Found in the files
...Poem written as an undergraduate and heavily revised about six years later

Nothing Worth Mentioning

November house on the road to nowhere
its rusted sign for vacancy
a Northstar to compassless
young people chasing every nightmare
they never bothered mentioning.
Nine volt voices grow static
in the crackle snip snap darkness
while endlessly rehearsing
the first six verses of nothing
new under the sun.

Old people stare out of sightless
eyes at nothing--
well, nothing worth mentioning
in asphalt forests where everything
falls without sound.
Rocking chairs wear ruts
like the Oregon Trail acorss
front porches, in living rooms
with insomniac zombies
drunk on the late, late, late show.

November house on the road to nowhere
beckons with echoed chantings
and captivates fading consciousness
that comprehends
only a sinuous cycle of
death and life a single cry.
Winnowed minds gone amoebic
flinch dark flinch bright
to the shifting light of a mythic lie
and Carl Jung, a macabre-masked face,
dances around the pyre.

Teen reading
We are planning to run a summer reading contest at our church library for kids and teens. We hope to increase use of the library through this event. To really do that, however, we need to have adequate materials for our young patrons to check out.

With the under 12 set, we have a pretty big collection, including some large series like Trailblazers, Sugar Creek Gang, Mandie, Heroes of the Faith. What concerns me is how little fiction we have for teens.

I don't want to fill the shelves with nothing but Christianized romance novels. I know we can reorganzie materials a little and point teens to some of the general fiction, which includes authors like George MacDonald, Stephen Lawhead, Walter Wangerin, Jan Karon, J.R.R. Tolkein and Charles Williams. Is there any other good fiction that's appropriate for 12-16 year olds that would be good to add to our collection?

I've begun compiling a list of books that kids could get from the public library that are not so explicitly Christian but still good. They include selected works from authors like Katherine Paterson and Madeline L'Engle. Suggestions for this list would also be appreciated.

Kimmel
Our free dress rehearsal concert on Monday, May 17 starts at 7 p.m. Doors open at 6:30 and it's general seating, so arrive early for best seats. The Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts is at the corner of Broad and Spruce streets in Philadelphia; we will be in Verizon Hall.

Choral life
Choir rehearsals have been much more intense lately. We're gearing up for our church's big 175th anniversary concert at the Kimmel Center on May 18.

One of the pieces we're singing was commissioned from Philadelphia composer Kile Smith, who has a pretty extensive repertoire of sacred music under his belt. Using Psalm 46 as the text, the piece has lots of syncopation and modernist harmonics--reminds me somewhat of Arvo Pärt. It splits into as many as 10 parts in places. Tough stuff to learn, but as we hammer out pitches and rhythms, it's really growing on me.

The concert itself is free, though all of the seats "sold out" months ago. Therefore, our director is opening the dress rehearsal to the public. If anyone is in or near the Philly area, you're welcome to come to Verizon Hall at the Kimmel Center to hear us on Monday, May 17. I'll post the time as soon as I find out.

Great tease
Claire's early fascination with the potty--opening and closing the lid, pretend play with seating and wiping her teddy bears--has gone to the next level. Over the weekend she successfully used the potty for the first time. I think it's really just a big tease though. She hasn't shown the signs of being physiologically ready, despite her emotional eagerness to be a big girl.

Now that I think about it, of the nearly 100 kids I've worked with in the church toddler room over the years, only one potty trained before age 2. I really don't expect to be out of diaper land any time soon.

Truncated violin
Last night we watched a video of The Red Violin, which we'd checked out of the library. Unfortunately, in one of the scenes the tape got weird--possibly because of a repaired rip--and we're not entirely sure what happened.

Has anyone who has seen this film remember what happens near the end of the segment with the 19th century virtuoso Frederick Pope? At one moment, his author girlfriend is returning from a research trip to Russia, the next thing we see, she pulls a gun on Pope, fires a shot and the violin flies up in the air. Then a voiceover of Pope says he plans to commit suicide and leave his estate to the girlfriend.

Can someone explain what's missing and why the girlfriend pulled out the gun? I'm sure it's important to understanding the plot. Thanks!

Junior chefs
It's occasionally worth making a special trip to the ritzy Main Line just to hit the thrift shops where the well-heeled dump their "junk." Some of these places' "thrift store prices" seem like delusions of grandeur, but I've occassionally scored some serious bargains.

Over the weekend I found a big Fisher Price play kitchen for a mere $5. It's not in mint condition, but I can live with no microwave door for such a great price. A similar used toy was on eBay for $30. Play kitchens sell for $40 to $120 new.

Seeing Claire enjoy the new toy got me thinking about my childhood play kitchen. Aside from a plastic and a ceramic tea set and some baking pans that were new, all of it was handed-down stuff. Some of the furniture and utensils came from my much-older sister (1950s toys), others were frankly "extreme hand-me-downs" from my mother. I played with Mom's 1930s all-metal stove, and iron that at one point could actually be used to press doll clothes, and a well-constructed dish hutch with an enameled steel countertop.

When I got a Holly Hobby Easy Bake oven for my 8th birthday, I didn't like it nearly as well as Mom's old toy stove. For all its attempt at charm, the plastic 1970's faux potbellied stove just wasn't as cute or imaginatively functional. Mom's stove was made from tin, had curvy legs, two little burners and an oven door that opened and closed. When Mom was little she could plug in the stove and, I suppose, bake tiny cakes in it. Someone had removed the cord at some point in the 40 years before it became mine.

Today's toys are safer. No one today would think of giving a child a working iron as a toy, for example. I really don't think they're very well made, however. Plastic cleans well, but wood, steel and tin can last for generations.

Despite being made from cheaper materials, today's toys are so expensive because they come with so many bells and whistles that seem to discourage imagination rather than encourage it. I read a number of reviews on the amazon-toys R us site in which parents complained about toy kitchens being "bossy" and telling the child how to play. Many said they removed the batteries so their kids would actually enjoy the toy. Imagine paying $120 for something, then disabling the most expensive component. That's not my idea of intelligent design.

In the name of the Telly, and the Ernie...
Teaching catechism to the under-two set does present some unique challenges. Toddlers' short attention span and tendency to fixate on a favorite thing, for example, can frustrate many a well-intentioned parent.

Here's how a session went at our house:

Joel: Claire, who made you?

Claire: Elmo

Seriously, though, we are planning to use the PCUSA catechism "Belonging to God" rather than the "Catechism for Young Children" that the PCA uses. This is largely because it uses more concrete language and does a good job of explaining salvation history in a straightforward way. We also like the way it personalizes the material, placing the child in the story of salvation and the church, rather than stating fairly abstract theological ideas.

Sprouts
The lettuce and peas have germinated! Cool. If nothing else, I can have pea salad this summer.

Time to sow
I've just started my seedlings for what I hope to be a more bountiful garden than last year. I know logically that the seeds will take over a week to germinate, but I can't seem to resist peeking at them every day.

I remember some of my earliest gardening endeavors working with my mom. She kept an enormous vegetable garden, as well as an herb garden and a big, scary raspberry patch. I knew that winter was nearly over when mom planned an outing to the agriculture center. There she picked up envelopes of seeds--some lumpy with promise, others suspiciously lightweight. I loved exploring the store and discovering that Purina made not only Cat Chow, like I fed our tangle of barncats, but also Rabbit Chow and Goat Chow.

It was always a thrill to watch the first signs of life from those hard seeds--one leaf, then two, poking up from the soil. How tender the tiny new plants were. I hated the scary week or so that the plants sat in the cold frame adjusting to the outdoors and "hardening off." Many wouldn't survive the ordeal. But those that did were soon lined up like soldiers in their new soil homes under mom's watchful eye.

I never have and never will like the weeding and mosquitos of midsummer, but I'm still captivated by spring's small magic waiting in a little pack of seeds.

Super puzzler
Okay, I really need some help with this one. We have a lovely knife set crafted from an unpronounceable metal. Anyone wager a guess on how to pronounce Molybdenum?

Puzzles
Dear readers, I'm ashamed that I've had so little to blog about. So it's time to crack out some of the lint that has been gathering in my brain.

Questions that puzzle me:

* Whatever happened to Michael Dukakis?

* Why do the media talk about "sex abuse" and "terror attacks" instead of "sexual abuse" and "terrorist attacks"?

* What were the parents of famous cellist Mr. Ma thinking when they named their son "Yo Yo"?

* Why isn't lamb more readily available in American supermarkets?

* Why does the crew that replaced our water mains spend only two hours a day repairing the street they tore up?

* Is low-carb ice cream really as disgusting as it sounds?

