what I learned today

When eating yummy chicken salad, one should not move to eating the caramel pudding before finishing the chicken salad. Now my salad tastes bland and uneventful but I need to eat it.

How sad for me.

But there is more caramel pudding for when I'm done!

talking to the nuts

Hello. Miss me? I know you did.

I'm here, just been a bit busy lately. Since early February I've been working two jobs, one full-time and one part-time. I haven't had a real weekend since then, but that's okay. Just means I have to squash all my "weekend" activities into the weeknights. Last week, there wasn't a single night that I got to come straight home and relax.

Anyway, I'm still here, still having lots of post ideas come and go before I get a chance to capture them. I have a few that I want to post for my other site (Questions For God) and a thought of doing some book reviews here, but for tonight, I'm just going to chat a while.

I got a pedicure this week, the second one I've ever gotten. It was nice and my feet look (and feel) great. If you've never gotten one, I encourage you to splurge at least once. You won't regret it. There is something to be said for pampering yourself from time to time. I've found if you don't, you'll go crazy sooner rather than latter. Granted, some of us are crazy already. Maybe what I think of as going crazy is really going sane. There's a topic for deep thought!

I finished reading a new book last night (well, new to me, published a while ago). It was one of those books written by an "east" Indian (as opposed to a "west" Indian, if you don't know the difference, comment and I'll explain). Or maybe she was British, or of mixed decent, it was hard to tell, but the photo made it look like she was Indian. Very good little story, can't remember the spelling of the title just now but I'll put it in a later post. I felt good about finishing it because I started it in late January and then got busy (with the afore mentioned second job) and just haven't had time to read.

Yesterday at work I got to call a real nutcase. It was intriguing to talk to someone so convinced that her views were God's views. There were several points in the "conversation" (and I quote that only because I'm not sure there was any true conversing going on) that I almost had to hit my mute button because I feared I would laugh outloud! It's going to be the topic for my other blog, so I won't say much here, but it was an experience! It reminded me to be firm and secure in my beliefs but to always turn back to God, no one else, when in doubt.

Okay, it's getting late and I have to clean the kitchen, put out the trash and take care of the litter box (oh the joy joy joy). Hope you have a great weekend.

in those dark days

Welcome to my first blogging for books attempt. I’ve wanted to do this for a while but due to technical difficulties (mostly, I could never find the site or get the email to actually know the topic, but I digress). This month the topic is the military.

As I thought of what, exactly, I wanted to write about, many ideas came to mind. Yes, I live in a military town. We have the Air Force Academy, Fort Carson, Shriever and Peterson. And yes, I see military all the time. I have friends and relatives in the military or retired from the military. I’m rather patriotic and I admire deeply those who serve. I even cry every Christmas when they air the Toys for Tots commercials where the kid asks the marine if he is Santa and the marine silently takes the child’s wish list. Yeah, tear jerker that one is!

Yet as I pondered what to write about, only one thing kept popping back with any real sticking power. My grandfather.

My grandfather served in the Navy in World War II. I didn’t know this until long after he had passed away. For years, I thought of my grandfather (who died when I was 14) as a grumpy old man who didn’t like his grandkids. See, he was getting older, he had health issues and every time we were around him, he insisted on no noise and no fun.

Then recently, as I flipped through so old photos, I saw my grandpa feeding squirrels and I remembered he used to do that with Vicky and I. Then I remembered that he made wind chimes and let me wear his big boots when I was just a little girl (they came up to my hips). Then I learned he was in the Navy and served during the war.

I think sometimes about what sort of sailor my grandfather was. I wonder what sort of combat he saw, if he lost friends. These are things I won’t get to know because my grandfather, like most WWII vets, has passed on.

I think of my grandma, waiting at home to marry her sweetheart. They married in 1945. I have the quilt my great-grandmother made as a wedding gift. Did my grandma find the same man come home that had left her? Probably not. I don’t think any person who serves in war comes home the same. It’s an experience that changes, that imprints on you. I’ve seen enough stories about war to know that.

I’m proud to know my grandpa served our country, I’m proud to know he did his part to secure our way of life. It has helped me change my view of my grandpa, to see him as the whole person he was, and not just a cranky old man who didn’t like kids. I hope that the scars weren’t too deep and that he had enough love in his life to ease any painful memories.

