4 years ago
Friday, October 06, 2006
Pray!
And if you're the praying type, please pray for Chloe, a 5 year old who was hit by a car on the way to the zoo on Monday in China, where she lives with her family. Her father pastors an International Church there. The news is hopeful, but I think she's still in a coma.
The grace of God is in my mind shaped like a key...10? poems for List Friday
(Donald Swann)
This is a re-posting. It was originally posted sometime in June. I wrote it on a Sunday and then hid it in the previous week's archives. What can I say, sometimes a girl needs to be sentimental. It's been a rough week in Sarah Louise Land. But I am still learning.
So, a reprise of "The Grace of God is in my mind shaped like a key..."
Loretta's List Friday was about what ten things (aside from live loved ones) we'd grab from the house in an emergency. My inner life is too tumultuous at the moment to even imagine an outward emergency.
This morning, I awoke early and wasn't ready to get out of bed. So I grabbed one of my latest Goodwill finds, a book of poetry/prose compiled by Elizabeth Goudge. I was pawing through the pages, looking for something, not knowing what. When I found IT, it took me all over my apartment, tearing through my "treasure boxes" for a poem that I love. While searching, I discovered something I had made lost and am now ready to embrace, a translation of the Love chapter (1 Corinthians 13) done by my last love, a complex man that I knew for two years, dated for one of those. He is now happily married, and through the magic of the Internet, I know that the day he defended his doctoral dissertation, his first son was born. I never subscribed to the "I'll always love you" theory--I figure, we're broken up, you married someone else, I'm glad.
But a poem by Agatha Christie (I'm assuming the mystery writer) changed my mind, that love could be this ineffable stream, not necessarily linked to the reality of now. That it's okay for me to still love what we had, that moment in time. Even though now, it exists outside of time. So I played really hard and fast with the rules of List Friday. These are the poems I would never want to lose. These I have searched for high and low in my apartment or from scraps of keywords in Google. If ever there was a post that would get me in trouble with the Feds, it's this one. I'll try to link to sources if I can find them.
Thursday (from First Fig and other Poems, by Edna St. Vincent Millay)
And if I loved you Wednesday,
Well, what is that to you?
I do not love you Thursday--
That much is true.
And why you come complaining
Is more than I can see.
I loved you Wednesday--yes--but what
Is that to me?
This poem was important to me when I was snubbed by the guy who wrote the next poem, which is no longer posted anywhere on the 'net and he would probably kill me or call me long distance from England, so I'm censoring myself. It's a poem about losing someone from your memory after you've lost them the first time. Just so you know, this post will only be "up" for today. Tomorrow I'll hide it in last week's archives.
"The Second Time" Censored.
The prose piece from the Elizabeth Goudge compilation that got me, right there:
Our moments of happiness are those when we see a burning light through the bars of our personal prison, when for some amazing reason we look out through the cracks; or perhaps by suffering with someone in charity, we leap out of the prison itself, guided by the Spirit, which has never lost its New Testament talent for walking through brick walls. The grace of God is in my mind shaped like a key, that comes from time to time and unlocks the heavy doors.
--Donald Swann
(from A Book of Faith, compiled by Elizabeth Goudge, p. 291)
This image, of the prison doors opening, took me to pawing through my apartment for at least twenty to thirty minutes, for the box that held the next poem. I know not where I originally found it, only that it for me is a favorite.
"After All these Years"
(my note on the creased page, which is in pink ink--of course--says poetry lines, leading me to believe it was not set up as prose as you see it here.)
(okay, I put it in "poetry lines," but I have no idea the original source, or whether the lines as I've set them out are matched to the original poem.)
When I fantacize your kisses it rattles me,
like downing four mugs of coffee in advance of noon,
making me tremble unnervingly through the whole lunch hour.
But your real kisses,
when they come to me,
calm me like half a Valium chased with beer,
so that my convict heart stops banging its cup on the bars--
because the iron door has suddenly shuddered open,
and the guard's waving me out,
waving me out with a smile
after all these years.
(Joseph Hutchinson) (I'm assuming my link is the same guy--I have no actual proof.)
This next piece was a Christmas gift the year we each gave each other eighteen gifts. We spent Christmas day together, without family, because we worked the 24th and the 26th for Fox Books. We traveled on the 27th I think, to our respective homes. But that day was ours alone. And he gave this to me, framed. I don't like to keep mementos from past lovers so the frame is long gone. But I kept this copy. I have hidden it from myself again, each time I found it. I found it folded, among other papers. He translated it from the Greek. (Any wonder that I long to learn Greek, any wonder that I have pined after seminarians?)
And yet I show you the far superior way to take.
If I should babble in the tongues of humans and angels, but I have not love,
I have become only a clanging cymbal or a ringing bronze.
And if I should be able to interpret the divine will
and I should have all the knowledge
of what is both within human grasp and what exceeds it and I
should possess all the faith to alter a mountain,
and I have not love,
I am nothing.
Even if I should take all that I own and use it to feed the poor,
singing against my body in such a way that others would boast about it,
and I have not love,
then I am helped in no way at all.
Love is long in suffering, love is good and kind, not jealous or full of itself.
Love does not act unseemingly, it does not seek what betters itself alone,
Love is not provoked, it does not keep score against those who wrong it,
Love does not delight in the unjust, but rejoices with the truth;
Love endures everything, trusts everything, hopes everything, survives everything.
Love does not fail; but wherever there are divine interpretations,
they will be abolished; wherever humans or angels babble,
those babblings will be made to cease;
wherever there is knowledge, it will be no more.
For we know a part of the whole and we interpret a part of the whole divine will;
But when the end toward which we strive should come,
that end will abolish that part which we possess.
When I was childish, I used to babble childlishly,
I used to think in a childish way,
I used to consider as a child would; whereas I have become a man
and I have abolished those childish ways.
For even now we see in riddles through a mirror, but then face to face;
even know, I know a part of the whole,
but then I will acknowledge just as I was acknowledged.
And now, these three remain: faith, hope, and love;
And the greater of these is love.
Paul of Tarsus
1 Corinthians 13
So, now the Agatha Christie. I'll finish with that chick. I can't remember her name at the moment.
"Remembrance"
If I should leave you in the days to come--
God grant that it may not be--
But yet if so,
Your love for me must fade I know.
You will remember--and you will forget.
But oh! how imperisable--strong
My love for you shall burn and glow
Deep in your heart--your whole life long,
Unknown, unseen, but living still in bliss
So you shall bear me with you all the days.
Forget then what you will.
I died--but not my love for you,
That lives for aye--though dumb,
Remember this,
If I should ever leave you in the days to come.
(from The Book of Faith, compiled by Eliz. Goudge, p. 190)
Remember
by Christina Rossetti
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
I'll have you know that I searched high and low, hither and yon, to find this poem. Thank you to the Academy of American Poets.
Oh, how could you do a post on poetry and lost and found things without Elizabeth Bishop?
Elizabeth Bishop - One Art
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
And now, it is beyond the time I should have driven to the North Hills to pick up the pill I generally take at 9 am, so I throw caution to the wind with two more treasures:
"Variations On The Word Love"
This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn't what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.
Then there's the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It's a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside. You can
hold on or let go.