More mysterious toddler behavior deciphered
Last night Claire had a huge meltdown when we tried to feed her dinner. A dinner guest was due to arrive and we figured our little one wouldn't want to postpone eating until the guest came. I sat her at the kitchen counter and started doling out food. She instantly became insensed, screaming and hurling food at us. She was freaking out so bad I thought she was going to vomit.

I pulled her out of the high chair and took her to the dining room to give her more space to have her tantrum. The screaming and gagging continued for several minutes. I tried holding her and that calmed her down. Finally, we moved to the living room and I read her a book as her post-crying hiccups abated.

She played until our guest arrived, then showed interest in eating in the dining room with us. Eventually she ate happily in her booster seat, the guest none the wiser about her previous outburst.

Tonight she again threw a fit over dinner. When Joel and I sat down to eat, I put Claire in her booster seat in the dining room, attached the tray and put a bowl of food in front of her. Again, she angrily threw food, cried, screamed and gagged.

We let her down, figuring she wasn't ready to eat yet. After a prolonged jag of kicking and crying, she calmed down and showed interest in eating. I put her in the booster seat, no problem. Then I attached the tray. More screaming and food throwing, then she kicked off the tray. I looked at Joel in exasperation. A look of sudden inspiration flashed across his face.

"Honey, do you want to sit close to the table with Mommy and Daddy?" he asked, pulling her booster seat up to the table.

The tears instantly stopped. I pulled a placemat out and put it under her bowl. She very happily ate, proudly practicing with her toddler fork.

All she really wanted was to eat at the table like she'd seen her little friend Ezra do at our playdate Wednesday morning. The fact that she'd pointed to the booster seat on Wednesday evening and said "Ezra" (okay, she calls him "Yeah-ruh") didn't mean much to me at the time. Now I realize she was trying to tell me she wanted to emulate how he eats.

Joel says it was the tray kicking that finally cued him in. He figured these tantrums were caused by simple frustration. She wanted something and couldn't get us to understand what that desire was.

I think we'd better brace ourselves for a whole lot of "I do it myself" in the coming months.

A new voice
As the pediatrician predicted earlier this week, Claire began the odyssey into sentences. As a parent, you always dream that your child's first sentence will be something charming and sweet like "I love you" or "me hug mommy."

Yesterday, we learned that the tyrrany of desire is what really takes precedence in learning to communicate. Not much enjoying what was on offer for dinner, Claire angrily yelled "I WANT NANNY [banana]!"

Sigh. Someday I'll rate higher than fruit.

Rogue patrons, beware...
Putting the final touches on our annual report for the church library with our co-librarians, Joel and I started brainstorming ideas to deal with the perennial problem of overdues. The idea of advertising an "amnesty month" seemed appealing. We don't charge fines, so that's not really the issue. It's more that patrons are ashamed of having held onto something that belongs to the church for ages.

So it's getting late as we talk about this, and Joel is becoming more punchy by the minute. "Forget amnesty, we're too soft on these booksnatchers," he says. "You want the library books back? This is what we announce." [with appologies to Pres. Bush's Iraqi Freedom speechwriters]

NO MORE FRIKKIN LIBRARY AMNESTY
My fellow Tenth members, at this hour, diaconal forces are in the early stages of library operations to retrieve overdue books, to free them their borrowers and to defend us from this grave danger.

On my orders, diaconal forces have begun striking selected targets of library importance to undermine overdue borrower’s ability to retain books. These are opening stages of what will be a broad and concerted campaign. More than 35 ministries are giving crucial support -- from the use of office space, to help with intelligence and logistics, to the deployment of diaconal units. Every ministry in this coalition has chosen to bear the duty and share the honor of serving in our common library defense.

To all the men and women of the diaconate now in people’s homes, the peace of a troubled library and the hopes of an oppressed congregation now depend on you. That trust is well placed.

The enemies you confront will come to know your skill and bravery. The books you liberate will witness the honorable and decent spirit of the Tenth diaconate. In this conflict, Tenth faces an enemy who has no regard for conventions of book-borrowing or rules of book-return.

I want the members of Tenth and all the world to know that diaconal forces will make every effort to spare innocent civilians from harm.

Our church enters this conflict reluctantly -- yet, our purpose is sure. The people of Tenth and our friends and allies will not live at the mercy of outlaw library patrons that threaten the peace with wanton disregard for our return policy.

Now that conflict has come, the only way to limit its duration is to apply decisive force. And I assure you, this will not be a campaign of half measures, and we will accept no outcome but victory.

My fellow Tenth members, the dangers to our library and our church will be overcome. We will pass through this time of peril and carry on the work of peace. We will defend our collection. We will bring freedom to our books and we will prevail.

May God bless our library and all who defend her.

Stargazing
I was a little disappointed that only some of the cast of Return of the King attended the Oscars. I would have liked to see David Wenham again. And Bernard Hill.

I think on screen, David Wenham is better looking than Sean Bean, or at least looks far better in a wig. Sean Bean is perhaps better looking in real life. He's kind of old though.

Okay, here's my true confession. I have Faramir wallpaper on my computer. Really, it's the character that I like, largely as portrayed in the books. When I boot up, I do this little chant-- "Fair-a-mir! Fair-a-mir!"--and Joel glowers at me.

LOL, I can hear the lectures now about what a bad wife I am....

Springy
What a wonderful gift to get a little sip of spring today. Our dog Nicky (or as Claire says, "Gicky") and I took a nice long stroll in the woods this afternoon, squishing in mud from a final melt and enjoying the sunny low-60s weather. Odd how 60s weather felt so cold in Florida a few weeks ago, while here it feels like a heat wave.

It did my heart good to see a patch of wild snowdrops while letting Nicky take a big slurpy drink from a little spring-fed rivulet that feeds into the creek.

It's nearly time to start seedlings inside. Mmm seed shopping...Peas, zucchini, bell peppers, and if I'm really brave, tomatoes.

Is there some sort of secret, all you green thumbs, to starting tomatoes from seed? My two prior attempts were total failures.

Tripping
Yesterday morning, I let Claire watch a little kids' programming on PBS while I organized laundry. When I returned to the room, she was sitting on the couch completely mesmerized by this very, very strange program called "Boohbah."

Boohbah makes Teletubbies look like Shakespeare. I really think you need to be under age 2 or a drug user to fully appreciate it. Almost no talking occurs during the program. For a good portion of the show, a glowing ball with a rainbow trail bounces around while children's voices say "Booh-bah" repeatedly and giggle.

The ball eventually lands and these five freaky creatures come out. They have turtle-like retractable kewpie-doll heads--but no mouth or nose--and bulbous bodies in rainbow shades. These creatures would have been the stuff of nightmares for me as a kid. They never, ever talk. They just roll their eyes from side to side with a clicking sound. Creepy. They do occasionally squeak and sing five-note chords. And they dance a lot. In fact, about all they do is dance. How children are supposed to learn anything from watching these singing rainbow freaks gyrate and sway is a total mystery to me.

One segment of the show has normal humans who do stuff--with minimal talking. The episode I saw, Grandpapa and dog Fido race back and forth between two armchairs. Fido always gets to sit while Grandpapa is repeatedly perplexed. Long, boring and stupid.

The Boohbahs dance again for a while, then climb back into the ball. The ball bounces along with its rainbow trail, then hits the ground and creates a rainbow puddle when a child's voice calls "Look what I can do." Next we get to watch a child do some repetitive motion (e.g. touching elbows to knees) for like three minutes straight while standing on the rainbow puddle. And then a group for another three minutes, then another lone kid for yet another three minutes. Mesmerizingly dull.

Please, PBS, bring back "The Electric Company" and ditch this British bad trip.

Ahhh
The banquet last Friday was a big success. Around 130 ladies attended. The food was better than I've had at many wedding receptions, for a fraction of the cost. Nothing but raves from these women church leaders during and after. The ladies loved our theme of "You are a treasure." I was a little worried that naming the tables after gemstones might seem a little hokey, but it actually did work out to be kind of nice. The centerpieces were gold-painted boxes with rose arrangements and jewelry spilling out. In candlelight, the effect was quite lovely.

Saturday I was pretty wasted and napped away the entire afternoon. Sunday and Monday, the fog of fatigue gradually lifted.

I have my life back again.

Now what do I have to look forward to?

I need another project.

Nuts in the family tree
Part of the reason I'd wanted to go the Ringling Museum last week was to find information about my great grandfather. Like the old cliche, he actually did run off and join the circus.

Well, technically he started in a Wild West show. Mom has very little information because he was something of a verboten topic when she was growing up. You see, my great grandad left my nana in 1903 with a three-year-old (my grandmother) and an infant (Great Uncle Bob). Though he had primarily worked as a tailor, great grandad was a horse enthusiast and loved training animals. He initially ran off to work as a horse trainer in a Vaudeville-era Wild West show.

