Indulgences

Father's Day weekend was a blast. It was so fun, in fact, that the boys and I had a spontaneous mini-vacation that only ended this afternoon.

We celebrated with Neil and his dad on Friday night...and Saturday morning, after his flight to Colorado left (his band has been playing for a church youth camp all week), we headed up to my hometown to visit with my family. Whenever I'm back there, I have this urge to just stay - there's this wonderful mix of past and present that I don't have anywhere else. There are aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents - it's an entire community of family that sort of makes coming back here to our house seem a little lonely. And, of course, eating Sunday lunch made by the hands of my grandmother, mother, and my mom's sister makes anything I attempt to cook seem colorless and just plain sad in comparison. If I could commute two hours every Sunday for that meal...I'm telling you it'd be worth the cost of the gas.

As the boys get older, it gets easier to travel - when they were more on the side of babyhood than toddlerhood, it felt like every road trip was a precarious, daredevil experiment (will they cry all night in someone else's house? will they spit up on some one's carpet? will they scream every time someone picks them up?). But now interruptions in routines don't bother them as much - during the past two visits, as a matter of fact, they've barely paid any attention to me at all. They love playing with my little cousins and wrestling with my uncles, talking to my aunts and grandmothers, running through the yard after the go-carts and looking at my grandparents' apple trees and grape-vines...and I love watching them discover how fabulously fun and lovable our family members are.

And now...I haven't posted any pictures in a while, and I borrowed a few from my mom's digital stash...so here are some faces to accompany all of the names.

This is Sean, loving the Mexican food that my aunt and Mom made on Saturday evening. It really was a forget-about-the-fork-and-just-eat-it-by-the-handful kind of good.

Christian felt the same way about the Oreo cake we had on Sunday. You can see that Sean's anxiously waiting for his piece back there.

This was during our last visit - Christian was trying to help my brother out after the go-cart ran out of gas. He's my Hercules.

My siblings - Mandy, Jeremy, and Hannah. Aren't they good-lookin', all dressed up for church?

A few months ago - Sean and my mom.

Quintessential Dad humor. This picture cracks me up.

And I'll leave you with a few big smiles...

Generation Gap

My little brother is spending this entire week with us, which is a lot of fun. My parents are away for a church conference, my youngest sister is with an aunt and uncle in order to babysit their kids during work hours, and my other sister is busy with her job (this is definitely the first time the younger set has all been separated like this - I'm sure my mom will be happy to have her little flock whole again!). It's cool to have Jeremy here - Sean and Christian love playing with their uncle and I'm having a blast getting to have one-on-one time with him. I haven't spent this much time with him since before I left home - which means he was about three years old. He's ten now, so you can be sure that his interests have changed. For example, he no longer gets excited about Blue's Clues and he can take care of his own bathroom activities. Sometimes change is good. Hee.
Anyway, I'm still unpacking boxes here in the new house, and yesterday I found my yearbook from my fourth grade year. Since Jeremy just finished the fourth grade, I thought he might find it interesting to look at my fourth grade picture...he did think that it was pretty funny (I'm definitely all big glasses and feathered bangs).
Here's what wasn't funny: he looked through some of the pages and pointed to a candid classroom shot. In total disbelief - "Your teachers used chalkboards? How old is this yearbook?"
Uh-huh. Thanks, little brother. I suddenly saw myself through his eyes...and he made me recall times in elementary school when my friends would talk about their older brothers and sisters who were married and had kids...and I'd think man, those people are old.
(Deep, deep sigh) Yep. Officially - that's me.

Another Example of How the Best Things In Life Are Free

When I was a kid, my dad was one of those people who would tune his radio in the car to (groans and many rolls of the eyes by my former teenage self) am radio. AM. Talk shows, interviews, weather, music (without words!). And even if he stayed on the FM dial, he'd listen to public radio stations. I can't say that I minded the classical or jazz stations - I've always been a music lover, whatever the style, and my favorite pieces for the piano were the classical ones...however, I felt it my fourteen year old duty to declare myself bored to tears by the rest of it.
Of course the older I got, the more I began to actually listen and enjoy what I was hearing. And now I am officially an addict of the beautiful NPR.
They have a little bit of everything - check out the website and I'm sure you'll find something in your line of interest.
But - here is my new source of bliss. When I'm busy with my hands or fed up with the circles my own mind spins, I can listen to incredibly talented actors read short stories to live audiences...they always pick wonderful stories, both classic and contemporary. I've never been one to listen to audio books (I'd rather have the book in my hands), but these are perfect for chores around the house. Instead of grumbling because I'd rather be reading or doing something beneficial for my brain than mopping the floor, I can happily bring out the mop. Now I can clean and 'read' at the same time.
It's a beautiful, beautiful thing. NPR and Swiffer are just making cleaning downright fun. (And so when an old friend asked me on the phone the other day if I'm being a good housewife [she's a rather compulsive cleaner who branded me as a hopeless closet slob during our dorm-room experience in college] I could smile and truthfully answer - why, yes, yes I am. I've become an absolute Donna Reed.)

