Civic duty
Yesterday I spent a L-O-N-G day taking part in Philly's jury selection process. You sit in a big room with 300 to 400 other city residents and wait to be called to a group to go to a courtroom and wait some more. The lawyers whittle the larger group down to 12 and send the remaining "rejects" to be "recycled." If you're recycled, you go back to the big room and wait some more to be called to a courtroom and inspected by lawyers. When all the judges have as many jurors as they need, the remaining "recycled" folks get to go home. For this wonderful service of waiting for hours and hours, you earn a whopping $9 per day.

All the waiting is indeed dull, though I had reading material and some needlework to keep me occupied. The pool of potential jurors is an interesting cross section of the city's population--slightly more black than white, with a good portion of Latino and a handful of Asians; ages 18 to mid-80s; poor, middle class and rich. It was cool to see first hand the diversity of the city I call home.

The group I was called to was a group of 60. We all knew this must be an unusual case, because most civil trials needed pools of 30 potential jurors, and most criminal trials, 40. It took almost 45 minutes for the court staff to herd such a large group up to the courtroom.

We were seated in the section where observers usually sit. Three men sat at the defendant's table, and one at the prosecution table. The judge swore us in and explained a little about the case and the voir dire (sp?) process. The case, he said, involved murder--intentionally killing with malice of forethought. He pointed out who was sitting at each desk--the defendant and his attorneys and the assistant district attorney. Then the judge said that because Pennsylvania has a death penalty, it might be applied in this case if appropriate.

I got a cold sinking feeling in my stomach. I didn't want to kill the man sitting there. I don't even know him. It felt so creepy. Perhaps if I'd heard the details of the case I would have felt differently. But frankly, the American justice system is badly broken and ultimately unjust because usually only the poor and minorities end up sentenced to death. (The defendant was an African American man.) A truly just punishment has to be fairly applied--even to the rich and powerful.

But my ethical beliefs never came up, because the time commitment to sit on this jury was the bigger problem. The judge estimated the trial would run past my last day of work and into our trip south. I asked to be excused to wrap up at my job, my stomach in knots. Fortunately they excused me and I didn't have to forgo part of our trip, hear how someone's life was lost or send someone to his death.

EEK
There are rodents among us.

Earlier this week, when Joel stayed up late finishing an article, Keats brought him a special treat at about 2 a.m. --a young mouse. Not completely dead either. Joel praised "the mighty hunter" and Keats played with his prey for a while. Now we don't know where the nearly dead creature is. Our only hope is that Keats ate it.

When we were cleaning up after dinner last night, Joel accidently scared one of the adults out of hiding. It scampered across the counter and dove under one of the burners of the gas stove. We think the nest is either behind the stove or in the basement and they use the opening around the gas line to come visit the kitchen.

Keats spent nearly the entire evening crouched in the kitchen, staring at the bottom of the stove, waiting for his prey. It's about time the rascal started earning his keep around here.

Wild about Harry
I haven't been online much the past few weeks because we've spent almost all our spare time reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix aloud. Acutally, Joel reads and I do things like wash dishes, fold laundry and cross stitch. It's more efficient than each of us trying to read silently. And Joel does great voices. His Dolores Umbridge voice is really priceless.

I was really impressed by how well Rowling captures the attitudes, frustrations and obsessions of teenagers. Some of the reviewers were annoyed by the romantic subplots, but in my memory, romance looms pretty large in the mind of the average 15-year-old. Harry's little fits of temper also seem age appropriate. At 15, those first sweet tastes of adult-like competence are heady, and make it all the more aggravating to be reminded that you're still a kid.

Umbridge is perhaps the best villan Rowling has yet conceived. She strikes me as more evil than Voldemort in some ways because her motivation is far more real-world. Nothing like a petty bureaucrat scrambling for position to push far beyond the limits of law, ethics and decency.

Phoenix has some scenes that make you laugh so hard you can't breathe. Great action too. Though now that the kids are older and becoming more competent at spells, the dangerous scenes didn't seem quite as frightening. Frankly, book 4 seemed scarier. This one has a bit more heart.

bq withdrawal
I miss Berek. And I don't just mean his superb dishwashing abilities.

It's just sooooo quiet around here. Meals are pretty subdued now--no stream of chatter about PoMo theories and who said what about whom in blogland. It's weird not hearing a unique mix of opera, 70s pop, country and techno-dance tunes pouring down the stairwell from the third floor.

Claire keeps trying to have raspberry competitions with us. It's a skill bq tried to cultivate in her. :-) That and waving her arm like Eminem.

I mostly feel sad that bq only got to know me when I was totally stressed out and coming apart at the seams.

Mouths of babes
Watching Claire learn to talk is truly fascinating. Several times a day, she becomes quite chatty in her own language. It's like a combination of Swedish, bushman and Chinese. "Pthoga chithpa ee-juh hakimij pekethuch." (That's the best phonetic equivalent I can give.)

She has a few English words now that she uses accurately: da-da, ma-ma, bah (ball), dok (dog), keeh (kitty), ka (cat). When we were at the grocery store the other day, two little boys were playing with some playgound balls for sale at the store. Claire watched them, then said distinctly, "BAH." :-)

I do wonder, however, if we confuse her calling Keats "cat" and "kitty cat" alternately. And is it confusing that both Nicky and her big stuffed Clifford are "dog"? Can a baby really get that one is "real dog" and the other "pretend dog"?

It seems like understanding a category of things is pretty complex thinking. Especially dogs, which vary hugely in size, color and shape. And the dogs she sees are either real, toys, photos or illustrations.

I bet that if I showed her a picture of a horse, she would call that a "dok" too. The only thing she calls "keeh" or "ka" is Keats himself.

Road trip
We're getting pretty excited about our trip to the BH conference in Florida later this summer. We're going to meet and stay with some great people in our travels. One night we're planning to motel it in eastern Alabama, and Joel just booked the room. When he asked about their pet policy, they said, "shue-ur, we tayke pay-ets." Gosh I love hearing "pets" as a two syllable word. :-) I have to remind Joel that when a server asks if you want a Coke, the correct answer is "Yes, I'll have a root beer."

Any other key idioms we Yankees should know about? Rick? Betsy? Sarah?

New path
Well, I've done it. I resigned from my job today. My last day will be July 15. I figured it would be a good idea to give a month's notice instead of the required three weeks since there's no other employer chomping at the bit for me to get started.

I feel slightly light headed. Giving up the salary makes me a bit nervous, but I'm so excited about the prospect of being with Claire all day.

Vegan cookies
I've never tried to cook for someone with dairy and gluten allergies like Annie does (you're heroic!), but I have made Thanksgiving dinner for family members who are vegan. The real trick was coming up with desserts that don't contain eggs or milk. Fruit pies work, of course. Then I remembered this eggless cookie recipe that's a great standby when you realize there are no eggs in the house. It also happens to contain no animal products. (Warning: these are not low fat! (-:)

Swedish Coconut Cookies
2 C margerine
2 C sugar
3 1/4 C flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
2 C shredded coconut
2 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 F. Cream margerine and sugar. Add flour, baking powder and baking soda. Stir in coconut and vanilla. Drop by spoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 10 to 12 minutes. Makes 7 to 8 dozen.

Rainy day treat
I got a craving for an old childhood favorite today, so I whipped up a batch of cookies we used to call "fudgies." My brother and I first had them at our school cafeteria in a small, rural public school in northern Pennsylvania (K-6 and about 160 students). Mom was able to get the recipe from one of the cafeteria ladies.

They take about 15 minutes to make, and no baking required. It's a good recipe for kids to try because it's easy to make and has few ingredients. The cookies look a little like something you'd find in a diaper, but they're a very tasty chocolate/peanut butter treat. The appearance has never kept people from devouring them when I've taken them to parties and church events.

Fudgies
2 C sugar
1/2 C margerine
1/2 C milk
1/3 C unsweetened cocoa powder
3 C rolled oats
1/2 C peanut butter
1 tsp. vanilla extract

Bring sugar, margerine, milk and cocoa to boil in a large saucepan and boil 1 minute. Remove from heat. Quickly stir in oats, peanut butter and vanilla until oats are covered with cocoa mixture. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto waxed paper. Let stand until set. Makes about 4 dozen.

Taste in the disco era
Well, I ruffled a few feathers when I apologized for being a Carpenters fan as a child. Keep in mind that I have older siblings who were in their teens and 20s in this era. I distinctly recall their attitude toward 70s pop is that is was decidedly uncool. Cool people listened to stuff like ELO and Led Zeppelin. Not folksy songs with happy lyrics. Folk was cool only if it was anti-establishment.

So I guess it would be more accurate for me to describe my childhood taste as "uncool" rather than simply "bad." As Sarah pointed out, Karen Carpenter's vocal quality is superior to a majority of pop stars.

If we really want to talk about bad taste in music, well, there's my parents. They were teens during the Swing era and got to jump, jive and wail to all this awesome 40s dance music, only to turn into Muzak afficianados in later adulthood. If you think "The Girl from Ipanema" is bad, you should hear "Thriller" played by a 101 string orchestra. Yikes. (I wish I was kidding. The local "easy listening" station truly did play such a rendition when I was in high school.)

Inci-dental
Yesterday I got my first filling in seven years. Not a bad record considering the number of fillings I've collected so far (like the five I got seven years ago, plus a root canal).

I'd forgotten how surreal it feels to have half your face numb. It amazed me that I could talk to the receptionist after my appointment. And that people didn't point and stare as I walked down the street. I was half afraid to look at my reflection, convinced my head had swollen to twice its normal size on one side.

