Sockotta

I'm learning to knit socks. I have about an inch of the leg part. I'm knitting on needles so small that sometimes I drop one without knowing it. Completely without knowing this thing is not still between my fingers. They are so small, when someone asked me what I was making and I said, a sock, they said, "Oh, for a baby?" "No. For a full grown adult," I answered. These needles are so small, so pointy that I either want to use them as toothpicks or cross myself and pray that I don't poke an eye out.

I love my yarn shop. When they get a website I'm going to link them. I've been to yarn shops in other towns and another yarn shop in this town and I haven't found a group of women as friendly as I've found at Creative Yarns. Christy Ott helps you so much, even if you didn't buy the yarn from her, which makes you want to buy everything from her. She gave one of the ladies a birthday party today because this lady was turning 40 and her boyfriend of 2 years dumped her out of the blue. She cares about her customers. Right now, she's making wish lists for her customers, so I'm going to get The Honey to go into the yarn shop for some shopping. I hope I get to be with him so that I can see his face. Can you imagine my techno-savvy baby trying to purchase yarns for hand knitting? He's worried about being married to a woman who still has a box of tapes, wait until he sees all the yarns I want. Although there is a graft knitting journal that, if I get it, I can knit him an Apple logo something. I just found out I can felt (knit super big using wool yarn then shrink in the wash with hot water to make it virtually indestructable) an Apple logo notebook computer case. I just may do it if I get an iBook for my birthday.

I am ashamed to say that in the last few days, I've only added several hundred (not thousand) words. I am ashamed to admit that I may not write 50,000 words by the end of the month. I am discouraged and encouraged at the same time. I still want to keep writing what I'm doing, but I am not as committed to making it a novel. I am beginning to get interested in the lives of the people I'm writing about. I want to go into their histories, get to know them like new friends. That's good. But I am discouraged because I didn't make myself sit down and write for an hour or two every day. I know that I can get words flowing at various time (like for blogging or internal lectures aimed at various children acting co-workers) but this has been really hard. I did know this going into it, but I have never wanted to just throw my hands up like I have these last two weeks. I've been so busy, this is the first month in a year that I've gone to bed before 3am and gotten up before 11am on multiple days. It's been good and refreshing, yet I'm not working less (I'm working more) nor do I have less things to do (I'm basically on my 4th short story since starting Nanowrimo), but I've been getting sleep. That's gotta be good. It certainly is an answer to prayer.

When I get a battery for my camera, I will show you the sock. And the eye-stabbing, toothpick knitting needles that daily tax my life. You should pray.

NaNoWriMo Misery

So here I am, trying to write, and by trying to write I mean updating my iPod, adding songs to my song library, looking at old pictures of me and vowing to lose a little more weight, eating Pringles and reading my email. And by reading my email, I mean checking it every 5 seconds to see if someone sent me email. I'm at a little under 6,000 words, which would be good if it were day three, but it is actually day 7, which means I'm 10,000 words behind. WTH??? I think I'm going to be one of those people who just burst into tears randomly as I feel the crushing weight of word count bearing down on me.

So here I am, writing so well for this little blog (how did you like that long, long story of our trip to Miami? Cause the weekend felt as long as that story looks) but I can barely get to the next plot point for my story. Your assignment, dear reader, is to give me the next plot point. I'm not going to tell you what the story is about. I just want you to tell me a good plot point. If I use it, I'll post an excerpt. Thanks for having my back. (I just found out, by looking at the date, that it is really 8 days into it, so I should have 12,000 words by the end of tonight *bursts into hysterical tears*)

Miami Wedding

A friend from college got married this weekend. There were alot of good, funny moments and alot of other moments that are by no means related to good or funny. Yet.

We drove to Miami, Florida at 12:30am Saturday morning and left at 12:30pm Sunday afternoon. The wedding was at 6pm, Saturday. So, we were given a time of 12 hours to drive. That means we would get into Miami around noon on Saturday. That would give us time to rest, shower, and go to the wedding. The groom's mother has a condo in downtown Miami that she let us borrow for the weekend. We didn't have the keys or the room number. We didn't know that his mother was divorced so she was not using her married name. We didn't know where anyone or anything else was. We tried calling the number we had and noone answered. We got into town around 10am and we drove around until 3:30pm before we were in the house. So, that gives us a couple of hours before we had to be at the church. The Honey gets a few minutes of shut eye while I want to clean the road off of me. Let me tell you, a steaming hot shower can cure all ills. I wake the honey up and we try to follow directions we hadn't written down and we were about 20 minutes late to the wedding. We found the church by some strange act of God and sat on the wrong side of the church. We left the church to go to the reception and got there an hour later than it was supposed to start, but by some strange act of God, it didn't start until after we got there.