For Your Fancy

In the course of researching my current work in progress, there are a few key areas that have captured my imagination.

My favorites, if I had to choose, would be the legends that revolve around a certain section of Chapel Hill. When I attended UNC, my dorm was on the very edge of North campus, across from a wonderful historical district (another side of the dorm had the marvelous Paul Green Theatre, site of my work-study job, and the other had the Old Chapel Hill Cemetery - a most fascinating stretch of history). Anyway, my dorm-mates and I would cross over to go walking/jogging/procrastinating in the historical district on this stretch of residential dream-fodder...stately old houses, friendly old trees, and amazing gardens...but all sort of naturally grown. There is none of the immaculate, matching, obviously methodically planned feel a lot of modern neighborhoods have.

One day we kept following the path at the end of Gimghoul Lane until it went uphill into the forest...which immediately makes you feel as if you've stepped far away from Chapel Hill, NC. Wikipedia says that Glandon Forest is a mystical place inhabited by knights and miscreants...there's an actual cliff - a plethora of trees and flowers - and a castle.

Obviously, this is something you don't stumble across every day of the week. My mind began spinning and I had to know - how does something like this castle fall in the midst of small-town North Carolina?

It so happens that this castle was built in 1924 (legend has the stone was put into place by French artisans) at the wish of the Order of the Gimghoul...a secret society founded in 1889 and made up of UNC's most prominent male students and faculty. The Order was founded on the principles of Arthurian chivalry and knighthood....and most importantly, on the tragic story of Peter Dromgoole.

There's a large, flat rock close to the castle - large enough to comfortable seat a few people - and it's covered with a red stain. I know it's there - I've seen it myself. Where did the stain come from?

It started with a young student from Virginia attending the university in 1833. His name was Peter Dromgoole and in the spring of his freshman year, he fell in love with a beautiful girl named Fanny. They'd meet on the wooded cliff near campus, sitting on 'their' rock and whispering all of those things people newly in love whisper...and everything was going just as planned until Peter noticed a friend of his looking a little too closely at his Fanny. Jealousy and indignation took Peter over as this friend began to make his feelings known...and a duel was planned.

They met at midnight on the cliff, their friends all there to bear witness - but things spun out of control and Peter was killed. They hastily moved his body from the rock where he lay bleeding and buried him in a shallow grave.

Fanny had no idea what had happened - daily she would return to 'their' rock, wondering where the red stain had come from - her heart breaking when Peter failed to meet her.

Legend says that the lovers haunt their rock and their forest...and I wonder if they ever run into the other famous ghost of UNC, an Irish writer named Jack who died in the 1930s of alcoholism and is said to roam down Gimghoul Lane and through the Old Chapel Hill Cemetery looking for company.

So a secret society was founded on the tragedy of young love...and the castle is a tangible memorial to that long ago sorrow...it's enough to keep my imagination spinning!

If you'd like to find out a little bit more for yourself (there are actual public records available on the Order of the Gimghoul, which reveals those first members), click!

Sometimes it's All I Can do to Not Fall Over

Neil took his four day motorcycle course this past weekend, which means that he's finally able to ride the bike that has been sitting in the garage for a few months now and that I am finally able to have the (predicted) cold sweats when he decides to zoom away with nothing around his body except air. It didn't help that when he bought the thing, pretty much everyone I told (including his own father) immediately said - he has life insurance, right? Yeah. Thanks for the reassurance.
So yesterday he decided that he wanted the boys and me to watch as he rode down the street and back...Christian is absolutely fascinated by anything that has wheels and moves, so he was ecstatic. However...Sean is a different sort of child - the kind that is leery of anything too loud or too fast. (In other words, he's just like me.)
We were all about 'hey, watch Daddy on the motorcycle!' and, once the engine was turned off, 'hey, watch Christian sit on the bike with Daddy!'
This is when Sean walked up to the motorcycle and said : "Hey, I've got a great idea! Watch me leave it alone!" And he walked back into the garage.
Three years old and a developed sense of sarcasm. My work here, good people of the blogosphere, is obviously done.