For an even more surreal dental experience, nothing beats nitrous oxide. Under this disembodying drug, you don't really care that the dentist has his knee on your chest trying to yank out a long-rooted molar. I still think of floating in a drug-induced haze whenever I hear the Carpenters, the cassette I usually chose to listen to through seven professional extractions prior to getting braces at age 11. (Yes, I had atrocious taste in music as a child. I blame my bad taste on the ugly clothes I was forced to wear in the 70s.)

Frail flower
Last year I got just one bloom on my peony because of the dry winter. The second day it was in bloom, a rain storm soaked open, petaly, lone flower. It collapsed under the weight of all the water it caught, then all the petals fell off. The plant's dark, glossy leaves are lovely by themselves, but I was sorely disappointed to lose the flamboyant flower.

Sadly, these enormous, fragrant blooms (they're about 5" in diameter) only seem to last a week at the most, even in the best conditions. This year I was able to rescue my peonies to enjoy indoors before they were decimated by rain. (They opened this morning, and a thunderstorm is in the forecast for tonight.) Here are four of the seven blossoms for the year.





Any green thumbs out there, is it possible to get a second set of blooms on a peony planted in the Mid-Atlantic region, or is this plant "done" for the season?

New heights
Joel beat me to the punch blogging about Claire's latest gross motor skill feat--stair climbing. I don't think it's time to panic yet. First, she only climbed one step. Second, when I tried to get her to repeat the action, she lost interest and crawled away.

I'm just glad that our staircase has so many bends, the most stairs she could tumble down at a time is about eight.

Spam, spam, eggs and spam
I've noticed a disturbing trend. I seem to get a lot of e-mail letters from strangers claiming to be related to some important person in Africa or Asia whose assets are tied up because of a military coup or some other disaster. Only with my help can they save the family fortune, they claim. By helping them move millions of dollars out of their home country to a U.S. bank, they promise me a large cut of the money. All I have to do is provide a bank account number and several other pieces of personal information, or simply up-front cash.

Of course, armed with this information, these strangers can easily siphon thousands from bank accounts. Or they simply take the up-front money and run. From what I've heard, this is an extremely old scam. Entire cottage industries have sprung up around swindling gullible Americans using this type of story. The Internet just makes it cheaper to reach more potential victims.

I'm still trying to figure out how so much of this variety of spam gets past the office firewall to end up in my business e-mail account. I probably get four a week and delete them all.

Taken to task
Multitasking is not for amateurs. My big misadventure for the week happened after a tiring grocery shopping trip, slogging around the store with a cold and sore throat. I'd nearly finished unpacking the groceries when one of my girlfriends called. I chatted away while putting tea on to boil, packing away food items and tidying up.

After making the tea, I noticed the pan under the set of burners needed to be cleaned. So I pulled away the metal grilles from our gas stove with my bare hands. My girlfriend heard a shriek and a crash. Yup, I grabbed one of the grilles over the burner where I'd just boiled water. Good friend to have on the end of the line, this ICU nurse. She talked me through how to care for my burns while I sobbed through the intense pain.

I now have several second-degree burns on my right hand, thankfully none on my finger tips. I have some very interesting blisters, though. The first night was the worst. I slept clutching a re-freezable chill pack for the cooler.

Talking on the phone is dangerous. So just send me e-mail from now on, thanks.

The One
The Matrix: Reloaded. Whoa. Just as intense as I'd expected. Also a lot more confusing. I'm not sure what to make of some of the new plot points, and the multiple new enemies to deal with.

I also wonder how much Cadillac paid to get their cars placed in the freeway chase scene. I mean come on, this is the brand one usually associates with seniors in golf pants driving under the speed limit, not svelte women in leather weaving through traffic at furious speeds dodging bullets.

Anyone with a knowledge of physics, is it really possible when fighting on top of a moving vehicle to land in the same spot after jumping in the air? It seems like the wind drag would put you further back. Yeah, yeah, it's the fake-o land of the Matrix, anything is supposedly possible. But this film requires you to suspend your disbelief an awful lot. The line between, "wow, cool" and "yeah, right" was getting a little thin for me at times.

Definitely worth seeing on the big screen, as long as you have time afterwards to unwind from this adrenaline rush.

La Luna

I saw a lunar eclipse for the first time on Thursday after babysitting for hierogrammate's kids. I can't believe it's taken 34 years to see this fairly common astronomical event. (BTW it was way cool.)

I really need to get out more.

Above and below stairs
Anyone keeping up with the new PBS show "Manor House"? It's a "living history" sort of show styled after "1900 House" and "Frontier House," in which contemporary people step back in time and live for an extended time in another era.

In "Manor House," one family lives "above stairs" in wealth and ease as Edwardians, while a group of volunteers serve them. It's kind of cool that a several of the volunteer servants have relatives who were "in service" and wanted to get an idea of what Granny's or Great Aunt Betty's life was really like.

By episode four, the servants are getting pretty exhausted and the younger ones are really chafing under the conventions of servitude. But interestingly, it's the wealthy unmarried aunt above stairs who becomes so depressed she needs to leave for a while. It was surprising to learn that in some ways, it was probably more fulfilling to be a parlormaid than a rich spinster during this era in terms of feeling like you contribute and matter.

Sabbath reflection

O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder
Consider all the worlds thy hands have made.
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

Then sings my soul, my savior God, to thee;
How great thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my savior God, to thee:
How great thou art, how great thou art!

When through the woods and forest glades I wander
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze:

And when I think that God, his Son not sparing,
Sent him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin:

When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration,
And there proclaim, "My God, how great thou art!"

Back in college when I sang with a music ministry group, I remember visiting a church with an active deaf ministry. This was one of the hymns of the morning. Seeing a whole group of people signing the lyrics made me really hear the words of this piece that always seemed a little flowery. "Then sings my soul..." Even when one can't praise God with one's voice, He hears the song of one's soul. In spite of my "lisping, stammering tongue," every failure and weak muteness, I can yet praise him.

We are amused
When life gets stressful, there's nothing like a little Monty Python. Watching some old episodes last night, I saw another favorite sketch:

(Opening shot: Sports announcer outside metal starting stalls used for horse racing.)

Announcer: Well they're under starter's orders for this very valuable Queen Victoria Handicap. And they're off...

(The starting stall doors fly open; out come eight identically dressed Queen Victorias who go bustling off up the field.)

Announcer: And Queen Victoria got a clean jump off, followed by Queen Victoria, Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria. It's Queen Victoria from Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria. It's Queen Victoria making the early running on the inside. And at the back Queen Victoria already a couple of lengths behind the leaders. Queen Victoria has now moved up to challenge Queen Victoria with Queen Victoria losing ground. Queen Victoria tucked in neatly on the stand side with a clear view. Queen Victoria still the back marker as they approach the halfway mark, but making ground now, suddenly past Queen Victoria with Queen Victoria, Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria still well placed as they approach the first fence.

(A low angle shot as the Queen Victorias appear over the fence and thunder towards the camera.)

Announcer: And at the first fence it's Queen Victoria just ahead of Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria falling away in third place. And Queen Victoria in the lead....

Caged
Claire's latest achievement is pulling herself into a standing position. Now when she wakes from a nap, I find her rattling the sides of her crib as if to say, "set me free, Mama!"

Lone Xylophone redux
I'd wanted to repost one of my earliest blogs that explains where I got the name. Now that the archives have been recovered, here it is...

Lone xylophone, I realize, is a kind of odd name for a blog, and merits explanation...

My sophomore through senior years of high school, I played mallet percussion, an experience that put me in an even more freakish subset of band freaks: girl percussionists. I didn't play something delicate and feminine like a flute or clarinet, but a huge instrument that had to be strapped to my body. I carried sticks and hit things.

Being a girl percussionist is not for wussies. I got to wear a 40-pound marching xylophone through blazing heat, rain, and snow on football fields and several-mile parades in hilly towns. (I only fainted once, during a two mile parade in 98 degree heat in a wool uniform. Fortunately, a parent caught my instrument before I was impaled on the harness.)

My band director decided that the percussion harnesses were ugly, so we had to wear them under our uniforms. It's amazing I ever got a date, wandering around football games with lumpy shoulders, bolts bulging at unnatural places on my chest and a steel bar sticking out by my groin. Of course, with the instrument attached I could do some serious damage if I turned around too fast--and did knock the wind out of a trombonist...

I'll save some of my crazy band days stories for future posts. Suffice it to say, my experiences shaped my imagination in unique ways, and I can hear beauty in hitting things, see dignity in the lumpy but strong.

Archives
It seems that Joel got the archives back up and running.

Richie
The latest issue of re:generation (not online yet, sorry!) has some really powerful stuff in it. (Maybe later in the week I'll pull together my comments on Read Schuchardt's article on Disney.)

Becky Baer Porteous' article "From Race to Taste: Wealth and Status in the Postmodern World," felt a bit like a kick in the teeth in the best possible way (if that makes any sense). She asserts that "having the wealth to consume and display certain sorts of 'taste,' even a taste for packaged ethnic diversity, makes anyone acceptable....In a postmodern world, it's what's over the skin that counts--the surface and the image it sustains." Okay, sounds like a typical anti-materialism story condemning the upper crust, right?

Well, Porteous goes on to describe feeling depressed while living in Zimbabwe, and realizing it came from being separated from home, from being accustomed to "being a wealthy person in a wealth contry, constantly stimulated by color and taste and aroma and touch--by things I coveted and wanted to consume." She comes to the realization that much of her former happiness came from being a white American and that life should be about sharing in Christ's sufferings in the world.