You know how someone gives you directions with abbreviated names as if you know what they are talking about? Well, let me tell you, Biscayne Blvd and Key Biscayne are not the same thing, even if you are told to follow Biscayne out to a resort, You're supposed to go to the island, Key Biscayne, and follow THAT street to the Ocean Club, not Biscayne Blvd, which only takes you north towards Aventura. Which is neither Miami nor Key Biscayne. Honestly, we spent so much time driving this weekend that when we stopped for food on the way home, The Honey wanted to stay inside because he couldn't stand going back to the car just yet. We spent 35 of the past 48 hours in the car. Driving. Trying to find things. Every bit of our time in Miami was spent trying to find something. The Apple Store, The yarn shop, The groom's mom's house, the church, the reception, the way back to the house, the way we came so that we wouldn't go to other cities. We made so many wrong turns, I think the security people started to communicate to each other about us.

When we were driving, we hated Miami. But when I saw my friend's beautiful, smiling face, when I saw how proud my Cuban mama was (my friend's mom and I adopted each other as family), when I saw people I hadn't seen in forever, I was glad to be there. Wilma did so much damage. The clean up, street closures, street lights that are out... it gives Miami a sort of third world country look that doesn't go well with the sleek building and even sleeker people. People are working overtime to get things back to normal, but, as my Cuban poppa says, "In Miami, when the shelter in your back yard blows down, you just go out and buy a new one." He is just grateful that he was in the US when all this happened. For him, he was out of electricity for 6 days, but some places that experience this kind of devastation, or worse, are out for years. He knows he's fortunate and I was glad to understand that.

The wedding was beautiful and almost completely in Spanish. The priest spoke heavily accented english, so that means the entire service was in Spanish for The Honey. The bride and groom had been dating for 9 years and when the priest heard this, he said, "9 years! This is like marrying a brother and sister!" But it was awesome because it was beautiful and not understanding any of it kept me from tearing up too badly and ruining my eye makeup (which might not have been that great to begin with). We did alot of kneeling and at one point, I got to kiss my husband and shake hands with the people around me. I don't know what that was all about, but we did enjoy the kiss. Every marriage reminds us of ours and makes us feel even more like newlyweds (as opposed to old married people).

The reception was beautiful and I got an awesome picture of my friend dancing and laughing (which, when I post, I will delete everything in these parenthesis and put her picture instead). We had great dinner companions and I felt honoured that though I wasn't a bridesmaid (and I am quite fortunate for that) I was sat at the table with the other bridesmaids (most of whom I knew or had heard of for the last 9 years). We laughed and talked and drank too much champagne (except for The Honey, who had to drive - remember 35 hours driving). We took pictures and ate the most awesome steak with red wine pairing I'd ever had, followed by the best chardonnay with giant prawn pairing. Next came the time of sleep that was the most in our time there (10 hours).

We had to wake up early for the wedding brunch, a smaller, family and close friend affair that I was honoured to be invited to and I got to talk with everyone alot more. It was super hot outside and there was enough damage to know that hurricanes are no respecters of person. With another wedding as our backdrop, we got to celebrate, with mimosas and omelets, the fact that two such good friends were also now husband and wife.

Despite how irritated we got when we couldn't find where we needed to be, The Honey was such a trooper. To get to the wedding, he drove like a bat out of hell. I was holding onto the door for dear life, part scared to death, part proud as hell. The fact that we were late had absolutely nothing to do with his driving. Normally, he drives like an overly cautious mother. Then, he was driving like me in Los Angeles. It was awesome. And when we had driven an hour in the wrong direction, he still turned around and took the exits I told him to take even though at this point, he would rather have gone to IHop and gotten a coffee than drive any further to a wedding reception. He did everything I asked him and then more, and I learned just how much my husband continues to love me.

It was a grueling weekend, it was the best and worst weekend at the same time. The things that were inconvenient were very inconvenient. It was everyone's fault that things were as bad as they were (we could have gotten all info earlier, they could have called back) but everything worked out. (I also remember that she drove the same amount of time for the 15 minutes it took me to get married and I didn't offer anything more than a casual reception that lasted less than two hours. At least she made it two days of activities for our drive). The Bride was beautiful, the Groom was happy, a new life was started and I am more than glad that I was there for it all.