- Margaret Atwood
"Outwitted"
by Edwin Markham
He drew a
circle that shut me
out —Heretic, rebel,
a thing to flout.
But Love and I
had the wit to win:
We drew a
circle that
took him in!
Oh, and this one. Sigh. I read this to him once after a fight. It kept us together a little longer, a few more weeks. How do you define love, anyways? It's pretty damn ineffable. So I'll finish with the Bard.
"Sonnet 116"
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
T, I lost you. May I find myself and love again, once upon a time, happily ever after, Your L.
This is a re-posting. It was originally posted sometime in June. I wrote it on a Sunday and then hid it in the previous week's archives. What can I say, sometimes a girl needs to be sentimental. It's been a rough week in Sarah Louise Land. But I am still learning.
So, a reprise of "The Grace of God is in my mind shaped like a key..."
Loretta's List Friday was about what ten things (aside from live loved ones) we'd grab from the house in an emergency. My inner life is too tumultuous at the moment to even imagine an outward emergency.
This morning, I awoke early and wasn't ready to get out of bed. So I grabbed one of my latest Goodwill finds, a book of poetry/prose compiled by Elizabeth Goudge. I was pawing through the pages, looking for something, not knowing what. When I found IT, it took me all over my apartment, tearing through my "treasure boxes" for a poem that I love. While searching, I discovered something I had made lost and am now ready to embrace, a translation of the Love chapter (1 Corinthians 13) done by my last love, a complex man that I knew for two years, dated for one of those. He is now happily married, and through the magic of the Internet, I know that the day he defended his doctoral dissertation, his first son was born. I never subscribed to the "I'll always love you" theory--I figure, we're broken up, you married someone else, I'm glad.
But a poem by Agatha Christie (I'm assuming the mystery writer) changed my mind, that love could be this ineffable stream, not necessarily linked to the reality of now. That it's okay for me to still love what we had, that moment in time. Even though now, it exists outside of time. So I played really hard and fast with the rules of List Friday. These are the poems I would never want to lose. These I have searched for high and low in my apartment or from scraps of keywords in Google. If ever there was a post that would get me in trouble with the Feds, it's this one. I'll try to link to sources if I can find them.
Thursday (from First Fig and other Poems, by Edna St. Vincent Millay)
And if I loved you Wednesday,
Well, what is that to you?
I do not love you Thursday--
That much is true.
And why you come complaining
Is more than I can see.
I loved you Wednesday--yes--but what
Is that to me?
The prose piece from the Elizabeth Goudge compilation that got me, right there:
Our moments of happiness are those when we see a burning light through the bars of our personal prison, when for some amazing reason we look out through the cracks; or perhaps by suffering with someone in charity, we leap out of the prison itself, guided by the Spirit, which has never lost its New Testament talent for walking through brick walls. The grace of God is in my mind shaped like a key, that comes from time to time and unlocks the heavy doors.
--Donald Swann
(from A Book of Faith, compiled by Elizabeth Goudge, p. 291)
This image, of the prison doors opening, took me to pawing through my apartment for at least twenty to thirty minutes, for the box that held the next poem. I know not where I originally found it, only that it for me is a favorite.
"After All these Years"
(my note on the creased page, which is in pink ink--of course--says poetry lines, leading me to believe it was not set up as prose as you see it here.)
(okay, I put it in "poetry lines," but I have no idea the original source, or whether the lines as I've set them out are matched to the original poem.)
When I fantacize your kisses it rattles me,
like downing four mugs of coffee in advance of noon,
making me tremble unnervingly through the whole lunch hour.
But your real kisses,
when they come to me,
calm me like half a Valium chased with beer,
so that my convict heart stops banging its cup on the bars--
because the iron door has suddenly shuddered open,
and the guard's waving me out,
waving me out with a smile
after all these years.
(Joseph Hutchinson) (I'm assuming my link is the same guy--I have no actual proof.)
This next piece was a Christmas gift the year we each gave each other eighteen gifts. We spent Christmas day together, without family, because we worked the 24th and the 26th for Fox Books. We traveled on the 27th I think, to our respective homes. But that day was ours alone. And he gave this to me, framed. I don't like to keep mementos from past lovers so the frame is long gone. But I kept this copy. I have hidden it from myself again, each time I found it. I found it folded, among other papers. He translated it from the Greek. (Any wonder that I long to learn Greek, any wonder that I have pined after seminarians?)
And yet I show you the far superior way to take.
If I should babble in the tongues of humans and angels, but I have not love,
I have become only a clanging cymbal or a ringing bronze.
And if I should be able to interpret the divine will
and I should have all the knowledge
of what is both within human grasp and what exceeds it and I
should possess all the faith to alter a mountain,
and I have not love,
I am nothing.
Even if I should take all that I own and use it to feed the poor,
singing against my body in such a way that others would boast about it,
and I have not love,
then I am helped in no way at all.
Love is long in suffering, love is good and kind, not jealous or full of itself.
Love does not act unseemingly, it does not seek what betters itself alone,
Love is not provoked, it does not keep score against those who wrong it,
Love does not delight in the unjust, but rejoices with the truth;
Love endures everything, trusts everything, hopes everything, survives everything.
Love does not fail; but wherever there are divine interpretations,
they will be abolished; wherever humans or angels babble,
those babblings will be made to cease;
wherever there is knowledge, it will be no more.
For we know a part of the whole and we interpret a part of the whole divine will;
But when the end toward which we strive should come,
that end will abolish that part which we possess.
When I was childish, I used to babble childlishly,
I used to think in a childish way,
I used to consider as a child would; whereas I have become a man
and I have abolished those childish ways.
For even now we see in riddles through a mirror, but then face to face;
even know, I know a part of the whole,
but then I will acknowledge just as I was acknowledged.
And now, these three remain: faith, hope, and love;
And the greater of these is love.
Paul of Tarsus
1 Corinthians 13
So, now the Agatha Christie. I'll finish with that chick. I can't remember her name at the moment.
"Remembrance"
If I should leave you in the days to come--
God grant that it may not be--
But yet if so,
Your love for me must fade I know.
You will remember--and you will forget.
But oh! how imperisable--strong
My love for you shall burn and glow
Deep in your heart--your whole life long,
Unknown, unseen, but living still in bliss
So you shall bear me with you all the days.
Forget then what you will.
I died--but not my love for you,
That lives for aye--though dumb,
Remember this,
If I should ever leave you in the days to come.
(from The Book of Faith, compiled by Eliz. Goudge, p. 190)
Remember
by Christina Rossetti
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
I'll have you know that I searched high and low, hither and yon, to find this poem. Thank you to the Academy of American Poets.
Oh, how could you do a post on poetry and lost and found things without Elizabeth Bishop?
Elizabeth Bishop - One Art
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
And now, it is beyond the time I should have driven to the North Hills to pick up the pill I generally take at 9 am, so I throw caution to the wind with two more treasures:
"Variations On The Word Love"
This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn't what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.
Then there's the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It's a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside. You can
hold on or let go.
- Margaret Atwood
"Outwitted"
by Edwin Markham
He drew a
circle that shut me
out —Heretic, rebel,
a thing to flout.
But Love and I
had the wit to win:
We drew a
circle that
took him in!