What happened with his career over the next 20+ years is something of a mystery. We know that after divorcing my nana, he married a trick rider. She apparently kept up a correspondence with Great Uncle Bob's family. In one postcard, dated 1929, this second wife mentions having dinner with the Ringlings at their mansion in Sarasota and being glad they joined Ringling Bros. Circus in 1928.

The only thing Mom and I found at the circus museum was a 1929 series of headshots of all the circus employees. We spend about a half hour poring over the somewhat grainy shots and narrowed it down to one man who looked most like the photos we had of great grandad.

Mom had chatted with an archivist from the museum before I went down and did get a little more information about his life before Ringling Bros. The archivist uncovered a mid-1920's playbill from a smaller family-owned circus that listed great grandad and his second wife. Surprisingly, she was not merely a bareback rider, but also a trainer of "liberty horses" (riderless animals that perform to whip cues). Great grandad had an act called "football horses." I'm hoping to discover more from the links provided by the nice Ringling Museum archivist.

For now, I know for sure that I have horses in the blood! :-)

Banquet
Banquet details are falling into place for our event next weekend. The caterer has been very, very chatty on the phone, but aside from talking my ear off, he has been no problem at all to work with. My decorating ideas finally gelled and I started purchasing what I need.

The only big concern now is the fact that over 100 invitees have not sent back their RSVP postcard. Responses are due by Friday, so I hope we hear from these folks!

Out of place
My mom and I drove up to Sarasota for Thursday and Friday to visit my former piano teacher and see the Ringling Museum.

We took Donna out to a restaurant she recommended, Dutch Heritage. To my surprise, the place was run by Mennonites, and nearly half of the clientele was Mennonite. It seemed really incongruous to see men in black suspenders and mustache-less beards with wives in cape dresses and starched bonnets walking among the palm trees. They seem more "right" back in Pennsylvania living in rich farmland and rolling hills.

I never would have guessed that Sarasota, home to winter quarters for the circus, would have a substantial community of conservative Mennonites. You try to get away, and home comes to you!

Migration
Tomorrow I hope to banish my blahs by flying to see my mom in Florida. You'd think with a trip south to look forward to, I wouldn't have been so mopey the past month.

The best part of this trip--and simultaneously one of the harder aspects--is that I get to go BY MYSELF. Yup. You heard me right. My wonderful husband said that I deserve a real vacation and that we should be able to find babysitting for a few days.

So Claire will be spending time with her grammy and two of my girlfriends the three days Joel is teaching and I'm away (all free! how cool is that?). He'll get to experience single parenting over the weekend. I did it for two weeks when my father got sick, so I know it won't be the easiest time for him. Fortunately, he gets to be single parent in his own home, rather than away from home.

Now I just need to figure out where I stored my swimsuit for the winter....

Blahs
Anyone else out there feeling it? You know, the winter blahs? It keeps me from blogging. Really. I'm reading a couple of great books right now, but I feel too blah to blog about them. And Claire is being so cute, but do I write that? Nah.

January is one of those months when I most doubt that I have anything worthwhile to post. So how do I get unstuck?

AWOL
I think I have been AWOL far more often than online the past month. This is mostly because I began a new project at church.

Our women's ministry is holding a banquet for women ministry leaders in February. When I'd agreed to chair the banquet committee back in September, I had no idea how much had to be hammered out behind the scenes for me to even get started. It has been a real learning experience for everyone involved.

Making a guest list for such an event was frankly a scary process. I was initially given a list of 300 guests, which would be approximately half of all women who attend or are members of the church. We have neither the seating capacity or budget to feed such a large group, so we had to start removing names. I just pray our decisions were wise and won't end up fostering a lot of bad feelings in the church.

It was a lot of fun to do graphic design work again. I think the invitations I created turned out quite nice and happily came in under budget. While I normally would have preferred starting the project months ago, I am now thankful that I didn't have this on my plate right after my father's death. The time pressure helped us avoid dawdling on decisons like paper color and the like.

Next I have to nail down details with the caterer. I'd appreciate prayers about this aspect because this person has a reputation of being tricky to work with. I have some absolutely delightful women on my committee who are happy to go to bat for me if I feel at all frustrated with the caterer, so that gives me hope for an overall good experience.

Sickly holidays
I've been pretty busy since we returned from our trip to visit family last week. It was nice to see my siblings, though under less than ideal conditions. Claire started running a fever on our drive down. After fighting through some pretty nasty traffic around Washington DC, Joel began to feel run down too.

When we arrived at my brother's house, both of them were feeling lousy. We began Claire on a 2-hour rotation between Tylenol and Motrin. A little Simply Cough helped her get to sleep. When Joel hit the hay for the night, he had the chills so bad I piled three quilts on him and he was still shivering. Claire woke every three hours throughout the night burning up with fever and screaming for "mommy, mommy, mommy."

Sunday morning my sister-in-law called around and found us an urgent care center that had Sunday hours. I had to do some hoop jumping with the insurance company to get approval for the visits. The urgent care center was fortunately not too busy. A nurse practitioner diagnosed Claire with an ear infection and Joel with a viral respiratory infection. We got prescriptions for both.

Within about 24 hours of starting antibiotics, Claire's fever finally broke and she became much more her usual self. Joel improved with lots of rest, which disappointed my nephew greatly (he wanted Uncle Joel to play soccer in the yard).

How I managed to escape illness is frankly a miracle. I'm asthmatic and very susceptible to respiratory infections. Perhaps my long illness in December gave me immunity.

Tuesday we continued south to visit another of my brothers in North Carolina. Two of my oldest nieces were there and it was fun to visit with them. Both are in their 20s and closer to me in age than most of my siblings.

They threw a New Year's party with 30 or so guests, most in their 50s. My sister-in-law warned beforehand that no one would stay until midnight. How well she knows her friends! Several asked if we could "call midnight at eleven." LOL! So, we toasted "Newfie New Year" at Newfoundland midnight. The guests promptly departed and we had all evidence of the party cleaned up before EST midnight, giving us time for a quieter family toast.

The drive home was clear sailing. If you ever have to take nasty Route 95 around Washington, New Year's Day (and Christmas Day as well) is a good time to do it. We made it from Wilson, NC to Philly in just 6 hours and 20 minutes!

Webcast
The webcast of our Christmas eve lessons and carols service is available online. Scroll down to the archived music events and select 12/24/03 - Christmas Eve. The prelude was performed by the Westminster Brass and the Tenth Chamber Players. Both groups accompanied the choir on several pieces later in the service.

Reprieve
Our best Christmas present? The "service engine" light in the car went out! Joel called the service department at the Saturn dealership this morning and they agreed that nothing of immediate concern is wrong if the light does not stay on. The mechanic said that moisture in the engine from Wednesday's torrential rains could have made the light turn on, or "sometimes the computer just hiccups."

The other great news was that Cory Kloth's wife Heather delivered three healthy babies Christmas day. The triplets are breathing on their own and reports of their birthweights seem pretty encouraging. The Kloths graciously hosted us, sight unseen, when we were in the Atlanta area in July.

Gloria in excelsis!
Our Christmas Eve lessons and carols service went very smoothly, though I am now exhausted and a bit wheezy. Most of the service is choral piece after choral piece, and our director really put us through our paces. Singing for a packed house is rather energizing, and we had some superb brass and strings accompanying on several of the pieces. Times like these make me love being in a big church.

You can read about our repertoire here. A webcast of the service was available live. I'll post a link when the recorded version is available.

The most difficult piece we sang was Laurisden's "O magnum mysterium." Dissonance and unusual harmonics are not easy, but it also requires a lot of pianissimo, which takes tremendous breath control to achieve. It's also the longest piece we sang. It's incredibly beautiful though, with some harmonies that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, they're so otherworldly.

On the downside, the "service engine soon" light came on in our "new" car when we headed over to church tonight. Please pray that it's nothing serious. The car is still under warranty, but we don't want to be stuck with it in the shop for any length of time because we had planned to leave Saturday to visit some of my family.

Now, to bed!

Fröliche Weihnachten!

Into the homestretch
Whew, I only have one last Christmas gift project to finish up, and just a few days left. These past few weeks have been really packed between giftmaking, baking, guests and fun events.

We got to see Return of the King the day it opened, in the afternoon. We got free babysitting--always a plus. Getting to the theatre was a bit scary, as our windshield wipers were malfunctioning in the midst of a major downpour. At every red light, Joel had to hop out of the car to get the left blade back on the windshield. Fortunately, we had pre-purchased tickets and the afternoon show was not sold out.

I liked the film a lot, but I'll probably like the extended DVD better. A few of the cuts disappointed me greatly. Eowyn and Merry get short shrift when the Houses of Healing section is cut. I expected Eowyn's plotline wrap-up to get some screen time since she is so prominent in the beginning of the film. I was also disappointed that the ships' arrival at Minas Tirith was so undramatic. The whole sails unfurling bit in the book seemed to suggest a really visually stunning moment that never made it to the theatre. Sigh.