Yikes to the Millionth Power

I was all set to write a post today about this past weekend's yard sale and the trip to the new house I made afterwards (because I found honeysuckle growing all along the back border of our property and was whooshed away by the scent like I was Proust eating a madeleine), and I wanted to head over to the Tea And Madeleines site to put in a few thoughts as I've somehow emerged from the end of Swann's Way, but - BUT...

Our move date was just changed - from one and a half weeks away to tomorrow and Thursday.

My first reaction is to go hide with Proust and my laptop somewhere no one can find me.

It's going to be a whirlwind of a week, folks. Fortunately, Neil's boss is the person selling us the house, so he automatically has been given these two days off...but I'm not sure if he can move our gigantic furniture with only my help. We're going to need to enlist recruits.

I've cleaned out a lot of the clutter we're not taking with us (and we did sell the dining room table and chairs that we wanted to leave behind), but as for the rest of it? I've packed maybe six or seven boxes.

So, yeah. Yikes.

I guess I better head off to make sure we're going to have electricity in the new place and other such necessities...hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go...

Spring Training - It's Not Just For Baseball

At the Relief Journal website, there has been an amazing forum created for writers. There are critique groups, blogging abilities, chat options....it's just getting started, but it already has a good dynamic. The forum runners are sponsoring a spring training for the Nanowrimo project, which takes place in November and challenges those participating to write 50, 000 words in one month. I've never participated in Nanowrimo, but I'm thinking that I'll be all done with the current wip and awaiting replies from agents by November, so a jump start on something new will be good. Anyway, the challenge over at Relief is to write 10, 000 words in seven days (the week of June 3rd). I'm going to participate because I feel like my wip will be done by that date and I'll need some major separation from it before going back to make it into a second (ie, better) draft. Plus, it'll be a fun goal to push towards - and knowing that there are others doing the same thing is good motivation. Writers don't often get to feel like they're a part of a team sport, and this gives a bit of that feeling.
For the first stage of this process, we were encouraged to get our writing gear together - our computer of choice, needed notebooks, pens, etc. I'm sharing here the list I put together...(it was a fun list to make, by the way. I definitely encourage all writers to examine their own routines every now and then just so they'll know what they need and have it handy. But, as so many of the great ones have said, don't use an obstructed routine as an excuse to not write. Even if it's with a napkin and a crayon at Ruby Tuesday's, sometimes you just have to do it. Just write. The list is just my own ideal conditions.)

Digital Capture -
I type all of my drafts on my trusty laptop, which has been with me for many moons. It's like a favorite pair of jeans - once you get it broken in, you hope that it lasts forever. I am, however, in the process of convincing my husband that I need one of those sweet Alphasmart devices for the ability to write anywhere and everywhere on a couple of AA batteries (it seems only fair, since he just bought a Playstation 3 :) ).

Software -
Word. Again, I like it because it's familiar. I do back things up with Google docs - even though those files can only hold so much text and I have to split larger projects, it feels safe to have an extra copy online. No matter what happens to the laptop, Google will still stand (I, um, hope.)

Analog capture -
Cheap notebooks with fun covers. I've never been able to freely write in expensive and elegant journals - I can't stop feeling that the better the covers, the more perfect (i.e., inhibited) my writing must be. I also go through a lot of notebooks, because all of my initial drafts are hand-written for the most part - I do my best rewriting as I type. Plus, it can be dangerous to tote a laptop around when there are toddlers catapulting through the air. I also have bound index cards, for random thoughts and scene ideas.

Magic Pen -
This depends on the project. I go through moods. I inserted all of my new scenes for the novel in fine-point magic marker. It just felt like it should be green. For the training session, I picked up a couple of simple ball point pens. Okay to lose, good ink flow if I manage to keep track of them. For the notebook and pens, I have a snazzy white leather purse. It's big enough for the notebook to perfectly fit into it and small enough to throw over my shoulder when I'm leaving the house.

Misc-
Other things I need to gear up for a good writing session :
At some point in the process, coffee is always a good bet. I think it's more about the routine than the actual coffee itself...there's something comforting about that hot mug in my hands while I'm staring at the screen. It says to my brain - 'Start.'

When my brain slows down and I need some inspiration, I turn to the shelf I've designated for my favorite books, both novels and writing guides. I've found that reading even one chapter of a fabulous novel or a book on craft will get the flame rekindled. (I adore Natalie Goldberg's books on writing for this purpose - even though I don't agree with all of her theology, she puts a fresh spin on aspects of the craft and does it in short chapters. Some of these actually have suggested exercises at the end, which can whip writer's block out of the way.)