I’m proud of my grandpa, proud of all the boys who went to war in those dark days. I’m proud of all the men and women who serve today, fighting for freedom and liberty. I’m reminded that every person in our military, no matter their reason for being there, is there to do a job and they do it well. And thousands around the world owe a debt of gratitude to our fine boys (and now girls, too).

I salute my grandpa, and all those who serve. Thank you.

floating through the air

I had several post topics come to me this week. Wonderful, witty and reflective types.

And can I remember a single one this morning? NO.

Oh well.

In lieu of that, I give you some random reflections on life.

* I have a co-worker who reminds me of a grown, white Urcle (the nerd kid, remember). While the voice isn't quite so bad, his mannerism and dress style are. He also is very nervous. Three times this week I ended up walking behind him in the hall, and each time he stopped and turned round to see who was behind him. It cracks me up.

* I am still waiting on my order from bareMinerals. I sent the check in February, they cashed it on Feb 21, and I still have no makeup. I think this will be my last order from them. They are slow and unfocused when it comes to shipping out orders, but quick to take your money. I found a webshop that has mineral makeup for much less. I'll try them out soon (I already bought brushes from her at less than 1/2 the price BM sells them, and it's the same exact brush!). Plus the webshop has a slightly better color selection, they have a light olive. Turns out I have light olive skin. We don't know where I get it from, but I have it none the less.

* Dad doesn't have a vehicle that works, so he is driving mine. And since gas shot up 20 cents overnight, that's a problem. Hope he can help refill my tank!

* Last night I went to Old C's with some gals from work. I've never been much for socializing with my co-workers, but there are a few that I actually like. It was fun. I also had a Midori Sour, which I love but rarely indulge in. Mostly because Old C's bought my dinner because it was two minutes late (and the manager asked if he could buy it for me, like I was going to say no!). I ate way too much but it was good.

* Vicky has the giggles this morning. I'm so thankful we got her off that drug that was literally drugging her. This is the sister I know and love.

* My cat, Watson, is driving me up a wall. He's lonely and I know the vet would say to get him a friend, but I don't want any more animals. I do very much want some kitty Valium to calm my cat down as I can't stand to be home with him. He meows constantly and it grates on my nerves. I need peace!!!

Okay, that's about it for today. A small glimpse into my world. Don't be frightened!

lost

I was feeling a bit guilty about not updating recently despite my hectic week. Then I went to do a quick round of visits to blogs I like and found no one has been updating, so I don't feel so bad.

Anywho, my dad finally got moved up to WY and the house is strangely empty. I need to finish up my PC application and submit it soon on top of everything else. And I'm still producing at church for the next few weeks. Looks like the year has no plans to slow down.

Crazy.

Have to keep this short, I need to be in bed by 10 and there is so much to do.

Hope you are all having wonderful, fun filled weeks... post soon!

as requested

A post, just for all you wonderful readers out there. I've been wanting to post all week, but life got the better of me (and I was sick with a weird digestive ailment for two days on top of everything else). But I'm back, and since I'm still awake, you get something to read.

Update on the care package to Kate, the Peace Corps volunteer in Tanzania. She got it today, everything arrived safe and sound, for which me and my pocketbook are eternally grateful for! Here is an excerpt from her email to me this morning:

I got your package this morning and the first thing I thought when I opened it was, "this girl's sent a care package or two before". You're amazing! The kids will be overjoyed with the pencils, as I will be with the mac and cheese and the girly stuff! You're the best. Thank you so much.

So that made my Friday start off well. It's fun to do nice things for people, especially when you haven't really met (we've only emailed). The whole idea that the more you give the more you get has always seemed a bit selfish to me, I like to think it's just better and more fun to give. I'm a sucker for it! And for the record, the girly stuff was a new bath pouf, two small trial sized body washes, and some serious hair conditioner (since she mentioned in one letter home that her hair was a wreck and wouldn't behave). So if you are ever working in a developing nation or just really far from home, let me know, I'd love to send you a care package!

Okay, other than that, I've been keeping busy at work and we are waiting on the diagnosis for Vicky (which comes Monday). I'll post here about that to fill in everyone Monday if there is anything to fill in.

Okay, it's after 1 am and I should be in bed about now (really, I should have been in bed hours ago, but I had stuff to do for church and once started, it is simpler to finish no matter how late). Dad is already snoring away. Speaking of him, he is finally moving!!! The movers come Tuesday, which means I have more stuff to do around here. Unless, of course, I want all my stuff to disappear to WY!

