SDG

Women on Wednesday (WOW) is an opportunity at my church for women to come together for a time of fellowship, praise and learning. There is usually a potpourri of classes that meet for about an hour and a half after our time altogether. This semester I have joined the class reading the book "Temptations Women Face: Honest Talk About Jealousy, Anger, Sex, Money, Food, Pride" by Mary Ellen Ashcroft. I'm still sorting out my thoughts on this book and the chapters I've read thus far. I wonder where is the line between pride as sin and pride as knowing we've done well and acknowledging it? I was reminded of this recently when in a conversation with a certain narcissist, I tried to take credit for how well the kids are doing. In conversation with other people (friends and family mostly) I usually remember to point any success I'm having with them back to the Lord. But I realized after the fact that I still have a residual urge to gain his approval and recognition for a tough job under tough circumstances. If I don't let go of that, I will always be disappointed with such conversations. Soli Deo Gloria....To God alone be the Glory.

SDG - Soli Deo Gloria

J S Bach appended these initials at the end of each of his Cantatas scores.

Inquiring Minds Like Mine

....want to know what happened to the huge spider that was in the bathtub last night, and couldn't seem to find it's way out? I was too tired and it was too late to get the "death vac" out, so I squirted it with some bug spray, thinking it would sedate it or something. This morning when I got up and peeked in, it was nowhere to be found. I can only hope it crawled down the drain and got stuck...Did I mention it was gargantuan?

The Renfest

I went to the Maryland Renaissance Festival on Saturday. And despite the gloomy, misty weather, it didn't put a damper on the day. As you can see, I dressed up for the occasion...I ended up making the outfit even though I set out to borrow one from a friend. I restyled an old fashioned cotton nightgown with eyelet trim into a peasant blouse and petticoat, gathered some calico into a skirt and finally found a use for the one yard of ultra suede someone gave me. It made a perfect vest. Even though I prefer the higher Renaissance fashions of lords and ladies, I think the peasant/bar maiden look suits me fine (and it's much less labor intensive to construct).

Hack and Slash were by far the best act going on. I laughed so hard my face ached afterwards... the artisians were, as usual, inspiring and the smells of food were fantastic. I was provided with the most thorough picnic ever which, because of the wet conditions and forgotten blanket, became a tailgate lunch for two. I was a little overwhelmed with all the variety, but it was all tasty and the company wasn't bad either. ;)

Wonderfallen

I think part of the reason I don't read as much as I'd like to is, when I get into a really, I mean really good book, I don't want it to end. The same is true for movies, and yet going in I know in roughly two hours (three if I'm lucky) it will have ended. It makes me a little sad, even if the endings are happy, jubilant or triumphant, because I become so absorbed into that world with those people it's almost like losing new friends. I felt this way with Wonderfalls. The show had one season (that I know of on DVD), a three disk series, approximately twelve hours, that I devoured in a matter of two weeks or less. Fortunately, the girl does get the boy in the last episode.

Speaking of which, I never before enjoyed watching people kiss in movies or television, but I have lately... hmmm. I used to think it was lame that older, single women, widows and "old maids" would watch romantic movies to live vicariously through the characters... I'm hoping it's more so a result of my liking the particular characters in Wonderfalls and wanting them to end up together that was generating such a response.

Unlike some of my avid reader friends, I'm not as satisfied rereading the books (or replaying the shows) until I've pretty much forgotten them. A big part of the enjoyment for me is the surprise of what is yet to come.


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Friends of friends

Lately it seems I owe thanks to certain friends for connecting me to new friends. This is the way friendship should work, I think, a tangled web (no pun intended) of relationships. One friend in particular has connected me with several good people, kindred spirits even, for which I am ever grateful. This same person was the one who first introduced me to the blogosphere. In his latest post, there is a link to a very concise, informative, podcast interview with Salimah Perkins which I'd link here myself, but I can't seem to find the proper url. I've added her blog, Baltimore Chronicles, to my blogroll, because she's a real writer and a personal friend of a friend...let's keep the web spinning.

Disposable

I read that during the time of WWII when people became more frugal with everything, that this hurt the fashion industry (among other industries) quite a bit. Unlike today, when people can buy cheaply made inexpensive clothes, things were made to last. That wasn't the problem so much as the fact that because people were paring down, they couldn't afford to buy new, nicely crafted, more expensive garments that last. And so the Americans of this generation learned to mend and darn. Actually, I think people have been mending and darning for thousands of years prior, but perhaps the war hit at the time of the birth of disposable things, and so Americans went back to mending and darning. I think that for the people of this frugal generation, the idea of mending and darning and saving and reusing was a hard one to give up. For some of them they continue with these old ways, even to absurdity.