And, of course, there's the handy-dandy iPod. I like to use this when my kids are watching a DVD, having one of those contests where they attempt to out scream one another, or Neil is playing aforementioned Playstation 3 at top volume. I generally prefer silence, but to combat noise pollution I have playlists waiting for action.


If you feel like making a list of your own and are willing to share (I like peeking into the writing routines of others - fresh ideas can always, always improve my own process!), let me know - I'll be more than glad to provide a link from here to there.

Happy Monday!

To Have and to Hold, To Let Go and Move On

How do we accumulate so much stuff? It astounds me - I've been storing things in a corner of the garage for this weekend's yard sale, taking things out of the house as I've cleaned and packed...the pile gradually grew, but it didn't seem overwhelming. Until yesterday, that is, when I actually began to spread it out and looked through all of the stuff already in the garage that I need to go through. And this is after the gigantic donation we made to the Salvation Army before Christmas.
I have to admit that this is mostly my fault. I'm a pack rat. Always have been, probably always will be (at heart, at least). This is partially an inherited thing, as my dad is the exact same way, but it might also be a result of lots of moving. Maybe clinging to my stuff was (is) a way to feel like the new place is really my home...I can take things with me, even if I can't take people or places or that swing on my Nanny's front porch...objects come to life for me because of what they represent. (Living hours away from any of my family probably doesn't help this attachment-condition I have.)
I laugh at myself because I get so emotionally attached to material things - the Book-It pins from an elementary school reading program, that pair of pajama bottoms my grandmother bought one summer, the quadrillions of Cabbage Patch dolls and stuffed animals I can't bear to part with (but that rabbit was an Easter gift! that teddy bear was from Christmas '99!)....and now it's not just my stuff. Now it's that lamp that was in Sean's room when he was a baby...that park guide from a trip with Neil...a Winnie-the-Pooh outfit that Christian looked so adorable in...ah. I know that these things are just things...and yet...I love going through a box and having each item bring up a dormant memory. I love that I still have notes from high school friends that we wrote to each other during classes and diaries dating back to second grade...
I guess the issue is that I cannot possibly keep every little memento from my life. I need to do the grown-up thing and prioritize. Sean and Christian's christening outfits? Okay to keep. A bottle of shampoo from the hotel we stayed at on our honeymoon? Not so much.
So here's a goal for this new move: lighten up!
And a goal for my life in general: remember that the people you love are close to you even if you don't see them every day or keep the candle from that birthday cake fourteen years ago....

This and That

I've been a bit m.i.a. over the past little while...somehow, I've gotten wrapped up in my work-from-home job, the world of my novel, and house de-cluttering. So by the time I've done all of that stuff and think to myself, hey - isn't it time for a little quality world wide web time?, it's actually b - e - d time.
But here I am, and while I'm here I'll share a few of this week's thoughts...

Gilmore Girls is officially in its last season...which means next week is the series finale. Sad. Sad. Sad. I've been watching this show since it first began, and I have the fondest memories of Tuesday nights - a night that takes a witty, lovable show as an excuse to build up routines...coffee and brownies with Carrie, dancing to the theme song with the boys, mid-episode and post-episode squealing with my mom/sisters/Betsy/Carrie...I don't know. It has just been an hour to relax, guilt-free, and let someone else do the entertaining. I'll miss it.

I'm on a roll with the novel. Really getting that draft fully worked out and typed up...but I. Hate. Writing. A. Synopsis. It's particularly driving me nuts because my novel unfolds through the alternating perspectives of four characters whose stories end up intertwining. Attempting to explain this in a catchy, well-written, one page query? It's making me throw things, people. It's making me dangerous.

So Christian's latest habit has become a dangerous one. We're mid-potty training, which is just one of my least favorite parenting activities. Once it's over, I'm sure it'll be the greatest thing that ever happened, but in the meantime...I spend way way way way way waaaay too much time in the bathroom. He has started to become really uncomfortable in his pull-up if he wets it just a teensy bit - which I know is a good thing, but the instant it happens he just rips it off. Which means at random times of the day, a naked two year old will run by me. He thinks it hilarious, of course, to conduct high speed naked chases through the house. My biggest problem with all of this is that when you have a spontaneously naked kid, there are inevitable naked sort of accidents. I'm sure you understand.

And Sean? He has recently discovered a liking for water guns. My husband has recently discovered a liking for filling those guns for water and laughing while our three year old stages sniper attacks (on me. of course.). Best moment of the month? Stealing one of the said water guns and squirting Neil right in the face. Hee!

