Race For The Cure

Thanks to Kevin, I raised $25 to help fight breast cancer. Next year, I'll start campaigning earlier and I am actually going to try to run the 3 and a half miles. Maybe I'll start asking for money based on time. We'll see. Pork Chop definitely had alot of fun. I didn't let him go to the pancake breakfast because I didn't think I'd enjoy the walk with a belly full of pancake and Pork Chop's a pig when it comes to breakfast (heck, he's a pig when it comes to anything, but I digress). But we do have a few pictures.





Pork Chop is openly confused about what I am planning to do. (That's the knitting and walking part)






You can tell he doesn't think this is going to be a good idea. (You don't have to look so condescending, Pig!)







The first of many ladies Pork Chop met that day. She is walking for her mother, who is a 3 year survivor.







Katie from Mount de Sales, cheering Pork Chop on (I was uncomfortably close to her when I took this picture. Not as uncomfortably as I could have been, but uncomfortably enough.)






Tattnall Cheerleaders holding the Pig. ( I also think someone was pulling his tail - do you see the look on his face? Not his best picture, I tell you)







This is the turn around point, about 2 minutes after our first timing, which put us at about 29 minutes walking. The second timing put us at 49 minutes and we finished at an hour and 1 minute... and 29 seconds.




They both agreed that people should eat mor chikin.







Pork Chop worried needlessly. I didn't fall once (I tripped twice and made one "creative decision" by knitting one line completely opposite of the rest of the work). It is going to be a scarf, one side pink and one side blue. I will post the complete project later. All things started will be donated to Scarves for Cancer organizations.



And last,but not least.....




To: Officer Simpson(The guy on the left.). I only said I wouldn't give it to a newspaper.

I guess this page is a mite safer.

(When I took this picture, I completely didn't see the irony. Neither did they, or they wouldn't have agreed so readily.) These deputies were extremely nice and only yelled at us once to stay within the cone, but we were so tired by this point that we just waved them off and promised to use the picture for blackmail purposes.

All in all, it was a fun two hours even though I got up at 6:30am, left my clutch with my driver's license at home and had to drive back to get it, parked illegally at Kroger and ran into someone who is a really good friend of the family whom I hadn't seen in a long while. She's pleased as punch that I got me a husband and that makes me smile.

For The Fans

If you're a Pork Chop fan, never fear, he will return. Due to oversight by the writer of this site, Pig at Daycare pictures were lost forever. However, I have a few pictures that I will post soon, as well as his adventures at the Race For A Cure 5K run/walk this Saturday, in which we are participating. If you would like to donate, or learn more about it, check me out here. Pork Chop and I are hoping for your support. And if you show up, you will see the bunch of us at Team Creative Yarns knitting and walking... which is a feat, considering I sometimes find it hard to walk and walk at the same time. But it's all for a good cause.

News For A Nerd

My husband is eagerly awaiting the new iPod with video capabilities and because I'd like to think I'm a good wife (as opposed to giving in to cute little puppy dog looks and whining) I helped him get the biggest one. His should be delivered some time this week. But then things like this causes him to salivate even more. He can't wait until Thursday or Friday when he will get to unpack his own iPod.

Church

I miss communion. You know, the grape juice and stale cracker that symbolizes the blood and flesh of Christ. I don't know why I miss it, I'm not even sure of all the symbolism of it. I just know that I feel somehow bereft. I was commenting on Josh Fuller's site (link on side) about church dreams and as I was commenting, I thought about communion and felt a deep longing, like a hunger pang, for communion.

I'm sure it's more than the juice and cracker. It's discourse, study, relationship, ministry that I miss. It's communion with other believers that's not on the job, that's not in an interdenominational study where the ties are only to the materials and not the people (just yet, anyway). BSF will get better, I know. We are studying Genesis, beginnings and many of us are at beginning points. After the first fellowship, when we've gotten to know each other better, we will begin to form attachments, maybe even lasting relationships. But it's not church. We are not guaranteed each other next year. I miss the women from my class last year and I think that the other women feel the same. The one person I talk to is the one person who was in the same class with me. I still sit in the front row during lecture and talk to my favourite person for the last three years in BSF. BJ is an older woman that took on those initials in her latter years. She's so full of life and so caring. I want a church full of her is what I want. I want to be like her to others. I'm not. I am wrapped up in my own little world, in trying to be a different person, in trying to heal myself internally. Self absorbed. I should be more understanding that others are also wrapped up in their own internal healing. There are people who try to reach out to me that I don't accept. It's my fault, not theirs. Like Mr. Fuller said, I'm just rigid in other ways about other things. Maybe one day I can find a place that's rigid in the same way and maybe we won't clash as much.

I do miss taking communion though.

Babies!

No, it's not what you think. I have enough baby love going with these two. I don't need one of my own. But thanks for thinking of me.

Baby Jules and Cam, her big brother (bruva) sleeping like... babies (I thought the baby was supposed to be the one without hair).

Beautiful, sweet Haven Grace who let us hold her without any fuss. I know her mommy's glad she's so sweet.


Baby Jules again. We think she's going to keep the blue eyes. *she's so beautiful!*

Nerd News

I can't end the day (day ending when I fall asleep - and I'm very close to that) without talking about the news of the day.

Apple has unveiled their new iMac, iPod, and iTunes for the world, just in time for the holiday shopping season. You can get a smarter, thinner iMac, a sexier, thinner iPod that holds more than you could ever really need and now runs video with an impressive colour screen and a new iTunes that sells video (music and television shows) for $1.99 each.

The Honey has been waiting anxiously for this news. When I got home from Bible Study Fellowship this morning, I found him up, at the computer. On a normal day, he doesn't stir from bed before 1pm. On a normal day, I am right there with him. Wednesdays are never normal days for me, but today was especially not normal for him. Then he found he had to wait a few hours for 10am PST.

On the way to work, he gets a page from work. "Did you see the news?" his boss asks him. I wonder what's happening because The Honey works for the news. What news should we be seeing. "Yeah" The Honey fires back. I wonder what he hasn't told me. "It's sweet, isn't it?" his boss sounds highly impressed. "The iMac or the iPod?" The Honey asks. "iPod," his boss says. "I haven't had a chance to look at anything else."

So tonight I watch the Steve Job's keynote address. We don't even set aside this much time to listen to the president talk. But we spent some solid time with Jobs tonight as he explained each of the 3 acts of features that made todays "unveiling" something special. I didn't get excited until I saw that they would be selling the old and current seasons of LOST at their iTunes store, today's epidode being ready by tomorrow (Thursday). Then I got excited because the one thing I love, besides God, my husband, writing and coffee, is television. So I guess, in the end, there were enough gadgets in Steve Jobs show to satisfy every nerd in the family. Extended and otherwise.

Movies I've Seen (possible spoilers)

Serenity - Most people say that all space films are really hi-tech westerns. Well, Serenity is a true western set in space, with the Texas accents and everything. Should you see this movie? Yes. For the surprises, the laughs, and most of all, the adventure. I cried a little in this movie. That shouldn't surprise you.

In Her Shoes - I saw the preview to this movie when I watched "Must Love Dogs" (which was cute in its own right). I saw it was based on a book so I went to B&N to buy it. I saw that this woman had other books, so I picked one of each (3) and said I would buy the one that kept me the most interested in the first 2 pages. 30 minutes later, I was heading home with all three books (and a knitting magazine, but that's neither here nor there). In Her Shoes was the worst of the three I read, but it was still a very good book. It is also easy to see why it was made into a movie, of the three. It has the least confusing list of characters and build of action. Past events are talked about and told almost as a separate action to the book, a true Plot B, while the other books have so many characters, so many storylines and the past is so intricately interweaved into the present that to tell the stories the way they are truly meant to be told would either confuse the audience, or couldn't be done. Soooo, the movie, was it good? Yes. I'm a big fan of Toni Collette. It was good to see how she played the Rose Feller character, with a great deal of strength and a lot of self doubt. We get to see her transform in the movie, in a way. We see her go from insecure to confident in herself. Cameron Diaz plays a good Maggie Mae Feller, but the things that helped her move from slacker to responsible in the book don't show up here and, although they try other tactics to get us from these two extremes, they don't do it as well as the book. And the relationship with these two women never grow. Rose still doesn't trust Maggie Mae, but accepts her love and her role as little sister who will always need to be watched. Maggie Mae is okay with that. While not satisfying, it's okay. That being said, the movie was better than the book. *gasp* Can't be! But it is. The movie was clearer in some areas, like why Rose continues to take care of someone who acts like they care one cent about her. I like the idea of Maggie Mae reading to the professor in the hospital and the touches that spark vs. the book's version of her slipping into classes at Princeton. The entire Princeton scenario was awesome in the book, but I understand why it wasn't in the movie. I just wish they'd taken the heart of that scenario and added it into the middle of this movie. I cried like a baby at this movie. You shouldn't be surprised.