Night now.

so nice

I did a good deed today (which helped me out greatly since my boss decided tonight that I was being a snob, this was my redeeming grace).

When Kate, the gal who is in the Peace Corps in Tanzania, emailed to say the kids love pencils, please send some if you get the urge to do so, I did. I had tried to get her a little something put together at Christmas but failed, so I had two or three other things to send including a few boxes of Mac & Cheese, a bottle of serious hair conditioner and some bottles of body wash, along with a pouf and a Christmas stocking. So this weekend, I go out and buy 5 boxes of pencils for a $1 each and added them to the box.

I finally got around to mailing it this morning.

Turns out mail to Tanzania is NOT cheap.

Twenty-seven dollars not cheap. Almost twenty-eight.

I almost passed out.

But then I remembered the way a child lights up when they get a gift. I saw the faces of the beautiful Tanzanian children that Kate sends and I knew it was worth every red cent to send them the pencils (and Kate the other goodies). I hope they make it there safely.

So, I did my good deed today. Did you??

a love affair

In a rare obeisance to Valentine's Day, I give you this little ditty about my longest affair.

And what, you ask, has captured my heart so? *She laughs as she thinks that you know her oh so little* One word: books.

Yes, those dainty little delightful delicacies of paper and ink. Books. I love them. The way they feel in your hands, the way they smell, the way they stand by quietly and let you laugh and cry at the events they contain. A book is always there for you, waiting, ready to to take you on an adventure. They are just truly loveable.

The first book I remember falling for was The Pokey Little Puppy. It's a Little Golden Book and it was one of the first that I read. I loved that story about the little puppy who went on great adventures and was sad when he went without dessert (but I now realize that he was disobedient and deserved to face the consequences for his actions). I read that book over and over and over. I think it is the reason I had a fascination with getting a dog that only recently evaporated.

Since then it's been one book after another. I spent more time in the elementary school library then I did in the classroom. I read every Nancy Drew mystery they had (and found a few they didn't at garage sales), I read my copy of Little Women ragged. I devoured every book I could get my hands on (including some of the romances my mother had that I probably should not have read, but hey, I was young and none of it made sense at the time).

I discovered the joy of buying and owning books. There was (and still is) something about buying a book that takes my breath away. It's a treasure chest and you don't know what you'll find when you break open the cover, but you know it's going to be something amazing. I remember the days in school when the Scholastic book club flyer came out. I'd pour over it on the way home and tell my mom which ones I wanted. I didn't always get them all, but I usually could swing a few (and they were cheap, wish I could go back and buy more!).

As I mentioned, I read a few books ragged. Little Women, James and the Giant Peach, just to name two. I re-read books. No one every told me I couldn't. I grew up thinking everyone who was anyone (i.e. anyone who is anyone was a reader) re-read books. Why read it in the first place if you weren't going to keep reading it over and over? What a waste of paper to only read it once. It never crossed my mind that people only read books once. Sure, there are a few I've never gone back to, but so many more that I do revisit. They are old friends. I never knew why I went back, per se, but I did.

Then not so long ago I learned that there are people out there who read, they read a lot, but they don't ever re-read a book. Honestly, when I heard this, I about had a full out stroke. The horror! To leave a book after one reading it like leaving the table after the first course of a meal. You may think you are satisfied but you have no idea what you are missing in the following courses.

When I tried to reason with the person who revealed this disturbing fact to me, she thought I was the crazy one to re-read a book. Her thought was, "I've read it, it won't change, why waste time reading it again." I nearly died on the spot. So here is what I told her.

While the words on the page may not change (indeed, they should not), you are not the same person from today to tomorrow from yesterday and therefore you can never read the book the exact same way you did before. And books are more than a stroll through the park on a sunny afternoon. To get their power, to learn their lessons, you have to spend time with them in the dark, in the wee hours of the morning, in the long winter days and chilly spring afternoons. There is no way to catch every offering a book has on one read. And you'll never learn as much about yourself if you limit the experience.

I've ready most of Jane Austen's books five or six times (at least). Every time, I learn something new about Austen, about her characters and about me. Each time I visit with those dear friends of mine, I have changed, I may understand a character more or less, or see eye to eye with the author in a way I couldn't before, because I had not yet grown tall enough as a human being. The same thing happens with all my favorite books. I believe for a book to be really great, it has to pull you back, make you want to read it again, keep looking and digging to find each precious moment, word, look and secret.

The other gal conceded that I had a good point. I challenged her to recall a book she really enjoyed and try reading it again. We'll see if she takes me up on it.