People who mend and darn and reuse and remake are odd, eccentric even. I should know because I'm one of them. We look at things and determine their worth based on their potential. But there is certainly a point at which you say, this needs to be replaced. I'm a firm believer in giving old things a second life. I'm often taking old garments apart and remaking them, or using the fabric from something to make another thing. But this only works when the integrity of the material is still in tact.

I recently had a client ask me to mend a bed sheet. This bed sheet in particular was one that I had "mended" about five years ago. She had me cut it down the middle and sew the outside selvage edges into a center seam. "That way I can get more wear out of it, since it was wearing thin in the middle," she told me. Well it was work at a time when I needed it, so I did it, although I think it is completely ridiculous to put seams in bedsheets. I don't care how nice the cotton is (or in this case was). This same sheet came back to me a few weeks ago, ripped in several places and with a whole piece missing. It was even patched back together wrong by some amateur. Fabrics wear out. They dry rot. They become thread bare. I did my best with the sheet, it looked awful and terribly uncomfortable. One firm tug on the sheet over a rough toenail and "rrrrriiiiiiiippppp" it'll be in shreds once again.

Philoxenia

Today I learned that the Greek word for hospitality is directly translated "love of strangers". Isn't that cool? Well, today I was on the receiving end of that concept as my sister's friend from Georgia (whom I've never met) invited me to attend a cookout she was having while visiting nearby. How could I resist the offer to come to a beautiful farm in the country complete with a pond, swimming pool, hot tub, and trampoline? It seemed an appropriate way to spend the afternoon with the children, so I accepted and got to meet Julie's friends and their friends. We all had a really nice time. I'm not sure why, but it didn't even feel weird coming to a party where I knew absolutely no one. Perhaps it was because I've invited strangers to parties myself.

Two Memorial Days ago, I invited Everett, a man I met online from a divorce support chat room, to my Bible Study group's bbq at my home. He's a truck driver, and his tractor trailer had broken down in Baltimore leaving him stranded in a hotel room with his dog. He mentioned this in the chat room and my ears perked up at the word "Baltimore" so I chatted with him a little bit more. His truck took much longer than expected to be repaired and he had been in town for nearly a week when Memorial Day was approaching. I can't really explain it, I think it was God, but it was strongly impressed upon my heart to invite this stranger to my home for the bbq. I prayed about it, because I wasn't sure how "safe" he was and I didn't know much about him, but all I can say is that it felt like the right thing to do, and so I did it. My friend Anne, happened to bring her sister along and she and Everett hit it off immediately, they've been together ever since. Last month I learned they are engaged to be married!

I love this story, and I finally had a reason to share it with all of you...I guess the moral is love a stranger and you may change their life. Or perhaps the moral is trust your gut instinct, well at least that's what my therapist kept telling me to do, so I finally tried it and it turned out pretty well.

9 questions book meme

MaryKate tagged me. I'm not a huge reader. I like books and once I get into a good one, I have a lot of trouble putting it down, I actually become a little obsessed with finishing it. So maybe that's why I don't always have one that I'm reading (for pleasure that is). I wasn't terribly excited to do this meme, since I haven't read all the great books yet....eventually I'll get to them. That's what I love most about the classical education I'm giving my kids.

1. One book that changed your life? As a person: Codependent No More by Melody Beattie. As a woman: A return to Modesty by Wendy Shalit. As a Christian: Knowing with the Heart by Roy Clouser.
2. One book you have read more than once? The Chronicles of Narnia and countless other children's books that are on our shelves.
3. One book you would want on a desert island? The Bible, that way I'd actually read it cover to cover (or The Brother's Karamozov -I've started that one a few times but never been able to get "into" it and everyone has such great things to say about it.)
4. One book that made you cry? (Just one?) Goodbye Jeanine by Joyce Sackett made me cry more than any other book I've read, but for obvious reasons.
5. One book that made you laugh? Can You Keep a Secret? by Sophia Kinsella.
6. One book you wish had been written? A very practical divorce handbook/survival guide.
7. One book you wish had never had been written? Same as #6.
8. One book you are currently reading? The Well Trained Mind by Susan Wise Bauer
9. One book you have been meaning to read? Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain by Betty Edwards (for about 10 years now)