The Exorcism of Emily Rose - I love horror movies, but after I watch them, I am usually a bit fearful. To say that Emily Rose is a horror movie is to miss the depth and breadth. It is a courtroom drama where the truth is not on trial. What is on trial is something far more intangible. Faith, demons, possessions, mental disabilities and psychosis, etc. and who has the right to judge them. There are some scare moments. I remember one scene where I jumped, audibly gasped and covered my mouth with my hands. The girl next to me, with whom I'd gone to see the movie, did the exact same thing at the exact same time in the exact same pitch. There were creepy moments where you wanted to have already seen the movie so you would know not to be scared. I really loved this movie. I liked the themes, I like the true lack of a final answer, I liked what this had to say about people and faith and all the ways it looked at the questions it raised. Was it a perfect movie? Not by any stretch of the imagination. But I left the movie more satisfied by the ending than any other movie I'd seen in a while. I didn't cry in this movie, but then, it was a horror, so it shouldn't surprise you.

Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit - I'm a big fan of claymation. I saw The Corpse Bride as well, although I was disappointed to know that some Corpse Bride moments were CGI. Wallace & Gromit, however, did not disappoint. Wallace and Gromit are Anti-Pesto, a humane rabbit catching outfit that keeps rabbits from ruining the vegetables that will compete in the annual Giant Vegetable Competition. A mysterious, vegetable eating giant begins destroying all of their work, so much that the organizer of the Annual Giant Vegetable competition finally decides that maybe the giant must be disposed of non-humanely. I laughed so much at this movie, that I cried. I highly recommend it because you have to see well done clay-animation like you have to see well done CGI. I laughed so hard I cried at this movie.... you get the rest.

The Corpse Bride - Frankly, a disappointment. The acting was bland, not humourous at all. I was intrigued by the almost lack of colour in the living world, and the vibrant colour in the afterworld, but I think that there were too many moments where the thoughts of the director weren't connecting with the editing of the movie. I enjoyed watching the technical aspects of the film, colour, directions, movement, emotions of the characters, etc. but the story left a lot to be desired. I didn't cry at this movie.

So there you have it. Hopefully I will be seeing the delightfully fluffy Just Like Heaven with Reese Witherspoon and Mark Rufalo and Elizabethtown with Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst (I've already teared up at the online trailers) and possibly An Unfinished Life with Robert Redford (because I like Jennifer Lopez as an actress). I'll let you know how that goes.

Cantankerous

I'm nosy. I like to know what's going on. I will question you and question you until I get an answer. I know part of it is the things that lets me interview and even intuit as a mentor, but really, it's just being nosy. The thing that helps others out now is my age and the fact that I don't want to make anyone too uncomfortable.

I am moving, however, uncomfortably close to being a senior citizen when it comes to nosiness. That is, I am really bad about being nosy. I listen to conversations now so easily, I don't even notice that I'm doing so. I am just suddenly aware that I know what's going on at the corner table. My eyes are always scanning a room looking for weird behaviour, and, upon finding it, want to know why the weirdness exists. Oh, I know others do this as well, but it's becoming a problem. If I'm this bad now, what happens when I actually am a senior citizen? When I don't care what others think because I will most likely die tomorrow? When I will just put my nose in other people's business because I'll never know if I don't. I'm afraid. And you should be too.

I do still love you all

This is an update, as opposed to an actual post.

I was thinking about starting my own milk and cookies place in a small town. The only thing I don't like about the idea is moving to the town. Don't get me wrong, I love the town and a church we enjoyed attending is there and family is there, but it's a small town and I think we would get bored with it. I don't know. I talked to my boss here, so if I decided to do it, I know I can get help from him. Also, some equipment he was thinking about buying, he won't, so I could get it for alot less. It's just something to think over. In talking to my boss, I decided that I would rather stay here and see what the future holds. I like where I am. I like the people I work with and am friends with. So we will see. I believe it's up to me.

I submitted a short story to Glimmer Train's short story writing contest. I am very nervous and feel like nothing good will come of it. Then I remember that there is some good. 1) I finished a story and let someone other than my husband read it. 2) I wrote with a deadline and met that deadline. 3) It sparked other ideas, including article ideas. 4) It made me realize that writing is much more important to me than I ever gave it space. So the main reason I've missed writing here is because I've been writing there.

I am the proud new aunt and cousin once removed of two darling baby girls. These two new babies are the most precious babies I've ever seen. We went to Michigan two weekends ago to meet the new family members. They were good babies and let me hold them and kiss their soft, dewy cheeks and smelled good like babies are supposed to. It made me know that one day I wanted babies. But not today. Today, I will enjoy The Honey and make him stay good to his promise: As long as we don't have children, we get to travel. We may never have children. But if we do, I will love them.

I started this year's Bible Study Fellowship, which means more homework and less time to play. But I love it. Anyway, that's all the update for now.

The Chronicles of Narnia

I remember reading the Chronicles of Narnia. I was a tall, lanky kid, more arms and legs than anything else. I was awkward and smart and my glasses were too thick for their own good. I had a bookbag, but I carried everything in my arms and I was the only student allowed to check more than two books out of the school library. I devoured books, but I always returned them the next day, none the worse for wear.

The first time, I only checked out The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, which I watched on PBS the weekend before. I read it through and instantly regretted only checking out the one. I went back the next day and loaded up on the rest of the series and after homework, methodically read through them all into the wee hours of the morning.

I was not a Christian. I had only heard of God in big, blue books that grace dentist and pediatrician offices everywhere. The story that impacted me the most was the story of God telling Abraham to kill Issac. I worried myself silly wondering if God would ever tell my mother to do that to me. I was the first born, after all. I wondered if she would have listened if He did. And despite the ram in the bush, I thought I could not trust God to be good to me. Then I met Aslan. I wondered what God would be like it He were fierce like Aslan, but willing to speak, because I needed to know. I wondered if God could not be safe, like Aslan, but good. I thought, if God were like Aslan, I think I could come to love Him.

Now, as I see the images for the movie that is being made, the fresh, open faces of the innocent children who stumble into the spiritual realm without realizing it, who fight all kinds of evils and live this whole other life that intersects with the real in so many different ways, when I see the face of the King of that world, I can't help but be moved to tears remembering my first encouter with Aslan, with that world and with the possibilities of God. I remember, years later, going to God in tears for a change in my life, a change that I thought only He could make. A whirlwind course through life that has not been safe, but has been good.

So, Chronicles of Narnia, do not disappoint. Paint the truest picture of this beautiful tale. Create rich imageries. And do not skimp on Aslan. He is my favourite part of the tale.

Right Now

I'm eating peanut butter covered waffles in syrup with 2% milk. I thought The Honey was looking at me in awe of the gift that God had given him (me), but in actuality, when I turned iTunes down, he was looking at me in irritation because I was smacking.

When the cat's away...

Charades is a funny game. I believe that, in many ways, it's like playing Jeopardy! at home vs. actually being on the show. When the other team goes, you see things so clearly. Sun... dance... kid... Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid!, but when it's your turn, you don't know why your teammate keeps strapping something over his shoulder, pointing at you, touching his ear (you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear!).

So The Honey and I had a delicious dinner with The Friends number one (being there are two sets of The Friends that we hang out with) and started a game of charades. Couple vs. couple. We lost. So then, we decided to play girls vs. boys. The Honey remarks that it may be unfair to pit two people who have known each other for ten years against two people who have not even known each other a full year. And for a while he was right.

The game was 2-1, them. I pulled one I thought would be easy. The category was Words of Wisdom. The proverb was When The Cat's Away, The Mice Will Play. Their cat, Charlie, was in the room, so that was easy. She started saying things with cat in it, but none of them proverbs. I pantomimed "going away". I knelt on the floor and had my fingers scamper across the hardwood. I stood up and danced. She called out any and everything but proverbs. "Cat!" she said. I waved goodbye. "Cat in the hat! Cat waving! Cats!... Cats going into the computer room! Cats... get out of here!" I pantomime mice. "Crawling on the floor! Cats playing on the floor! Cat scratch the floor! Cat scratch fever!" I dance. "Cat's dance! Lord of the Dance! Do a little dance!" At this point, I break the rules a bit to remind her that the category is words of wisdom. The boys painfully allow this. I wave and leave. She gets up to follow me "away". I get back on the floor. I do the mice, I dance, time is running out, I get back down to do the mice. She yells, "Somebody dances like cat's feet!" and I laugh so hard, because, really, what kind of words of wisdom is that. She eventually got mice, but not the entire proverb before our time was up.