So, that's my great affair, the deep love I hold. If you want to make my head swim and knock me off my feet, forget the jewels, forget candy and even the flowers. Take me to a bookstore and tell me to pick one. Let me wander the isles, soaking in the wonderfulness. Surprize me with a new selection from an old friend or a new voice. I'll love you forever.

pouring

You know the old adage... when it rains... well, that's life for the past few days.

Let me explain (pause) no, takes too long, let me sum up.

I get a call Friday from my worship pastor asking if I'm available to step into the role of producer for "a few weeks" while some of the regular staff are "away". I've had a feeling that this course could happen and likely should happen and I'm in full support of everything (yes, I'm being vague but that is because I won't gossip and I can't be more specific without risking the perception of gossip, so I'm trying to watch what I say here) and of course, I agreed to step up because that's what I'm here for. Not a big deal, but enough to take up a significant amount of time for the next month or so.

Then, I remember that I need to go to my sister's staffing (it's a yearly review where everyone involved in Vicky's care gets together to see how things are going). So I arrange to get off early and go to that today.

Then yesterday I get phone messages from both parents, in one day (which never happens) and they both sound grave and just say "call me as soon as you can". So I finally get a in touch with my dad. He tells me that Vicky's host mom took her to the doctor for a check up on a "rash" she's had on her breast for a while that isn't responding to the antibiotics, and that the only other thing the doctors can think of is that given Vicky's situation, age and medical work-up, there is a good chance that this might be breast cancer.

Add this on top of the fact that we are missing two key people from staff at church due to unresolved issues in their lives, that the wife of another key figure is mysteriously ill and the doctors can't find a diagnosis, and now Vicky may be facing serious health challenges, and I see red flags everywhere. The Evil One is on the warpath.

I'm just wondering if he didn't learn his lesson well enough the last time... he can't win. We are on God's side and that about says it all. So your prayers for everything are appreciated, especially prayers for restoration and health. And somebody send me an umbrella and galoshes if you don't mind.

grasping cotton candy

So, I didn't get a part in the play. I'm half disappointed, half relieved. It means that I may get some sleep this spring (I'm still deprived from the last show) and that I should have time to work on my novel and other pursuits that have been put on hold for a while. But it means I won't be part of that group that is doing the play. I'll miss out on the friendship and bonding, which was part of why I even tried out. Oh well, c'est la vive.

I'm toying with the idea of telling you all about a dream I had week or so ago... can't decide if telling it outloud will make it less wonderful or more so. Right now, I'm thinking some of my readers will understand and take it for what it could be and some will laugh and make it a silly little dream. I don't want it to be a silly little dream so I may keep it under wraps a bit longer.

I got a tape back last week, a tape that had been "missing" for over two years. I had loaned it to a friend who moved and left it with a roommate. Turns out her former roommate and I are both terrible at making contact and I had given it up as lost. A sad thing because it had a very special message on it. But lo and behold, I got an email out of the blue last week saying she found it and wanted to get it back to me. I finally got to listen to it again last night. Made me cry. I had forgotten so much of the message, and even more of it was clear this time (or maybe, less was clear, but they were new parts that had been foggy before, can't tell just yet). I needed to hear it now, I needed it just this week and here it was. Thanks to all who had a part in brining that tape back to me.

I think it's time to go read a book... about a dreamer. I started The Alchemist this weekend and so far it is great. Can't wait to finish it. I have a feeling it is the right book at the right time as well. Anything to pass the waiting hour.

Hope your week is off to a great start. I did my taxes tonight and though I'm not getting as much back as I had hoped, it's still a chunk of money that can help pay for my sponsorships so when I go to PC they are taken care of. Actually, Sandra will be graduating sometime soon so I only have to worry about Karen. Since she's only 5 she had better be around for years to come! I'm not ready for Sandra to go but I know she has all I can give her and more. She has Jesus in her heart and a good head on her shoulders. She's smart, pretty and isn't afraid of life. I love that girl like crazy.

Alright, book time. Go on, curl up with a classic. Tell me about it in the comments...

pins and needles

Waiting.

I'm not good at it.

It sucks, and I mean big time.