Oh, and this one. Sigh. I read this to him once after a fight. It kept us together a little longer, a few more weeks. How do you define love, anyways? It's pretty damn ineffable. So I'll finish with the Bard.
"Sonnet 116"
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
T, I lost you. May I find myself and love again, once upon a time, happily ever after, Your L.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Making a list, checking it twice...
No, not that kind--although, it is a great segue for my dad's philosophy of Santa Claus and the three stages of man: He believes in Santa Claus, he doesn't believe in Santa Claus, he is Santa Claus.
The list I'm formulating is of my categories. Yes, I will soon be crossing to the dark (or is it light?) side of Blogger Beta where my posts can have categories. I am very excited.
This morning, when I heard about the sale of the Penguins to a Canadian businessman, I thought I definately will have a category called hockey. My heart almost skipped a beat before the radio announcer continued, saying that the Pens would be staying in Pittsburgh. Babs and I talked about going to a game this season...
I don't know what my other categories will be, but I'll keep yins posted n'at.
The list I'm formulating is of my categories. Yes, I will soon be crossing to the dark (or is it light?) side of Blogger Beta where my posts can have categories. I am very excited.
This morning, when I heard about the sale of the Penguins to a Canadian businessman, I thought I definately will have a category called hockey. My heart almost skipped a beat before the radio announcer continued, saying that the Pens would be staying in Pittsburgh. Babs and I talked about going to a game this season...
I don't know what my other categories will be, but I'll keep yins posted n'at.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Hula's meme stolen from Glam Jo by way of....
1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, find line 4. Write down what it says. "You probably didn't realize I was serious about going to the dance." Nick and the Nerd by Rachel Hawthorne.
2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can...what do you touch first? My co-worker's book cart.
3. What is the last thing you watched on TV? On TV or on my TV? On TV, I last watched an episode of Friends. On my TV, I watched part of About A Boy and some more episodes of Friends (on DVD).
4. Without looking, what time is it?1:48
5. Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?1:42
6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear? My co-worker's fan.
7. When did you last go outside? For lunch. The air is amazing--it's mid 60s (fahrenheit!) and there are falling leaves. Delish!
8. What are you wearing? One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish tshirt, beige pants, my favorite shoes.
9. When did you last laugh? At lunch with Marian.
10. Seen anything weird lately? An email from my dad of deep sea animals that washed up during the tsunami. (Yes, I've been cleaning out my email as I continue to get "Your email account is full" every morning at work.)
11. What did you dream last night? A friend was making a blanket for me.
12. What's on the walls of the room you're in? A bulliten board with a calendar of Detroit and a poster that says "Love a Librarian and spice up your reading life."
13. What do you think of this survey? It's passing the time.
14. What's the last film you saw? Little Miss Sunshine (again.) How I love that movie, let me count the ways...
15. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy? Pay off my school loans, pre-pay for the MFA at Carlow, and then give a lot of cash to the American Bible Society. Oh, and maybe buy the house in which I'm renting the third floor walk up apartment.
16. Tell me something about you that I don't know. I once had a goldfish named Vacuum Cleaner because he ate all of the other goldfish's food. The other goldfish was named Guitar.
17. If you could change one thing about the world, what would you change? Selfishness. It's the root of all evil. (I kept Glam Jo's. I agree.)
18. Do you like to dance? Yes. But I don't like dancing cheek to cheek with someone I don't know.
19. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her? Zoe. It means Life Giving.
20. Boy? Peter.
21. Would you ever consider living abroad? Is this a trick question? (Um, been there, done that. I'm very glad to be living stateside right now. I heart Pittsburgh)
2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can...what do you touch first? My co-worker's book cart.
3. What is the last thing you watched on TV? On TV or on my TV? On TV, I last watched an episode of Friends. On my TV, I watched part of About A Boy and some more episodes of Friends (on DVD).
4. Without looking, what time is it?1:48
5. Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?1:42
6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear? My co-worker's fan.
7. When did you last go outside? For lunch. The air is amazing--it's mid 60s (fahrenheit!) and there are falling leaves. Delish!
8. What are you wearing? One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish tshirt, beige pants, my favorite shoes.
9. When did you last laugh? At lunch with Marian.
10. Seen anything weird lately? An email from my dad of deep sea animals that washed up during the tsunami. (Yes, I've been cleaning out my email as I continue to get "Your email account is full" every morning at work.)
11. What did you dream last night? A friend was making a blanket for me.
12. What's on the walls of the room you're in? A bulliten board with a calendar of Detroit and a poster that says "Love a Librarian and spice up your reading life."
13. What do you think of this survey? It's passing the time.
14. What's the last film you saw? Little Miss Sunshine (again.) How I love that movie, let me count the ways...
15. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy? Pay off my school loans, pre-pay for the MFA at Carlow, and then give a lot of cash to the American Bible Society. Oh, and maybe buy the house in which I'm renting the third floor walk up apartment.
16. Tell me something about you that I don't know. I once had a goldfish named Vacuum Cleaner because he ate all of the other goldfish's food. The other goldfish was named Guitar.
17. If you could change one thing about the world, what would you change? Selfishness. It's the root of all evil. (I kept Glam Jo's. I agree.)
18. Do you like to dance? Yes. But I don't like dancing cheek to cheek with someone I don't know.
19. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her? Zoe. It means Life Giving.
20. Boy? Peter.
21. Would you ever consider living abroad? Is this a trick question? (Um, been there, done that. I'm very glad to be living stateside right now. I heart Pittsburgh)
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair
(Langston Hughes, "Mother to Son")
There are mornings I wake up with a verse of a song or a poem in my brain. This morning, it was the verse above from Langston Hughes. I first read it as a child in Cricket magazine. It is from a poem in which a mother tells her son that life is hard. As a 8-9-10 year old, I related. (I don't remember when I read the poem, only that we lived on Calle Guaymura...)
When I look back at my life, I wonder that I was introduced to such an inspirational poem so early, that I could have something to hold onto through the hard times.
I could go on--my life ain't been no crystal stair....but I don't want to play the victim this morning. And at 6:54 am, I don't have the resources to do much beyond whining. But for whatever reason, I needed to share this Langston Hughes poem with you.
Friday, I went to a conference on Early Literacy. Now, what I do at the library, storytimes for 6mos to 24mos, that's Pre-Literacy. So these people didn't even have the research about the amazing brain connections (pdf of "Make way for Dendrites") that happen in wee ones. I was a little disappointed.
But after lunch, we had our "lunch speaker." And I remembered the entire reason I signed up for this conference: it was to hear a true living treasure, Ashley Bryan. I won't bore you with the details now, as the sun is growing pink and it's time for my walk, but he had us all reciting Langston Hughes through call and response. (He'd recite a line, we recited it back.) He turned a room of women into five year olds again.
Ah, my walk calls me. I was at work until ten last night finishing up some travel books and in a few hours I'll have to shoe horn too many people into our teeny tiny program room because the library book sale is this weekend and so I can't have my usually roomy meeting room. Gotta go!
There are mornings I wake up with a verse of a song or a poem in my brain. This morning, it was the verse above from Langston Hughes. I first read it as a child in Cricket magazine. It is from a poem in which a mother tells her son that life is hard. As a 8-9-10 year old, I related. (I don't remember when I read the poem, only that we lived on Calle Guaymura...)