Even if my wardrobe isn't terribly stylish and we drive an older, dented up car, equating hapiness with stuff is still a big problem for me. I'm not at all eager to forgo my plush, comfortable bed and full cupboards to suffer for Christ.

Splot
It is extremely difficult to eat a slice of cantelope (in the rind) with a plastic spoon.

Leaps
Growing up in a Christian family, it's easy to assume that the next generation will simply fall in line behind us. Alas, they have their own struggles. My oldest brother's girls have done both the MK and PK thing. His youngest has had her ups and downs, and my brother and sister-in-law have really struggled to woo her back to Lord when she's drifted away.

Well, my niece is about to embark on a spiritual journey. She's going to India for a few months to serve as a nanny for a missionary couple while their children have school holidays. We got the nicest note from her asking for our prayers as she takes this leap of faith, leaving her comfort zone (among many non-Christian friends at university) to connect with God again. She leaves next Tuesday.

We pray that like the prodigal, she sees her heavenly Father running down the road to meet her.

Thanks, Easter Bunny

Boy, that Easter Bunny sure is smart. He knew that a busy couple with a baby doesn't need candy, we need some help around the house! ;-)

Lacrimosa
As part of our Good Friday observence, we attended a concert put on by the Ama Deus ensemble at the big Catholic cathedral here in Philly. They performed a Gregorian chant setting of the "Stabat Mater," followed by a Verdi setting of the same text. The group also performed a Verdi setting of the "Ave Maria" and Mozart's setting of the "Ave Verum Corpus." Finally, they closed with Mozart's "Requiem."

Sadly, the only piece that was truly outstanding was the chant. And it had nothing to do with the group's virutosity. They set up the orchestra and choir right beneath the dome in the cathedral--the absolutely worst spot acoustically for most classical music. With all of that open space, the sound waves echo and overlap excessively. All the snap of Mozart becomes a muddy mess.

The last time I heard the same group perform Mozart's "Requiem" in a different venue, it I couldn't keep from weeping because of how achingly, powerfully beautiful the music was. This time I wanted to cry for the performers who I knew were doing an equally amazing job that this cavernous cathedral was warping, disorting.

So much for grandiose scenes. We would have had a better auditory fortaste of heaven had the performers been crammed into the choir loft at the back of the church.

No soliciting
I walk past several clumps of Jehovah's Witnesses at the train station the three days a week I commute to the city. Usually these overdressed folks coyly wave their fans of literature and smile. Others -- mostly the older men -- stand around in their tweed and fedoras holding Watchtower magazines like offering plates ready to receive a contribution.

None have approached me yet, but if one did, I'd be heartily tempted to say, "Oh, the Arian heresy, how quaint."

How low can you go
The network execs at Fox must be smoking crack. How else can you explain a show like "The Pitts"? Its central comic concept about a family of accident-prone losers is about as funny as a train wreck. I can't say I've managed to sit through an episode yet. I think I'd rather watch a whole season of "Charles in Charge" reruns than one episode of "The Pitts." The ads for the show are so painful the thirty second exposure makes me want to run from the room and call the nearest psychiatric center to schedule electric shock treatment.

I can't wait to get a new book on tape from the library tomorrow.

Weebles wobble...
J: Your feet look so small in those shoes
M: So you do think I look like a Weeble! (see Friday's post)
J: You're not a Weeble. I'll prove it. Come here and I'll knock you down.

In a mirror darkly
I really hate the full length mirror in the bathroom at work. It makes me look like a Weeble. (Like I didn't have enough body image problems to begin with.) I think the surface might be slightly curved, because my feet look so small and my middle looks so wide compared to my full-length mirror at home. Of course, my mirror at home may merely flatter me into thinking I'm more evenly proportioned.

The other thing we so easily forget about mirrors is that they reflect a backwards image. I remember watching a 20/20 spot about a company that sells mirrors that reflect true. Most people are really freaked out the first time they see themselves unflipped.

We're really accustomed to seeing a distorted, backwards image of ourselves. Even photos lie--they can make you appear 10 pounds heavier than you really are.

We now see God as "but a poor reflection as in a mirror" (I Cor. 13:12 NIV). But we also see ourselves through a glass darkly. Someday we will see Him face-to-face and know Him fully, in the full way He knows us. What a strange and awesome day that will be, when the distortions are removed.

Perhaps we'll also get a glimpse of how our savior and bridegroom sees us as well. How extraordinary it would be to know how I truly look to the only true eyes in the cosmos.

Finding joy with gel pens
I had a big doodle fest last night with some birthday cards and a baby shower card. It started innocently when I wrote "Meredith" on an envelope using sparkly gel pens I got for Christmas. The next thing I know, I'm covering the envelope with elaborate doodles of rattles, moon and stars, a blankie and teddy bear.

It seemed a little like a dam burst. Since taking this job, my creativity has dropped to a trickle. I knew that once I stopped doing graphic design, I'd miss it, but I never expected this. If I didn't have a baby to be home with, I think I'd honestly consider changing jobs soon.

This epiphany felt like another confirmation that leaving this job in the fall to be home (and be creative again!) is the right thing to do.

No big surprise
In Middle Earth, I would be hanging out in Rivendell.


Elvish


To which race of Middle Earth do you belong?
brought to you by Quizilla

I think that going on regular hiking and camping trips with my family to Rickett's Glen State Park, with its miles of mountain trails and amazing waterfalls, has made my soul a little more elvish. While I love Rohan, I'm a bit too timid to really fit in that culture.

What I'm waiting to see among the blog set is someone who comes up Entish. Or Dwarvish.

Making the shift
Yesterday I picked up a copy of Larry Burkett's Women Leaving the Workplace from our church library. I think it's just what I needed: a how-to book on going to one income written from a Christian perspective. It does a good job of balancing the ideas of God's provision and our stewardship. The reason many women don't make it staying home is because of poor planning.

I was encouraged to discover that we've already done all of the right things to make a one-income lifestyle possible. If anyone else is thinking about doing this, here's some of the planning steps Burkett mentions: get out of debt, practice living on one income, cut luxuries, reduce monthly expenses, build a savings cushion, make and stick to a budget.

Our only debt is our mortgage, which we're in the process of refinancing (though we did put 20% down when we bought). We own one car. We don't have cable. We've tried to live one income for basic expenses since we got married, using the second income to get out of debt and build up savings.

The next big challenge is budgeting. I kept a budget when I was single and found it time consuming and tedious. I think I need a simpler system that what I was using. It was good to keep track of what I was spending, but tracking more than a dozen categories made it too complicated. I think this Burkett book has a sample budget system in it, so I'll have to take a look.

Amy Dacyczyn who wrote the Tightwad Gazette books said their family doesn't budget that closely, they simply spend as little as possible on everything to save for larger goals, like paying off the mortgage early and saving for their kids' education (she has 6 kids). I think I agree with her premise that if the system is too complex, you'll give up.

EDT
Well, I survived the week of working weird hours from home (10 a.m. - 7 p.m.) to help with the annual convention out in San Diego. Strangely I didn't hear much from the team while they were out there putting together three daily newspapers. From what my boss said, they were running so far behind most days, they had little time to edit stories.

Today, of course, I'm totally dragging because it's hard to make yourself go to bed early just because the clocks changed. The look on Claire's face when I woke her this morning summed it up: blink, blink, pout, crumple face, howl.

I feel the same way about the first week of daylight saving time.

Changes afoot
I'd been hesitant to blog about this until Joel and I made some more definitive plans, but for now I'll let you know what's in the works. I'm going to leave full time employment, possibly as early as the fall semester (late August), to be full time Mommy and run our household.

Our quality of life has been poor since we've both been working. While sharing the load of running a household is good thing, Joel really does more than his share to enable me to work. This semester would have been totally nasty stress craziness if Berek weren't here helping out around the house. The only reason last fall wasn't so awful was because Joel and I were both working full time simultaneously for only six weeks.

Going down to half our income is a scary prospect, but I can think of dozens of ways we could economize if we had more time. I've already dusted off my old copies of "The Tightwad Gazette" volumes I and II, which in my single days helped me pay off all my school debt while working a low-paying editorial job. I hope that by gradually tightening our belt now, we can adjust our attitudes and continue building up a good-sized savings cushion.

I'd love to hear some words of wisdom from other one-income families. Please share some tips!

Apologies
I've been trying to remove the link to Jim Hart 3000, but blogger won't let me update my template. So I'll warn you now not to click the link. Apparently, the domain has been taken up by a porn site since Jim quit blogging. *cringes with shame*

Unredeemed
I'm disappointed that Chicago won best picture at the Oscars. Joel and I saw it back in February, shortly after I returned from visiting my parents, and I got too busy to blog about it then. At the time it seemed like a waste of a night out with babysitting.

Yes, the costumes and dancing are very flashy and entertaining; yes, the song lyrics are clever. However, the overall plot and themes aren't even remotely redemptive.

You're set up to see fame as a fleeting friend, but none of the characters seem to learn from their mistakes kow towing at the altar of fame. I honestly hoped the Roxie character would be redeemed by her husband's sacrificial love. But no, in Chicago sacrificial love is for "chumps and losers." Bribe, blackmail, perjure and murder all you like if it gets your name up in lights.

Well, that's Chicago. Personally, I'll take Calvary, thanks.

Beauty tips
A friend e-mailed this to me and it seemed blog-worthy.