Yet it appears to be the thing I do the most of these days. For example, right now, I'm waiting for a call to find out if I'm in the play or not. I'm also waiting for my toes to warm up, waiting for the time when I can leave for Peace Corps, waiting for that special someone to sweep me off my feet. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

I hate it. I feel like life is out there, happening, and I'm stuck in the far lane of traffic, unable to get to the action. I feel the minutes of my life ticking by, fading into oblivion, into a universe that I can't visit. And they are gone, my minutes are gone. My hands are tied against doing anything but waving at the minutes as they traipse out the door. I feel like I should be doing something, anything, but there are walls everywhere and I'm fresh out of dynamite to bust through them.

Ever feel like that? While it's a horrid feeling, it would be nice to know that others feel it too. I keep trying to make the most of each day but when each day is a copy more or less of the day before, you start to wonder what exactly is the point.

What are you waiting for? What holds you back? These are the questions I'm pondering now. Seems like the only thing useful in the waiting is the thinking, as long as I don't do too much of that. I over analyze, I've been told. I'll chew on things until they are unrecognizable fragments of the thoughts they once were. Too much chewing is bad for the heart so I try to keep it to a limit, but the longer I wait, the more I think and the nasty little cycle starts again.

So, I think I'll go read one of my new books and try to not wait for that call. Why I'm anxious about a call that is going to say "thanks but no thanks" I can't quite figure, but I'm trying not to think about that to much.

Farewell. Good night sweet void, please be kind to my minutes as they fly through you tonight.

yeah, yeah

Yes, I'm still alive. Yes, I plan to post. Yes, I'm fine.

Just been a bit busy and then our internet went down at home then I was housesitting for a family with no wireless and no idea how to get logged into their computer, so, I've been "away".

Anywho, I have auditions tonight for the upcoming Spring play at church. If I don't get home too late I'll post more then!

a bit late

Happy New Year!

Yes, I made it to 2006 and I rung in the new year by reading a book. I took pause at midnight to wish my bird and my cat good tidings and then went back to reading.

I'm very sad to report that this year appears to be moving just as faster, or even faster, than 2005 did. I was praying that time would shift down a bit and take the leisurely path to the future, but no such luck. I've been working all week between watching Firefly (!!!!!) and the movies I got from Blockbuster Online (one month free thanks to Papa Johns, so I took it!). Anywho, yes, I'm still here.

I hope to update more often this year but I make no promises. My only resolution is to apply (and be accepted, of course) for Peace Corps. That entails a lot, like paying off my small amount of debt (which means working longer hours to make more money), getting into shape, getting things in order and so on. I'll likely be posting more here about that, so stay tuned.

Well, break is about over and the phones beckon (darn phones), so I'll say adieu for now.

peace and quiet

Well, Christmas is over and all through the house,
the only creatures stirring are my bird and my cat but no mouse.
The family has left, left me in peace!
The new year will start with the company of me.

It's lovely these days, with the gifts all taken
and the tv is silent, not a noise is it makin'.
I love my dear family, don't get me wrong,
but when we are all together its a dance and a song.
My soul longs for quiet, for stillness and rest,
and thankfully now I'm getting the best!

I hope your New Year comes in with a crash,
I'll likely be sleeping avoiding the bash.
Best wishes to you as you start
your next trip round the sun.
I hope it is full of joy and of fun.

I think I'll end this little poem about now.
Hope you enjoyed it, please tell me how!

merry christmas

May your day be filled with joy and love.


Merry Christmas to all, and may God bless us, every one.

seven such things

In lieu of a real post, I give you the Seven Meme. And bonus if anyone can tell me what in the world a meme is.

Seven Things I Want to do Before I Die
1. Visit all seven major continents
2. Publish a book
3. Photograph an elephant and a tiger that are not in a zoo
4. Get married
5. Visit the Holy Land
6. See the Aurora Borealis
7. Have children

Seven Things I Can't Do
1. Cross my eyes
2. Wiggle my ears
3. Blow spit bubbles
4. Speak Spanish
5. Kiss my elbow
6. Understand Greek
7. Make everybody happy

Seven Things I Say Most Often
1. Whatever
2. For the love of Peter, Paul and Mary
3. What's his butt
4. Anywho
5. You're fired
6. Hello, thank you for calling Compassion, this is Sara, how may I help you?
7. You are so adorable

Seven Books I Love (I'm going to cheat a bit here, sorry)
1. All Jane Austen books, especially Persuasion
2. The Lord of the Rings, and all other things by Tolkien
3. Anything by C.S. Lewis, especially the Space Trilogy
4. The Time Quartet by Madeline L'Engle (Wrinkle in Time and the other three)
5. The Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde
6. The Kingdom series by Cynthia Voigt
7. The Pokey Little Puppy, I don't remember the author