Another time, we are tied 2-2 and it's our time. I'm up. It's a song: The Hokey Pokey. I figure that I would just do the Hokey Pokey. She guessed everything but Hokey Pokey and finally, 30 seconds in, as she's watching me and trying to figure it out, her husband says, "It's the hokey pokey" with such exasperation that I laugh in the middle of turn yourself about. Everytime I remember how he said it, I laugh. "The Hokey Pokey isn't a song." she says. We all start to sing. "Well, remember, I went to religious school. We didn't sing the Hokey Pokey." What's so funny is that she almost always knew what the other team's charade was, except for the Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog one which involved the other guy stabbing my husband with his imaginary bull horns and some tongue flicking - and noone got that one. In the end, the two people who knew each other the least won. It was very satisfying.

Comment Spam

They suck. For two reasons. They get your hopes up, as in "oh my! someone commented!" and they serve no good purpose, as in, "VIAGRA!"

The alternative, having someone type in a bunch of letters for word verification is just irritating for the people who really have something to say.

In other news...

My hair does not like me. It is doing some sort of Dan Rather side sweep thing, which is expressly what I told it not to do. My hair has not liked me for the past few days. Yesterday, it looked like I was wearing a really bad 70's pageboy wig. My hair hates me. I think it is my frequent attempt to tame it with a flat iron. I know, each morning, we are both planning our attacks. It truly stinks that my hair normally wins.

10 years

In my 19th year, I discovered that my father was not the man that reared me. I discovered I would not be able to return to school. I lost my childhood home in a fire. I accepted Christ as my Lord and Saviour. It was not unexpected. I'd been going to church since I was 17. I knew that it made sense. I'd been looking for God since I picked up my first book of "mythology" in the third grade, the Bahgavahdgita. I devoured mythology and I loved bible stories, just not the bible. The bible was a cumbersome tome that stated truths in a way so convoluted, you wondered how anyone could choose it as religion. When I was older, when I started seeing the bible the way the Baptist church taught me to see it, I could sort of make sense of it, better sense than my fellow sunday school classmates.

When I accepted Christ, I couldn't make much better sense of the bible than I could when I was 10. It was almost a year before I didn't dread reading any words and at once, I started on a path different from my contemporaries, because I devoured the old testament and it was probably 3 years before I became as enamoured of the new testament. I especially loved Elijah. I loved the work of God through him, his weakness and his strength. I thought he was funny, a worthy role model for me because he was so strange. I once kept a friend awake and cognizant through a drug overdose (unfortunately, a doctor perscribed one) by telling her the stories of Elijah. I fell in love with Isaiah and Samuel and Daniel and would read these over and over again. Of course, when I read new testament, I gravitated towards Paul, although John was a standout. I was confused by David and he remains, to this day, my biggest example that God doesn't necessarily want what church says He wants from us.

I have been with God for 10 years. It's amazing to me, to look back through my life and see the places where he's touched. I believe some disappointments were scheduled by God into my life for the purpose of making me who I am. I believe some of my failings were to bring me to my knees before Him. I believe that my anger was to show me that I could talk to God in any state, that he would not strike me with lightning for daring to accuse Him of not caring, of not loving, of this all being for nothing. I believe His comfort in those times were purposeful, because I see that comfort extended to others in my testimony, through my words. I have no wisdom but what God has shown me in the life He has let me live. I have no joy but that He has given me the freedom to make choices and He stands behind me through the bad choices as well as the good choices. I knew no love until He showed me His Son and when my little mind had understood all it could, He plucked my husband from his life and dropped him in mine to show me an even more understandable model of His outrageous love. My encouragement is that He is always there, that only my emotions can be far from Him, my feelings can be far from Him, but I never am for He is always with me. He has saved my life and protected me in ways I could not fathom. He has put His angels around me and though I do not see them, I see the results. I would praise God from the heavens, through all joys and tears because He has been good to me. He has not promised ease, and in that, He is clear. I have not had an easy life. I did not come to Him when all was easy. I have suffered ridicule for my stance, I have been misunderstood because of my love, I have been hated when I would not budge, I have been judged for understanding. I also have been wrong, I have been hateful, I have been judgmental, I have not loved. I was not perfected in my salvation, but even in this, I praise God. My humanity still calls to others, to hear what God has done, even if they won't accept, to acknowledge that something happens when I pray, because an answer has always come. God has done this all, the exultation and the heartache and for one end. His glory. I am expendable, but in a good way, because when I am exhausted, then I will be with Him, but while I am here, I will work to exhaustion because God is good. There is so much I have forgotten about His goodness, there is so much I have pushed away because of His care, but I will remember your goodness, oh Lord, and I will sing your praises forever.

Katrina

I not much for watching tragedies on television. It may seem calloused, but I like to wait until it ends to see how it all turns out. I talked to friends who lived in New Orleans who evacuated before the storm and I watched a little bit of new coverage. I would have been fine with all of that, fine to see, when help finally came, what happened. It would have been fine to hear the next week of rescue stories and hear the triumphs and tragedies of finally finding missing families.

What I did not expect was to get mad. Steaming angry is a better way to describe it. I couldn't believe that the people didn't have at least food and water. I mean, they sent in big buses to help people get out until they filled the Houston dome, why couldn't they have sent those same buses with food and water in lieu of taking them away. I know it was scary to have the buses drive off with noone inside because there was no where to take them, but dang, it's worse when you're not even sure who's going to die beside you the next day, hoping it won't be you or your child. It was heart rending watching the condition that everyone was in. And every day in the news, you saw people blaming other people and people trying to cover their butts. You saw the best and worst of humanity.

The other day I was praying about what I could do for the people who so desperately need so much help. I wanted to just cook a bunch of food, put it in containers and drive to New Orleans, to Mississippi and Alabama and pass out food. It couldn't have been impossible, no matter how much we were made to believe it was. But I don't have enough money to do any of that stuff and I felt defeated until I was reminded that, more than anything, prayer works. So I've been praying. For shelter, for relief from the heat, for food and clothes, for diapers and restrooms, for rescue and for finding loved one. I've been praying for those whose properties weren't damaged, that they can go back to houses that haven't been looted, that they will be a shelter to those left behind.

People seem so surprised that people from New Orleans didn't want to leave their houses, their land, everything that was everything to them. I confess, if we had to evacuate, I would easily leave this place with only a twinge of regret to what we have built here. But I also understand the strength of history, how it compels us to preserve it. I would be loathe to leave a home we'd built from scratch, a home we'd lived and loved in for 50 years. That would make me sad. I understand why they don't want to leave. I understand why they should. I pray they will too.

I'm not the only one!

If you think my beanie weenie and white merlot was bad, then check out this guy's fast food wine pairings.

TACO BELL

BURRITO SUPREME

Wine: 2003 Vina MontGras Cabernet Sauvignon Syrah Reserva

Why it works: This blend, which would go nicely with just about any food with a bit of kick, seems especially designed for the spicy grilled smack-in-the-taste-buds that this wrap's hot sauce provides.

Yay for the weirdos. And the people who don't want to cook or go to a restaurant where they will be forced to pay more than $10 for their meal.

Taken (spoilers)

In 2002, Steven Spielberg produced a miniseries for Sci-Fi called Taken. I was so excited, I couldn't wait to see it. And do you know what happened? I missed every episode. I was pissed. I really wanted to see it. I mean, who could do aliens better?

Last week, I found the DVDs at my local Blockbuster. Someone had taken the 2nd disk with 4 hours worth of show on it, but I wanted to watch it anyway. I'm smart, I can figure things out. And I was excited.

I have to say that, although I watched ever DVD I had and cried at the end, it was the most disappointing show I'd ever watched. I probably would not have watch more than the first two shows. It started in the 1940s when a pilot was taken by aliens when his company of planes "crashed". When they were awakened, they were discovered by their allies and taken to safety. The pilot was the only one to survive. he was a fighter. We follow the tales of aliens abducting all the men in his line and each man fights. Also, it is in the 40s that the alien ship crashes into Roswell. So, and alien survives, pretends to be human, makes love to this woman an begats a baby. The guy in the military (he's a bad man) covers it all up, kills to get and keep all the information and marries his wife to force his boss (his wife's father) to give him the alien project. In a nutshell the three families. So, we see the military family be ruthless over the course of the 10 hours, the pilot's family of men fight every alien abduction, and the alien's family just be a bunch of weirdos. I sat through hour after hour of whining, crazy looking carnies, bright lights taking people away and decades passing and then we get to present day.