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his/her fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.

People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone.
Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you will find one at the end of each of your arms.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands; one for helping yourself, and the other for helping others.

--Audrey Hepburn

Babblerama
Claire is just so darned cute. She now has quite a babble repetoire. She says da-da, ma-ma, na-na (for Nicky, of course) and Pft. Her latest is bar-bar. That's for Berek, who can get her to roar with laughter just by smiling at her. He seems to have some innate comic gift. I have to do some concerted tickling to get a laugh out of Claire.

B-U-S-Y
Work is really busy right now. In addition to the monthly magazine, we're also trying to prepare for the big convention next month. We usually publish three daily newspapers for the convention, doing most of the work beforehand so only a few stories need to be written and edited each day on site. The advertising department sold so many ads, we have to do three 24-page issues. Last year the issues were only 16 pages. We've had to generate a lot of new editorial material and it's a lot to slog through.

The one bit of good news is that I don't have to travel to California. The team will e-mail stories to me while I work from home--on California time. Long days, but at least I don't have to leave Claire for 5 days.

For now I'm keeping my eye on the goal--saving all we can so I don't have to work full time forever.

Memories
Last night we met with two other couples from church to lay plans for a new neighborhood Bible study that Joel will be leading. The young couple who plan to host it are newlyweds, just two months past the altar. Their apartment reminded me so much of our first apartment--spacious and boxy and very beige. It even had the undersized fridge like we had. I remember being so excited to have my own fridge that I didn't have so share with two roommates who had staked out particular "territory" and became miffed about sharing space.

Unlike J & A's place, which is in the basement, our first apartment was on the third floor, in a highrise on a hill with a view of the Wissahickon Valley. We had two big picture windows that I liked to look out and watch the trees swaying in the valley below. That hill was also at the intersection of two busy streets. Day and night you could hear the Route 27 bus "talking" and souped-up car stereos thumping out gangsta rap.

The neighbors next door were transplants from Africa who tended to cook not-quite-fresh meat. We often held our breath to get from the elevator to our aparment. But everyone in the building was so friendly, from the priest on the 9th floor, to the two mentally retarded men and their helper on the 6th. It was fun to comiserate with fellow tenants at the train station about the heat that never turned off and, of course, the cockroaches.

We were lucky to have so few roaches for being in a city highrise. But just the same, I never went to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a glass of water. Or if I did, I turned on the kitchen light without looking in the room, waited a minute for the bugs to hide, then went in. Denial is sometimes a necessity.

Despite being a bit crammed with Joel's 6,000 books, we were pretty comfortable there. I definitely learned to be creative with using space. For example, we kept a small freezer in the second bedroom closet and set our bed on an angle so we could hide boxes behind the tall headboard.

Those were the days when Saturdays were all about big pancake breakfasts and cooking shows on public television, not gardening and cleaning 11 rooms. While I love my bigger fridge and owning a washer and dryer, some days I miss that low-maintenance apartment.

But not the gangsta rap. Or the rancid meat smell. Definitely not the roaches.

Whenever I need a laugh...
...I just remember last Friday night, when we took bq to a 76ers basketball game for his pretend birthday (he doesn't have a real birthday until next year). We were quite riled up and punchy after the Sixers beat the Utah Jazz. In our long walk to the parking lot, bq and Joel showed off their best silly walks. I was laughing so hard I almost had an asthma attack.

John Cleese, eat your heart out, bq is next in line to take over the Ministry of Silly Walks.

Good things come to those who wait
I generally frown upon procrastination, as it leads to all sorts of evil like expired coupons, dust elephants and dead houseplants. However, a little dithering on my part really paid off this week. After months of telling myself, "We really should refinance the mortgage," I finally locked in our new mortgage yesterday--at 5.5%. Woo hoo! Our original mortgage was at 8.125%.

Okay, I'm ready for the bad economy to be over now, thanks.

Analyze this
I've sure had some strange dreams lately. Earlier this week I dreamed Saddam Hussein came to our Sunday school class at Tenth. He was dressed in a dapper suit and spoke thickly accented English. Strangely, he was very charming, and even more strangely had dark blue eyes.

I also dreamed that everyone in Philadelpia had suddenly become a chain smoker. Everywhere I went--the office, the train station, the mall--people were hanging around smoking. I think the tirgger for that dream was Berek coming home after class Tuesday smelling like an ashtray. He gets a ride from his prof who smokes in the car.

Ooops
Apparently Valerie is still in the land of the blogging. Every time I checked her blog today, all I got was a nav bar, but it's apparently just a fluke.

Whew. Thanks for helping me bear the blogging load, Valerie!

Avril
OK, I now feel really pressured to keep on blogging something, anything, in the face of so much empty cyperspace. Yet another of my favorite blogs has gone on hiatus.

So, I noticed in Newsweek a fun little blurb on trucker caps, made popular by singer Avril Lavigne. The article commented that only someone so beautiful could get away with such ugly clothes. Frankly, there's a lot I like about Avril's style. She always dresses very modestly, unlike her trampy contemporaries on the pop scene like Britney. I'd definitely prefer that Claire be a tomboy rather than emulate the immodest clothing and behavior of most female teen idols.

I also like the fact that the guys in Avril's videos are clearly her good buddies. They don't leer and ogle and treat the young lady like a mere sex object. Avril and the guys are just friends who enjoy one another's company. (I really can't comment on her music, because I've only heard the two top-40 hits.)

In our sex-saturated society, it's nice to see some plain old buddy-ness among boys and girls. I really enjoyed the different perspective of my male childhood friends, and the chance to occasionally play superheros together and drive toy trucks in the sand.

Some random thoughts on hospitality
I've been thinking about hospitality a lot lately, partly because I promised Sarah that I'd provide some ideas for her essay [book?] on the topic. Then I read some of Rick's posts about hospitality gone awry. So here are some of my musings on the topic of dinner parties.

Hospitality is about giving and putting guests at their ease, making them feel accepted and cherished. When certain rituals, conventions and expectations get in the way of that, you as the host have to just let them go. ("He who covers over an offense promotes love, but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends." -- Proverbs 17:9)

Is is polite for a guest to bring a hostess gift? Yes. Should you expect one? No. Perhaps your dinner guest's gift will be to offer to help with the dishes. Or perhaps your guest has no training in etiquette at all. He or she needs to be gently taught, not humiliated.

Say a guest comes to a group dinner party and seeing the other guests' bottles of wine or desserts, realizes he should have offered to bring something. So he turns to you, the host, saying in great embarrassment, "Oh no. I should have brought something. You must think I'm so rude."

You're centainly not going to put your guest at ease by agreeing that he is incorrigibly rude or by smiling condescendingly at his plight. Give him an out. "My friend, you have brought the best gift, a willing heart. Could you help me fill the water glasses?" (This doesn't mean your guest is obliged to be your servant for the evening. Just give him one or two easy tasks so that he feels he is being a good guest.)

Another way to handle this situation is to ask your guests to bring a specific item when you extend the invitation. Gear your request to the guest. The point is for them to feel comfortable, so don't ask for items that will take a lot of effort or expense to get. For instance, it's best to ask busy guests to bring something they can get at a convenience store--like ice, a few bottles of soda or ice cream. Cash-strapped guests could bring something inexpensive, like a box of tea.

Always say yes when a guest offers to bring something or help. Refusing a gift is a kind of rejection of that person. There's always something that will enhance a meal, even if it's just flavored coffee creamer, a new kind of tea or an ice cream topping. Treat your guest's gift with honor, even if it's something you don't care for. Honor their thoughfulness with kind words.

So what if you didn't think to ask a guest to bring something and she didn't offer either? The guest might surprise you, or she might not. Just be prepared if she brings nothing. Have some extra wine on hand, and a dessert that keeps, like sorbet or ice cream. Move along with your stored items if no food gifts are on offer, thanking God for your guest and for the privilege of serving her. Remember in Jesus's parable about the sheep and goats, when the King says "whatever you did for the least of these brothers of mine, you did it for me" (Matt. 25:40).

Ah, wuv...
Joel is worried. He thinks Claire has a crush on Berek. She stares at him all though meals and seems to have a special smile just for him.

Well, my little princess, he is a bit old for you...I think you need to have teeth before you can think about boyfriends.

Whee!
We are hunkered down for a few days of going nowhere fast. Snow has been falling heavily all day, and we're likely to have 2+ feet of snow before all is said and done.

The groceries are stocked, and we've got several weeks' supply of cat food, dog food and diapers. Of course, we were much too busy this weekend helping my brother move to stock up on disaster supplies, which is okay I guess. Joel mocked me for falling prey to hysteria. OK, mocked is too strong a word. He said this whole campaign reminds him of the "duck and cover" civil defense drills from the 1950s. If there's a biological attack, is plastic over the windows really going to help?

So I'm just going to enjoy some time at home and try to not worry. We're all a bit punchy already from being cooped up. Berek was whining about getting an A- in one of his Whitfield courses and we threatened to throw him out in the snow. Then we ate lots of cheese and crackers, watched a Gilmore Girls rerun, chased Nicky around the house, then Joel and I had a tickle fight. Hee hee. Snow brings out the kid in all of us.

Signs?
Last night I had a very disturbing dream. Joel and Claire and I were living in a house in the country and a tornado was heading straight for our house. I became absolutely hysterical and paralyzed trying to figure out what items to grab before we evacuated.

Then today at work, we received a huge packet of information on disaster preparedness.