When I look back at my life, I wonder that I was introduced to such an inspirational poem so early, that I could have something to hold onto through the hard times.
I could go on--my life ain't been no crystal stair....but I don't want to play the victim this morning. And at 6:54 am, I don't have the resources to do much beyond whining. But for whatever reason, I needed to share this Langston Hughes poem with you.
Friday, I went to a conference on Early Literacy. Now, what I do at the library, storytimes for 6mos to 24mos, that's Pre-Literacy. So these people didn't even have the research about the amazing brain connections (pdf of "Make way for Dendrites") that happen in wee ones. I was a little disappointed.
But after lunch, we had our "lunch speaker." And I remembered the entire reason I signed up for this conference: it was to hear a true living treasure, Ashley Bryan. I won't bore you with the details now, as the sun is growing pink and it's time for my walk, but he had us all reciting Langston Hughes through call and response. (He'd recite a line, we recited it back.) He turned a room of women into five year olds again.
Ah, my walk calls me. I was at work until ten last night finishing up some travel books and in a few hours I'll have to shoe horn too many people into our teeny tiny program room because the library book sale is this weekend and so I can't have my usually roomy meeting room. Gotta go!
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
The first problem for all of us, men and women, is not to learn, but to unlearn.
(Gloria Steinem)
How true. BJ spoke this week on our second practice (okay I'll back up a minute.)
The OD currently does not have "official membership." Which we need in order to become an "official church" in the Pittsburgh Presbytery. A lot of Emergent churches have practices (kind of like Benedict's Rule) and so our steering team (this mysterious group of planners) has come up with the following:
How true. BJ spoke this week on our second practice (okay I'll back up a minute.)
The OD currently does not have "official membership." Which we need in order to become an "official church" in the Pittsburgh Presbytery. A lot of Emergent churches have practices (kind of like Benedict's Rule) and so our steering team (this mysterious group of planners) has come up with the following:
- Listening
- Learning
- Eating
- Encouraging
- Giving
So far we've gone over listening and learning in sermon format and next week (the timing!) is our communion Sunday when we eat together before the service, so there you go. BJ has also been hosting dinners at his house to discuss that week's sermon. I missed the first two because I had a previous dinner engagement and last week I was completely burned out. I was supposed to go see someone play Bill Cosby (a storyteller, who also plays various baseball players) but my life sort of exploded last Wednesday. Enough about me, though.
Where was I? Oh yes, BJ has been hosting dinners. So I'm going this week, and I've reminded a few people (BJ told us to!).
On learning and unlearning: this is my season to learn about friendship. I love the line that Carrie says at the very end of the season finale of Sex and the City: (it's a long one...)
Carrie: Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.
I remember going out with this one guy to the movies. He said, "I like going to the movies with you." It was a true compliment coming from someone, like me, who was used to going to the movies by himself. I am now used to going ice skating by myself, as I have done it twice now. (This week, at the very same Igloo where Mario Lemieux and company played so many games...) For years I longed to have someone to walk with in the morning and now I am grateful that I can walk alone with my CD player and take fabulous pictures like the one below.
But gradually and suddenly, my life became infused with all these wonderful people (I guess it sort of crept up on me) and now I long for more time with friends. My life isn't really cut out for it: I work two evenings/week and every Saturday except when I take a day off. So now I'm learning how to balance more friends and unlearning how to be a loner and yet learning how to be alone without being lonely.
It's a lot to learn, and sometimes I feel like an absolute dork. But let me tell you, the payoffs are amazing.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Spider Murphy played the saxophone...
(Jailhouse Rock, Elvis Presley)
Who would have thought this city girl would be becoming a nature photographer?
Who would have thought this city girl would be becoming a nature photographer?
Sunday, October 01, 2006
I came here to play hockey
"If you think about what could happen or what may happen, your energy's not in the right place." (Sidney Crosby, Penguin's player, in today's Post-Gazette.) See James 4:13-15 (NIV)
Well, um, yeah. When I walked down the stairs for this morning's walk, I was murky as pea soup. Today is a day of mysteries. Sundays often are: they are often the apex of my week socially. Today I have three events: StepTrek, which is walking the slopes of Sou'Side, a birthday party, and an appreciation party. Oh, and church, which is no small event. So I guess that's four.
I took some pictures:
This was how I felt this morning, as I embarked on my walk. Like a box of trash in front of a broken garage door.
Fall is coming--these vines are brown and dying.
The cracks in the pavement are like the cracks in me--
And plants can grow through the cracks in the pavement.
A veritable garden in the cracks in the pavement. A concrete garden....
This truck has been parked here so long that flowers have grown into the hubcap.
And this was the surprise! It was like getting a Valentine from God Himself.
************
I changed up my walking CD this morning. I'd been listening to Michael W. Smith's "Worship" album, decided I didn't want to get stuck in a rut, so I changed the CD to Kutless's album, "Strong Tower." Imagine my surprise when one of the songs was the same, "Draw Me Close." Here are some of the lyrics:
I lay it all down again
To hear You say that I'm Your friend
Okay, technical difficulties here. I just switched from Foxfire to IE and for a minute I had the italics off, but mayhap I need to work on the html...
Okay how's this?
Yes, even in blog-writing, life is a mystery.
Here's something I've noticed about Foxfire--it doesn't automatically refresh. So if I visit mah blog in Foxfire, sometimes I do a double take, wait a minute, I posted a new post, where is it? Then I hit refresh and it comes up. So, because there are things I like and (today's theme!) mysteries in both browsers, I use both. (IE and Foxfire, that is.)
Okay, waiting for the rest of the pix to download. Last week they did so super fast. This week, not so much.
Actually, I think I could do with a nap right about now...
Blogger's irregularities are part of why I haven't taken advantage of my "beta" status. That and the fact that I'd have to go and do the whole categories thing...which I'm thrilled about, but I have a feeling it will take a while. Maybe if I start small...
And wouldn't ya know, the darn pictures didn't post!! Back to Foxfire, shall we?
I really should get some grub.
*************
So, I started this post at about 9:14 am and am posting it at 10:16 pm. It took a while to get the pictures up and in the correct sequence. I had a very eventful day that I'll detail in days to come. Here's a trend, though: the sandwich I ALWAYS get at Tazza wasn't available, so I tried a new one. The movie I wanted to watch wasn't rewound, so I watched a different one. I wanted to get a quick bite at Taco Bell after the StepTrek and before the birthday party but their credit card machine was down and I'd used all my cash at Tazza. It was a day of this is my plan, oh no, this is the real plan.
Tomorrow: rest, recuperate, laundry, and ICE SKATING at MELLON ARENA!!
Well, um, yeah. When I walked down the stairs for this morning's walk, I was murky as pea soup. Today is a day of mysteries. Sundays often are: they are often the apex of my week socially. Today I have three events: StepTrek, which is walking the slopes of Sou'Side, a birthday party, and an appreciation party. Oh, and church, which is no small event. So I guess that's four.
I took some pictures:
This was how I felt this morning, as I embarked on my walk. Like a box of trash in front of a broken garage door.
Fall is coming--these vines are brown and dying.
The cracks in the pavement are like the cracks in me--
And plants can grow through the cracks in the pavement.