For our anniversary, Joel and I went to hear Anonymous 4, a female quartet that sings mostly Medieval and Renaissance music, as well as works and modern composers who have similarly modal harmonics. Accompanied by different types of harp, they filled the Gothic-revival church with tight harmonies and even tighter unison singing. I think I was most impressed by their ability to sound like one voice when singing unison. It's evidence of both intense rehearsing and many years together.

Down with dictators
Listening to the radio during breakfast, we heard a long segment on the capture of Saddam Hussein. At one point in the broadcast, a crowd reacted to the news with clapping and cheering.

In response, our toddler daughter kicked her high chair tray, clapped and said "woot!"

Or should that be w00t? Only 16 months old, and she's picking up Internet chat slang. Thanks bq.

No, I'm not dead
Though in the past 10 days or so I've felt less than lively. I caught some particularly virulent respiratory infection from my germy toddler and have been sick since the weekend after Thanksgiving. She, of course, bounced back in a few days.

Despite feeling lousy, I've been trying to finish up Christmas projects. This is probably why I'm not completely well yet. Well, that and dragging myself to very intense choir rehearsals. I'm getting very good at lip synching when I feel a cough coming on. I think I should have worked on this technique earlier in the season when I realized just how rusty I am at sight-reading.

Another dirty secret I also recently learned is that we soprano IIs can stealthily morph into the alto section when the soprano part is getting into the brittle end of our range. Believe me, if we didn't do this, people would complain. If the ladies in your choir don't know this cheat technique, please pass on the word. Let's save our churches from needless screeching and strained vocal chords.

Gobbled
Hard to believe it's already Thanksgiving. A month ago I flew down to Florida. Since losing my dad and returning home, I've been pretty wrapped up in time-consuming projects like buying a car, making Christmas gifts and organizing a volunteer day at the church library.

After spending a day deshelving, repairing and reorganizing the church library, I was appalled at how few books we have that are actual commentaries. Our "Christian living" section, on the other hand, is huge. (Largely, this is because we get so many donations for this category, and our funding level being what it is, we are grateful to get them.)

I'm somewhat discouraged by the types of things Christian publishers market most. If you looked at Christian Book Distributer's catalog, you'd think the only things being published are fiction and 75 versions of "Prayer of Jabez" and "Secrets of the Vine." I know that good, solid stuff is out there, but without Joel's help, I wouldn't know where to find it.

Woop! Woop!
Err, I accidently just discovered that our new car has an alarm system when I stowed something in the glove box. Aparently opening the door with a key will trip the alarm. I'm sure the neighbors were just thrilled by this loud intrusion on a quiet weekend afternoon.

Amazingly, the car dealer never mentioned that this optional feature was included. I should have suspected when they didn't try to sell us Lojack, a system much hyped when we bought our Prizm in '99.

Good news: insurance rates will go down. Bad news: for convenience's sake, we need to go to a dealer to buy a second transmitter to turn the alarm on and off.

Cars
Sigh. I've been waiting by the phone for a few days for the Purple Heart towing people to come get our wounded car. Just before I left for Florida, we decided to not sink any more money into our Prizm that needs new bearings and transaxle/transmission repairs, but to donate it to charity. It was such a great car when we first got it, but Philly streets have really done a number on the shocks, struts, and let's see...about 9 tires.

Tomorrow we pick up the "new" car. Finding something that fits our garage and budget with more cargo space has been incredibly frustrating. We finally found a low mileage Saturn wagon that fit all our criteria. The interior isn't quite as cushy as the Prizm, and the engine is a little louder, but after renting a Chevy Metro with no power anything (locks, windows, steering) for over two weeks, Joel is very excited to get the wagon. I think it will be cool to let Nicky ride in the back without shedding all over the seats. w00t.

Ring, phone, ring! Come get our sad ol' car so that we can transfer the tags!

Home
Claire and I got home Thursday afternoon after a good but somewhat bumpy flight from Florida. Not only did my big brother fly back with me to help, but we also got a free seat for Claire, who took a nice big nap.

The past two weeks have been the most exhausting in recent memory. I was glad to be able to be supportive to my Mom during this difficult time. All those boring tasks of keeping her apartment in order—laundry, dishes, meals, tidying up—generally fell to me. Thankfully, neighbors and church friends dropped off food every day, so no heavy-duty cooking was required while I watched Claire.

Believe it or not, near the end my father was recovering from the pneumonia and sepsis. What did him in was the medication he takes for bipolar disorder. He'd been on lithium for 27 years and had likely been in toxicity for several weeks. It took a nephrologist to help us understand the level of severity of that toxicity, and the irreparable harm it had done to his body.

Dad survived extubation and transport to hospice last Saturday. It was the best decision we made to move him. Suddenly, we were away from all the machines, and no limits on how many can visit or for how long. I was even allowed to bring Claire into the hospice. The room was lovely and comfortable like a hotel room, with a view of the lagoon in the retirement community.

Mom stayed the night at hospice last Saturday. My brother woke at 4 a.m. Sunday unable to sleep and went to see Dad. Mom was so thankful he woke her, because he was able to move her bed next to Dad's so she could hold his hand the rest of the night. Mom called me at about 6:10 to say that Dad's breathing slowed way down, then just stopped. It was peaceful and she was able to be right there with him the way she wanted to.

I put in calls to her pastors, and one came out at 8 a.m. with an elder. Several other friends from the retirement community stopped by before church. The eye bank arrived shortly thereafter to get his corneas, the only usable organ he could donate.

The next three days were a whirlwind, helping pull together the memorial service for Wednesday afternoon. More family arrived little by little, making our preparations all the more difficult. Who wants to run errands and make phone calls when there are family to visit and share stories with?

The service turned out beautifully, however. It was just right and I feel like nothing important went undone. I'll post the memories I shared at the memorial service in another post.

I still feel like I have hardly begun to grieve, I was so busy in Florida and needed to be strong and fully functioning for my daughter. A close friend who has lost both parents warned me that the grief may not fully hit for several weeks.

All Souls
Herbert Francis Webster passed into his eternal reward this morning at around 6am.

Hospice
Dad started taking a turn for the worse yesterday. He began running a fever, and his platelets and electrolytes were still messed up. This morning we got bad news from the nephrologist--dad's kidney's have not been functioning normally. His salt levels have been so high since Sunday that irreversable brain damage has been caused. Even if the infections can be cured, he will never regain consciousness.

This afternoon, my mom and brother have a consult with the hospice staff. We want to move Dad back to the retirement community's hospice center to die peacefully. My mom is at peace about the decision, but at the same time scared and sad. She and Dad have been married 55 years.

It may sound strange, but it would be very meaningful to my family if Dad went home to the Lord on All Saint's Day. Dad has always been very enthusiastic about his faith and so open to what the Lord is doing.

It's hard to grasp the reality of losing a parent, even when I can see first hand that he is leaving us. I look at his hands and see him patiently teaching me to operate a darkroom, change a tire, paste up a newsletter page. I followed in his footsteps careerwise, a fact that made him so proud. I'm thankful he could walk me down the aisle on my wedding day and see Claire at least once.

Update
Thanks for your prayers and well wishes. My father was very close to death on Sunday. He has a type of stapf pneumonia and sepsis. On Monday morning, Claire and I flew down to Florida where I now write this on a wretched dial-up connection (I want my DSL! Waah!). My brother Steve was a huge help on the flight and Claire behaved exceptionally well, even without a morning nap. She has been a real trooper and brings a lot of joy to my family who've gathered down here.

As of today, my dad is still very seriously ill but improving, and the sepsis seems to be clearing up. The doctor who gave him 10% chance of survival on Sunday was actually very optimistic today. The pneumonia continues to be a worry. My dad will likely be in the ICU for several weeks recovering from the looks of things. We hope that tomorrow he'll be awake some after sleeping/being unconscious the past 48 hours, because two of my siblings have flights home in the afternoon. I and Steve are here until Sunday.

Please pray
I'd appreciate your prayers. My father is gravely ill and not expected to survive the next few days (Joel gives some more details).

I'm going to be flying with Claire to Florida first thing in the morning. Fortunately, one of my older brothers got a connecting flight through Philadelphia so he can help me deal with a very active toddler on the 3-hour flight.

This is especially stressful because it was so sudden. I'm having a hard time thinking straight and just figuring out what to put in the suitcase.

Lost and going nowhere fast
During Joel's fall break we were able to get free babysitting and decided to go to the movies. (The last thing I saw in a theatre was Matrix Reloaded. How sad is that?)

On a friend's recommendation we saw Lost in Translation starring Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson. While the ads try to play up the comic aspects, this film's humor is pretty subtle. On the whole it felt far more like a drama.