I am supposed to tag 5 people but I think all the bloggers I know have done this already...so here are a few people who don't blog but are avid readers and maybe they could post their answers in comments? Mom, Julie, Inge, (and Tif if she ever actually read my blog)

On the mend

Thanks for all the well-wishes...the antibiotics are doing their job and I'm much improved. I spent the past couple of days in a log cabin with my children my two x-sils (ex-sisters-in-law) and their children at Sandy Cove. We had a really nice time swimming, playing mini-golf, exploring the grounds, monkeying around on the playground, etc. Today while packing and cleaning up to head home, L locked my keys in my minivan. Just Monday, the boys had asked me if I had ever locked my keys in the car before, and I proudly said, "No, I have never locked my keys in the car before." Now I'm not superstitious, I don't knock on wood, but isn't that a strange coincidence? My "sisters" were great though, and helped me get the help I needed to get on the road (my phone and wallet were in the car too). By the time the tow truck driver arrived to jimmy the lock, I was no longer feeling stressed.

My other big news is that when I arrived home there were some packages waiting for me (some accessories for...) and a few hours later that big brown truck rumbled up the hill to deliver my new Dell Inspiron! My old computer bit the dust Sunday night, so it couldn't have been better timing. Now I'm learning this new gadget, oh, it can do really cool stuff, like make phone calls and burn cds and play dvds and, and....I'm as giddy as a school girl! The kids are psyched too, because now their games will play at regular speed.

wonder-itis

So, I'm still sick, and since I've become sick and tired of being sick and tired, and pretty sure my body isn't going to conquer whatever it is that is ailing me, I finally went to a doctor. Turns out I've got a whole bunch of -itis : bronchitis, pharangitis, tonsilitis. I've taken the opportunity of being sick and tired to become a bit of a couch potato and have watched lots of movies and television. Last night I spent the evening watching season 1 episodes of Wonderfalls which I greatly enjoyed. I particularly liked the juxtaposition of quirkiness, gen-Y underachievementism, disfunctional family relations, and the subtle transformation of one darkly sarcastic Brown University philosophy grad into a slightly less sarcastic and somwhat caring young woman. The question of destiny is constantly at play as inanimate toy animals and statues become animate and speak to Jaye Tyler telling her to do peculiar things. She finds that when she doesn't listen, bad things happen, although sometimes even good comes from these bad things. When she does the little animals bidding, it works out unexpectedly for some greater good, with usually bizarre results. She's not sure if she is going crazy, if God (or Satan?) is speaking to her directly or if she is just destiny's puppet.

Tracked

Once upon a time I was an art teacher in a rinky-dink Christian school in Catonsville. I was thrilled to have employment, but overwhelmed by the range of classes I'd be teaching my first year out of college: pre-kindergarden through eighth grade. On top of all this the school had very limited funds, no existing curriculum and the art room was a complete disaster. I soon learned that the previous art teachers had all been packrats hoarding all sorts of useless junk with the thought that it could be made into something. I was up to my ears in an organizational nightmare with very little compensation. The thing that inspired me to return to teach for two more years was the student body. The eighth graders in particular became my pet class. They even invited me along on their end of year trip to chaperon. I was tickled to go, these kids were fun to be around, even if I had to act like a responsible adult in their presence. In fact, the following year, the school just wasn't the same without them. Welllllll, fast forward ten years into the age of myspace, reunion.com and classmates.com .....my eighth graders are college graduates now- the same age I was when I taught them, some have married, some have started families and they've tracked me down to invite me to a ten year reunion in the Spring.

2 year blog-birthday

Wow, I've been at this for two years now...over 10,000 visits to this blog so far! Who are all of you people reading about my life?!

I'm happy to say that the original purpose and context for this blog has evolved for the better, although I can not attest that the content has much improved. I had grand ideas of summarizing the high points (or at least the most humorous) over the past two years, but since I'm sicker than a child's kitchen experiment, I will spare myself the trouble. However, if you have a particular favorite entry, I'd love to hear which one it is. Perhaps it'll cheer me into health.

