on another Moments from Mondays Gone By...

There are no adults in this story. Now, some of my best childhood memories are adult-free but in this case...well...you be the judge.

At the time, I was 12, the brother involved was 10, and the kid from across the street was 14. We lived in a trailer park in a small town in the middle of nowhere, WA. Our neighbors were on vacation and they had a cat. The cat was hit by a car.

So, here we are, looking at this cat...which was really more of a kitten, gasping for air, mewing pitifully, and unable to move due to a squished spine. Now, I'm not a cat-person...never have been...but I remember getting teary-eyed watching that cat suffer and knowing that it was not going to survive. We were trying to figure out what to do and how to put this cat out of its misery and the kid from across the street says,

"My dad has an axe."

OK. Now we had a plan. So the kid from across the street returns with the axe and there is a brief discussion about how he is the oldest and it is his father's axe therefore he should be the one to chop...the cat's...head...off.

So, my brother and I take a couple steps back and...wait.  And wait. Evidently it is one thing to watch this kind of thing being done by adults and quite another to be the one doing it. Anyway, he finally works up the courage to swing the axe but closes his eyes and completely misses. After another few minutes of gathering courage, he swings...he severs.

Now, let me just take a moment and say...we were all familiar with farm life...we had all seen chickens running around with their heads cut off...BUT...what we did not know...could never even have imagined...is that ALL creatures, suddenly severed from their brains, "run like a chicken with its head cut off."

This cat...body...jumps up and starts running around, flopping on the ground, jumping in the air and generally doing all manner of acrobatic feats while its head is just laying there in the street. There is a moment of shocked silence...and then the kid from across the street start screaming...like a girl...and my brother and I begin to giggle.  You know. Those giggles you get when you are really nervous or...FREAKED OUT!! The ones that you can't stop and they get worse the more nervous or freaked out you get?

Thankfully the cat started to settle down because right about then we see the park manager start heading our way. So we grab both pieces of the cat and head down to the river to bury the thing. We were still nervous so we just gave it a shallow grave.  It was really more like getting rid of the evidence instead of a proper funeral. However, in just a few days it started to really stink and it was right where we all played so...

we built a raft...
placed the cat...
set it on fire...
and gave it a glorious Viking burial.

And we NEVER told the neighbors.

Heat, Humidity and Headaches

These are things I strongly dislike.

These are also things that have been in my life for the last two weeks or so.

Heat. I am a red-head so the sun and I have always had a somewhat tenuous relationship. In the summertime I am perpetually pink regardless of sunscreen. I have had sunstroke twice, am prone to heat exhaustion and my internal thermostat is permanently whacked. That being said, here are some of last weeks top weather headlines...

HIGH TEMPERATURES CAUSE ROADS TO BUCKLE. Excuse me? Did you say "buckle"? As in "to bend out of shape; distort by twisting or folding" buckle? That buckle?  I am supposed to enjoy my summer vacation when it is hot enough to melt pavement??

3 MORE DIE IN MD FROM SUMMER HEAT. Yes, that's right. Not three...three MORE. There have actually been 16 heat-related deaths in MD this year. I'm supposed to run errands when it is hot enough to melt pavement....and KILL PEOPLE???

EXCESSIVE HEAT WATCH IN EFFECT. Now there's an idea I can get behind. Let's all watch the heat...from an air-conditioned living room.


Humidity. Wetness in the atmosphere. This is something that was most definitely NOT on the brochure. 8 years, 3 months and 11 days ago I moved to the East Coast... 8 years, 3 months and 11 days ago I was dry.  Since then, not so much. Everything is damp. My clothes are damp. My books are damp. My pillow is damp. Even my crackers are damp. And most people out here don't get this, but that is because they have never actually been dry. They use things like towels...clothes dryers (kind of seems like a waste of money to me) but they never actually get beyond DAMP.


Headaches. I am one of those people who get headaches. Lots of headaches. I get headaches when I'm stressed, or hungry, or dehydrated, or overheated or just plain tired. When my allergies act up...I get a headache. When my back is out of alignment...I get a headache. Sometimes I get a headache for no apparent reason.  And I categorize them.  Level one is your basic headache. It's the one that can be up there for several hours before I think, "You know...they make stuff for this." Level two is a migraine. Taking pain meds is a no-brainer as well as turning off all the lights. Level three is what I call the Meningitis level. (I had that once so I know how painful it is...wouldn't recommend it...to anyone.) This level requires lots of pain meds, turning off all the lights, curling into the fetal position and whimpering. And lastly, level four, is the Percocet level. Ironically, Percocet causes me more pain than whatever it was that they prescribed the Percocet for.  I felt like John Henry was pounding butter knives into my eyeballs. Doctors all "cock their heads" at me when I inform them that Percocet makes me suicidal.