Murray's character is a has-been Hollywood star who's visiting Tokyo to film a commercial. Johansson's a recent college grad in Tokyo with her husband, a photographer. The two are both plagued with insomnia and end up meeting in the hotel lounge and strike up a friendship.

As you follow each of them over several days, you see parallels--his career is over, hers hasn't begun yet. Both feel unneeded by their spouses. Both are deeply depressed and floundering to find any significance in their lives. Both are total outsiders in Japanese culture, though the younger one (Johansson) is willing to take some daytrips and explore on her own. Murray is routinely herded around by "handlers."

There are several quite funny scenes that highlight the Americans' inability to understand the Japanese language or culture. Yet the humor has an edge of the pathetic to it. You really feel sorry for these two lost souls.

Pottypalooza?
I think this has to be about the strangest fund raiser for charity I've ever heard of. I saw an ad for it in the latest Budget Living and wondered why on earth the marketing folks at Charmin thought this was an appropriate activity to link to a charitable cause. Weirdos. Why can't they just ask people to send in UPCs like normal companies?

Questions for Emeth
1. What novel has had the greatest impact on your life? How so?

2. Like all siblings, I'm sure you and your brothers had plenty of squabbles growing up. Now that you're all young adults, what do you most appreciate and admire about Ben and Berek?

3. On your last few trips to the U.S., you got a taste of American life. What are some things you think will be the most challenging to adjust to when you come on a more long-term basis to study?

4. How do you and Davey complement or balance each other in terms of personality, skills and spiritual gifts?

5. As a special gift, a wealthy relative has hired a wedding coordinator to help you make all your wedding plans. What instructions do you give her (theme, colors, other details)?

Good vibes
This morning on NPR Weekend Edition, Liane Hansen interviewed a hip, young vibraphone player known as Lalo. It was fun to hear how she got her first chance to play this funky percussion instrument in high school. Her school actually owned one that was collecting dust in a storage room.

I love the funky mix of techno and jazz that she's created. Her first album is definitely going on my wish list.

I got to try out marimba and vibes in high school too, thanks to a student teacher who came my senior year and was a percussion specialist. I was the only mallet player in the school, so I got more than my fair share of his time. He taught me rudimentary four mallet technique and I had a blast.

I think of the two instruments, marimba is more me. Vibes can be a bit, well, tingy and loungy. Marimba feels more organic. It include a lower octave than a xylophone. You play it with these soft yarn-covered mallets and get a really mellow sound, instead of the plinky xylophone sound.

Sigh. Buying my own marimba would be really high on my list if I were to come into a fortune.

In other highlights of the day, we got to meet Daniel Silliman , who was in the area visiting relatives. I thought it was way cool that he's double majoring in philosophy and journalism. Both Joel and I got to talk shop with him. Great fun. :-)

Questions for Jennifer

I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to recycle one of the questions I gave Paul, because I'd like to hear how you'd answer it.

Here goes.

1. You grew up in a really large family. How has your growing up experience influenced how you parent your own children?

2. How, after attending an Anabaptist college, did you end up Presbyterian?

3. What do you like most and least about being a pastor's wife?

4. Who are your favorite literary heroines? With what fictional character have you felt the greatest kinship?

5. You just won a contest sponsored by Miramax. They offered to make any book of your choosing into a film. What book do you choose? What casting suggestions do you give?

When you post your answers on your blog, please include the following:
::If you would like to participate too, here are your instructions:
1. Leave me a comment saying "interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions (not the same as you see here).
3. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.::

You turn your back for one minute....
(not for the squeamish)

This evening, I was helping gather up dinner items to carry out to the dining room, when I hear Joel let out a big "Aieee!" from the next room.

I ran to see what the matter was, and Joel walked into the kitchen carrying a tiny, maimed mouse.

"Claire was holding this, cuddling it close to her face!" Joel said. "Yuck! I mean, it's cute and all, but gross!" He carried it out the back door and plopped it in the garden. We then washed Claire's hands and face with antibacterial soap.

This mouse was really small, probably about an inch and a half body with a long tail. It must be a litter mate of the mouse Keats was tormenting last week. I doubt that little critter survived so many days after the mauling Keats gave it.

Note to self: Stop procrastinating. Buy traps.

Questions for Paul
OK Duggie-meister, here are your questions:

1. You just won a contest sponsored by Miramax. They offered to make any book of your choosing into a film. What book do you choose? What casting suggestions do you give?

2. If you could have any of the following services free for the next year, which would you choose? Explain your choice.
a. a live-in housekeeper
b. a minivan chauffeur service for your family
c. a chef service that drops off hot meals to your door
d. a personal trainer and dietician to help your family be fit and healthy
e. a life coach to help you with your career, parenting, marriage relationship and any other emotional issues in your life

3. If you were offered a generous stipend to pursue an advanced degree, what would you study?

4. A wealthy relative offers to send you and Sylvia on a three-week all-expenses-paid dream vacation to celebrate your 10th anniversary (without the kids!). Where do you go?

5. If you had free rein to change the worship services at Tenth Presbyterian, what alterations would you make?

When you post your answers on your blog, please be sure to include the instructions (see my earlier post).

Rats!
Or should I say "Mice!"? As I write this, my little black kitty Keats is tormenting a young, gray rodent under the buffet in my dining room. I suspected he had found some new prey when I heard him rambunctiously scampering around, his license clinkety-clinking.

The last I checked, he had the mouse cornered in a coiled piece of extension cord on the floor. The mouse would peep up his tiny, gray head every once in a while, only to receive a sound swat from Keats. While I don't relish the thought of the dirty rodent skittering across any part of my person, it is awfully cute and deserves to have a more humane death. Perhaps we should buy some traps. Quick and no torture.

I just hope I don't wake up to find a dead mouse on the threshold of our bedroom. Earlier this week that's where Keats left a pocket pack of Kleenex that he "killed" for us. Weird cat.

Interview questions from Dawn

1. What is your favorite thing about your house? Why?
I think the location is still what I love most. We're in the city, with easy access to museums, fine dining and shopping, yet surrounded by lots of trees. Since I grew up in a rural area, trees are very important to me. Extensive hiking and biking trails are just a block away. At the same time, there's a movie theatre and wine shop within walking distance.

The area also has a strong sense of neighborhood. We actually know several of our neighbors' names and talk to them regularly. Many of the early 1900s homes are just really pretty to see as well.

2. If you had to choose only one artistic ability (sing, cook, draw/paint/etc., play an instrument, or another) to excel at what would it be?
I think I could happily forgo being a Broadway or opera star if I could excel at creative writing. I would love to write books for pre-teens and teenagers that capture their imaginations and help nerdy kids feel good about their particular strengths. It's something Madeleine L'Engle does well and why she remains one of my heroes.

3. Are you still liking being a "stay at home" mom? What is the most challenging?
I still really love being home, but I'm still in a honeymoon phase, I think. The most challenging part is yet to come, when discipline issues really come to the fore. Two-year-olds are very skilled at pushing their parents' buttons and wearing them down with persistent misbehavior (whining, tantrums, etc.).

4. Susan Howatch. I've read Wheel of Fortune. Where do I start in her other books?
I'd recommend going to what she wrote next, the Church of England series. The first book is Glittering Images, then Glamorous Powers, Ultimate Prizes, Scandalous Risks, Mystical Paths and Absolute Truths. The series is arranged chiastically. The first and sixth books deal with a father and son who represent the evangelical wing of Anglicanism. The second and fifth book deal with a different father and son, who represent the Anglo-Catholic and Charismatic wing. The central two books both look at one character from two points of view. He represents the liberals. I think he's central because liberalism became a kind of turning point in the church's history.

5. You've had a rather, um, eclectic history with churches. How did you come to the PCA and does a "Reformed" view fit well with your theology?
I came to the PCA in a rather circuitous way that seems kind of typical of my life. Here goes:

I got a low-paying job in the Philly area and needed a cheap place to stay. I called the only Southern Baptist church in the area (the denom. I was attending with my parents at home), and asked to put up a notice on their bulletin board. Within a week, a Christian family called me and offered a free place to stay if I would live with their elderly relative and do housework, laundry and errands. Within four months, the elderly woman died.

One of this lady's close friends decided to take me under her wing and invited me to attend church with her family. They, of course, attended Tenth Presbyterian. For quite a while, I continued attending the Southern Baptist church in the morning and Tenth Presby in the evening. A large part of what got me to leave the Baptists was the fact that they had almost no other single people in the congregation.

Going only to Tenth was a difficult transition in some ways. I hadn't grown up with infant baptism or such emphasis on doctrine. I found myself reacting to the first sermons I heard from James Boice with a mix of eagerness to hear more and irritation. I'll try to explain this in my answer to the second half of the question.