Is this some sort of sign that I need to get my act together? Normally, I don't worry to much when the government becomes excessively paranoid, but maybe I should this time. We own no duct tape, have few first aid supplies on hand and our stock of batteries is low. We really, really need to burn some CDs of all the digital Claire photos and locate my birth certificate, too, in case of a normal disaster like a fire.

I hate to admit it, but I'm also seriously thinking about picking up some surgical gloves and masks, as well as fuel for my Coleman camp stove.

Weighty matters
Thanks to the spiffy new virus diet, I'm back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Saturday I wore a pair of jeans I hadn't worn since last February. Of course, these are my "moderately fat" jeans, so I still have some work to do to get back to my pre-engagement weight.

But there's nothing like a little success, however painfully won, to get me psyched up.

Pounds, you are comin' down! Body fat, you are outta here!

Gilmore laughs
I really love the writing on Gilmore Girls. Two days after seeing the new episode, I still chuckle when I remember some of the lines. I especially loved Rory's rant in the hospital: "...And they want me to put on a gown. Those gowns don't close well, you know. I've seen a lot of butts today."

This also cracks me up:
Lorelei to Sherry: Just don't look at the baby too closely until they clean it up, or you might think you gave birth to phlegm.

Better care
The Florida saga continues: Dad is now staying in the skilled nursing facility for a few days. This stomach virus we passed to him made him so dehydrated he blacked out and hit his head (just a bad cut, not a concussion or anything).

I had blacked out the first day I was sick while fixing a bottle for Claire and spilled formula all over the floor, so I can see how he too might pass out.

With some IV fluids he will be on the mend very soon. I feel so guilty, but Mom says he was fairly dehydrated before he got sick. The one medicine he takes requires heavy fluid intake, which he stubbornly refuses to do. She said she's actually glad this happened because it will make the seriousness of drinking enough more clear to him.

Ahh, home...
Joel rescheduled our flight home, so Claire and I flew back from Florida yesterday. Thanks everyone for your prayers, I definitely felt palpably uplifted! We DID get an extra seat for Claire, and only prayer can account for it because a number of standby passengers were squeezed onto the flight. I could just kiss the US Airways staffer in Fort Myers who pulled the strings for us. Aside from a little whineyness, Claire traveled very well this time.

On the plus side, the weather was really, really beautiful the whole time I was there--sunny and in the mid-70s. When I was well, I enjoyed the spa-like elements of their retirement community--the heated pool, jacuzzi, fitness center and trails along the Caloosahatchee River where dolphins frolic.

I helped Mom with organizing and framing pictures of all the grandkids, a project she's been meaning to do for five years. I took Dad shopping for Mom's birthday gift (he unfortunately didn't understand what we were doing) so that she didn't have to buy herself something and pretend he remembered (which he isn't capable of). Dad totally loved having Claire there--he's such a softie anyway, and especially so with babies. Sadly he probably won't remember the visit in a short time, but I hope that when he sees her picture, he at least thinks she looks familiar. I try to not let it get me down, but I hate how dementia has taken my Dad from me, and that neither Joel nor Claire will ever know my other Dad, the smart, funny, gifted, creative, fix-everything guy.

Overall, I think my visit with my folks was like mommy boot camp. I let my poor kid get a horrific ulcerated diaper rash, which scared me a lot. Fortunately it was very treatable and cleared up in a few days. The stomach flu that she and I had Friday and Saturday we then passed on to both of my parents.

My lowest point was Sunday night when I was still feverish, Mom was sick as a dog and Claire had a relapse with vomiting. Rescheduling the flight home made total sense at that point. Dad got sick Monday, so I spend my last morning doing loads and loads of laundry, scrubbing toilets and cleaning stains out of the carpet.

It's good to be home again.

From bad to worse

For all my trying to be aggressive, I still couldn't get an extra seat on the way down to Florida. Because I had a window seat Claire was stuck in dirty diapers for hours on end. She also had several long screaming jags on a very full flight. I just wanted to hide under the seat.

When we finally landed I was able to change her diaper for a second time and saw that she had the worst diaper rash she's ever had. No wonder she was screaming. With a little research we discovered that the rash was a yeast infection and, using an anti-fungal cream, it seems to be clearing up.

Other than the rash we were enjoying our visit, until Friday night when Claire began vomiting. 24-hours later I was hit with the same bug and couldn't keep anything down, not even water. After being up most of the night every hour on the hour, I finally crashed and slept until about 3pm today. I can eat bland foods again, but I dread my plane trip home.

Please pray that Claire and I will be in full health on the trip home and be able to get an extra seat for her on the return flight.

An embarrassment of riches
Well, our childcare for spring is all worked out. Our sitter from the fall wants to continue watching Claire one day a week up until her due date (coincidentally Joel's last day of class). Her neighbor, who we know from our church, wants to watch Claire the other day. Her husband is a pediatrics resident, definitely a plus! And her little girl is about 8 months older than Claire, which will make her a fun playmate.

The most amazing thing is this is the third offer we received. The two others interested in watching Claire were seminary wives who don't live quite as close as Lisa and Kari. (They are about two miles from here--a five minute drive. )

We are rejoicing and praising God for his provision!

I'd better finish packing for my trip to Florida tomorrow. Thanks again, Sarah and others, for your travel with baby tips. I even bought the little travel packs of powdered formula so that I wouldn't freak out the security people who could mistake it for a biological weapon. (Boy do I wish I was kidding. But an airport was closed down when one mom spilled some formula powder, which security thought "might be anthrax." What an insane world we live in.)

Claire-a-rama
For your viewing pleasure, I've added a link to pics of my cute kid under "links."

Finished
I zipped right through The High Flyer yesterday, thanks to being too sick to work. My very congested sinuses kept me in bed all day. I think it's the first time I've taken a sick day and not turned on the TV even once.

All I can say is wow. What a tremendous book. I'm amazed that I'd forgotten so much of the plot after two and a half years. My brain must be getting full of the many plots from all of the novels I read for my three book clubs.

BTW, last week I finished the Philadelphia book that Mayor Street chose for the "One city, one book" program. It's called Price of a Child by Lorene Cary. It's a fascinating look at the Underground Railway and abolitionism. I think it's a somewhat flawed book--charaters are hard to keep straight, and some plot points are sadly underdeveloped. But I did appreciate seeing white abolitionists though the eyes of African Americans--even those painted as "good guys" in our history books were far from saintly.

I'm beginning to realize my own ancestors' culpability, even if they did live in the Midwest and fight in the Union army in the Civil War, because it's likely they bought goods made cheap due to slave labor. Of course, that brings up the perennial question, How effective are boycotts?

Brian and Stacey's Wedding
Congratulations to Brian "barukatash" Davis and his new bride Stacey. We attended their lovely wedding last Saturday, along with fellow bloggers Valerie, Paulo and Daniel. Here are some pics that Joel took.

Suffering withdrawal...
from Susan Howatch. I don't want to work, I want to keep rereading The High Flyer. I'd forgotten how addicting Howatch's books are. February book club, discussing this page turner, will be delicious. :-)

However, I need to edit a yucky article on antibiotic resistance. (Should you use a fluoroquinolone to treat penicilin-resistant strains of Streptococcus pneumoniae that present as meningitis? Ugh. Better order that medical spell checker today.) I also need to keep slogging though a pro bono editing job I'm doing on a friend's first novel. I never saw so many run-on sentences. *sigh*

I'll get back to you soon, Carter Graham, I promise.

Just punishments
There's no doubt that America's penal system needs major reform. The question is, what reforms will really be effective?

I'm often troubled by the fact that our current system does little for victims. How helpful is it to a family who lost a mother to a drunk driver, or life savings to a fradulent broker, to know the perpetrator is sitting in jail at their expense? While I'm not in favor of returning to the O.T. law in its totality (for reasons I won't go into right now), I think we've lost something by not incorporating the biblical use of recompense or retribution.

Our current system is warped in particular ways because two camps have been in a tug of war trying to shape the philosophy of punishment. On one side are those who want criminals to suffer very greatly, and for more to receive the death penalty as a way of deterring crime. On the other side are those who want to reform prisoners and educate them to a better life, as a means of preventing future crimes.

In the meantime, our prisons are bulging. We're neither deterring crime nor putting whole, reformed people on the streets after they serve their time. I'm troubled not only by violent criminals who remain unchanged by having shattered lives, but also by "white collar criminals" who have little remorse for the financial ruin they have brought to others.

I doubt I'm the first to suggest this, but I think it might be a good thing to require criminals to compensate those they harm. As part of passing sentence, a price would be set that the criminal would have to earn during his or her inprisonment. The government would pay that amount to the victim or victims or victim's family, then the prisoner would work to reimburse the government. Not only that, but part of prisoners' wages should go to pay for their food and shelter, and part put in savings to help them start over on the outside (perhaps a 60/30/10 split of wages).

Of course, this would necessitate turning our prisons into houses of industry instead of houses of sloth. Some could become factories, some farms, some providing services like claims processing or groundskeeping. By being productive, prisoners would gain skills without putting excessive financial burdens on taxpayers. And working would give a sense of purpose--an element that's sadly absent in current models of rehabilitating criminals.

Prisoners would be reminded of their debt to those they harmed every time they received a wages statement. Hopefully this would cause them to see their victims as people, feel remorse, and at the same time feel that they are somewhat redeeming the situation.

I don't know that this would be effective in the cases of serial-killer psychopaths. But it might help some other criminals who steal, car-jack, deal drugs, extort, blackmail, commit fraud, rob using guns, burn down buildings, drive drunk and kill due to negligence.