The biggest news is this: the Lamberts are relocating. Yes, that's right. We have bought a new house and are moving...um, down the street. Literally. So a lot of the house de-clutter has been pre-packing prep. A yard sale looms in the near future. I'm extremely excited and thankful for this new blessing...I feel like we have plenty of room in this house to grow and spread out...so it's a happy happy God-thing. But, as moving always is, it's also a bit overwhelming and difficult to manage with Neil at work 12 hours a day and the boys eagerly unpacking whatever I pack ('cause that's a fun game, you know). But....new house. Yay!

That's going to be it for now, specifically because Christian just crawled into my lap and fell asleep, so I'm typing one-handed. Goodnight, moon!

Dropping the Blogging Ball

I've sort of lapsed in the update department...life in its general messiness has interfered with the usual schedule, but things should be getting back to normal around here soon. The rebound begins tomorrow...and hopefully, there will still be people around to witness it.

When God Colors Outside of the Lines

In the early-ish morning, I was watering my roses and daisies using the water hose (and watering myself in the process. I really need to remember that we need a nozzle that actually completely fits onto the hose.) I was having a pretty good time, actually, enjoying the warm morning and all of my pink and yellow blooms...and I noticed that every time I sent the spray of water soaring in this certain spot by the dogwood tree, a clear rainbow suddenly appeared...just glittering there within the suspended droplets...
I know it's the laws of light and prisms and this and that...but whatever the explanation man has come up with, I prefer to think of rainbows as mysterious, color infused whispered promises of God stretched across the sky...and when they show up in the spray of my average (leaking) water hose, I just have to smile - delighted and dazzled.

Child-Like Faith

Sean just rummaged up an old Winnie the Pooh VHS tape from the back of my closet. He held it out for my inspection - "Can we watch this?"
As our VCR hasn't worked in...oh, about two years, I had to say - "I'm sorry, Sean. That movie won't work on our tv."
His response - "Sure it can, Mommy. We just have to believe."

In the face of such pure three-year-old rainbows and storybook logic, I am left speechless.
And feeling pretty bad that I couldn't somehow use a paperclip and a piece of gum or something to make that VCR work for him...

Things That Make Me Go Mmmmm

Today was grocery shopping day...I thought I'd share some of my current product addictions...maybe because I haven't had lunch yet and I'm hungry. It is 12:30. My stomach is on a schedule, people.

The latest thing I've tried is the Microwavable Digiorno Crispy Crust pizza - the grilled chicken and vegetable. It is absolutely fantastic - and the boys gobble it up (with the red peppers and spinach. that's the magic of saying 'pizza'.)

Squash. Lightly steamed with a bit of seasoned salt...or the good southern way - fried with a crunchy outside...








These tomatoes are seasoned with basil, oregano, and garlic. Sean and I are huge fans of pasta, and the easiest thing in the world is to boil the pasta, sprinkle Parmesan over the tomatoes (bake at 400 degrees for 10 minutes[thanks for that Rachel Ray tidbit, Hannah] ), and combine.





What kid doesn't love a juice box? Sean and Christian think that they are the coolest items ever. When they're acting like hard headed toddlers and are showing reluctance to come inside after playtime in the back yard, the words juice box will get them running for the door. And I love these, in particular, because it's fruit juice combined with purified water. I still mix all of their juice with water, to make sure they don't overload on sugar, and I love that Mott's does the work for me. Plus, the boxes are super cute!






If you haven't tried a Blue Bunny single, you should. The ice cream is an out of this world sort of delicious, and the size makes it perfectly portioned...so you can have a sensible indulgence. No guilt!


Crystal Light On the Go Packets...they help me drink enough water and get rid of my craving for soda. I like most of the flavors, but I'm currently on a Fruit Punch kick.

Everyone knows that Cheerios are good for you - and these Fruity Cheerios are still healthy for the kids and particularly tasty. I'm not sure who eats more of them, me or the kiddos...

And last, but certainly not least, a magnificent invention pointed out to me by Carrie - the fat free brownie. Trust me, Carrie and I are the queens of brownie and coffee nights...so we've tested our share of chocolate. When she said that she had tried these No-Pudge brownies made with vanilla yogurt, I was skeptical...but she said that they were good, and so I had to try them. She was right. GUILT FREE FUDGY CHOCOLATE BROWNIES. Does it get any better than that? I don't think so, blogosphere. I really don't think so.

Moving Day?