The second part of this question (does a "Reformed" view fit well with your theology?) is rather hard to answer. I think my faith has been strongly shaped by my eclectic background, and at heart I want to incorporate the strengths of several traditions. I think reformed preaching appeals to my intellectual side, and I prefer traditional worship on the whole. Most of my quibbles with the PCA are not theological. It's more matters of style, liturgy and attitude that bother me.

I've met too many reformed people who find assurance of their salvation in having the right ideas about Jesus and his atoning work, rather than through actual faith in Christ. The intellectualism that gets so much praise in reformed circles can in some ways be a liability. "Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up." I see people becoming discouraged because they're expected to be "theological racehorses" when their spiritual gifts lie elsewhere and rarely get used to build up the church. (My thanks to John B. for articulating this so well in a conference talk.)

I don't want to belabor the point here. I like a lot of things about our church. Some things I'd like to be different. Part of my faith journey has been an increased interest in liturgical worship. Aside from wanting to receive the Lord's Supper more often, I like the fact that liturgy is very Trinitarian. I think the Baptists frankly have a more robust view of the Holy Spirit than most Presbyterians I know.

I could probably be very happy as an Anglican, if there were any churches of the non-wacky-liberal variety anywhere near us.


::If you would like to participate too, here are your instructions:
1. Leave me a comment saying "interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions (not the same as you see here).
3. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.::

Rental
If you're looking for something fun to rent from the video store this week, I recommend A Mighty Wind. It's another mockumenary from the creators of Best of Show. Many of the same actors appear in both films.

The writers really capture the documentary feel so well that you're shocked to laughter by some of the absurd things the actors say or do. I think it's that mixture of mock serious mixed with the silly and outlandish that also makes Monty Python so appealing.

I'm not especially familiar with the world of folk music, other than being vaguely aware that it was popular when I was little. Joel said that he thought the mock folk songs were fabulous parodies, then played a few Peter, Paul and Mary tunes to prove it. The writers did indeed satirize the genre amazingly well.

Perhaps the most funny of all is one of the female singers from the group "The New Main Street Singers" who explains her religion, WINC or "wink." The tenets of this faith include the worship of color. She and her husband do quirky rituals before each rehearsal and performance that are absolutely sidesplitting.

Aaah shelf space
In the spirit of non-hoarding, I want to get rid of some of my books. For a while I belonged to three book groups and read some stuff I didn't much care for. Some I've earmaked to pass on to others who might enjoy the stories I didn't like. The others I can't in good conscience recommend.

Here are a few examples:
Personal History by Katharine Graham. Too long. Annoyingly huge amount of name dropping. You'd think a newspaper publisher could be more pithy and tell only the really interesting bits.

Waiting by Ha Jin. A love story in communist China that is more frustrating than Remains of the Day. Characters become increasingly unlikable as the story progresses.

Ahab's Wife by Sena Jeter Naslund. This book starts great, then takes a major swerve with twists that strain credulity more than I'm willing to suspend disbelief.

It's not a huge pile, maybe 10 or 12 books altogether. I'm thinking of selling them on amazon.com. Have any of you done this before? Any tips? Pitfalls to avoid?

Waaah!
I just realized I have less than a week until the big 3-5. It kind of sneaked up on me this year. Soon I won't be able to say "I'm in my early 30s" without lying outright.

On the bright side, we're going to a cool, free Celtic music festival on Saturday to celebrate. Wahoo!

Hoarding
I was re-reading the last issue of re:generation quarterly (now defunct) and came across a great article on homemaking. What really stuck with me was this (a rough paraphrase, because I can't find the issue today):

"Jesus said that if we hoard our possessions, they will rot."

That really nailed me to the wall, because I have a terrible time parting with clothes, even if I never wear them. The author challenged readers to see our hoarding of stuff rather than giving as stealing from the poor.

It really felt like a breakthough to hear this. I hit the closets harder than I ever had before. I tried to picture the woman who really needed the clothes I wasn't wearing. A blazer and skirt for the single mom trying to make it and raise her kids alone. Jeans for a teenager whose parents neglect her. A sweater for an elderly woman scraping by on Social Security.

Filling bag after bag became like a prayer. Bless her, and her and her and her. Wrap Your love around every one who receives these clothes. And thank You for Your abundance. Help me to always rush to give and hesitate to hoard.

A calling
This evening I was looking through a book on various saints that someone gave Claire as a gift. I found some food for thought in the entry on Ann, the mother of Mary and patron of homemakers:

"Human beings are not like birds, whose instincts tell them how to make the right nest for their offspring. Homemakers must use their minds to discover how to create a home that will protect, nurture and teach the children who belong there. While each bird hatched in the nest is almost identical to all the other birds in the species, no human child is like any other. The homemaker works to create a place and make the time in which each unique child has a chance to grow and flower into a strong and loving person for whom the world will give thanks.

"Making a home that protects children has less to do with locks and bolts than with the loving presence of a homemaker who is aware of the many dangers children face, both body and soul. The homemaker employs experience and foresight to guard the children from such danger. A true homemaker does not run a fast-food concession. She or he knows that meals shared around the family table not only provide better nutrition but also help prepare them for life in the community outside the home.

"The homemaker teaches the children of the household not only by direct instruction but by creating the home environment: Tables and chairs are arranged with children in mind; storage cases, cabinets and dressers are provided to encourage children to be independent and orderly. The homemaker is true to this vocation when she or he makes the home's simple, everyday objects speak to the children of their own dignity." (Patrons and Protectors: Occupations, Liturgy Training Publications, Chicago, 2001)

I've been somewhat concerned about the level of priority that's appropriate to give tidyness when parenting a small child. So many of my peers keep a different standard than what I grew up with. I wonder if I'm becoming too persnickety. But this excerpt did bolster my belief that creating an orderly environment is an important part of helping children grow, giving them a sense of safety, proportion and rhythm.

Back
Been away since last Wednesday visiting friends while Joel was at a conference. Claire had an awesome time trying to keep up with my girlfriend's 2- and 3-year-old. Her walking improved tremendously for one. She even went to the zoo for the first time. The monkeys were a big hit.

Abundance
Choir started for the year, and it's great to be singing with a group again after a 9 year hiatus. One side benefit of joining the group, I thought, would be getting to know more people at church.

God knows what we need better than we know ourselves sometimes. At rehearsal last night, the director asked all the new people to introduce ourselves. He started with the sopranos, so I explained that I'm a stay-at-home-mom and where I live in the city. When the altos started intoducing themselves, one of the women said she also was a SAHM in the same section of the city and that she really wanted to talk to me afterwards because she's new to the area and "I really need friends."

We talked after rehearsal, and it turns out this gal lives on the street that runs parallel to mine, basically just ONE BLOCK away! We were both really excited. She has use of a car most days, and I know the area fairly well, so it will be fun to have someone to errand run and explore with. Her son is 2 1/2, so it will be interesting to see how the kids interact.

I'd had a kind of secret wish for a friend who's close by to do things with, but hadn't ever articulated this desire to anyone, or even specifically prayed for it. God truly does provide more than we ask or imagine.

1 kraZ mama
How utterly kewl is this? I found a pair of Rollerblades (yep, the brand name ones) in my size for just $10 at a yard sale. They threw in the full set of knee, elbow and wrist pads for free. I'd been scouring yard sales all summer in search of blades for a more fun workout. I never dreamed I'd find them so cheap.

I first tried blading two years ago at a roller rink and thought it was fun. It's more like ice skating, which I can do without embarrassing myself too much. Today I took Claire and the stroller and my new blades (and pads and a helmet) to the River Drive to get rolling.

I don't know what I was thinking. I have next to no experience and set off using the stroller to balance. That was well and good until I hit a slight incline. I didn't know how to get enough momentum to go uphill, or how to safely slow down going downhill. At one point I had to roll off the trail into some grass to slow down and banged the stoller into a fence. My water bottle went flying, making the impact seem harder than it really was. Claire was unphased, but I was really shaken. My good sense returned and I knew I needed to take off the skates, go to a flat place, then try skating.

I did pretty well on the flat. My ankles and hips got a bit achy, but I'm beginning to get the hang of this skating thing. My rule of thumb for now is NO HILLS. And definitely no hills while pushing the stroller.

Crisis averted
Whew. We heard from the vet today and Keats' blood tests were normal. The vet thinks he was licking his leg repeatedly because of an allergy (the area he's licking is rashy). The vet thinks the continence issue might be related to that.

I think it might really be a territorial thing. The spot he liked to pee on was some cotton rugs we'd layed out for Nicky to nap on. The rugs sit right next to Keats' feeding area. It would make sense for him to become suddenly territorial with Nicky after we returned from vacation. Keats needed to re-establish hierarchy here after spending 18 days carving out his hierarchical spot among my brother's pets.