Sick in the head

A few weeks ago, my children were sick with headcolds. The majority of symptoms cleared up, but the boys had nagging coughs that plagued them mostly at night. I was feeling kind of smug that I hadn't caught the virus when I heard that M, the children's father, had come down with it right before his beach vacation. But now, my body has finally given up fighting and I am consumed with the sore throat, stuffy head, coughing, sneezing and general malaise. The boys are having a relapse, I guess, since the coughing has worsened and they have had sporadic fevers. I'm sure it didn't help my recovery that I stayed up past midnight watching Alfred Hitchcock's Anatomy of a Murder with Jimmy Stewart. I must have had an "irresistble impulse" which caused this "insanity". It was two hours and forty minutes long, but very good all the way through. Hollywood has definitely lost it's touch, but then again, I'm partial to anything with Stewart or by Hitchcock. I was especailly surprised by the use of such words as "spermogenesis, panties" and "rape" in this film. You just don't hear that kind of mature language in those oldies very often. Oh and here's another reason to check out this old film, Duke Ellington does the entire soundtrack! (And there's a pretty good scene of swing dancers in action too.)

If you have seen Anatomy, I'd love to hear if you thought Manion was really guilty or not.There are still a lot of unanswered questions at the end.


**errata: Anatomy of a Murder is NOT an Alfred Hitchcock film, it was directed by Otto Preminger...I guess I assumed it was so because Netflix had it listed with all my favorite Hitchcock movies as a recommendation. My apologies for the misinformation.

At table

Now that the boys are getting older and more articulate, we have more conversations and discussions at mealtimes, (that is, instead of just noise). At lunch today D presented an example of typical family discourse. I will try to transcribe it to the best of my recollection:

D: Mommy what is your worst food?
Me: Hmmm, liver, no, anything slimy and bitter
D: What is your worst drink?
Me: (laughing) anything slimy and bitter
D: What is your worst color?
Me: Throw-up color
K: Oh, me too.
D: Mommy, if there was only slimy, bitter things to eat and drink and everything was throw-up color, what would you do? Would you eat and drink or would you die?
Me: I'd die.
D: Yeah, me too.
K: I wouldn't, I'd want to live.
K: But drinks aren't slimy, Mommy.
Me: Raw eggs are slimy.
K: That's not a drink.
Me: Some people crack raw eggs into a glass and drink it.
K: ewwww

I could have steered this conversation into another direction... but half the fun is just seeing where these conversations will go naturally, when they ask the questions.

in the name of science

Just for the sake of scientific curiosity, I know you all are wondering how that bruise is getting on. Well, it's just gettin' perttier and perttier. I bet Target could use it for one of their ads.

Saturday blahs

I finished my last beginner level swing dance class on Wednesday. Chuck, my instructor, told me I was "smooth," I believe he meant my dancing. His assistant also told me I was doing really well, that I had good form, etc. But last night, I danced with a maniac, and suffered a fall. I wasn't doing arials folks, he pushed me hard and inadvertantly tripped me with his wild footwork, and I went sailing acrosss the dance floor to the foot of the stage. My injuries consist of a badly bruised and scraped knee, and today, a case of the blahs... He didn't even help me up! The guy did finally (about an hour later) come over and apologized and then asked me to dance again. I politely declined. I resolve to never dance with him again. But what is it with the men out there? Why are some men so self-absorbed they can't tell they've completely missed the mark? Chuck said, in class, that it's the man's job to make the woman look good on the dance floor, especially with swing. How is it a man can trip a woman and not offer her a hand? It makes me mad. I'm angry that there are immature, narcissistic men who don't know how to be a gentleman. I'm angry that I put up with it. Another much older man I danced with told me he wished he could bottle my sense of humor because there were "so many uptight women" at the dance. If only I had told him how uncomfortable a dance partner he was. He was too rough, and yet, since no one else was asking I danced three songs with him, and it wasn't funny anymore.

In all fairness there were a number of "smooth" gentleman that I danced with too, they even taught me a few new steps, but somehow I feel like a magnet to the freaks....is it because I'm too nice? hmmmmmm

update: Mood has improved today, knee, however looks worse and feels the same, "ouch."

Snowball fight

My friend Gregory suggested that I freeze some snow balls last winter and save them for summer. I've always wanted to do that, but never had. So today we finally pulled a few of them out of the freezer and let them melt all over us outside which inevitably ended in a very short, but wet snow ball shower. We discovered that if you pretend to throw the snow ball once it has begun to melt it sprays your target quite effectively. Thanks Gregory for the fun idea...I'm saving one for you if you ever make it back to Baltimore ;)

School Supplies

I love school supplies. I especially love brand new school supplies, the smell of freshly sharpened pencils, the crispness of pristine composition books, and the sound of a just opened box of crayons. My orders for books, curricula, and other supplies have just been submitted to Rainbow Resource Center and Shop.com. There is a twinge of excitement knowing that in a few weeks packages will be arriving in the mail. This year we are psyched to be studying Medieval times - Renaissance, and Geology and Space. What could be more fun for little boys to study than knights and castles and planets and galaxies? Because we only just finished reading tonight about the fall of the Roman empire, I have decided to begin school the first week of August. I'm hoping that an early start will take some of the pressure off later in the year when we feel the need for an extended holiday.