This model may have some serious weaknesses, which you're welcome to point out. But I think the underlying idea of retribution and working prisons is more helpful to prisoners, victims and society that what we currently have.

Partial answer
Thank you everyone who has been praying about our childcare situation. We have a stopgap in place to get us through the next two months, which will buy us more time to find someone more permanent. Our autumn sitter's sister is watching Claire today and will watch her several more times in January and February. However, she's in the process of getting work as a social worker with the city, so once she fills out applications and takes the civil service exam, she expects to get hired and begin her new job.

It's a good situation while it lasts. Claire gets to stay at home and the sitter can earn some extra income until she starts working full time again. Meanwhile, the search continues....

Whew...
I tried following a post-pregnancy workout video last night. Ugh. It was really hard. I am so out of shape. Maybe I should pull out my pregnancy workout video again and try to build up to postpregnancy level. :-)

Still searching…
The semester began today and we still don’t have a solid childcare plan in place. We visited a local daycare center last week and didn’t hate it, but didn’t exactly love it either. Our preference is still for Claire to be in a private home.

We finally have one possible lead, though. Our autumn babysitter’s unemployed sister might be willing to watch Claire the two days a week we need while she job hunts. She’d probably watch Claire at our house, which would cut down our morning frenzy quite a bit.

We’re not “putting all our eggs in one basket,” however. We’ve also done a lot of calling around, posted an ad at church and are even running some ads in local newsletters for Christian moms.

Please pray that we can find the right person. What a blessing it would be to all involved if we could find someone who really needs the extra income.

He’s here!
Berek arrived last Wednesday and started classes today. We’re so glad he’s here. I’m already amazed at what a difference it makes to have an extra set of hands here to help around the house.

Yesterday I actually had the freedom to give a solid chunk of the Lord’s day to ministry. I processed a huge pile of new materials for the church library—something I hadn’t had the energy or time to do since Claire was born. Starting next Sunday, many will begin benefiting from the new books, videos and tapes.

Rum Tum Tugger
Mr. Keats (the wicked kitty) loves very much to go out onto our second-floor roof from our office on the third floor. But he just doesn't get the concept that the seasons change outdoors. Two days ago we got a light snow, but he sat by the door crying to be let out. Out he went, puzzled by this strange, cold, wet white stuff. Less than a minute later he wanted back in.

Today he sat crying by the door again.

"There's still snow out there, Keats," I told him.

Me-OW, Mee-ooow. (Translate: Let me OUT now!)

So I tossed him outside. His paws hit the snow and he immediately scurried back to the door, indignant.

"What had happened to the nice, warm place where I sun myself?" Walnut brain.

An editor's rant
Boy would I love to clobber the genius who got half the country to misuse the term consult. Last I checked, consult meant to seek advice or an opinion. Therefore, consultants to not consult their clients, but rather their clients consult them. Consultants (as well as attorneys, accountants, physicians and other such experts) in fact advise clients for a living. Is this really such a difficult concept?

Just for the fun of it...
I've made up a really pointless quiz. Hey, it's one of those yawner Saturdays in January. The highlight of my day was walking the dog. Ooh boy.

1. What celebrities would you like to host at your home for dinner?
Emma Thompson and Wayne Brady, but not necessarily on the same night. ;-) Emma seems like a deep thinker and Wayne just makes me laugh until my sides ache.

2. If you could have your own TV or radio program, what would the content be?
A half-hour NPR radio program featuring percussion and percussionists :-)

3. If you could have any sci-fi technology at your disposal, what would you choose?
The Star Trek transporter. Never be late, and never pay shipping charges again!

4. If you had sufficient resources to start up a business, what would you do?
Publish a magazine for historic re-enactment weddings

5. If you could be an animal for a day, what would you choose and why?
A Canada goose. I could swim, fly and hang out with lots of friends.

6. When you were a kid, what careers did you aspire to?
A teacher, or a children's book writer like Madeleine L'Engle

7. What things terrified you as a child?
Fire, especially our burner barrell. Also clowns and creepy dolls.

8. What scenarios occur regularly in your dreams?
Chase dreams in which I discover I can fly, scary dreams involving aliens, performance anxiety dreams in which I have to play a band instrument I can't play, and mysterious dreams involving buildings with floor plans that change as you walk around in them

Thought for food
I took a day off yesterday and got the rare opportunity to watch Oprah. The topic was building a weight loss plan that will work for you. “Lose weight” is one of the most common New Year’s resolutions that gets broken within days of January 1.

One of Oprah’s guests recommended getting at the root of why you eat the way you do before starting any program.

So, raise you hand if you are an emotional eater who eats to feel good.

Yup, that’s me. As I wrote in an earlier post, food was my dearest friend when we were having difficulty conceiving.

Ah, but it’s so much worse than that. I realize that I have several other major eating triggers:
--Boredom. It’s very easy to start munching at my desk when my workday is dull.
--Social awkwardness. At parties, I can hide my clumsiness at making small talk by keeping my mouth full.
--Scarcity mentality. This is my biggest Achilles’ heel. My parents grew up during the Depression and instilled the need to never waste anything. As a result, I have a hard time passing up free food when it is on offer.

I’ve made some good progress on overcoming the scarcity mentality the past few months, and did really well steering clear of the piles of goodies all over the office during the holidays. Addressing emotional eating will be the next hurdle.

This leads me to my blog question of the day: What is your favorite pick-me-up, feel-good activity other than eating?

Uh-oh
My brother Jerry (the ELCA pastor) will be rubbing his hands in glee--the denomination selector put me as a Lutheran. Ack. :-)

Here are my results:

1. Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod
2. Evangelical Lutheran Church
3. Church of Christ
4. Episcopal/Anglican Church
5. Presbyterian Church in America/Orthodox Presbyterian Church
6. Reformed Churches
7. Eastern Orthodox Church
8. International Church of Christ
9. Methodist/Weslyian Church
10. Assemblies of God

Not that Lutheranism is so bad, but I find it kind of annoying how hung up they are on their denominational distinctives. I really thought I would come out Episcopal or Reformed Churches as my top choices. If you could kick out the really wacky liberals, the Episcopalians have a lot of good things going for them. I attended a fabulous CRC church when I was taking courses at Michigan State in East Lansing. I'd have more fondness for my current denomination (PCA) if liturgical worship had made any inroads here in Philadelphian Presbyterianism. I'll save that particular gripe for another post. *sigh*

A disclaimer
While I've been blogging for over a year now, I don't think I've waxed theological more than about twice. The primary reason for this is not because I have no opinion, but because I am a big coward.

My husband is a hundred times more articulate than I will ever be regarding matters biblical, theological and philosophical. I've also met some very articulate blogging women like Barb and Sarah, whose opinions usually make me think, "Yeah, that's exactly right." I have a hard time believing I have anything worthwhile to add to the debate.

However, I do have a pretty unique perspective on many theological topics. My religious heritage is extremely mongrel. My mother was raised Roman Catholic, my father, nominal Methodist. My parents have been in six or seven denominations in their 55 years of marriage. I've been in the somewhat schizophrenic Christian Missionary Alliance, the Quaker-offshoot Evangelical Friends, the Southern Baptist Church, the Brethren in Christ, and have even explored Penecostal beliefs before I became involved in the PCA. My oldest brothers are ordained in the Canadian Anglican and Evangelical Lutheran churches. My sister is a charismatic who attends a Willow-Creek-style church and my third brother is a closet Baptist who attends a United Methodist church. Some probably see my backgound as a serious liability, but I think I simply have more colorful baggage than most.

Where has this circuitous route led me? I'm quite keen on liturgy, prayer book, paedobaptism, partial-preterism, and what some call "ecclesiocentrism." I know I have some kindred spirits out there, and some hidden opponents who are likely sharpening their knives right now.

With some serious trepidation, I will be sticking my toe in the pool a little in the coming months, in hopes that rather than lose phalanges to the sharks, the dolphins will invite me in to swim.

For fun
Here's another of my poems, this one previously published in About Such Things, spring 1997 issue.

Gilbert

My friend Gilbert
had the kind of face
you'd see on milk cartons
on rainy Thursday mornings
that puddle in your brain
without a grain of sense
or purpose but dripdrip drip.

Gil played games
that brought down bullies
to less than larger-than-life
lugs we could look in the eye
and not cringe.

Gil's games
made emperors of roaches
and elf queens of
bucktoothed, freckled girls
that are good at math
and can't sing.

Gil thought thoughts
that entered me like
garlic and permeated blood
and lungs and skin,
reeking and lusty of life,
lingering in the pores
for days.

copyright L. J. Webster, 1997

Blogger day
Today Joel and Claire and I drove down to Baltimore for a blogger get together at Valerie's place. It was really an enjoyable time--thanks again, Valerie! In addition to meeting our lovely hostess for the first time, we also met Sarah G. (but not Bailey :-( ), Brian D., Paulo O. and Daniel S. It was the second time I'd met Daniel, but the first time meeting everyone else.

My big surprise was to discover that Sarah and I are nearly the same height. I thought she would be really short after seeing a photo of her and Duane on his site. But no, it's simply the case that Duane is a giant. ;-)

It is kind of a strange experience to meet in person people you've followed online for a while, I must admit. First, it's easy to have a skewed picture of their personalities because the online medium doesn't allow you to experience others' mannerisms, voice tone, etc. that convey so much when we communicate in person. Second, there's a certain level of "I know you, but I don't know you" weirdness to get past. I'm really glad to have had the opportunity, though. I think I will read their blogs differently now, with a genuine voice and face behind each.