Anyway, lately I've been feeling like I am dealing with multiple headaches at the same time. Like...if you had one parking spot in front of your house and every Monday your sister came to visit (and parked there) and every Tuesday your brother came to visit (and parked there) and every Friday your mother came to visit (and parked there) but then...one Wednesday they all decide to visit at the same time and instead of all coming in the same car, they all drive separately and try to park in the one space available. That is what I think is going on in my head lately. (hence the reason for the infrequent posts) One headache at a time is one thing but three headache at the same time is a different beast altogether. They need to carpool.

I'm an Aunt

Yes, it is true. I am finally an aunt. D and D have a daughter, born July 19, 2010 at 8:40 pm central time. She is very healthy, has a full head of red hair and is already a good eater. She weighed in at 8lbs 3oz.

Lord willing in 14 days they will have full guardianship and in 6 months they will be able to officially adopt her. Welcome to our family Halle.

Um...Exactly What Are We Juicing???

So I have been thinking about getting a juicer and making my own concoctions without all the sodium and preservatives as I try to be more healthy (as well as wealthy.) And so I decide to do some comparison shopping online....

And this is what I realize...

Several of the top juicers claim "surgical-quality, stainless steel blades" which makes me wonder:

Exactly WHAT are we juicing???

The Butterscotch Pudding Episode...

Here is another installment in the Moments From Mondays Gone By Series. I am sitting here enjoying a butterscotch pudding cup and I suddenly get the giggles as I remember...


It sounded clever in my head. But when you are twelve...pretty much everything sounds clever in your head. Anyway...Mom and Dad were out and I was home with my three younger brothers. I was making Bean with Bacon Soup (or...stirring Bean with Bacon Soup as it was from a can) and somehow came up with the idea that it would be funny to tell them it was butterscotch pudding. I told them that the reason there were lumps was because it wasn't the instant kind of pudding but the kind that had to be cooked and this was my first time making it. So, there they were with a large bowl of sweet, delicious, buttery-goodness in front of them and a big ole mouthful of...soup. Savory, bacon-y, bean-y soup...some of which was spit directly back into the bowl.

I laughed...they didn't.

That was 30 years ago...but the effects have not worn off. I have two brothers who are "not fond" of butterscotch flavor and one who shudders at the mere mention of the word "butterscotch". Would I have played that practical joke had I known just how far into the future I would influence?.....uhhh...yeah.

Moments from Mondays Gone By...

I have decided to use Mondays to remember the past. Sometimes this will take the form of new postings of past memories. Sometimes it will take the form of re-posting from previous blog and journal entries...like this one:

The Container Store
How did we do it? How did we ever get along in life before the Container Store?

I don't have the answer to that but I do know that we were more content. It is nearly impossible to walk through that store and remain content. (I know for many people that would be true of any store but I usually don't feel that gnawing discontent except in bookstores.) Now some of the discontent that is felt when meandering through aisle after aisle of plastic and polyurethane may be a positive and even necessary discontent. It is the discontent that makes you think of that secret place in your house that is in need of a good spring cleaning...that drawer, that closet...that room that is threatening to overstep its bounds and make its presence known to innocent bystanders who just happened to "drop by".

But that kind of discontent is not the focus of my rant. I want to dwell for a moment on that negative, unnecessary discontent. The discontent that goes shopping because you need 12 more hangers for your closet but walks out with 144 so all your hangers will match... The discontent that picks up a 12x12-in block of polyurethane that holds 48 tubes of lipstick and says,

"I need this."
Nobody needs a container that holds 48 tubes of lipstick...and if you do, discontent is not your only issue. Then there is the discontent that picks up a tiny container (no matter how cheap) and says,

"Oh, this is so cute...what could I put in it?"

Or even the discontent that says,

Teenager: "Hey, look! It's a bulletin board made out of compact strips of recycled paper."
Mom: "We just bought you a bulletin board."
Teenager: "But this one is made from recycled material."
Mom: "What are you going to do with the one we just bought you?"
Teenager: "Um...recycle it."
(All actual overheard conversations)
But whatever the cause of your discontent...whether be it necessary or inane...the Container Store has a box, bucket or basket you can put it in.

"I rejoice greatly in the Lord that at last you have renewed your concern for me. Indeed, you have been concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:10-13

Boy, Am I Glad I Saw THAT Warning!