A veritable garden in the cracks in the pavement. A concrete garden....
This truck has been parked here so long that flowers have grown into the hubcap.
And this was the surprise! It was like getting a Valentine from God Himself.************
I changed up my walking CD this morning. I'd been listening to Michael W. Smith's "Worship" album, decided I didn't want to get stuck in a rut, so I changed the CD to Kutless's album, "Strong Tower." Imagine my surprise when one of the songs was the same, "Draw Me Close." Here are some of the lyrics:
I lay it all down again
To hear You say that I'm Your friend
Okay, technical difficulties here. I just switched from Foxfire to IE and for a minute I had the italics off, but mayhap I need to work on the html...
Okay how's this?
Yes, even in blog-writing, life is a mystery.
Here's something I've noticed about Foxfire--it doesn't automatically refresh. So if I visit mah blog in Foxfire, sometimes I do a double take, wait a minute, I posted a new post, where is it? Then I hit refresh and it comes up. So, because there are things I like and (today's theme!) mysteries in both browsers, I use both. (IE and Foxfire, that is.)
Okay, waiting for the rest of the pix to download. Last week they did so super fast. This week, not so much.
Actually, I think I could do with a nap right about now...
Blogger's irregularities are part of why I haven't taken advantage of my "beta" status. That and the fact that I'd have to go and do the whole categories thing...which I'm thrilled about, but I have a feeling it will take a while. Maybe if I start small...
And wouldn't ya know, the darn pictures didn't post!! Back to Foxfire, shall we?
I really should get some grub.
*************
So, I started this post at about 9:14 am and am posting it at 10:16 pm. It took a while to get the pictures up and in the correct sequence. I had a very eventful day that I'll detail in days to come. Here's a trend, though: the sandwich I ALWAYS get at Tazza wasn't available, so I tried a new one. The movie I wanted to watch wasn't rewound, so I watched a different one. I wanted to get a quick bite at Taco Bell after the StepTrek and before the birthday party but their credit card machine was down and I'd used all my cash at Tazza. It was a day of this is my plan, oh no, this is the real plan.
Tomorrow: rest, recuperate, laundry, and ICE SKATING at MELLON ARENA!!
Friday, September 29, 2006
Men in trees (or shrubs)
There's a new show by that name--I couldn't even watch one episode--it's supposed to be a comedy but all the people are so BITTER.
I'm talking, however, about men that have brrrrrrr brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr (yes, chainsaws) in the back of my back yard (as in the back yard of houses opposite my back yard, so, still very much in my hearing range.)
I came home from the conference (early, as previously mentioned) and I thought, hey I could tackle some more of my apartment, or upload more books to library thing. NO. The noise was enough to drive me out of the house to go to Waterworks, the nearest strip mall with a movie theatre. I had giftage to purchase and no clues what to get (what do you get a one year old that has everything?) and I needed a movie--NOW! Since watching one at home wouldn't work and giftage is needed by Sunday, staying home was not an option.
I went to good old Fox books, spent the requisite amount, and did pretty well, I might say. More on that later, maybe, maybe not. I had already purchased my ticket for the 5:30 showing of Little Miss Sunshine, so I got the "Manager's Special" (nachos and a medium drink) for $5.50. LMS bore up quite well after the second viewing. Love that movie. It is so real, so much of what we go through every day, only they had to bundle EVERYTHING up into three days. Life, death, beauty pageants, and broken clutches (to start the VW van, they had to give it a push and running start if they weren't on a hill.)
I am definately hormonal--the mood swings are like roller coasters. Yum. Day Two will be here ANY day now... But it's too dark to cut trees now, (ah, the quiet!) so I'm going to pop in either Something's Gotta Give (Jack Nicholson, Diane Keaton) or Cookie's Fortune (Robert Altman.) I've already seen CF and it is BRILLIANT, so I think I'll go for the wild card, Something's Gotta Give.
Oh, and I have the rum and coke flowing. Yes folks, it is Friday!!
I'm talking, however, about men that have brrrrrrr brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr (yes, chainsaws) in the back of my back yard (as in the back yard of houses opposite my back yard, so, still very much in my hearing range.)
I came home from the conference (early, as previously mentioned) and I thought, hey I could tackle some more of my apartment, or upload more books to library thing. NO. The noise was enough to drive me out of the house to go to Waterworks, the nearest strip mall with a movie theatre. I had giftage to purchase and no clues what to get (what do you get a one year old that has everything?) and I needed a movie--NOW! Since watching one at home wouldn't work and giftage is needed by Sunday, staying home was not an option.
I went to good old Fox books, spent the requisite amount, and did pretty well, I might say. More on that later, maybe, maybe not. I had already purchased my ticket for the 5:30 showing of Little Miss Sunshine, so I got the "Manager's Special" (nachos and a medium drink) for $5.50. LMS bore up quite well after the second viewing. Love that movie. It is so real, so much of what we go through every day, only they had to bundle EVERYTHING up into three days. Life, death, beauty pageants, and broken clutches (to start the VW van, they had to give it a push and running start if they weren't on a hill.)
I am definately hormonal--the mood swings are like roller coasters. Yum. Day Two will be here ANY day now... But it's too dark to cut trees now, (ah, the quiet!) so I'm going to pop in either Something's Gotta Give (Jack Nicholson, Diane Keaton) or Cookie's Fortune (Robert Altman.) I've already seen CF and it is BRILLIANT, so I think I'll go for the wild card, Something's Gotta Give.
Oh, and I have the rum and coke flowing. Yes folks, it is Friday!!
Thursday, September 28, 2006
thing a ma jigs...
Library thing, my newest toy!
Friday I'll be at an Early Literacy Conference (yes, it starts at 8 am, that IS early!) and I'll be done with my day early too (3:30!!) ...I may go for a drive north to see Emily.
Or I may mess around on the computer...this will be a very social weekend: party on Saturday, walking the steps in South Side on Sunday noon, a party in the afternoon, a party after church on Sunday, ice skating on Monday... (plus work all day Saturday, as per usual.)
So I better store up some alone time...
Book I've started reading: Riding the Bus with my Sister. It is amazing!!! As a bus rider for most of my working life, I love reading about riding, and this is a real, not sugar coated story, about how Rachel rides the buses with her mentally retarded sister, who has the bus system figured out. Beth knows the best drivers, all the routes, and has friends all over town. Her bus pass always has the 00001 sticker, proving that she is the queen of the busses, because that's the first pass sold every month. It's the One Book, One Conference for the PALA Conference (Pennsylvania Library Association) in November. I'll be presenting a Poster Session on my Stuffed Animal Sleepover.
Time for bed!!
Friday I'll be at an Early Literacy Conference (yes, it starts at 8 am, that IS early!) and I'll be done with my day early too (3:30!!) ...I may go for a drive north to see Emily.
Or I may mess around on the computer...this will be a very social weekend: party on Saturday, walking the steps in South Side on Sunday noon, a party in the afternoon, a party after church on Sunday, ice skating on Monday... (plus work all day Saturday, as per usual.)
So I better store up some alone time...