Remembering...teen angst
I've been listening to a "best of" Toto collection and it struck me that the tunes I liked best from this group were the really depressing ones. Here's a really uplifing example:

If I had another chance tonight
I'd try to tell you that the things we had were right
Time can erase the love we shared
But it gives me time to realize just how much you cared

Now you're gone, I'm really not the same
I guess I held myself to blame
Time can erase the things we said
But it gives me time to realize that you're the one who's sad

You know I won't hold you back now
The love we had just can't be found
You know I can't hold you back now

Now that I'm alone it gives me time
To think about the years that you were mine
Time can erase the love we shared
But it gives me time to realize just how much you cared

Yeah, it's pretty pedestrian as poetry goes. I often wonder why bleak stuff was so appealing to me as a teen. I wasn't a Goth externally, but I did tend to sit around writing dreck like Winona Rider's character in Beetlejuice..."I am alone. I am so utterly alone."

Ah, but I also really liked Devo, the Dr. Demento radio show and doing extremely weird things like walking with friends around neighborhood streets, with flashlights, in pairs, pretending to be cars. Or breaking into a cemetery to eat pizza with the dead.

Hmm. It must be small town life that makes one alternately depressive and loony.

Post-Christmas slump
The first few days after Christmas with the Garvers is like coming down off of a big sugar high. As one of five kids, I am very unaccustomed to the extravagant gift-giving that goes on with my husband's family on Christmas Eve. By the next day I usually feel as overwhelmed and cranky as any toddler would under the circumstances. I suppose I should have expected as much marrying an only child.

Not that I'm not grateful to be a recipient of his parents' generosity. I just have trouble processing the sensory overload. Our solution to keep Claire on even-keel was to buy her very little ourselves: one book, one toy and two outfits. We gave her the toy Christmas morning. The clothing went quietly into her closet. We inscribed the book and put it in her bookcase. Next year, when she will be more aware of what's going on, I think we'll have to work something out with Joel's folks to spread out the gift opening over several days or something like that.

They certainly do have good taste. Claire got lots and lots of books, some beautiful clothes and the coolest toy ever, Music Blocks. It enables kids to compose music. Each block plays a different musical phrase, and each block can play one of six different instrumental sounds, depending on which side is up. You switch in different base casettes--Bach, Mozart or Jazz, for instance--to get a variety of music phrases and instruments. We were all having a ball playing with it.

Speaking of balls, Nicky surprised us Christmas morning by fetching a kitty tennis ball that Keats got in his stocking. Our previous attempts to teach him to fetch anything had been fruitless. Whenever we threw a ball or stick, he would just look at us, head tilted, as if to say, "Huh? Whatcha doin"?" (Well, he is a husky mix, bred for pulling sleds, not a retreiver.) Wednesday morning, Joel tossed the ball to Keats, and Nicky caught it in mid-air and brought it back. Will wonders never cease?

Let's name baby Horne!
Mark and Jenn are being so hush-hush about their name choices for their fourth child; do you think they've picked something yet? Joel and I were discussing this last night. They need a name for their daughter that will fit with her siblings' names. The boys, Calvin and Nevin, are named after theologians. And Evangeline is a Bible-based name. We also noticed that all three of them have a "V" in their name. So here are some suggestions that we came up with:

Our top choices
Devorah (Deborah)
Geneva
Olivia (peaceful)
Vivian/Vivienne (life, lively)

Second tier
Davita (fem. of David)
Eve
Rivkah (Rebecca)

Names with V that aren't Biblical
Sylvia (forest maiden)
Evelyn (pleasant)
Averill (April)
Ivy
Avery (ruler of elves)

So let's hear your vote. What name would you pick to complete this set: Calvin, Nevin, Evangeline and _______?

Nuptial fashion
Okay gals, after so many requests, here are a few photos from my wedding. Since we don't have a scanner, we took digital photos of photos, so these aren't the best possible quality....



Here I am with my two attendants. All of our dresses are based on the same pattern, an 1809 "Daywear" dress. My sister's (red) sticks to the basic pattern. My matron of honor's dress (green) was modified to be a maternity dress. Sylvia was about 6 months pregnant here. My dress has a collar added, an overskirt of lace, and a cape sort of train with thin straps that went over each arm. The train is based on fashion plates from ladies' magazines of the era.



Here's a photo taken in natural light. You can see the straps to the train in this shot, though they are intended to kind of blend into the bodice of the dress itself.



Here's a back shot of the train. The ribbon roses were a sort of '90s touch I'd seen in bridal magazines. Georgian-era dresses would have just had elaborate trim or braid around all the edges.



Here comes the bride.... Can you tell I am much happier to be here than Dad is? This shot shows off the lace really well. I'd seen a Georgian dress in a museum with nearly this same pattern embroidered on it.



An obligatory cake-cutting shot. Joel and the guys (p-duggie and my brother) wore morning coats, striped pants, vests, ascots and shirts with the collars folded high. It was the closest we could approximate. Authentic menswear of the era would have meant shorter vests and pants that button up to bottom of the ribs.



And here's the infamous check-writing photo. :-)

Two Towers…some initial gut-reactions
Last night, Joel and I got a sitter and went on a real date for our anniversary. We had dinner out and saw the Two Towers.

While the Fellowship of the Ring film exceeded my expectations in every way, I think Two Towers is more of a mixed bag.

First, the positive. The film’s portrayal of evil, of an overwhelming malign will bent on destruction, is unparalleled. In fact, as the Helm’s Deep situation began to unfold, I had to flee to the ladies’ room for a breather. I sat in a stall, crossed myself and recited parts of the Breastplate of St. Patrick, “Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me.…” I clung to Joel’s arm and trembled when the first waves of Orcs attacked Helm’s Deep. It is a terrifying scene in the extreme.

Gimli is just fantastic in this film. He adds a lot of heart and much-needed levity at just the right moments. And Golem is a wonder to behold. He is indeed pitiable and loathesome at the same time—and what a range of emotion and facial expressions from a computer-animated character!

The new heartthrob du jour? Definitely Faramir. He makes Aragorn look like a scruffy ruffian and Eomer, an 80’s metal band flunkie. I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing a whole lot more of him on screen (as in more time, nothing naughty!) :-) Lucky, Lucky Eowyn! Boy is she in for a big treat in the next film.

The Ents…well, they were mostly really cool. When viewed up close, they are every bit the ancient, mighty, crush-everything-in-your-path kind of heroic beings. They just seemed a bit too willowy and fragile when viewed at a distance. In the scene where they ravage Saruman’s stronghold, I kept wavering between, “Yeah! Go Ents, go!” and “Oh, dear, will the poor Ents be okay?”

My big disappointment was Rohan. This is my “most favoritest” part of Middle Earth, and Jackson’s vision didn’t quite measure up to my expectations. In part, that’s because he got Hobbiton so dead-on. Why weren’t the villages, and Edoras in particular, surrounded by herds of grazing horses? These are supposed to be the horse lords! And where are the stables? I was expecting big, elaborate stable complexes in Edoras. Also, the people all seem like a bunch of extras. I didn’t have a sense that there was a cohesive culture, with commerce and other signs of daily life going on in the towns.

My other big hang up was the scene inside the armory at Helm’s Deep when Aragorn and Legolas converse. Suddenly, I’m no longer looking at a green-eyed elf, but Orlando Bloom’s naked brown eyes! What the heck? Why would Jackson the detail guru let Bloom be filmed with the wrong eye color, then let that take make it into the final print? Joel thinks it’s a deliberate gaffe to see if anyone noticed.

Now I have to watch the film again, so see if there are other such gaffes! :-)

Four years ago today...
I head off for my 9 a.m. hair appointment. One hour, 30 hot rollers and 80 hairpins later, my shoulder-length hair is transformed into a lovely array of curls piled on the back of my head. But alas, I now must drive back to the apartment in my headpiece and veil. Why didn't I drag Mom along? Okay, I must be sitting on my veil, because I can't turn my head to check for oncoming traffic. Grr. Okay, through that intersection. Gosh, people are honking and waving as they pass me...

Mom is still pressing her dress when I get back. I'm feeling stir crazy. I haven't packed for the honeymoon yet. Where is that list of phone numbers I gathered for my sis-in-law? Where is the knife and cake server? My engagement ring is dirty! Ack! Ack! Ack!

Mom heads off to collect my sister and niece from a friend's house. Dad helps me load my gown and other items into the car. I expect his usual softie side to come pouring out on the drive into the city, but no, he is clinging to the car's hand grip in white-knuckled terror. "Do you have to drive so fast?" he asks. I'm going 40 mph. Dad hates the city.

Since I'm stuck in the veil, I have to hide from Joel all morning. My matron of honor acts as my spy. When the coast is clear, I head downstairs to dress. I really wanted to help set things up, but friends and relatives shoo me away.

I'm trying to write a check for the caterer with wet nails when the photographer arrives. She snaps a shot of me in this crazy position.

We go up to the sanctuary to start taking photos. When I appear, my friends who make up a little vocal ensemble stop their practice to whistle and hoot. "It's Elizabeth Bennett! No! Emma Woodhouse!" I smile and blush. I do feel just like an Austen heroine in my tafetta, satin and lace, fashioned after an 1809 dress pattern.

I can't wait to see Joel.

At last
I've finally dropped a few more pounds of pregnancy weight after a two month plateau. Just five more pounds to go.