So a little while ago, through a crack in the closed blinds, movement caught my eye. I looked out and saw Cat crossing the ditch that separates our front yard from the road...she paused, dropped something gray, and picked it back up in her mouth.

My first thought - is that a kitten?

I rushed out to the porch to find all three kittens removed from their box...and she has disappeared through a thicket of trees.

I tried to figure out where she went, but I couldn't spot her again.

Little tiny kittens, with opening eyes and soft baby fur - where have you gone? Why did MommyCat take you away?

I hope that you come home soon.

In Memory

Buzzdroid's challenge.

If you have a blog, please accept buzzdroid's challenge to remember Virginia Tech's victims and families today, April twentieth.

Here's a quote from Thornton Wilder's The Bridge of San Luis Rey that I came across during research for my novel this morning. It seems to apply:

"A witness to the deaths, wanting to make sense of them and explain the ways of God to his fellow human beings, examined the lives of the people who died, and these words were said by someone who knew the victims, and who had been through the many emotions, and the many stages, of bereavement and loss.
"But soon we will die, and all memories of those five will have left earth, and we ourselves shall be loved for a while and forgotten. But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love. The only survival, the only meaning."

From The Brains of Others

It's a breezy, bluesy day here in small-town America. We've done the errand running thing today, and I'm hoping the afternoon will be filled with peaceful house straightening, new flower planting (yay!), and at least a solid hour of novel writing.

I'm a bit tired, which I can blame directly on Neil...he brought home the first season of Lost last night and we both stayed up too late watching the first few episodes. I've never seen any of the show and wasn't sure that I'd like it...but it's just so intriguing. Three and a half (I fell asleep) episodes in, I want to know what happens to these people. And why there's a polar bear in the jungle. And what in the world that mysterious monstrous creature is...

Anyway, since my own brain seems to be full of randomness, I figure I'll share with you a few interesting quotes that have challenged me lately...

"And know this: whenever you find yourself writing a single word or phrase or page dutifully and with boredom, then leave it out. Something is wrong. It is dragged in. It isn't your true self talking." ~Brenda Ueland

Also from Brenda Ueland - "For in fiction, Chekhov said, you can pose a question (about poverty, morality, or whatever it is) but you must not answer it. As soon as you answer it, the readers know you are lying, ie forcing your characters to prove something."

And this interesting view of story in our lives...
"You're given a mythology in this life, the way you're given a body, a family, a country. You can reject it if you like - starve it, laugh in its face, run away into exile - but it's still your mythology. There's always the chance of redemption." ~Ariel Gore, from The Traveling Death and Resurrection Show

To elaborate just a bit on the quote on mythology...here's part of the expanded definition provided by Wikipedia: Myths are narratives about divine or heroic beings, arranged in a coherent system, passed down traditionally, and linked to the spiritual or religious life of a community, endorsed by rulers or priests. Once this link to the spiritual leadership of society is broken, they lose their mythological qualities and become folktales or fairy tales. In folkloristics, which is concerned with the study of both secular and sacred narratives, a myth also derives some of its power from being more than a simple "tale", by comprising an archetypical quality of "truth".

Looking at life in 'story' terms is appealing to me...maybe because my entire life, one way or another has been inundated in language, in the arcs of messages. Reading, obviously, brought me into this way of thinking...but I also attribute it to the years listening to my grandfathers and my dad preaching...the Bible, in itself, is a hugely taken for granted literary resource. And when ministers use it to convey some message - it's a powerful thing. Jesus Himself used parables to get ideas across to people - something in us, innately, responds to stories.
So do we each have our own mythology, our own story? I think so. Here are a few more quotes, taken from the pages of The Sacred Romance, that say exactly what I wish to say about all of this.

"We live in narrative, we live in story. Existence has a story shape to it. We have a beginning and an end, we have a plot, we have characters." ~Eugene Peterson

"Our loss of confidence in a larger story is the reason we demand instant gratification. We need a sense of being alive now, for now is all we have. Without a past that was planned for us and a future that waits for us, we are trapped in the present. There's not enough room for our souls in the present." ~John Eldridge, Brent Curtis

On scripture, Mary Stewart Van Leeuwen "...or do you see scripture as being a cosmic drama - creation, fall, redemption, future hope - dramatic narratives that you can apply to all areas of life?"