Seven Movie I Can Watch Over and Over
1. Thoroughly Modern Millie
2. Lord of the Rings
3. The Green Mile
4. Persuasion
5. 10 Things I Hate About You
6. Serenity
7. The Princess Bride

Seven Places I've Been
1. The top of Pikes Peak , Colorado
2. Macchu Picchu, Peru
3. New York, New York
4. Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
5. Four Corners (Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and Utah meeting)
6. The Biosphere, outside Tucson, Arizona
7. Sand Dunes State Park, Colorado

Seven People I Would Have Liked to Met
1. Mother Teresa
2. My Great-Grandmother Gerritzen
3. C.S. Lewis
4. JRR Tolkien
5. Jane Austen
6. Audrey Hepburn
7. Madeline L'Engle (she's not dead but what are my chances of meeting her??)

beware the germs

Funny the things you notice. As I've thought more and more about joining the Peace Corps, the more I notice the bizarre behavior of my fellow countrymen.

One in particular, a woman I've worked with for years, comes to mind. This woman is one of those people that the vast majority of people would consider slow. She's nice and even sweet but just doesn't catch on or "get it" most of the time. I've never worked closely with her so I don't know her well. Lately, I've seen her in the breakroom a lot.

Every time she comes in, she grabs a napkin from the large stack that sits in a basket next to the sink. She then unfolds it and opens a cupboard, the fridge, turns on the water, etc. She won't touch anything without a napkin.

The funny thing, to me at least, is that the napkin is really no cleaner than anything else in the kitchen. If there are germs on the faucet then they have surly migrated to the stack of napkins only a foot away. People are constantly cooking around those napkins, pawing them to pick up a few, breathing in that general direction.

So what makes those napkins a safe barrier?

I understand OCD and phobias, I know that there are people out there who are seriously afraid of germs. But this woman doesn't quite fit the bill. It's like she heard somewhere about these other people and thought, "Germs are bad, I should take some action," but she didn't grasp the situation fully so her fear is only half-founded. I can't decide if I should point out that the napkins are just as likely to be germ infested as everything else or not. Of course, I'm not going to say anything because her actions are none of my business. If she feels better using a napkin then use the napkin.

Just makes precious little sense to me. Kinda like the other co-worker who insists on using seven paper towels each time she washes her hand. Nevermind that only two of those seven towels absorbs any of the water on her hands, she swears that seven dry better than two.

Ah, America, the land of abundance that has made us stupid. Gotta love it.

****disclaimer: I am in no way wishing to rag on anyone with true OCD or phobias. I know they are real and can be difficult to live with. I'm just noticing all those weird things around us again. So don't take offense, none is meant. Thanks.****

the year of the Grinch

It's December 12th, only 13 days left till Christmas and I'm not in the spirit of things just yet.

It's not for lack of trying. I have bought almost all the presents I'm giving, listened to Christmas carols on the radio, enjoyed the snow and even bought some new lights for the house. But I have no tree, have not hung the lights and the stocking that hangs outside my cube at work makes me want to gag each time I see it. As I pondered my lack of usual Christmas cheer and the cause, I realized that Christmas is no longer Christmas.

You see, there have been Christmas decorations up since before Halloween, Christmas music was playing before Thanksgiving. Stores are bickering over saying Merry Christmas or not and everyone wants me to buy more and more and more.

I think I'm sick of the whole thing.

Christmas is one of my favorite times of year. Not because I get a lot of cool stuff, but because I get to give. And I get to reflect on what has been given to me (and the entire world) in the disguise of a little tiny baby. The whole peace on earth, goodwill towards man resonates deeply with me. That's what I want, truly. More love, more compassion, more grace, and so on.

But what do I get? I get songs about snowmen and reindeer and greedy children who want stuff, about songs saying it's all about spending Christmas with that one hot guy you met last week. I get stores who have Christmas gifts out the wazoo but won't say Merry Christmas. I have neighbors who put up lights a week before Thanksgiving, totally skipping one of the best holiday's this nation has.

So far, I have no presents wrapped (bought, yes, wrapped, no), no tree to decorate, no stocking hung. The spirit of Christmas seems to be missing this year, as if it knew that our nation had deserted it and offered it up on the alter of commerce and profit. So it stayed away.