It is when Dakota Fanning is thrown into the mix that things start to get interesting. The one thing I liked about the writing is that we don't know what the aliens are up to. So when we realize Dakota Fanning (masquerading as Allie) is the end results, we are instantly drawn in to the story because we all want to know one thing: what can she do? Then they try to bore us again, but the one sustaining force is: what can she do? We see her bend time, we see her read minds, we see her project images, thoughts, we see her heal a bullet wound, we see her make everyone lose time as if they were taken. She willing goes to be researched so that she can do something to make them convinced that she was taken by the aliens and they will leave her alone. But the military figures out she pulled the wool over their eyes when she escapes pretending to be the general (or, at least that's the highest title I know, but it may not be his). So they keep tracking her down and there is kind of a man hunt (all of this is surrounded by boring-ness, by the way) by the citizens of the U.S.ofA. and we see that first alien that survived again. His earth name is John and he explains, over the next three hours (after being shot and being old as hold) that he is an alien scientist and he was just doing experiments. You know, pick up the humans, tag them, see how they live in the wild. We see that every day on Animal Planet. And I think, so that's it? You studied humanity in the wild over the course of years, put this little girl together just to study her? That's all I get for 10 hours of my life? I mean, it could have at least been that the earth would implode unless we always had a bispecies entity on the planet, or if they had not bred her through alien abductions, her parents would have never stayed together, sort of an alien eharmony. "We put marriages together based on the implants we painfully put in your head, tracking your every move over decades until we finally find the right one for you." Even though the ending was sad (Dakota Fanning was great) and emotional, it stil wasn't worth the price of admission. The writing bogged me down. Did it win an Emmy for best miniseries because there were no other shows, or because noone had writing as good at Ms. Fanning's acting. Either way, I wish for at least 9 of those hours back including the hours I didn't watch because it was taken.

I have wireless internet at home!

Which means more *not getting anything done* at home. I'm so happy that my sweet, smart, handsome, clever, generous husband agreed that getting a cable modem was where it's at.

Dear A&E

I watched your version of Pride and Prejudice Sunday night. You made me miss the first 7 minutes of the 4400. I love that show. It was a really good show, with just the right twists and turns that made it an enjoyable end to the season, but with just enough questions to have me longing for January. Not only did I miss the first few minutes of one of my favourite shows, but I also decided to watch the season finale of The Dead Zone at a later date. Here's why I chose a video of your program over the right now season finale of a show I enjoy very much.

The characters. I have watched the 1980 BBC only version of this movie, the 1940 version of this move, read the book and am finally seeing your version and I have to say that of them all, even against the Mr. Bennet in my head, you saw him best. He was awesomely sarcastic, condescending and loving. He made me laugh out loud several times. Elizabeth Bennet was perfect. I, at first, thought her too pretty for the part, because she was prettier than her sister (who had something of a superman jaw, which is very disconcerting on a woman). In reality, this did not turn into a problem because her acting, especially her prejudice against Mr. Darcy in believing every bad report of him was so well done, I started taking her side against him. Mr. Darcy was the best part though. In the 1980 version, David Rintoul made him very cold and didn't really make me believe his was struggling with love of Elizabeth. I believed Colin Firth was going to fence his way out of being in love with Elizabeth. There were so many things about the character portrayals that I liked better in this story. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was imminently more watchable although I think that Dame Judi Dench, (who will play Catherine de Bourgh in the 2005 version with Kiera Knightly ) may change my mind. And the vicar, Mr. Collins, made me laugh as well. He was perfect.

I had once thought that The Honey was very like Mr. Darcy on paper. Until I watched the A&E version, I had not seen my husband on screen as clearly as I did with Colin Firth. Unable to stomach Mr. Collins, he just gets up and leaves him talking to himself. Not willing to deal with Caroline Bingley's criticism of Elizabeth, he used well placed put downs, but was not flowery in any sense. He told it like it was and that was sexy. And that's why I like The Honey.

All in all, A&E, I must say that watching the entire 5 hours was a joy. Thank you.

This Girl

New Computer

I did get the new computer and I love it. I sold my old computer to a friend for $50 and her digital camera. I had this crazy rigoramole I did everytime I went online that involved ignoring warnings that popped up, switching users, then ejecting the external wireless card, followed by further ignoring of warnings. I would then be online, ready to surf, but only shortly because if I did too much, everything would slow down.

When my friend took the computer, I walked her through my routine, then had her do it, but told her she could call me anytime. She did the smart thing and called The Geek Squad so that her computer could actually work the way she thought it should and the guy, Mr. Jason she called him, laughed when she told him the routine.

Well, Mr. Jason, I'm glad you could laugh and fix the problem, but I will have you know that, except for 2 weeks before I discovered the secret, I was able to get online every day. So you know what you can do with your laughter? Exactly.

Personality

I took a personality test today here and not really sure how the site worked, I took my outcome and just looked at the strengths. Pumped up and full of myself, I basked in the unintended glory. Suddenly, the thought to go to the weaknesses had me clicking and I walked away deflated. It would be easy for me to become melancholy (the test said I tend to do that) but then I begin thinking about the person I am.

How do you make yourself (or help yourself become, if you will) a better person. Last night, my husband and I were talking about how churched people say, "Jesus is the answer" but even when we have the answer, we seem to keep looking. John the Baptist, with direct vocal confirmation from God, still sent people to make sure Jesus was really the one. I mean, otherwise, he would have to continue being "the voice of one crying out in the wilderness" until the one he was to precede was really here, which meant his imminent death might not be so imminent. My least favourite saying is, "You always find (something) the last place you look". I don't know why this bothers me, but it does. So, out of sheer stubborness, I keep looking after I've found something. Dumb and laughable, but worth it to me. We can come up with intelligent answers as to why we do look after we come to know God, or better yet are known of God, but seeing how we are constantly plagued by lack of trust in anything, even in ourselves, I'm not surprised we mistrust "the answer". Do you remember when you used to do math homework and the odd numbered problems were answered in the back of the book? When you did a problem all the way through and got an answer, you would look in the back and if the answer was different, there was always the thought that, in this case, the book was wrong. I think that's how we look at Christ sometimes. We work so hard to come up with the answer and then when we check "the answer" it's completely different from what we came up with.

So, how do you change? I'm not ignorant of the things I should do. I have a list of them in just about every book of the bible. It's not hard to sort out what I personally should do in the list. Fortunately someone has boiled the answer down to two steps. Love God over everything and love your neighbor as yourself. Or, if you want to be technical, just the simple word Love. That's it. That's hard. I'm hardly a "love your enemy" person. I'm not even a "love your acquaintance" person. But I have come up with a few things that might help me move away from the person I have been to the person I am becoming.

1. Hug more
2. Laugh like I mean it
3. Act like I like people until I actually do.
4. Eventually love them.

I have no problem doing any of these things if I know someone well and like them. I just have a problem being nice to the rest of you. Here's hoping something works.

Act One

Details did an online article about the writing program I'm a part of. They are highlighting the executive program, but it was a job well done. Go check it out.

Have you ever felt there was noone quite like you?

The other day:
"If I only had a picture of you like this right now," the Honey says, only just holding back a laugh.
"What?" I look up at him.
"It would explain so much," he says. I give him the look. The "illuminate me" look. "Right now, you're sitting on the floor in the living room, instead of on the sofa, huddled under a blanket, eating beanie weenie and drinking a glass of wine, all while watching Law and Order: SVU."
"What's wrong with that?" I ask. He just shakes his head and laughs.

Today:
"Are you looking at my socks?" The Honey has been pointedly staring down while we sit at the red light.
"Yes."
"You bought them for me."
"You picked them out." he says, trying to hold back a laugh.
"You knew what you were getting when you offered to buy them."
"Yes," he says, laughing outright now, "I did."

Dear Google,

Everytime I go online, my homepage is YahooSearch. This is not by choice or convenience. My husband is broken-hearted that Yahoo has exceeded you in the search department. Apparently, they search more resources than you do now. So please, Google, man up, because my husband absolutely hates yahoo and I don't want to hear it anymore. Thank you for your time.

Appreciate It,
This Girl.

Writing

I have so many posts sitting in draft hell waiting to be brought to light, that I thought I would throw something up until I can make my thoughts and writing line up. So I have a few questions for my 5 daily readers. So answer...the pressure is on! (Well, it's on me to prove I actually have 5 readers.)

Q: When is a good time for a couple to have children? Please include with your answer whether or not you are married, how many children you have and how long you waited to have children if you have them.

Q: If you are married, do (did) you or your spouse initially want kids?

Q: How much did you (do you plan to) talk about children with your significant other?

Q: What is your favourite colour?

If you do not want to answer in comments just email me with the subject Questionaire

Happy Birthday To My Honey

Here's proving he always gets what he wants. Early even.