Last year was a difficult one, homeschooling only added to the difficulty and stress, but this (academic) year is "brand new with no mistakes in it". I feel free to focus my attentions on more complex tasks and even have the capacity to plan ahead once again. The divorce created a foggy haze over time so that, in the beginning I could see only one day at a time. Eventually, as it lifted, I could look a week or two into the future and schedule things, but more than a month ahead was just inconceivable. Now I'm thinking through the school year, scheming my next birthday party and even anticipating next summer's family reunion and beach vacation (Lord willing). I can hardly comprehend that a year has passed since my trip to Japan, that my baby daughter is now finally potty-trained, that my seven year old son can draw better than some of my former 7th grade students ever could, and that my 5 year old son is writing me letters to tell me about his feelings! So even though I felt like in many ways I didn't accomplish all I had hoped to over the past year, under the circumstances, we did quite well.

While we won't have all the fresh workbooks, colored pencils and crisp texts yet to begin next week, we do have plenty to keep us busy until all the packages arrive.

Twister casualty

Today while shopping I decided to buy a new game for our family. K has been getting into board games and asks daily, if not hourly if I'll play monopoly with him (which I'm already tiring of). So I bought Twister. It's something somewhat active, reinforces cooridination, balance, and skills like color and right and left identification. It's an educational but fun game, and one of my favorites. They were excited to get started as soon as they came back from M's tonight and so, while the oven was heating up for me to put in dinner, we played a quick game. This game ended suddenly when I fell knee first right onto the tip of my left middle finger. Those cartoon depictions of what happens when a finger gets smashed is no exaggeration. Somehow I managed to hold in all the nasty things I wanted to blurt out while clutching my wounded digit in agony. I think all that the kids heard me say was, "Owwwwwwwwwwwwwww owww owwwwowww". I can't type with that finger which is making for beaucoup typos, sorry if I don't catch all of them. The whole underside of the tip is black and blue, but since I just painted my finger nails red the other day, I'm not sure how the nailbed is. I'm sure it's gonna get real purty.
The kids continued to play several more games, and I got the job as "Spinner". Six hours and 2 naprosin later and it's still throbbing.

***Update: After looking up some info on the net and talking to some friends who are experienced with broken fingers, I have concluded that I probably sustained a stable fracture. I don't want to pay $300 for an xray and expert opinion when really the only treatment is to splint it and immobilize it for about 4 weeks. The splint was about $3 at Eckerd...it'll be just fine, eventually. And this is my first broken bone EVER.

In stitches

You'd think that since I'm a seamstress, seeing my 7 year old son's knee being stitched together after a bad fall wouldn't faze me. I thought I had a tough constitution when it came to these kinds of things... In high school biology the other girls in my lab group wouldn't do any disecting of the critters. They left all the gorey cutting and removing of organs to me. I found it completely fascinating and wondered on occasion if I had what it takes to be a nurse or doctor or even a veterinarian... So, when Dr. Bala started to poke around in K's knee to determine if it was numb enough to be sutured (it wasn't, by the way and required more anesthetic) ewwww, I started to feel a little queezy. I watched him sew and admired his technique, but as soon as he tied off the fourth and last stitch and snipped the blue thread, I felt the room swooshing. I nearly fainted, which is highly unusual for me.

On top of all that drama, I couldn't find the insurance card, forgot my cell phone, forgot my wallet, forgot my checkbook... I did have my purse with me, which was full of useless junk. I happened to take out my wallet at home to check for the insurance card and forgot to put it back in. My phone had been charging but was finished, and my checkbook usually resides in my bag, but for some reason it had taken a brief vacation. Several years ago, all this unpreparedness might have sent me into a mild panic attack, but I guess I've learned somewhere along the line that it isn't the end of the world when you forget those important things, it's just a complete nuisance.

K was a soldier through it all (after the initial high-pitched screams resulting from his painful fall and the sight of his own blood). I think he enjoyed (and is still enjoying) all the special attention.