I went to Wal-Mart the other day to buy a food scale. After comparing weight accuracy and limits, cost and style I chose a digital kitchen scale by Mainstays.

Then I noticed this warning...




...and I thought to myself, "Boy, am I glad I saw that warning! I mighta thought there was carrots, green beans, tomatoes, garlic, onions, potatoes and a stock pot in here. Wouldn't I have been surprised."

But I've got to wonder...has our common sense really disintegrated to the point of needing this kind of warning? Are there really people who pick a small box labeled "Digital Kitchen Scale" and think, "WOW...a SOUP KIT!!" Or is it that our society has become overly litigious? A society where it pays (literally) to be stupid. I should probably stop here...before I get nasty.



Here are some other warnings for the stupid:

Contents may be hot.--McDonald's coffee

For best results, remove cap.--Nabisco Easy Cheese

This ice may be cold.

May contain traces of nuts.--Hershey's Almond Bar

Do not drive a car or run machinery.--Boot's Children's Cough Medicine

Do not eat or inhale. If so, induce vomitting.--on a block of lead (one ton)

Do not consume.--Home Depot treated lumber

Writing Is Like Tea...

E (the lady in whose basement I live) asked me today if I had ever written a book. When I told her "no" she said that surprised her. That I just seemed the kind of person who would write a book. Then I said, "Writing is like tea."


Here's what I mean. Tea. I have always wanted to be a tea-drinker...because it sounds cool and fancy and...sophisticated. "Can I get you something to drink?" "Yes, I'll have some tea." Sounds silly, I know...but there it is. Tea is ancient and ceremonial. It is mysterious. When you are served "tea", you not only receive a cup but a saucer as well and not just any cup and saucer but expensive, fragile ones that you can only hold properly if you stick your pinky finger in the air and that make dainty, tinkling sounds when you use them. "Tea" also comes with cookies, and scones and bite-sized sandwiches with no crust. Tea is not just something to drink, it is a whole separate culture...

And it is serious...

...and mature. As evidenced by generations of children--desiring to be "all grown-up"--dressing up and having "tea parties."



But here's the thing...having said all that...tea tastes terrible.

I keep trying it because they lure me in with those exotic names and spicy aromas...but everytime I think...BLAAEEHHCK! (or something close to that.)



I want to like tea...but I don't like tea.



Now writing. I have always wanted to be a writer...because it seems cool and intelligent and...sophisticated. "What do you like to do in your spare time?" "I write. Journal. Blog..." And again...I am fully aware of the oddity of this. But think of all the knowledge we have thanks to writers. Not just professional authors of books but young and old, educated and...not, intentional and incidental writers of diaries, journals, notes, letters, stories, memoirs, speeches, poems and songs. Writers are able to use words to convey concepts and ideas, feelings, pictures... They routinely reveal mysteries, increase options, heighten awareness, encourage growth, motivate actions and broaden imaginations.

And again...having said all that...I'm just not a good writer.

I keep trying it because they lure me in with fancy journals with gorgeous covers and hand-made paper or gilded pages (or with new templates for blogging...). Then I get half-way through and I think, "WHAT am I doing???" This frustrates me immensely because I am a really good storyteller...but writing the stories down is much harder.

I want to write...I'm just not very good at it.

BUT...I will keep trying.

Thinking About Home...

On this day, last year, I was home.


After 8 years of living on the East Coast, I went home to Washington state for the summer. Many people have told me that I have lived out here long enough to start calling Maryland my home and, in some regards, that may be true.

I have a great job...great friends...
This is a great place to travel and take pictures...
...however...


The home of my soul is...and always will be the Pacific Northwest.


See, it might be different if I were just homesick. If I just missed my family and friends. A particular city. A certain coffee house. That one special thing that you can only get in that one special place.

But what I feel goes deeper than that. I don't just miss people, places or things...I miss a way of life. My entire being yearns for this way of living life. A way of life that involves elements that are non-descript and unspectacular on their own...elements that can be found just about everywhere...yet when combined produce a result, a manner...a rhythm that is distinctly exclusive to the Pacific Northwest. My heart beats to this rhythm. But this rhythm (and hence my heart) is very much out-of-sync in the place I now find myself. And there are days, like today, where it seems as though I am clinging to the rhythm of my heart as the frantic pace of life threatens to overwhelm me with it's powerful flood. As it hurls to-do lists, project deadlines, appointments...waves of busyness laced with futility and the occasional flash of panic...

What I need is a good pair of ruby slippers...