Calling my husband out

For my husband's birthday, which is Thursday, I bought him an Apple IPod mini. It was the cute silver model, just like he wanted. I bought it early from the Apple Store because I wanted to get just the right one. I hid it at the milk and cookie shop because if I took it home, he would have found it. One night on our vacation, I found my husband asking me questions while I slept, because I do talk in my sleep. He'd apparently been asking me question for a while and I was awakened by my subconscious because he was asking me if I'd gotten his birthday present already. Pretending to still be asleep, I answered "No." He was disappointed. I was elated. I'd been leading him down false mp3 player trails, pretending that I thought the sony mp3 would be better. I made it through the entire week off with high hopes that I would be able to keep the surprise until Thursday.

Then my husband decided during the middle of The Godfather that he should look through our bank statement. He saw it. He didn't say anything, but I picked it up when he had a question and realized that he was asking about something under the statement about the purchase from Apple. I was soooo mad at him. How is he able to ruin a surprise? He was so excited that I'd gotten it, he wanted me to get it right away so he could charge it and listen to it. So he got his birthday present 5 days early. So, yes, I did surprise him, but I'm more disappointed that I didn't surprise him the way I wanted to. Ah well, happy listening to my baby, right? But you're still a surprise ruiner and it's on the web now.

Anniversary Honeymoon

I'm going to be living it up with the man of my dreams, whom I have been married to for almost one blissfully happy year, despite the hurricanes that heralded our union, the lack of a car, the introduction of Pork Chop, and the fact that we may become Macon lifers. Yay marriage! When I come back, I will update you on Pork Chop's Adventure in Babysitting and being a groomsmaid (me, not Pork Chop), possibly all from a new laptop. All that, plus: Who killed Harry Potter? (It's the Half-Blood Prince).

Prescient

The Honey and I have been looking for a church. We have no idea where to start. We go into it saying we aren't looking for a perfect church, but it feels like the things we are looking for we will never find. We left our old church, not out of dissatisfaction with anything in the church or with any of the people. We loved the church. We found that it was too far away to develop relationships. People enjoyed us being there, tears were shed when we announced our leaving, but we didn't know anyone above a superficial level despite going there for almost 2 years.

So, in a town with more churches per capita than any city in the US, why is it so hard to find a church that is right? We are visiting churches where we know noone, we are visiting churches where we know nearly everyone and we are not enjoying it. We almost left one service because my husband, who is the music nerd, could not stand the praise and worship. (This is a man who identified the notes that Batman played to get into the Batcave and also identified that the notes Christian Bale pressed were not the notes we heard.) We liked the sermon, but the people were cool (in the not cool way). Some people greeted us, but were unsure about how to "meet" us, get to know us, convince us that we were in the right place. What did we do though? Did we try to meet new people, find out what this place was all about? No. The general air was one of, "We got what we came from, now back to our regularly scheduled program."

It's something I've noticed and something I've seen in myself. Lately, I've had alot of time to think about me. Where I am going with my writing, who I am becoming as a Wife to The Honey, how I am growing older, how to be a good manager at the milk and cookie store, etc, I've had too much time centered on me. And really, I want to find a church that suits me, whether it suits anyone else. That's the first obstacle in our finding a good church. Every complaint I could have about the people of any church are the same complaints I could level at myself. It would be okay if I at least loved people, if I could find some part of me that could show compassion, if there were something in me that wanted to reach out to others. It's there, but it feels so small sometimes, I think, "why bother."

The second obstacle is time. 5 days a week, we get up at noon to get ready for our night jobs. We don't get to sleep until after 4am. Saturdays are the same, except for the working part. So when Sunday comes, how the heck are we going to get up to be at church by 10? That's another reason why we were having a hard time going to church 45 minutes away. The Honey was in the praise and worship band, so that meant practice at 9 before service at 10:30... you try getting up at 7 to leave at 8 and get there by 9 when you a) commonly get up at noon b)probably only got 2-3 hours of sleep.

It's very daunting to want so much to be a part of a church, a community, but to feel constantly so different from that community. I find myself having to hold my tongue because Christianity is so political now. The Christian powers that be have given us permission to decide we can tell whether someone is Christian or not and it is based solely on their beliefs and views, not on their heart. The only thing man can't judge is the only thing that is important.

I hope we find a church soon. Sometimes, though, I wonder why it's so important.

least metal moment...

We were watching VH1 last night, watching The Greatest: 40 Least Metal Moments... Riki Rachtman was on, a bitter metalhead who lost his show, doesn't know why, looked better when he had a little bit of weight on him, was once fun, but now... not so much. It was a pretty fun show, seeing some of the silly metal moments from the last 20 or so years... like Bon Scott of AC/DC fame playing the recorder; yes, the 6th grade band instrument, as an adult... that was pretty funny. But I have to say that the show itself put forth a least metal moment. It was Moment #8 - In the top 10 of Metal's least favourite moments is the day Metallica cut their hair. In the late 90s when these guys were well into adulthood, they all cried like babies because the gods of metal cut their hair. And now, more than 5 years later, they are crying about it on public television. So not metal. Guys, suck it up and keep thrashing! Who cares if Metallica cut their hair and made rock/pop music. Are you metal musicians or not? Do you not headbang with the best of them? Quit cryin' like a bunch of babies and get over it. It is not the day that will live in infamy. It's over and done with. There are so many more least metal moments you could have complained about without seeming like whiny babies. Like Velvet Revolver.

PS, I really know nothing about music, except I thought the interviewed were being particularly whiny about Metallica (and Bon Jovi) cutting their hair. And that's not metal.

Bad boy, bad boy, whatcha gonna do....

We had a run in with the police last night.

We left the milk and cookie store after 3am. The Honey had just set the cruise to 5 over the speed limit when lights start flashing behind us. Slightly annoyed, I look behind just as the blue lights start flashing. The Honey does all the right things so that he won't get a gun pulled on him, but I'm just annoyed, especially when Cop #2 starts shining his flashlight in the car on the passenger side. That's right, my side.
"Can you tell me why I'm being pulled over?" asks The Honey.
"Did you guys just leave the Goodwill Drop Box?" Cop #1 asks.
"No, we just left the milk and cookie store." Replies the Honey. Point in fact? I am wearing my uniform, which feels like the only thing I've worn in weeks... except for last Saturday, when I was a groomsmaid. But that's another story.
"Can you open your trunk?" Cop #2 has come around to the driver side. Suddenly Cop #1 exclaims;
"This ain't no Skylark!" Cop #2 looks confused (or at least I think he should, but I get only a glimpse from Cop #1's flashlight beam. "Didn't they say it was a Skylark?" he asks again, his nasal whine and southern accent like something Hollywood would have picked for us. They decide that since the trunk is up, they might as well look innit, right? We're not real sure what they hope to find, but if it's a large toaster, a crock pot or other "couldn't find the store they belong to so they've sat in the trunk for a year" wedding gifts, they're looking in the right place. Cop #1 closes the trunk with a decisive bang while Cop #2 speeds away. We were free to go.

I learned today that it is against the law to take things from the Goodwill Drop Box. You can be fined up to $10,000. I'm glad we didn't take anything from Goodwill.

Did you have any doubt?

How weird am I?




54% are more weird,
11% are just as weird, and
35% are more normal than you!

Late Night Thoughts

I've decided to start writing for two hours a day. One of the things I wanted to do was write this blog post. I was trying to come up with something interesting, something that would make you want to come back everyday and read what I write, but all I could come up with was to complain about writing. I sat at my computer for 54 minutes, waiting for inspiration, waiting for something to come to me, something that would be so good that it would spur my writing on for weeks, months, years to come.

Nothing. For 54 freakin' minutes.

I'm going to get Blue Like Jazz. I'm pretty excited to read it. Actually, I'm just writing words to see if something will come out. I finished a short story and someone is critiquing my work. Already, I know that I need to do something with the first half of the story. The last part is interesting, but the first part is boring and that is what will keep me from winning any contest, or keep any short story collection I may write from being successful.

I wonder if I should take up drinking. I wonder if that wouldn't help this entire writing process.

August 14 will be one year married. WOW!

Stay tuned. The adventures of Pork Chop will continue later this week.

My past life?

I don't know how you feel about this, but you were female in your last earthly incarnation. What! This has to be some kind of joke. I'm too not girly to have been female in my last life! You were born somewhere in the territory of modern southern England around the year 1450. So did I live 520 years like some kind of vampire or are they only able to track one last earthly incarnation at a time? Your career was that of a designer, engineer or craftsman. Hmmmm, all jobs I'd picked out for myself when I was 6.

Your brief psychological profile in your past life:
Seeker of truth and wisdom. They should have said writer. You could have seen your future lives. I always wanted to be clairvoyant, but apparently that went out of style in my lives when I died at the age of 520. Others perceive you as an idealist illuminating paths to the future. Uh huh, right.

The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:
Your lesson is to develop a kind attitude towards people, and to acquire the gift of understanding and compassion. Whoa. Who told you?