Book I've started reading: Riding the Bus with my Sister. It is amazing!!! As a bus rider for most of my working life, I love reading about riding, and this is a real, not sugar coated story, about how Rachel rides the buses with her mentally retarded sister, who has the bus system figured out. Beth knows the best drivers, all the routes, and has friends all over town. Her bus pass always has the 00001 sticker, proving that she is the queen of the busses, because that's the first pass sold every month. It's the One Book, One Conference for the PALA Conference (Pennsylvania Library Association) in November. I'll be presenting a Poster Session on my Stuffed Animal Sleepover.
Time for bed!!
Oh yeah, you blend.
(Mona Lisa Vito, as played by Marisa Tomei in My Cousin Vinny)
There are a few movies that I can always count on for a laugh. My Cousin Vinny is definately one of them.
We've started our latest Beth Moore study. This one is on The Patriarchs. In the introductory video session, Beth said, "easy lives don't make great stories."
One of the best things I've read about writing is the following: "get your character up a tree, throw rocks at him, then get him down out of the tree." My Cousin Vinny is just like that. Every night Lisa and Vinny can't sleep because of the noise in the hotel. Every day Vinny makes a mistake in court and gets sent to jail for contempt of court. I mean, what kind of movie would it be if Vinny had won many murder cases prior to this one? The humor is in the fact that he keeps screwing up.
Anyways, I'm just jawing here. I gotta get ready for work.
There are a few movies that I can always count on for a laugh. My Cousin Vinny is definately one of them.
We've started our latest Beth Moore study. This one is on The Patriarchs. In the introductory video session, Beth said, "easy lives don't make great stories."
One of the best things I've read about writing is the following: "get your character up a tree, throw rocks at him, then get him down out of the tree." My Cousin Vinny is just like that. Every night Lisa and Vinny can't sleep because of the noise in the hotel. Every day Vinny makes a mistake in court and gets sent to jail for contempt of court. I mean, what kind of movie would it be if Vinny had won many murder cases prior to this one? The humor is in the fact that he keeps screwing up.
Anyways, I'm just jawing here. I gotta get ready for work.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Toe pick!
(from The Cutting Edge, the best skating movie out there...)
Coming soon: Monday Oct 2 for RAD days.
Mellon Arena Free Admission 6-10PM
66 Mario Lemieux Place (Uptown)
www.mellonarena.com
Be Sidney Crosby or Sasha Cohen for a night as you skate on the Mellon Arena ice. Family skate sessions from 6:00PM-7:15PM and 7:45PM-9:00PM. Ice will be cleared between the sessions. Restrictions apply: You MUST bring your own skates (can NOT enter ice without them); no hockey sticks; under age 12 MUST be accompanied by an adult to the Arena. Arena Tours take place from 6-9PM; tours last approximately 45 minutes; last tour begins at 8PM; first come, first served. Parking is free in the South and East Lots of Mellon Arena starting at 5:30PM. Enter at Gate#2 (Center Avenue). Concession stands open.
*************
What are RAD days? In Allegheny County, we pay 7% tax. The rest of Pennsylvania pays 6%. The extra 1% goes to libraries, stadiums, the ballet. So once a year, the organizations that get the money offer RADical Days, where stuff you'd normally pay to get in is free!!
************
Margaret are you grieving over Golden Grove unleaving? (Fall is coming!!) The trees are starting to turn. I'll post pictures soon.
************
MOP signs--I have been seeing them all over and wondering...this morning it hit me, Mysteries of Pittsburgh, Michael Chabon's novel being made into a movie. I haven't read it since college, and it strikes me that it was a bizarre book, but hey, I support movies being made in Pittsburgh.
So, for you, a list of movies made in our fair city: (well, the link leads you to most of them. My list is of the ones that I knew about/have seen/not seen.) Hey, it's my blog!
Flashdance: still have not seen it. But I still have pink legwarmers from when they were a fashion statement after the movie came out.
Only You: a friend from college was an assistant to someone in this flick.
Diabolique: same friend was assistant to Sharon Stone on this flick. I haven't seen this remake, but the French original is stunning in black and white.
Wonder Boys: do not watch this unless you can sit for the whole time. The first time I watched it, I got the video from the library and only watched it twenty minutes at a time. It is much better if you watch it all at once. I actually was living in Virginia when this came out, but a friend remembers being at CMU where a lot of it was filmed.
Dogma: a bit irreverent, but fun. Matt Damon had just finished reading All the Pretty Horses when this came out and so a crew member came in to Fox Books and wanted to buy all our copies as Matt (yes, we're on first name basis...not!) wanted to make a movie of it. (He did.)
Also, Alan Rickman came into same bookstore and I couldn't place him (I know I've seen him...) so I walk up to him and say "Are you in movies?" "Yes," he replied. Doh! I felt like an absolute id-jit.
Also, the church used in the movie is the Church of St. Peter and St. Paul, a double spired gothic-style church in East Liberty. My dad is a stained glass afficionado and one of his favorite stained glass artists, Lawrence Saint (father of Nate Saint, one of the missionaries killed along with Jim Eliot, see the movie End of the Spear or the documentary Beyond the Gates of Splendor.) made the rose window. It was his first commissioned window.
*****************
Also, I am rereading the first chick lit book I remember reading, Pushing Thirty by Whitney Gaskell. It takes place in DC and there are many mentions of the book The Rules. Our heroine, Ellie Winters, is almost 30 and has fallen for a man who is twenty years her senior. The review says he is "the only man on the planet who isn't interested in dating a younger woman." Main chick lit themes: old boyfriends cropping up at the wrong moment, a heroine who hates her job, and mention of pricey shoes such as Manolo Blahnik. The cover image (click on the link above) is priceless, a woman being smothered by a larger than life birthday cake.
Coming soon: Monday Oct 2 for RAD days.
Mellon Arena Free Admission 6-10PM
66 Mario Lemieux Place (Uptown)
www.mellonarena.com
Be Sidney Crosby or Sasha Cohen for a night as you skate on the Mellon Arena ice. Family skate sessions from 6:00PM-7:15PM and 7:45PM-9:00PM. Ice will be cleared between the sessions. Restrictions apply: You MUST bring your own skates (can NOT enter ice without them); no hockey sticks; under age 12 MUST be accompanied by an adult to the Arena. Arena Tours take place from 6-9PM; tours last approximately 45 minutes; last tour begins at 8PM; first come, first served. Parking is free in the South and East Lots of Mellon Arena starting at 5:30PM. Enter at Gate#2 (Center Avenue). Concession stands open.
*************
What are RAD days? In Allegheny County, we pay 7% tax. The rest of Pennsylvania pays 6%. The extra 1% goes to libraries, stadiums, the ballet. So once a year, the organizations that get the money offer RADical Days, where stuff you'd normally pay to get in is free!!
************
Margaret are you grieving over Golden Grove unleaving? (Fall is coming!!) The trees are starting to turn. I'll post pictures soon.
************
MOP signs--I have been seeing them all over and wondering...this morning it hit me, Mysteries of Pittsburgh, Michael Chabon's novel being made into a movie. I haven't read it since college, and it strikes me that it was a bizarre book, but hey, I support movies being made in Pittsburgh.
So, for you, a list of movies made in our fair city: (well, the link leads you to most of them. My list is of the ones that I knew about/have seen/not seen.) Hey, it's my blog!
Flashdance: still have not seen it. But I still have pink legwarmers from when they were a fashion statement after the movie came out.