So, pardon me if I just can't get into the season. Pardon me for wanting something simpler, something truer, something full of joy and love. But don't pardon me for wanting to remember why I celebrate Christmas or for mourning the loss of the meaning of this time. You can call me a grinch if you you want, call me a scrooge, I can take it.

I'm a winner

Yes, a winner. Cheers, applause, money thrown in my general direction, all is accepted here. It took some creative juice to finish a story I hate and validate my word count but I did and it's over and I never have to see that horrid story again.

And now that I've said all that, did I mention I'm a winner?

What this really means for all of you is that you get me back here at the Slinky, ranting and raving, rather than writing about whinny characters (Rachel) and having others cry all the time (wait, that's Rachel again, and sometimes Leah). Anywho, I'm done with that novel, back to writing lovely witty and funny blog posts.

In store for you this month I have a holiday rant (or two, or maybe more), a theory about stupidity, I'm sure I'll have a review of the new Narnia movie (can't wait, can't wait) and who knows what else. I've been saving up my ideas because I was either too tired after writing on my novel (which is done, by the way) or too tired from painting to type them up. But don't fear, the fun loving writer you know is back.

Now if I could just find some Valium (note this is a trademarked name, thus the capital letter) to give to the cat...

I wanna go home

My friend, Miss Pottenger, recently wrote a blog post about home. She concluded that home is where your parents are. While I can respect that (and I always respect her opinion, after all, we are friends and I am fiercely loyal to my friends), I can't agree with it. Her thoughts and writings usually inspire me and this one proved no different. So now I am going to enlighten you to what I think home is. Here we go.

As a child of divorced parents and a product of a broken home, home to me is not where my parents are. As much as I love my parents, they are not my world. They brought me into the world, yes, but I sprouted wings and have flown the nest. I was in high school (senior year) when they split so I had two parents for most of my "childhood", but starting with college, I had two "homes", two places where my parents were. One was brand new, with no history but with my loving father who adored me, the other was the place I had grown up but full of mistrust and anger. Neither place was home.

Then, dad and I moved into a new house. Despite having all my stuff there and living there, it wasn't really home. It was dad's house, not mine. And I was at a time in my life where I longed for my own place, my own home. Yet every attempt to move out ended in disappointment and crushed dreams. So I resigned myself to living in someone else's house and not having my a home to call my very own.

In 2002, while still living with dad, I took a trip. A long trip over an ocean to another country, Peru. Neither parent went with me (after all, I was 24) and no family to speak of around for miles. Just a few co-workers and a bunch of other people loosely connected to me through Compassion, most of whom I had never met.

I stepped off that plane into the arms of my Peruvian friends, into their culture and lives and country.

I had come home.

I felt at peace in Peru. I fell in love with the people, the culture and even some of the food (not the purple corn juice, but they have some good stuff, I promise). I felt my heart had come to a place at rest, a place where I could just be. My spirit felt free and alive. The hotel room and lobby felt more like home to me than the house where I had lived for six years. I never wanted to leave. But I had to go, had to return to the states and the house where my father lived and all my stuff resided. But I felt like I was leaving home when I got on that plane that carried me over the ocean back to my country of birth.

Life went on. I eventually moved out of my dad's house into the basement of a couple from church. While I felt comfortable there it never felt like home. I've since moved back into my dad's house and it's not home either. But in February, when I got to go back to Peru, I got to go home. It felt so perfect getting off the plane, this time I knew where I was going, what to do. And again I felt peace and comfort. The sounds of the drivers honking at night, the windows that don't close because it never rains, the faces of the Peuvian's smiling at me, it all filled me up and consumed me. I had come home, again.

So, home for me can't be where my parents are. My mom lives in a town I've never been to, my dad is moving to another state. Home isn't where you live or even where you go for holidays. For me, home is where my heart finds peace, comfort, rest and familiarity. It's a state of being, not a place. I may find in my future that home is a tiny island nation or an African village. Maybe it's a hut on a river in Asia or in a tiny apartment in Eastern Europe. Home is the feeling that I belong, that I am safe and that I can be myself. Home can happen at dinner with friends, driving along the interstate in the dead of night or in the place where you live. Maybe it's with your parents, your siblings, your spouse or with your pets, but it may not be with anyone in particular. It may not be four walls and a roof, it could be in a smile, in the smell of morning breeze, in the way the sun hits your face as you walk along the road.

That's home.

I wanna go there, badly. But I'm not sure there is a country road that can take me there...