Pig Reading Potter

This is Pork Chop. He is visiting his favourite coffee shop to read the new Harry Potter book. Just like everyone else.

Who is the Half Blood Prince?


Page 1 and Pork Chop is so excited!

Pork Chop loved the book. He even cried at the end, but you can't see the tears because there is no way for pigs to eliminate waste so he will roll around in the mud later.

Hmmmm

I concur. Gross.

P.S. If you scroll to the bottom, you can get all the up to the minute information on Britney Spears sent right to email. Yikes.

Geek Test

I finally got around to taking the geek test, especially when I wasn't that much of a nerd. Or that hip. So I might as well try my geekiness. I am 23.27416 geeky. I think if I had known any programming language, it would have pushed me closer to total geek. Or at least gone to Dragon Con. Ah well. You love me anyway.

Not nerdy, but definitely not hip

Sad.

Link from The Honey

Best.Present.ThusFar.

Mike bought us a king sized bed yesterday. This morning at 3am, we went to Wally World to buy king sized bed sheets. We took them home and put them on our king sized bed. Then we went to sleep in our king sized bed and woke this morning refreshed. Neither one of us had awakened in the middle of the night to complain about who was stealing the covers, or who was taking up my side of the bed or who was making whom hot. It was one of the most marvelous waking up experience that I've ever had. But that headboard... we've got to get that thing fixed!

Mandatory Calvin and Hobbes

Snacks. Such a magic word. I have been known to go along with just about anything for the promise of snacks... and elephants. I don't care about riches, glory, and honor, but if you have a nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich or a pound bag of peanut butter M&Ms, now you're talking. Plus, I consistently find it funny the interaction that Calvin has with his stuffed tiger Hobbes. Enjoy!

Let Freedom Ring

My fourth of July weekend was very eventful. Here I have placed an itemized list of things done that weekend.

Batman Begins: (spoilers, maybe)
I.Loved.It. We were supposed to see it a couple of weeks ago. When we got there, the 9 was sold out. I wanted to go to the 10, but he thought it would be better if we got some sleep, plus I had to make sides for the party after church, so we didn't go see it. I got so mad, that he made a vow that he would not see the movie and he would take not seeing the movie to his grave. He had decided against his vow by the next few days, word of mouth on BB was so good. He thought it was okay. I thought it was the best thing since Frank Miller featuring Batman. The previews made me think Christian Bale might not be the man for the job, but the movie proved he was. The direction was definitely Christopher Nolan, camera angles, the jumping from scene to scene. I even liked Katie Holmes, but maybe I was just overwhelmed by sheer Batman-ness. The things that made me laugh out loud in the theatre, causing others to laugh nervously when it went on for far too long, is when the Scarecrow is riding around on the horse, trying to scare everyone and Katie Holmes taser's him (I laughed a good long time at this) and the headline that read, "Drunk Millionaire Burns Down Home". (that one only got a hearty chuckle)

Sunday:
We went back to our old church. We left because it was too far and in the year we've been married (two years going to the church) we have not built quality relationships... It's noone's fault. We live 45 minutes from everyone and we both work nights. So we are going to look for a church closer to home. However, we went last sunday because they asked The Honey to play for them. He went on no sleep. I went on 2 hours of sleep. I felt like merde. (excuse my french) Then we went home and slept until 7 o'clock pm, tried to go eat crablegs, got rejected, ended up eating at O'Charley's, which was okay, then we went home and talked the rest of the night. (sorry, fascinating to me, but boring to you, intimate moment - but I'm documenting here)

The Fourth:
The Honey gets a page from the job. He's supposed to be there at 11:30 (IN THE MORNING!) and it's 11:08. He's gone so fast I miss it. So I sit knitting The Blanket, watching tv and wondering if he's going to come back soon or if I'm going to have to call people so that I can get to a cookout at Dustin's. But he comes home and I get the car. The Cookout was pretty good, but the fireworks was the stuff of legend. Legend as in I'm sure if we had not been there, Dustin would have burned down half the forest out back. We were on a quite open lot with the most garish blue barn you could imagine... No, I mean it, imagine worse. The fireworks were not launched, but they were beautiful nonetheless. Despite the gnats, mosquitoes and various other bugs and pests trying to get into our mouth and eyes, it was a nice night outside. Then some of us sat around and talked for a while and at the end, it was Brian, Dustin and me watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. We decided to watch the 2nd one because we wanted to see the Vanilla Ice dance scene. In the middle of the movie, we started talking about someone who had the last few boyfriends cheat on her when they found out she wouldn't sleep with them. Horrified, I asked if she met these guys in church. We then got into this very serious discussion when all of a sudden we heard the first streams of the Ninja Turtle Dance. All conversations cease as we sing along. (that's what I call priorities!) We were all surprised to see we remembered the dance. Surprised and Ashamed. We talked a bit more about a comedian named Mitch Hedberg (sp?) and then I went to pick up The Honey. Well, the Mitch Hedberg stuff happened after midnight, so I guess that was the end of the fourth Festivities. The weekend was really fun.

Things I learned from this weekend:
1. Taking things to the grave is never a good idea
2. Not getting enough makes you curse in french
3. People named Dustin who work with you should never, ever be given his choice of where fireworks should go off... always point him to the empty field and away from the trees, no matter how hard he cries
4. Old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles still rock (it's still corny, but it still rocks.)

Escape

I took this idea from a co-worker. I now introduce mandatory weekly Calvin and Hobbes. Which may or may not be mandatory or weekly. So enjoy!

I felt like this today. It was a nice day out... hot as Hades and a desert combined... you know, where you feel like you're on fire and sweat is pouring, but there is just a little bit more heat under the surface and just when you think it couldn't be any hotter, it is. Like I said, a nice day. And all I could do was stare out the door, jealous of the people who got to come in then leave. Someone was talking to me and saying that she hated working so much because she missed out on life. She wished she could come to the shop more often. I found myself laughing, wishing I could be less in the middle of everyone else's life. Plus, today, 4 very important people moved back to their hometowns. The girls were missionaries to a youth center and worked with me. I had something to say into each of their lives, a mentor of sorts. I got to really use that Titus "older women teach the younger women" part, although I'm not that much older nor were they that much younger, but it fits. I miss them. I have a beautiful picture and I card that made me cry. So, with about 5 hours of sleep under my belt, 4 friends gone, 3 degrees of heat trying to make me come out of my skin, and a couple of disasters to avert, it really took a few deep breaths to keep me on the job and smiling. And several cups of water.

P.S. This is new, so stop laughing.

Wisdom From The Yarn Harlot

Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who would want to live in an institution? - H.L. Mencken

The best reason for a knitter to marry is that you can't teach the cat to be impressed when you finish a lace scarf. Even if he doesn't know a cable from a boble, my mate can be my biggest cheerleader. - At Knit's End, Yarn Harlot

I just finished my first (of 3) baby blankets. It is for a co-worker from a previous job. It's a pink and blue knit blanket (even though she is having a girl) with a yellow crochet trim. I finished it up after a month of working on it. I did the last ten rows and the crocheted edge while watching about 5 hours of CSI Season 1 on DVD. At 7am, my husband comes into the room and I show him the blanket. He stares at it for a long time before saying, "This is the best thing I've ever seen you make!" Even if the receiver doesn't like the blanket at all, my husband's praise made doing the job worthwhile. Best. Encouragement. Ever.

Fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you NOT to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. Marianne Williamson


I first heard this quote in Coach Carter. It made me pause, cry a little, and pull out my journal with a promise to let my light shine. In the movie, there is no mention of God. So imagine my surprise that the truth of the quote without God was validated (to me) by the truth of the quote including God. There was a certain power to the words, as if God had reached from the television to touch the part of my heart that makes this quote true. I am afraid to push myself to my limits, working to exhaustion, resting when needed, congratulating myself when I succeed, learning from my mistakes when I fail.

I know my biggest fear is failure. I am afraid I am no good, that I am trying to hard for nothing. I am afraid that others will be better than me, nullifying my achievements. I am afraid that I will not learn, I will not grow and therefore, I will die. I fight against it every day, trying my hardest to be innovative. I am also afraid that I will let those around me down. What I am beginning to understand is that I will do all the things I am afraid of, but what I continually find, much to my amazement, is that I do not do them. When I am my most judgemental self, something keeps me from being the disappointment I should be. When I write, it always comes out as something insightful, or funny, or emotional, depending on what I am writing. Others are better than me, but my achievements are still noticed and rewarded and when something I do isn't rewarded, there is still some comfort in finding that I've done my best. No matter what darkness threatens to overtake my efforts, I find that, through no help from me, my efforts avail much. If there is weakness in my actions, the results are momentous. So if my actions are strong, the results my be astounding. That is what, in the end, I am afraid of.