Frederick Buechner ~ "It is a world of magic and mystery, of deep darkness and flickering starlight. It is a world where terrible things happen and wonderful things, too. It is a world where goodness is pitted against evil, love against hate, order against chaos, in a great struggle where often it is hard to be sure who belongs to which side because appearances are endlessly deceptive. Yet for all its confusions and wildness, it is a world where the battle goes ultimately to the good, who live happily ever after, and where in the long run everybody, good and evil alike, becomes known by his true name...That is the fairy tale of the Gospel with, of course, one crucial difference from all other fairy tales, which is that the claim made for it is that it is true, that it not only happened once upon a time but has kept on happening ever since and is happening still."

And a final note by Brent Curtis and John Eldridge that explains the importance of sharing both our personal experiences and those stories simmering in the crock-pot of our brains...

"It becomes crucial that we become a generation of storytellers who are both recapturing the glory and joy of the Sacred Romance even as we tell each other our particular stories, so that we can help each other, through God's spirit, see His plan of redemption at work in us."

Inadequate Words

I'm sure that we've all seen the footage of yesterday's shooting at Virginia Tech. I was too lost in the waiting room of H&R Block and the tax deadline to watch the news yesterday, so I didn't hear about it until after nine, when Neil got home.


It's always surreal when something like this happens...I know that we're all just so sad, watching the families of those who have lost their loved ones, watching those left behind trying to puzzle out how something like this could happen.


I don't have any wise words or insights. It's a terrible, terrible thing...all I know to do is to pray for these families - and to say, I am so, so sorry for your loss.

History of My Birthday According to the Vast Knowledge of Wikipedia

Luisa tagged me to play this little historical game...and I couldn't resist. A, I love trivia. Especially historical trivia. Especially historical trivia about my very own birthday. And B, I was having a case of writer's block. So the tag was pure serendipity!

1. Go to Wikipedia and enter your birthday without the year:

August 4

2. List three events that occurred that day:

a)1821 - Atkinson and Alexander publish the Saturday Evening Post for the first time as a weekly newspaper.
b) 1944 - "A tip from a Dutch informer leads the Gestapo to a sealed-off area in an Amsterdam warehouse where they find Anne Frank and her family. Her diary was scattered all over the floor and eventually published by her father to become her well- known diary." When I discovered that this was the date of Anne's capture, after reading the diary when I was about nine years old, I felt like my birth date was forever besmirched. That diary made the Holocaust so real - here was this girl, just like me, scribbling in her diary...and she was killed because of hate. It's incomprehensible.
c)1971 - The US launches first satellite into lunar orbit from a manned spacecraft. Ah. Space travel. Did anyone else have to describe what the year 2000 would be like while in elementary school? I'm pretty sure I included easy access to the moon in that description...


3. List two important birthdays:

1792- Percy Bysshe Shelley, English poet...what a life. If you've never read all of the rather (semi-sordid) dramatic adventures of Shelley's life, you're missing out.
1900-Elizabeth_Bowes-Lyon, Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother. Today was my first time hearing this - during the second world war, "her seemingly indomitable spirit provided moral support to the British public, so much so that, in recognition of her role as a propaganda tool, Adolf Hitler described her as "the most dangerous woman in Europe." Wow.

4. List one death:

1741 - Andrew Hamilton, American lawyer. I love this quote from his defense of the press, saying that it holds "a liberty both of exposing and opposing tyrannical power by speaking and writing truth."

5. List one holiday or observance:

In El Salvador, it's Transfiguration Bank Holiday. I couldn't figure out what Transfiguration Bank Holiday actually is, but it sounds interesting. Or at least like people might get a day off out of school for it...


Now I'm tagging...Carrie and Betsy - please come out to play!

Brand Spankin' New Babies

Cat, appropriately, had kittens on Easter Sunday. Three, in fact - two completely white and one gray, just like her. She actually had them on the front porch on her bed in the middle of a family cook-out, so it was a big event. They fit in the palm of my hand and are not doing much besides sleeping and crawling all over each other in their house (also known as the recycling bin).

Normally this would be a fun thing - kittens are so cute. Adorable and cuddly...but. This. Is. Me. And the thought of new kittens? It makes me anxious.

I should start with how we came to have Cat in the first place. It was an accident, from start to finish. (I know that Cat isn't what you'd call an imaginative name for, well, a cat- but things didn't work out when I tried to actually give her a real title. I called her Scarlett [as in O'Hara]for days - a, she has amazing green eyes and b, she proved herself to be beautiful and strong -but Sean heard me call her Scarlett and I was thoroughly scolded. "Mommy, dat is not Scarwett. Her name is Cat. " Of course. Pardon me. Anyway - she has remained Cat. ) I found her underneath our front porch steps about a year and a half ago, barely more than a kitten and with an injury that looked permanent. Her entire back leg was just hanging on and much of her backside was just exposed muscle...she had been through a rough encounter with a car or a dog or something. We decided to feed her and make her comfortable until we found a place to take her...she wasn't scared of us and seemed happy as could be to have attention. And...almost two years later we are still feeding her. She lives on the front porch and follows us around outside like she's a puppy. I am still doing my best to not get attached to her (or, at least, to not acknowledge the fact that I'm attached to her).