Of course, after that I need address the extra pounds gained from a rigorous round of ice cream therapy for infertility. And yes, thank you, ice cream therapy did work for me! :-)

Holiday greetings
We just finished stuffing and mailing our Christmas cards. We usually include a little holiday newsletter--a tradition I started when I was single. Back then the publication was called "Laurel's Leaves," now it's the "Garver Gazette." We post an expanded version online. Click here to view.

Poor Joel
He's awfully congested. This morning he was singing along with a Christmas CD..."Deh's doh payce dike ohm foh da howwidaze." Hopefully the theraflu will kick in soon.

Template update
I asked Joel to update my blog template so that visitors don't have to scroll down to start reading entries. He decided to "celt-ify" it too by adding the knotwork backgound, since I am a big fan of Irish music. I told him that if he added horseshoes and quill pens among the knots he would just about have me wrapped up. But that would be really ugly. ;-)

Shingles club
Wow, people seem to be coming out in droves to proclaim they have had shingles as a young person. This was once considered an elderly people disease. I wonder if our disinfected, vaccinated world is making us more suceptible to this type of auto-immune problem. I have a genetic predisposition of immune weakness to varicella and zoster. My grandmother had zoster 5 or 6 times in her lifetime.

Anyone in addition to Annie, Mark and me in the shingles club?

A shot or not a shot?
So, President Bush thinks the general public should begin being immunized for smallpox. That sounds like such fun. Aren't you eager to rush to your doctor to be stabbed repeatedly in the arm with a bifurcated needle, then be sick for 2-3 weeks, and possibly get a mild form of the disease?

We're publishing an article on the smallpox vaccine in the magazine I work for. Trying to find illustations was really fun. The CDC has all kinds of pretty photos of people who spread the virus to themselves by scratching the injection site. Tapioca skin. Mmm. Lovely.

I now know I'm in a high risk group for complications from the vaccine because I've already had herpes zoster (shingles) twice, at age 5 and age 26. So I certainly won't be storming my doctor's office to volunteer.

What's your opinion? Get the shot or not?

Labeling laws
I think the obstetricians and pediatricians should get together to develop warning labels for babies:

WARNING
The cute neonate you are about to receive is an effective biological weapon that can and will spread numerous, very contagious, viral and bacterial pathogens to you and members of your immediate family. Kiss and cuddle at your own risk.

Okay, so I'm less than thrilled to be recovering from my second cold in less than three weeks. Joel is also now sick.

Thanks for sharing, Claire. What a giving kid. *sigh*

Another survey
From Valerie

1. Which blogger have you known longest online only?
Jenn H. (Jenn's blog) We started e-mailing over two years ago, before either of us had blogs.

2. Which blogger have you known longest IRL?
Paul D. (Hierogrammate). We met 9 years ago, when I was logistics coordinator on the singles' group retreat committee and he volunteered to help us.

No wait, I've known Jonathan F. (Great Scot) even longer. We met in August 1986, when we were freshmen at Messiah College.

3. Which blogger have you spent the most time with IRL?
Joel (Sacra doctrina)--it's hard to avoid when you're married.

4. Which blogger would you most like to meet IRL (that you haven’t met IRL)?
Jenn (Jenn's blog). She has been a very supportive friend over the past few years. We also went to the same college and have many other things in common.

5. Which blogger do you think has the best blog design?
Joel (Sacra doctrina). I really love the photo. (Probably because I took it. Hee hee.) I really like Kristen's site (In the Shadowlands) too. Nice art, easy to navigate, excellent continuity of design.

6. Which blogger do you like most to argue with?
I'm generally not fond of arguing.

7. Which blogger makes you laugh the most?
Duane (Amber Bach). His humor is very reminiscent of my goofy brother Steve, who kept me laughing through a difficult childhood.

8. Which blogger intimidates you the most?
Emeth (Emeth Hesed Smith). She speaks several languages fluently, knows HTML and is very articulate and accomplished for her young age. I'm also very, very intimidated by SAHMs (though I'm not naming any names), mostly because I worry that they think I am evil for being an employed mom.

9. Which blogger do you most wish would post more often?
Wayne (Carrifex). Ah, but wait, he seems to be making up for lost time now!

10. Which blogger do you most wish would get a comment system?
Jonathan F. (Great Scot). I'd love to ask him questions about his life in Taiwan that he is carefully chronicling.

For Barb: a holiday ditty

(To the tune of "White Christmas")

I'm dreaming of a blood-bay Hanoverian
Who does the horse-ballet, dressage.
In his equine toe-shoes,
He does some smooth moves
And makes the judges gasp in awe.

I'm dreaming of a blood-bay Hanoverian
And as I while away the hours
I yearn for ribbons and trophies and flowers
And the Olympic team relying on my powers.

Just what I need...a stylin' time machine





What's Your Movie Dream Car?

by Auto Glass America

I especially like the idea of never being late again!

Thanks to Valerie for this link.

Travel tips?
Yesterday I bought my plane tickets for Florida. I'm heading south with Claire for my mom's 75th birthday in February. I also want Dad to get a chance to meet Claire while he is still mostly lucid. His dementia is getting pretty bad and I suspect that by spring he will need to move over to the skilled nursing building in their retirement community.

I'm frankly pretty nervous about getting around airports with Claire and her gear by myself. The flight down is nonstop, and I'll have to change planes in Charlotte, N.C. on the way home.

Mom is going to borrow a travel crib and maybe even a car seat. I'm debating whether to take our Metrolite stroller (15 lbs.) or the cheapo umbrella stroller (about 9 lbs.).

Any of you seasoned parents have travel tips for flying with a 5 1/2 month old?

A relative-ly fun Thanksgiving
For the first time in quite a while, I got to see all three of my brothers on a holiday weekend.

We spent Thanksgiving with my brother Jerry in Souderton, Pa., where he pastors a Lutheran Church. The next day we drove to Fredericksburg, Va. to stay a few days with my brother Steve, who is an engineer. Our oldest brother Tom, an Episcopal priest, came up from North Carolina to see us and meet Claire. (Yes, I have brothers named Tom and Jerry. They were born prior to the cartoon, but during the years my parents were into cocktail culture. A Tom and Jerry is apparently a kind of alcoholic punch.)

My niece and nephew, who are 8 and 10, took quite a shine to their new cousin. Claire actually laughed out loud for the first time while there, she had so much fun playing.



A highlight of the trip for me was a visit to Scrapdoodles, a scrapbooker's dream store. I didn't go too hog wild, though it was tempting. I can't wait to play with my new papers, punches and stickers! Anyone want to come babysit so that I can make scrapbooks?

Quiz answers
I patiently waited, but only got 18 takers for my friendship quiz. I closed the quiz this morning. Here are the promised answers.

1. My maiden name is...Webster
That’s right, I’m a genuine D.A.R. My ancestors, which include the colonial governor of Connecticut, have been in America since the 1600s. Lexicographer Noah Webster is a distant cousin. My branch of the family moved steadily west over six generations and eventually settled in Montana.

2. In high school band, I played... Xylophone, bells, chimes, marimba, vibraphone, cymbals and tympani
Thanks to a student teacher who borrowed instruments from his university, I got the opportunity to play the more exotic end of mallet percussion during concert season. I was beginning to learn four mallet technique my senior year.

If you’ve ever watched the percussionists at a band or symphony concert, you know it’s a crazy dance for us, switching among as many as six instruments in one piece of music. Some other instruments in my repertoire include bass drum, cowbell, finger cymbals, tambourine, triangle, claves, cabasa, duck call and brake drum (as in the car part, played with brass mallets).

3. My best subject in high school was…social studies
I won an award at graduation for the highest academic average in this subject. The only Cs I ever received were in phys ed. I never took Latin, and if you recall my post on lab blunders, you'd know chem lab was not my strong suit.

4. In college, my extracurricular activities were...theatre, music ministry and literary magazine
Since I didn’t own an instrument, band wasn’t an option in college. I did, however, keep up the tendency to overextend myself in extracurricular activities.

5. My favorite movie is…Amadeus
Humor, intrigue and fantastic music…who could ask for anything more?

Emma is in my top 10. Waking Life is one of the most incoherent pieces of pseudo-philosophical dreck I've yet endured. Hunt for Red October was ok, but not something I'd watch repeatedly.

6. My favorite author is…Susan Howatch
Her Starbridge novels are totally addicting and her psychological approach is far more readable than Henry James’. (I’m surprised that some of you actually thought I liked trashy Danielle Steele novels. Egads.)

7. What advanced degree do I have? MJ, Master of Journalism
Creative writing was a good guess, since I did study writing at the graduate level at Michigan State for several terms. (It was an MA program, however, not MFA.) I was later able to transfer credits to Temple University’s journalism school.

8. Which denomination was I born into? Christian Missionary Alliance
Most reformed people would be find this denomination odd. For example, I was allowed to take communion without being baptized. And the CMA decided to not take sides in the Calvinist vs. Arminian debate, but ordains pastors of either persuasion.

We attended a Southern Baptist church (not Independent Baptist) when I was in high school. My parents were PCUSA when they initially returned to the church after decades away from the faith. My oldest brother was ordained Canadian Anglican. (He's married to a Canadian. I've never lived in Canada, just visited.)

9. My hometown is...Williamsport, Pa.,onetime “Lumber Capital of the World,” and home of the Little League World Series, which I have never attended. I find baseball very boring.

10. I got married at the ripe old age of...30
Slow and steady wins the race. Joel and I met in 1995. We were friends for a year, dated for a year, were engaged for a year, then married in December 1998.