NaNoWriMo

Well, I'm doing it again this year. Trying to write 50,000 words in a month. I'm already behind on my word count and wasting more time by telling you about it. That's okay. I had 631 words when I sat down to write at 2:30am and now I have almost 4000 words, which catches me up for Nov. 2, but puts me 2000 words back for today. Ah well.

Last night, The Honey asked me what I was writing about. I said, "Me. I think that's what all writers do, no matter their characters and situation, it's really just a story about the writer." "When are you going to write about me?" he asked. "You'll be in the story, but the main character is me." "Screw that! I want to be a main character." So he storms off to the computer room. I get up to follow him. He opens his word processor and starts typing: I wanted a story where I was the main character. I thought this would be easy when you're married to a writer, but I guess I was wrong. So I have to write a story about me my own damn self.

As he's writing, he looks back at me. "So, what do I win if I write 50,000 words?" "I don't know." "Who won last year?" he asks. "Everyone who wrote 50,000 words," I say. "What? everybody won?" "Everybody that wrote their 50,000 words." "That's how you treat children! If I don't get something, I'm not doing it." "You get the satisfaction of finishing a big project in a short period of time. That is a prize for a writer." He shakes his head and turns back to the computer. I laugh and go back to procrastinating. He comes out a few minutes later and sadly says, "I'm not doing it anymore. I just wanted to let you know that you were safe."

I love my husband.

Something That Will Make Josh Fuller Sad

My husband, The Honey, decided that he would start blogging again. So he tried to do it through Safari (which is the Mac web browser that he is in love with) but things didn't work. What things? Heck if I know. So he decides to get Firefox again and do it from that browser. But it doesn't work and he remembers he has an old version (this is what I heard, possibly now what he said) so he needs to get the new model of the old version before he can actually use the new version. So he does that. Then he re-types everything that he'd typed earlier, got his pictures, put them in, had the link to his sister's baby website and tried to publish. Blogger was down. He decided that maybe it was a sign. So, as of this posting (at 5:11am and with no attempt to get him to change his mind yet) he will stop blogging forever.

Don't cry, everything works out eventually. And remember, God really does answer prayers.

Blogging

I've been reading my old blogs. Boy, I got overly dramatic sometimes. I guess my writing has its own signature. I was talking about someone I know being a writer and wondering if they could be a better writer than me. The Honey told me that they weren't, and he was very adamant about it. I asked him how he knew they weren't better and he said, "If they were, they would be published." Instead of skewing it the negative way, I took it as a compliment and vowed to start writing. I'm going to do NaNoWriMo again, even though I didn't finish last year. Maybe I can get something started.

I am both excited and dejected about writing. I want to do it. I can feel my fingers itch to type. So why do I delay the ideas that fairly burst in my head? I guess if I had the answer to that question, I would be published.

I Need New Music

Some of you may not know this, but I have a new iPod mini. It is new and old at the same time. I bought it in August, shortly after it was introduced and shortly after that, they stopped making it to make the Nano. It was for The Honey, but it became apparent that 4 GB was too small for his music. So, in a competitive move, I'm trying to find new music so that I have too much music for my Mini. *shakes fist at The Honey's new 60 GB iPod with Video, then cries silently to myself*

Any music suggestions?

Rest In Peace

Rosa Parks died yesterday. My husband said that he could feel his throat close when he read about her death. I know she didn't know how great a fire she would ignite when she decided that she would stay seated for today, thank you very much, but that action rippled through life, through eternity, to very many people. Her life touched mine, tangibly. I feel her touch when I see the Blacks Only and Whites Only signs at the Terminal Station and realize they are an extinct way of living in the south, even if some of the thinking hasn't changed. I felt her touch when my mom would tell me about living in a time when a distinction was always made because of the colour of her skin. I feel her touch when I walk down the street and can hold my husband's hand and noone has the right, or the public backing, to lynch us or ostracize us, or the right to make us feel like loving each other is wrong. I feel her touch because I can look any other human being in the eye and I never have to think that I am inferior. I'm not old enough to remember the boycotting or having to sit in the back of the bus or any of the indignities. They are distant memories that, if perpetrated now, would only be a mark of ignorance. I know that Rosa Parks didn't make all of these changes happen on her own, but she was a damn good spark. Rest in peace, Rosa.

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.