Only You: a friend from college was an assistant to someone in this flick.
Diabolique: same friend was assistant to Sharon Stone on this flick. I haven't seen this remake, but the French original is stunning in black and white.
Wonder Boys: do not watch this unless you can sit for the whole time. The first time I watched it, I got the video from the library and only watched it twenty minutes at a time. It is much better if you watch it all at once. I actually was living in Virginia when this came out, but a friend remembers being at CMU where a lot of it was filmed.
Dogma: a bit irreverent, but fun. Matt Damon had just finished reading All the Pretty Horses when this came out and so a crew member came in to Fox Books and wanted to buy all our copies as Matt (yes, we're on first name basis...not!) wanted to make a movie of it. (He did.)
Also, Alan Rickman came into same bookstore and I couldn't place him (I know I've seen him...) so I walk up to him and say "Are you in movies?" "Yes," he replied. Doh! I felt like an absolute id-jit.
Also, the church used in the movie is the Church of St. Peter and St. Paul, a double spired gothic-style church in East Liberty. My dad is a stained glass afficionado and one of his favorite stained glass artists, Lawrence Saint (father of Nate Saint, one of the missionaries killed along with Jim Eliot, see the movie End of the Spear or the documentary Beyond the Gates of Splendor.) made the rose window. It was his first commissioned window.
*****************
Also, I am rereading the first chick lit book I remember reading, Pushing Thirty by Whitney Gaskell. It takes place in DC and there are many mentions of the book The Rules. Our heroine, Ellie Winters, is almost 30 and has fallen for a man who is twenty years her senior. The review says he is "the only man on the planet who isn't interested in dating a younger woman." Main chick lit themes: old boyfriends cropping up at the wrong moment, a heroine who hates her job, and mention of pricey shoes such as Manolo Blahnik. The cover image (click on the link above) is priceless, a woman being smothered by a larger than life birthday cake.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
I can't think of anything to write about except families. They are a metaphor for every other part of society.
(Anna Quindlen)
Well, my brother decided he needed a car, so my dad is driving the one we call "Teal" to Austin today. Meanwhile, the 'rents decided they wanted a manual transmission this time around, so Sis says to me plaintively, "Why aren't you here to teach me?" (I learned how to drive on a standard transmission--and to parallel park in the same VW station wagon.)
I'm still living in Pittsburgh, just fine with my automatic transmission...this place is too hilly for standard (for my liking). And my short car is doing pretty well at parallel parking, although I did park in the garage last night to go see The Illusionist. WOW. Double wow. I might have to see it again--"Everything you see here is an illusion."
Plus, it was filmed in the Czech Republic which pretty much looked like Vienna to me. Oh how I long for Central Europe, right about now.
Oh, and I got to talk to my brother yesterday. Did he mention that my dad was driving down? Did he mention that his job is with GM? No. I got that from Sis. Boys!! The great communicators, they are NOT. But he's doing fine, and it was great to hear his voice. He was at a bookstore when I called, I totally approve. A little bragging: this is the young man who has read Gabriel Garcia Marquez's latest novel in Spanish.
Well, my brother decided he needed a car, so my dad is driving the one we call "Teal" to Austin today. Meanwhile, the 'rents decided they wanted a manual transmission this time around, so Sis says to me plaintively, "Why aren't you here to teach me?" (I learned how to drive on a standard transmission--and to parallel park in the same VW station wagon.)
I'm still living in Pittsburgh, just fine with my automatic transmission...this place is too hilly for standard (for my liking). And my short car is doing pretty well at parallel parking, although I did park in the garage last night to go see The Illusionist. WOW. Double wow. I might have to see it again--"Everything you see here is an illusion."
Plus, it was filmed in the Czech Republic which pretty much looked like Vienna to me. Oh how I long for Central Europe, right about now.
Oh, and I got to talk to my brother yesterday. Did he mention that my dad was driving down? Did he mention that his job is with GM? No. I got that from Sis. Boys!! The great communicators, they are NOT. But he's doing fine, and it was great to hear his voice. He was at a bookstore when I called, I totally approve. A little bragging: this is the young man who has read Gabriel Garcia Marquez's latest novel in Spanish.
Monday, September 25, 2006
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza...
(traditional song, Wikipedia article)
This song was one I learned on Sesame Street. SS, being one of those shows that repeats content (which stacks up with brain research for early childhood), now I have lost the grammatical thread of the sentence. What I was trying to say is that SS repeats content. So "There's a hole..." is a song from my first childhood (when I was wee) and my second childhood (when the sibs were wee.) I wouldn't be surprised if it is still featured on Sesame Street. For the record, I'm on my third childhood (where all my friends have wee ones and I am a children's librarian.)
Another tangent. I spoke yesterday with a dear friend who reads this blog daily. It was a bit bizarre that he knew exactly what I was talking about because he could reference blog entries as I was filling him in on my life up to date. His daughter is five. As a reflex, I asked him how old she was, and I knew before he answered, because of course she's five. All my friends that could be, were parents five years ago. So I know at least three five year olds in Pittsburgh alone. Four, if you include Cranberry. I know more than five if you include the lower 48 and extend it out to include the world. Of course she's five. What other age could she be?
It is either way too late or way too early for me to be up, but there you go. I had an exhausting but satisfying Sunday and came home to crash on the couch (with the TV on) at 9pm. I woke up at midnight to Sis' favorite show, Alias, which I'd never seen before. LOVED IT. I mean, few network shows feature Warsaw as one of their stops around the globe. That wasn't the only thing I loved, but I am too tired to expound.
I impulsively check email upon awakening. It's not the best habit, but there you go. Yesterday I didn't talk to anyone at 304 Walnut but last night my father sent me four emails: an article about Billy Graham, an article about Evangelical Christianity moving to places in the third and second worlds (i.e. not the "Western World," Europe and the US), a column by Art Buchwald about being a hospice dropout (It starts out with these opening lines: "The summer is over. As I reported in June, instead of going to Heaven I went to Martha's Vineyard."), and an email in which he recorded that today (yesterday at this reading) was Jim Henson's birthday. He would have been 70.
Three of the emails were articles he'd referenced in phone calls we'd had. My father is one of the most well-read men I know. When he worked the Econ desk in Warsaw or Tegucigalpa, he would read three newspapers a day. He reads more now, I think. He goes to Panera with his laptop because while Starbucks has the New York Times in print form, Panera has the Wall Street Journal, and you can get most of the print content of the NYT online, while the WSJ online has a hefty subscription fee. In another life I think my father would be a librarian. He keeps up email lists that are pretty much clipping services to former collegues about Brazil, Columbia, and Poland. It's not something I think about often, but I think the church will be standing room only when he passes.
To my father, (I've said this before, so humor me) a stranger is a friend he hasn't met yet. I remember one time as we were in the airport in Brasilia, on the way to my gate as I was going back to Pittsburgh, we ran into, of all people, my dad's barber. Yes, the man who cut my father's hair. We stood around for at least five minutes while my father bantered on with this man. (Did I mention there was a blizzard on the Eastern Seaboard and I didn't know if my flight would depart?) But that's the kind of man he is. As annoying as it sometimes is, I love him for it.