The weight loss could have also occurred while we were on the road. Keats may actually be regaining weight lost then. After all, Nicky usually goes on a hunger strike for a few days when we leave him with a pet sitter. Keats likely did the same.

Joel thinks my UTI hypothesis might still be correct, since the vet wasn't able to collect a sample for urinalysis. No fever could mean he was getting better on his own.

We're just glad it's nothing serious. The possible diabetes diagnosis was especially scary. It would have meant type I diabetes since he is so young and thin. A special diet for an aging fat cat is one thing, daily insulin shots is another matter altogether.

Kitty crisis
Mr. Keats has had some continence problems lately, so I asked Joel to take him to the vet. I figured it was just a urinary tract infection. Well, the vet said Keats doesn't have other UTI symptoms like a fever. His thirst and weight loss over the past 3 months did worry the vet though.

So they took some blood and are testing Keats for feline diabetes and kidney disease. Neither diagnosis sounds like a fun road ahead to me. We frankly can't afford the costly care if he has either condition, but I don't relish the thought of having to put down a cat who's only 2 years old. :-( I doubt anyone would be keen to adopt a chronically ill pet.

There is an outside chance that Keats has an anxiety disorder, because he also licked part of one of his legs bald. If that's the case, a month on medication should cure him.

We'll have a better idea when the lab results come in. It's hard not to worry about the worst case scenario.

Welcome to geezerhood
This week Joel will finally be the same age as me. Of course, I get to forge ahead further into geezerhood at the end of the month.

I don't know why I was always so eager to be a year older when I was a kid. I think I'm finally beginning to understand that whole "29 and holding" thing.

Nunsense?
This evening I returned a video to the video store. As I was leaving, a car full of nuns pulled into the parking lot.

What do you suppose they were going to rent? The Sound of Music? Sister Act? My guess? The Fast and the Furious. :-)

Pen pals
While cleaning out a closet, I came across a bundle of old letters from a pen pal I had through high school and college. Talk about a blast from the past, some of the letters date back to 1982! I'd met this fellow at a Christian summer camp and we became friends because of a mutual interest in music.

How exciting it used to be to get mail. But of course, the letters seemed so few and far between. I envy modern kids and their online pen pals, able to shoot replies in no time, e-mail photos, IM or even use a Web cam. Of course, they miss some of the goofy goodies my pen pal used to send--Canadian coins, broken strings from his violin, stickers and French vocabulary lists.

I wish I knew exactly what I'd written in my first letter to this pen pal. I'm sure it was something dreadfully sassy, because he replied "I didn't expect any of the girls to fall madly in love with me, so don't give yourself credit with uncovering any of my suppositions." LOL. I must have accused him of being flirtatious, the sort of thing a 13-year-old girl considers high treason in male friends.

As I read through the stack, it was a little sad to see how ordinary the letters were--talk of the weather, school and grades, learning new instuments in band, family trips, plans for college. This fellow seemed so much more witty when I was 14, 15, 16 years old.

The last time we met in person was 1986. I was heading off for Messiah with new contact lenses and big dreams. He still had grade 13 to complete.

We stopped corresponding in college. I'm not sure which of us stopped answering the other's letters. Today it strikes me as a little sad that I've lost track of so many old friends.

Dear John from Altamonte, Ontario,
Do you remember meeting me at Camp Susque? We were going into 9th grade. We wrote letters regularly for the next six or seven years. What ever happened to you, John?

I graduated with an English degree, worked in publishing for 10 years, got a master's degree, got married, and now have a great kid. She loves to play our piano (not very well though, she's only one!).

Please write back soon.

Why I love my job
It is really, really cool to have the time flexibility of a SAHM. I was able to spend the morning today at my injured friend's house helping out with some housekeeping and a meal. I never would have been able to do that while I was working. Even my weekends were busy with errands and chores.

I also played with my starting-to-walk kid for hours, reading stories and singing songs. Her new word for the week is "cracker." I would have missed her first steps and new words if I were working.

And tonight I made two batches of peach jam. Mmm mmm. I love keeping up all these great domestic skills my mom taught me as a kid that no one I know does any more. I know people who knit, make their own bread and grow fresh vegetables, but I don't know anyone else who still cans. And it's quite easy--especially jam.

Owie!
Please pray for hierogrammate's wife. She broke her leg today at a church women's brunch (slid on an embankment outside). They have two small kids, age 2 and 4, and no bathroom on the first floor of their 3-story twin.

We her friends also need wisdom in knowing how to be of help to the family. One thing that's pretty obvious is that it's time to take my compulsive tidying on the road. ;-)

She did it!
Today Claire took her first steps. w00t! We're very excited...and a little sad. They just grow up so fast!

By accident
I just remembered something funny from vacation when we attended church in Atlanta.

When we picked up Claire from the church nursery, one of the workers handed us Claire's diaper bag and said "Oh, she had an accident."

Our reaction was, "Oh! Is she OK?" thinking she'd fallen, bonked her head or pinched her fingers.

"Oh yes," the worker said, "we changed her diaper at about 11:45."

Is this just one of those weird Southern affectations, not saying things like "dirty diaper"? In my mind, only the toilet-trained can have accidents. A baby using a diaper for its intended purpose is not "an accident," it's very deliberate!

Quiz quandary
Well, I took the "What Country Are You?" quiz and got a surprising answer. I'm not sure what to make of it. Any interpretations? Tell me in the comments.

You're South Africa!

After almost endless suffering, you've finally freed yourself from the oppression that somehow held you back.  Now your diamond in the rough is shining through, and the world can accept you for who you really are.  You were trying to show who you were to the world, but they weren't interested in helping you become that until it was almost too late.  Suddenly you're a very hopeful person, even if you still have some troubles.
Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid

Borrowed time
My luck will likely run out soon. Claire has been napping 3-4 hours a day while she's in a current growth spurt. It's been great getting cleaning and organizing projects done, walking the dog and even blogging occasionally while she rests.

My project list is entirely too long. Five closets need serious attention. The study is a fire hazard, as is the basement. I have to keep reminding myself that I really can take months to do these projects if necessary. Having fun with Claire and helping her learn is really my core job anyway.

Reader's lament
Last night I discovered that Susan Howatch's much anticipated new St. Benet's novel, The Heartbreaker, is out. In fact, it has been out since April. Unfortunately, this seems like news I have to receive with fingers in both ears while whistling loudly because it's only available in hardback from Amazon UK. Not exactly in our budget right now. The paperback is available for pre-order if anyone really wants to make my late September birthday extra happy. ;-)

Carter Graham is back with her new, more feminine name, Carta. She's now doing fundraising for St. Benet's instead of working as a high-powered tax attorney. The setting is 1990s London during the recession. I'm eager to see how the story unfolds.

In the U.S., several of Howatch's early Gothic novels are back in print. These might be worth a read, not sure. One of the women in our book group had been somewhat prejudiced against Howatch because the early novels that made her popular had such sordid, overblown plots. I kind of thought that was just the expectation for the Gothic genre. This friend was really blown away by Howatch's 2000 novel The High Flyer, so I'm guessing early Howatch may really disappoint.

Par-tay
Saturday we had a little shindig to celebrate Claire's first birthday, which is this week. I really had fun preparing. The theme was "indoor picninc." The "indoor" part was wise because a thunderstorm hit during the middle of the party.

The menu included wonderful picnic food: barbecue chicken, homemade potato and macaroni salads, fruit salad, three kinds of chips, cake and homemade ice cream. We decorated with checked tablecloths and napkins, lots of baskets, streamers and balloons. I set up a teddy bear picinic tableau on the mantle, which I thought the kid guests and grandmothers would enjoy. Here's a pic:



Claire wore an uber-cute embroidered party dress and had a great time playing with the pint-sized guests.



New toys and old ended up strewn from one end of the house to the other. It was really hard to turn off what I now realize is a compulsive tidying streak. I think the compulsive tidying is why I have such a hard time cooking. I feel like I have to wash every item I dirty right then and there.

Night terrors
Last night while we were watching the evening news, Claire suddenly woke up screaming. It's not unusual for her to wake between 11 and midnight, cry for 10 seconds then fall back to sleep. But this was different--she wasn't crying the "I'm thirsty" or "I'm so tired" cry. She was really freaked out.

We went up to see what was the matter. Even when I held her she wouldn't stop crying. She didn't want a drink and wailed inconsolably regardless of which of us held her. I thought the two parent ruckus might be too much, so I sent Joel to bed and tried rocking Claire on the twin bed in her room. As soon as he shut the door, she screamed even louder and started kicking.

I started to worry that she had gas pain or some other health problem, so I switched on a table lamp with a low watt bulb that we keep in her room to get a better look. She seemed to calm down almost immediately.