Snide comments are SO called for.

I am a yarn nerd. I asked about yarn shops everywhere I went in Indiana. People told me different places, but they were never places we were going. Finally in Ohio, I spot a fabric shop. The coffee shop we were going to check out was two blocks away, so when we ordered our food, I ran to the shop to check out what yarn, if any, they had.

There were two little old ladies in the back, talking. They looked at me as I walked in, then went back to their conversation. Neither greeted me, neither offered to help. They just talked about what their granddaughter was going to wear somewhere, what their son said the other day, etc. I saw some really beautiful yarn and some really passe yarn. There was this soft netting type yarn that would have been very pretty for a baby shawl, or even a tiny sweater. There was this multicoloured yarn that would have been awesome for a bag. There were these two old biddies that wouldn't even give me the time of day. So, yarn nerd that I was, I stood up, turned towards the door and started my walk out. I took big, angry steps, like the steps my mom took when I was a little girl struggling to keep up. I let my full weight fall into each step, sounding like the giant I am. Then I said, cheerily, loudly, with a touch of the anger and hurt I was feeling, "Thank you ladies so much..." I began
"You're welcom..." one lady got out before I finished. "for helping me." She cut her "Hon" short because she hadn't.

I walked two block faster than I've ever walked any place, stopping short at a sign. I quickly sprinted into the store and ordered. Half a pound of fudge. Peanut butter fudge and chocolate peanut butter fudge. Because I was hollow. The proprietor was nice. He even rounded down though he was mathematically able to round up.
"Thank you for being nice." I say. I don't know what was in my voice, but he looked at me, his eyes softened a little and he said genuinely, almost laughing, "Hey, that's what I'm here for!"

I heard, "I can't solve all the problems of the world, but I can do my part to be a human being." Then I saw C and J at the car with our food and rushed out, a pinch of fudge on the way to my mouth.

Are We There Yet?

"Do you need directions sir?"
"No. I'm from here."

I didn't doubt he didn't need directions, but we had been up all day, it was nearly 10:45 and we needed to be on our way to the warm bed that was awaiting us at the end of our journey. C. had worked 6 hours, 7 for me and J. pretty much worked all day. Then we'd flown out of Hartsfield and landed in Indianapolis 1 hour later, ready to put our bags down and go to sleep.

We settled back into the seats of our brand new, never before driven Santa Fe, taking in the new car smell, wondering why they didn't put any car mats down and driving in what looked like a big circle.

"I think we're on the airport loop." J. said.
"I see the interstate over there." C. said. I didn't say anything.
"Yeah, I see that." J. said.
"You're in a Santa Fe." C. said. J. looked askance. I said nothing.
"You know, you could take this thing over the grass..." C. joked.
"I can just see myself trying to explain the scratches. 'I promise, the scratches were already there! I don't know why she didn't see them when she checked us out.'" J. laughed. "Oh, here's a street off the loop." He takes it. I begin to laugh to myself a little bit.

Then we drive. I feel like we've seen the whole of Indianapolis and are still no closer to getting to sleep. Finally, we stumble upon the interstate. They breathe a sigh of relief.
"Interesting." I say. J. turns around and looks at me. "No snide comments about me not taking directions." he says. I tell him I was commenting on the car that went too far, backed up in the midst of busy traffic, then went in the right direction at a busy intersection. Interesting that she backed up, interesting that it was this busy at 11:30.

We get on the interstate. We follow it correctly. 10 minutes later, on our right, is the airport, our car rental name emblazoned in yellow. The same car rental place we'd left 45 minutes ago.

Interesting.

For the rest of the trip, I laughed everytime someone asked J. if he needed directions.

Reflections during flight

I had to switch to all plastic and wood knitting needles for this flight, although somehow my crochet hook made it in under the radar. That means I had to give up two urgent projects because I was working with metal needles. Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhh. RANT: I had to start two new projects to compensate for the lack of metal needles. Now I'm truly overloaded. Please clue me in when a little old lady tries to hijack a plane with size 11 US knitting needles or Addi Turbo circulars.

There is a lady wearing pink and green. Bright pink and green. Neon even. Colours I haven't seen together since 10th grade. 13 years ago. And only on a very awkward, socially unacceptable teen. Me. And I thought I was cute, just like this lady. And I was wrong. Just like this lady.

I'm making myself a scarf knit on size 19 needles. I'm very excited. This is the first thing I'll knit for myself that will be any good. My first knit item sits in the bottom drawer of my husband desk at work. Even I am not sure what it is supposed to be. He says it looks like I took a skein of yarn, threw it to a dog to play with, took it back 30 minutes later and say, "Here's my scarf."

There is a squeaky wheel on the plane. It's as bad as a bad grocery cart wheel. But scarier. I'm sure it doesn't say anything good about the plane.

Take off is the best part of flying.

Land Shark!

Here is proof that Sci-Fi Network reads my blog. I don't know if that's good or not. Without a doubt the thoughts presented in High Tide are present in this finished product by Sci-Fi. That's okay. It couldn't be better than mine was going to be.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants of course spoilers

Yes. That is actually the title of this post. No, I did not find jeans that magically fit me and three of my friends. Heck, I can't find a pair that will fit just me. But I found a movie that fit quite nicely. The movie starred Joan of Arcadia and a Gilmore Girl and America Ferrera, and another girl who I didn't know from anything. They were well thought out characters, characters that were dynamic, that changed during the course of the movie, that were three dimensional. The story was well written, a good flow of ideas into images that sometimes took my breath away. And I cried.

How did I come to see this traveling pants movie, you ask? It all started out well enough. I was taking the girls I mentor to a movie, since we were getting too weighed down with all the things going on around us. I decided they should pick the movie. I was hoping we would get to see The Longest Yard, even though I've only heard so-so reviews about it. The Sisterhood came out that day and was at the top of the listing for movies and they didn't get much further than that one. I breathed a big sigh and said, "Okay." I invited a co-worker to go with us, simply because I didn't know her and thought it would be fun getting to know her. So there we were, our own weird sisterhood, going to watch this movie. I enjoyed the dialogue, the sadness that didn't get mired into sappiness, the realness of friendship portrayed, the truth of parent/child relationships. Even the benign self-centeredness of Carmen's (America Ferrera's character) stepmother-to-be as she prepared for her wedding was real. I wasn't quite that bad, but I remember. The favourite character was Bailey, the precocious 12 year old with leukemia. She was acidic enough to be 12, but caring enough to be a person facing death every day. I don't think Dakota Fanning has to watch her back, but she was truly good. I cried the most during Carmen's scenes with her dad. The longing to be with him even though he kept himself far from her, the treachery she felt, the anger, and the pure joy when he included her without being coerced into doing so. Maybe it was too much of a happy ending for her story, but at the same time, it was right. Oh, it's not Oscar worthy, where I left the theater thinking that I'd never seen a better written movie, or more ably acted, or anything like that. I did walk away from it with many topics running through my mind. Things like, why do I fear death? Will I ever be honest with my dad like Carmen? Can I stop looking down on others just because they chose a path I wouldn't have? Will I continue to fight for the love I've been given against any odds?

I guess I should say this at the beginning, but I recommend this movie. If you've gotten this far, you've seen a map of the journey, perhaps, but you haven't seen the beauty of Greece, and the joy of being acknowledged, or the anguish of defeating yourself that this movie takes you through. It's something else to look at the world again though another's eyes.

I Do My Own Stunts

I am a dangerous person. The biggest danger is that I can come from nowhere and wreck anything. Literally.

I come by my clumsiness naturally. That is to say, I wasn't graceful once. I've always been clumsy. And I inspire others. My dad dropped me when I was just a wee babe. He of the not dropping much of anything. My dad could walk with planks of wood without hurting himself or others. He could carry many building things in his hands and walk drop free. Me, on the other hand, the most precious of his acquired things, he dropped without even realizing that such a thing could happen. I'm sure he was shocked, and I'm sure my mom kept me far from him for a few months at least.. I credit Velcro Hands, that technology only mothers have, with not dropping me. However, if my hunch is right, and it normally is, she dropped me. It's just that noone ever saw her do it. It's a secret she will take to her grave.

Growing up didn't bring much success. I was coltish, with long awkward legs and arms, my elbows and knees huge knobs on my skinny frame. My head was over big, as if I were trying to retain the "big headed baby" cuteness from my infancy. It wasn't working. I was an awkward child and looked it. I could reach, but I wasn't allowed to carry. Papers would inevitably fall from my hands, outside on windy days. Balls would bounce from my grasp into busy streets. Erasers would slam, with a fuss and a cloud, to the ground if I but looked at them. And heaven forbid if it was my turn to wash the board. Floods of epic proportions my friends. Floods of epic proportions.