Shall I explain? I will - but please don't judge me wholly upon the facts about to be revealed. I do not allow any of it to happen on purpose. I love animals, I really do.

But I'm not allowed to have pets. Let's talk about a little thing my family calls 'the curse'. To be fair, I have to warn you that some of the following facts are sad. And maybe even a bit PG-13. Okay, a few highlights of Christie's Pet History:

It started long ago. Like all children, there came a time when I wanted a pet. My mom has never been a big fan of fur-shedding animals in the house, so we started out with a simple goldfish.

24 hours. Fish, meet toilet bowl.

Now, I know what you're thinking. A fish is a fish. Fish die pretty easily. True enough.

Let's go on.The next animal we took in was a beautiful rabbit - black and white with the cutest tail. It had belonged to my friend Kristen, who had an array of animals at her place - rabbits, horses, dogs, etc., etc. I took it home and my dad made a wonderful home for it in the back yard - a large cage with plenty of room for Scamper.

One afternoon, I skipped to Scamper's cage to deliver dinner and water...it took a minute to register that part of the cage has been broken. When I looked inside, Scamper's head was lying oddly near her food dish...and the rest of her body was on the other side of the cage. She was decapitated. I have never run so fast in my life as I did that day...I think I screamed all the way back into our house.

So. Next. Cat. Ferocious dog next door. End of cat.

Another rabbit. We had to give this one away when we moved...my uncle took him and sadly informed us months later that he had been acting strangely and had some sort of tumor. He'd have to be put to sleep.

I'll fast forward to high school.My boyfriend gave me a kitten. She was gray and teeny...I named her Belle and let her sleep on my pillow. She arrived potty-trained (um, why can't we receive children that way?) and I loved having her around...however, my mother didn't appreciate kitten claws in her furniture. She was given the boot to the fenced in back yard.

I didn't take it well, and neither did she. She whined at the back door constantly, and I was all upset thinking about how confused and lonely she must have felt. So I decided to give her up.

What happened next was no one's fault...it was just one of those things that happen.To the absolute horror of those kind people who took her in, she 007'ed into the clothes dryer during a round of laundry. I'll leave the rest to your imagination.

Since I've moved out of the house, my family has tried the dog thing...they have come to sad ends, as well.

So those fragments of my history should prove why I'm shocked that Cat is still around and why I'm so nervous about these babies. I really need to find a shelter that will take them after they're weaned...perhaps some nice folks can adopt them.

I'm trying to enjoy them while I'm here, but I'm sort of reminding myself of how I acted when the boys were newborns...sort of constantly peeking in to make sure that they're still okay. I know that I'll eventually have to get over this scared of pets thing...the boys both adore animals, especially dogs. And I know they'll want one of their own, some day.

Maybe I'm being silly. If I really tried to analyze it, I might say that it's a symptom of a deeper sort of worry about death and separation in general...so with that thought, I guess I have to look at this thing like everything else.

This world we live in is a temporary state of being...no one can predict tomorrow. We have to live the day we have now...we have to love and give of ourselves while we can...in spite of the possible heart aches. Hmmm. This life thing is risky business, isn't it?

So I'm guardian to three new Easter-ish kittens. And maybe I'll just go ahead and like them.

Yummylicious

There is nothing quite like devouring a bowl of strawberries...with cool whip, with chocolate, with a light sprinkle of sugar...if people had official fruits and trees and flowers and such, like states, the strawberry would be my official fruit. (And while we're on the fruit thing, you should click http://humaninspired.blogspot.com/2007/04/would-you-like-to-sample-our-avocado.html to learn a little fruit trivia fresh from California...)

I have officially taught Christian the joy in this deliciousness. He ate so many strawberries for dessert tonight that I think his fingertips and his chin may be permanently dyed red. Literally, strawberry after strawberry after strawberry...going "mmmmm" the entire time. (I think I may have heard a mumbled version of "delicioso" in there, too. Thanks, Dora the Explorer.) So I have handed down the strawberry obsession.

At times like these, I feel that I am fulfilling my duty as his guide in this big ol' world.