It was a mommy Aha moment. My baby is becoming a toddler! She's now afraid of the dark.

When Joel had left the room, he'd cut the ambient light coming in from the next room. Ah.

I put Claire back in her crib and gave her her favorite blanket. She flopped sleepily on it and looked up at me as if to say, "what took you so long to make the bad dark to go away?"

Now she has her very own night light.

Next stop, tantrums and picky eating....

Knit wits
I occasionally peek at some of the blogs on Dawn's copious blogroll and came across this one. It's somewhat interesting to hear about others' creative endeavors, as long as some other topics are thrown in. Ya know, a little variety.

I can't imagine being so engrossed in a hobby that I'd want to make it my exclusive blogging topic. Excuse me, but, BOR-ing.

The really scary part is that a whole host of the knitting obsessed blog their yarns about, well, yarn...

I have heaps of embriodery floss. Many needles. Much aida cloth. But I don't intend to catalog how many Xs I stitched today. So please send me a cyber-slap if this blog ever becomes a hobby-obsessed abyss. Thanks.

Blogger meeting
Among the highlights of our trip last month was meeting Dawn and Barb in Ohio. Barb's dog Angus and our Nicky became fast friends, being the same size and equally up for playing tag. Barb's cat Eleven, however, was far less enthusiastic than Nicky about any sort of friendship.

You see, Nicky mistook Barb's small, black feline for our small, black feline, Keats. Nicky was really missing his kitty brother who came to our home as a kitten and enjoys a good wrestling match every once in a while. Eleven, however, is far too dignified for such shenanigans. Nicky chased the poor kitty in circles and he was so eager to escape, he leapt up a chair and bounced off the ceiling. I've never seen a cat jump so high. Let's just say it was quite the icebreaker for our party.

Claire gorged on copious amounts of fruit, while we enjoyed a really yummy meal. The sausage and pastry dish was especially memorable (recipe, please!).

The conversation was lively and we stayed longer than we'd planned, we were having such a good time. I can't recall all the topics covered. Some of the things we discussed were the conference--and tangential topics related to talks given and people we met-- and careers and movies. Joel and I did our best to defend Moulin Rouge, which works to deconstruct the romantic musical genre and in so doing shows that stories about redemptive love resist deconstruction. (But many people can't get past the frenetic first half hour and don't get the humor.)

My first comment to Joel as we drove away was "I wish all these cool people didn't live so far away! I'd love to hang out with them more often!"

Thanks again for your gracious hospitality, Barb, and for giving up a vacation day, Dawn!

I know, I promised
Yeah, yeah, I said I would post more about our trip last month. But here I am not writing it. But I really will. I even have a few photos to post. Eventually....

Out of the stone age
A nice couple from our church donated software for us to computerize our church library catalog. Well, we tried it out today and it's a DOS-based system from 1985! Yikes, I'd forgotten how cumbersome computing was in that era. Remember all those BASIC commands you needed to copy files, open them, save? Remember swapping around 3 or 4 different disks to open the program, enter data, then save it? Oy vey. I'm glad technology has come a long way since then.

I think we're going to purchase a program called ResourceMate. The price is within our budget and the demo seemed pretty easy to use. It even allows you to import cataloging information from the Library of Congress database. We can later add capabilities to make our catalog searchable from the Web so that church members can see if we carry a book or video. It would be cool to eventually make our check-out system computerized too. We could more easily track overdues for one.

You wouldn't believe how far overdue some materials are--I think some items checked out as long ago as 1990 have never been returned. Aside from enstating a fine system, I'm not sure how to really beef up our current system of mailing overdue notices to patrons. What's really appropriate in a church setting? Public shaming in the church bulletin?

SAHM
What a misnomer, "stay-at-home-mom." I have hardly been home at all my first week in my new career as domestic engineer. Aside from loads of errand running and a few appointments, Claire and I have been out being social. We had our first "play date" with some friends from church today--fun for both of us. Tuesday I got to play tour guide for my sister, niece and niece's friend visiting from Hungary. They had a few hours to kill before putting the Hungarian teenager on a plane for Budapest. She loved City Hall and the other Victorian-era buildings in Center City, including the recently renovated Reading Terminal. She even showed mild interest in Philly's historic sites. It got me wondering if Europeans, with their Medieval churches and walls still standing, think our short history like the memoirs of a grade schooler.

Back in the saddle
OK, I'm making an earnest attempt to blog again, though I have to admit I've been avoiding the computer because it feels too much like work. After telecommuting twice a week for nine months, I will probably have this gut-level feeling for a while.

Anyhoo... our 3,000 mile adventure on the road with pup and babe went surprisingly well. The big SUV we rented did make for a much more comfortable trip. (I still think the SUV acronym stands for "Satan's usual vehicle," a prime example of American conspicuous consumption. But that's another rant entirely.)

The biggest downside to our arrangement was meals, which on the road were primarily drive-though fast food eaten in the truck. I'm really regretting we didn't send Nicky to obedince school. Buy the right harness, take my glasses away and I think we could have pulled off a pretty convincing seeing-eye impression. But alas, our fur boy is too spazzy for such a role that would have made him acceptable in restaurants everywhere. And since we didn't want baked dog, the whole family was banished to eating in the vehicle.

Claire took a few steps back in her eating on the trip too. We're trying to wean her off pureed food from jars, but it's honestly the most convenient way to feed a kid on the road. Most fast food fare isn't appropriate for the under 1 set. Pre-toddlers generally aren't good at warning you they're going to need to eat soon. Suddenly, she shifts from happily playing to cranky and crying--"Feed me NOW!" And she's so messy feeding herself, it's just cleaner and faster to spoon out the Gerber purees.

I learned a lot about hospitality on the trip. Not that I could really articulate it well now without some concentrated reflection. That's on my mental "agenda" in the coming weeks, however, since I've been trying to pull together a second article for Meshereth magazine on the topic. I wrote the first one somewhat under the gun and see a lot of places I could have clarified or expanded a bit.

We really did get to see the famed "Southern hospitality" in practice. One of Joel's BH friends had arranged for us to stay with a former parishoner in Birmingham, Ala. This fellow then realized he'd be out of town and said his mother, who lives next door, would be happy to put us up.

Well, we didn't have her phone number, and because Joel had worked out so many details via e-mail with the son, we just showed up. As I'd vaguely feared, she didn't know who we were. But she welcomed us in anyway, happy to have company on a quiet weekend when most of the family (who all live nearby) were away. Once we explained our connection to various BH folk, she was simply delighted, asking after various people we'd met at the conference. (We now think she had simply forgotten discussing our visit with her son, rather than that he'd never told her.)

She had several bedrooms ready and available, bathroom set up with fresh towels even. She's accustomed to a steady stream of kids and grandkids visiting. It really made me think about what it means to be willing at all times to show hospitality...and showing kindness to strangers. Especially when we went out to dinner and she wouldn't let us pay.

More trip stories to come...

The South is another country
Conversation between Joel and young boy in a motel parking lot in Kentucky.
Boy: Hi, mister
Joel: Hi
Boy: That shuer a purtty dawg. Do he bayte?
Joel: No, he won't bite, he's pretty friendly.
{nicky howls}
Boy: You shuer he don't bayte?
Joel: He just howls when he's excited.
Boy: Well, Ize skeert a dawgs.
Joel: I see. Well, I'm going to take him for his walk now.
Boy: Bye, mister.

Kitty withdrawal
I miss my wicked kitty. Mr. Keats is staying with my brother for a few weeks while we travel.

I drove him to my brother's on Sunday evening and he cried the entire 45 minute trip. I'd packed him in a tall open-top box with a cozy towel and some food. Occassionally, he'd peep his head out of the box, see the cars on the highway behind us and cry even louder, as if to say "What is happening? Oh help!"

The trauma continued when we got to J's. He has two dogs that Keats used to know when he was a kitten. (J's former cat is Keats' mom. She got hit by a car this past spring.) J let Keats get his bearings, then let in the dogs one at a time. The small dog ignored Keats, the big one wanted to play. I hung around for an hour, and Keats was still under the dining room table, back arched, hissing at the big dog like mad.

My poor furry boy. I didn't get to hug him goodbye because he hissed at all of us for fear of the dog. I hope by tomorrow they will have established some sort of pecking order and will get along fine. I guess his casual attitude towards dogs really only applies to his "brother" Nicky.

Yum
I just had another dish of the homemade peach ice cream we made last weekend with our new ice cream maker from my in-laws. I had tried to lighten the recipe a little by using 1% milk where it called for milk and whipping cream in place of heavy cream. It's still so amazingly rich (read: fatty) it leaves a film in the bowl. Joel quipped "mmm, this is good peachy butter...er, I mean ice cream."

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.