Believe me, it didn't get better. I guess my body did grow to fit my head... or, grow closer to the size my head was going for, but my look of awkward destruction did not leave. By this point, I am tripping myself and other people, dropping trays in the lunchroom, somehow getting food fights started. Once, a teacher was hit with blue mashed potatoes, potatoes I had dared someone to dye blue with their ink pen. It wasn't pretty.

Even now, as an adult, I trip over nothings on the floor. I hardly bother to look anymore. I am wary of high, narrow stairs and I've fallen up stairs at least twice. As we speak, my husband is waiting to hear the horrific news that I've somehow managed to stab myself with my knitting needles. It has become a part of me and I know, every now and then, my husband shakes his head at the true knowledge that, in a few years, he may have two more stuntmasters to worry about.

The Lords of Narnia by Darth Angel (spoilers always possible)

I sat next to a Clone. Darth Vader was a girl. And somehow, normal looking people were there too. Yes, Episode III was more than I expected and less. Let's start with the more.

I felt like I was already watching the 3-D version with the first scene. In some parts, I felt like I was in the movie, especially during Obi Wan's fight scene with Grievous. Padme's outfits were just smashing, although, as a girl, I couldn't see how she slept in the nightgown with the pearls. Hayden Christenssen didn't bother me as much as he did in episode II and I even looked forward to scenes with him, watching the devolution of a Jedi. I liked seeing R2 having a bigger role and the laughs were good laughs. All of them were in the right places for releasing tension. The "moral" questions of the Force were right on, bringing about the clarity and clouding that comes when truths are mixed with untruths.

Now, the less. Darth Sidious. Chancellor Palpatine as a character, was a good character. He was a great embodiment of evil. He had a civil facade, doing an awesome job of playing good, but he had just the right amount of menace to make you edgy about him. Darth Sidious, with his many, many (sigh), many over-enunciations was not a great embodiment of evil. He did evil things. He made people bad, but he wasn't as scary as Palpatine. Darth Sidious literally destroyed the ending of the movie for me.

The best thing about watching Star Wars was definitely the standing in line part. Seeing the costumes, talking to the geeks and the wanna-bes (of which I am one), making new friends, scaring off the ones trying to flirt, helping your friends get in line with you then watching them get sent back, seeing the line wrap twice around the building... those are the things that make the show. And on top of that, the Chronicles of Narnia trailer. Did you see Aslan??? All desire to see any other movies pale in comparison to wanting to see this one. I'm more excited than I thought I would be even though it looked like Lord of the Rings was filming at the same time. And now, I must leave you, with many questions unanswered. Except my computer doesn't hate me anymore.

Don't hate me.

Cornfields don't have good reputations. When you think about them, you get images of crop circles, aliens, ghosts, or children (of the corn). The thought of walking through a cornfield doesn't inspire romantic thoughts. Instead you remember when Mel Gibson was looking for the sounds in the cornfield and saw an alien's foot. What cornfields need is the same marketing that sunflower fields get. Walking through a field of giant sunflowers is romantic. It inspires images of Italy, freshness as opposed to cornfield's images of farmers and flat, desolate places. If you get a bouquet of flowers and a giant sunflower is in it, you want to keep it forever. If you get a bouquet with a cornstalk in it, you may consider that your significant other is either insane or suggesting you should get to cooking. Many people like creamed corn, and eating sunflowers isn't the norm, but consider the popularity of sunflower seeds with its salty goodness and consider popped kernels of corn, whose disposition is to get stuck between your teeth. In the corn/sunflower war, corn always loses. And that's really sad.

P.S. Sorry I've been away, but you would too if your computer hated you.

High Tide Update

As you may have read in the comments for this post, I was made aware of a director willing to tackle the great think piece that is High Tide. Recognizing the quality of my work, though not the content of my character, he agreed to make this work. However, I was made aware through courier that all of my hide tide of hopes would be helplessly dashed against the rocks. I will print the letter in its entirety.

Dear Mrs. This Girl,
I regret to inform you that I must opt out of directing your brilliant film about the certainly upcoming earthquakes that lead to whales being on the top of the food chain.
Though I am a fan of your work, I have been offered the chance to write, direct, and co-star in a similar film and do not wish to be typecast.
It is called "Killah Whales" and it's by the good people at Paramount, so it has a HUGE budget. In the film, a melting glacier causes the ocean to rise and flood an experimental nuclear facility during whale mating season. The result is a school of mutated whales that are no longer forced to reside in the ocean and have a blood lust against humanity. Some have legs but the deadliest is a Blue Whale who mutated wings and flys around like a dragon eating people and drowning whole towns in plankton rich ocean water. The only hope for humanity is a brilliant scientist (Will Smith) who now teaches math to inner city school kids after giving up on science after NASA used his work against his will to eliminate a race of Aliens living on the dark side of the moon. Can the only people that know the whale's secret, a lowly Coast Guard worker (Dennis Quaid) and his homosexual life partner (Ice Cube) convince the scientist to help? KILLAH WHALES: THIS SUMMER WE'RE THE ENDANGERED SPECIES.
Clearly I cannot turn this wonderful project down.
Best of Luck,

Great minds are thinking alike. Of course, I am terribly devastated that I will not get to make my movie, having no budget, no director, no actors, and no talent for special effects. I could have artful drawings for you to see, but I am not technologically advanced enough to show them to you. Maybe my next movie idea, a mocumentary of the Surreal Life, will come to fruition.

High Tide

We watched 10.5, a made for TV movie about The Big One... errrr, well, how a series of faults, deeper than can be recorded, trigger earthquakes that could be big enough to sever the entire left coast from the rest of the united states while a crack group of seismologist go about trying to prevent The Big One. The good things? Bo Duke John Schneider. The bad things? Oh, the writing, the acting, the storyline, the fact that they declared Marshal Law (as opposed to martial law) as written on newscasts detailing the tragedies of the quakes, etc. This movies has inspired my own movie idea, co-created with my husband.

High Tide:
When Jupiter is smashed by the hand of God, pieces of it crash into the moon, knocking it slightly off course, causing the tides to come careening into large cities. Whales move to the top of the food chain and this new threat must be tackled by a crack group of marine biologist even as they figure out ways to live under water during half the day. The cast will include Chevy Chase, since he has some dealings with land water creatures who are at the top of the food chain and, of course, John Schneider. The movie is in development now as we continue to see what other ridiculous extremes we can take this movie to.

This is what happens when you don't have anything to do on a Saturday but be lazy and watch bad made for tv movies.

Such Great Heights

A good friend of mine died two Sundays ago. My tears were light because he'd had cancer for nearly two years and now he is no longer suffering. The majority of my tears were for me. Why does death bring out the most selfish desires and thoughts? I wanted him to be back to his original, pre cancer, body and days. I wanted him to meet my husband, whom he'd never had the pleasure of meeting. I wanted to talk to him about a couple of friends of ours who didn't seem to be doing well. I wanted his advice about a move we were going to make. I wanted to talk to him about the things God had been telling me and get his prayer and help concerning these very hard things. I missed him for me.

The viewing was the first I'd been to for someone other than family. The lines was somber and long, the mood quiet. There was the occasional sniff, the occasional loud cry choked back for modesty's sake, but overall, a sober crowd paying last respects. I went with my boss, who is also a friend of mine. We talked about him and most of the stories made us laugh, which was out of place in this crowd, but definitely on par for his life.

What is there about seeing the vacant house that once held the soul of my friend that brings others to tears? Seeing him there, vacant, caused the threat of tears to stop. This wasn't him. He was long gone, enjoying his present hope. I don't know why I paid so much attention to the look on his face. He had a slight smile on his face and I thought, "that's how I want to look when I go." There was a picture of him pre-cancer, and that picture made me cry. That was who I missed, not this guy. I couldn't find tears for his parents, but I found a smile and a word of encouragement.

The funeral brought together many old faces, people who had gone out of my life were back again, but in tears, not in joy. There was some joy, I guess, because we didn't relish the idea of more suffering, but there was much sadness because the clown we'd known and loved was gone. Two months before, he'd almost died from pneumonia. When he came through it, he started earnest preparations for his funeral. He knew his time was coming and he wasn't going to fight it. His brother said that, after he'd died, they left the room to call people and he came back thirty minutes later. Somehow, amazingly, there was a smile on his face. One of his last requests was that we release ballons at the burial site. The officiant at his funeral said it was because he'd always loved balloons, but I think there was another reason. I think that he wasn't sure how he would think about the things and people on earth when he was in heaven, but, if there was a chance he could see us, he'd know we were paying our respects to him when the first strain of balloons hit the sky.

Mine was yellow, Jeff. I love you.