Emily and I have been talking about fathers lately. How knowing an earthly father aids us in constructing a relationship with Father God. How true I am finding that these days. In my walks, as I gaze upon my Father's world, I think about how dear I am to Him. And that is where we come back to the bucket. Remember the bucket? There's a hole in the bucket.
Dwight L. Moody, when asked if he was filled with the Holy Spirit, replied, "Yes, but I leak." As I have been supporting my friends in this time, as I have been supporting myself in this time, I have found that I need to refill my bucket daily. If I don't have time with God, either in solitary prayer or corporate worship, I'm doomed. Because no human can fill my bucket. No human can fill the need I have for agape love. I love my family. But they are not always around. I love my friends. But they are often wounded, cracked pots, just like me. There's a saying that crops up on bumper stickers: Hurt people hurt people. We don't have to try very hard to hurt someone's feelings. And sometimes we hurt their feelings without even trying. We didn't know that today was their birthday or that they love that song/movie/book/person we just ranted about.
"All my life, I've been in hiding, wishing there was someone just like You." These lyrics only really work if we're singing them in worship to God. Most love songs on popular radio are in the same category. I've heard Peter Gabriel's song "Your Eyes" done a cappella by a Christian group, and the words made so much more sense referring to God's eyes. "In your eyes/I am complete/in your eyes/I see the doorway to a thousand churches/in your eyes/the resolution of all the fruitless searches..."
So my friends, the joy I share with them, is just icing on the cake. I need them as much as they need me, but if I don't have a solid relationship with God, I am no use to them. Because I leak. I offend. And I get lonely at two in the morning.
This song was one I learned on Sesame Street. SS, being one of those shows that repeats content (which stacks up with brain research for early childhood), now I have lost the grammatical thread of the sentence. What I was trying to say is that SS repeats content. So "There's a hole..." is a song from my first childhood (when I was wee) and my second childhood (when the sibs were wee.) I wouldn't be surprised if it is still featured on Sesame Street. For the record, I'm on my third childhood (where all my friends have wee ones and I am a children's librarian.)
Another tangent. I spoke yesterday with a dear friend who reads this blog daily. It was a bit bizarre that he knew exactly what I was talking about because he could reference blog entries as I was filling him in on my life up to date. His daughter is five. As a reflex, I asked him how old she was, and I knew before he answered, because of course she's five. All my friends that could be, were parents five years ago. So I know at least three five year olds in Pittsburgh alone. Four, if you include Cranberry. I know more than five if you include the lower 48 and extend it out to include the world. Of course she's five. What other age could she be?
It is either way too late or way too early for me to be up, but there you go. I had an exhausting but satisfying Sunday and came home to crash on the couch (with the TV on) at 9pm. I woke up at midnight to Sis' favorite show, Alias, which I'd never seen before. LOVED IT. I mean, few network shows feature Warsaw as one of their stops around the globe. That wasn't the only thing I loved, but I am too tired to expound.
I impulsively check email upon awakening. It's not the best habit, but there you go. Yesterday I didn't talk to anyone at 304 Walnut but last night my father sent me four emails: an article about Billy Graham, an article about Evangelical Christianity moving to places in the third and second worlds (i.e. not the "Western World," Europe and the US), a column by Art Buchwald about being a hospice dropout (It starts out with these opening lines: "The summer is over. As I reported in June, instead of going to Heaven I went to Martha's Vineyard."), and an email in which he recorded that today (yesterday at this reading) was Jim Henson's birthday. He would have been 70.
Three of the emails were articles he'd referenced in phone calls we'd had. My father is one of the most well-read men I know. When he worked the Econ desk in Warsaw or Tegucigalpa, he would read three newspapers a day. He reads more now, I think. He goes to Panera with his laptop because while Starbucks has the New York Times in print form, Panera has the Wall Street Journal, and you can get most of the print content of the NYT online, while the WSJ online has a hefty subscription fee. In another life I think my father would be a librarian. He keeps up email lists that are pretty much clipping services to former collegues about Brazil, Columbia, and Poland. It's not something I think about often, but I think the church will be standing room only when he passes.
To my father, (I've said this before, so humor me) a stranger is a friend he hasn't met yet. I remember one time as we were in the airport in Brasilia, on the way to my gate as I was going back to Pittsburgh, we ran into, of all people, my dad's barber. Yes, the man who cut my father's hair. We stood around for at least five minutes while my father bantered on with this man. (Did I mention there was a blizzard on the Eastern Seaboard and I didn't know if my flight would depart?) But that's the kind of man he is. As annoying as it sometimes is, I love him for it.
Emily and I have been talking about fathers lately. How knowing an earthly father aids us in constructing a relationship with Father God. How true I am finding that these days. In my walks, as I gaze upon my Father's world, I think about how dear I am to Him. And that is where we come back to the bucket. Remember the bucket? There's a hole in the bucket.
Dwight L. Moody, when asked if he was filled with the Holy Spirit, replied, "Yes, but I leak." As I have been supporting my friends in this time, as I have been supporting myself in this time, I have found that I need to refill my bucket daily. If I don't have time with God, either in solitary prayer or corporate worship, I'm doomed. Because no human can fill my bucket. No human can fill the need I have for agape love. I love my family. But they are not always around. I love my friends. But they are often wounded, cracked pots, just like me. There's a saying that crops up on bumper stickers: Hurt people hurt people. We don't have to try very hard to hurt someone's feelings. And sometimes we hurt their feelings without even trying. We didn't know that today was their birthday or that they love that song/movie/book/person we just ranted about.
"All my life, I've been in hiding, wishing there was someone just like You." These lyrics only really work if we're singing them in worship to God. Most love songs on popular radio are in the same category. I've heard Peter Gabriel's song "Your Eyes" done a cappella by a Christian group, and the words made so much more sense referring to God's eyes. "In your eyes/I am complete/in your eyes/I see the doorway to a thousand churches/in your eyes/the resolution of all the fruitless searches..."
So my friends, the joy I share with them, is just icing on the cake. I need them as much as they need me, but if I don't have a solid relationship with God, I am no use to them. Because I leak. I offend. And I get lonely at two in the morning.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Goosebumps
Last night I went ice skating. I took a sweater, because I knew it would be cold. But I didn't have goosebumps from the cold. I had them because there I was, re-discovering how much I love this sport. I swim and it lasts for about 4 laps. Um, that's not a reason to join a pool. But I can skate for an hour and even though I feel like I'm tired, I can keep on going. The session was supposed to end at 9:30 but 9:36 came and went. 9:42 came and went and I realized they were going to let the session go until 10pm. So I took a break, re-tightened my laces and kept going. That last fifteen minutes was me just skating my heart out. There were only about five other people on the ice at that point.
It was the perfect end to a wonderful Saturday. I work almost every Saturday and so when I have one off, I often feel like I'm back in that place where I worked 9-5 and all I did on the weekends was watch movies in my garret. Because all my friends know I work every Saturday, and most of my friends spend their weekends with their families.
So yesterday I spent the morning picking up trash in my 'hood. On the streets I know because I've lived in Highland Park and walked all around 'SLiberty for over ten years. The Home Depot guy stood up and said, "These are my roots. I have lived here my whole life and I bought the house I grew up in. So thank you for coming out to clean up my 'hood." And that's what I felt like. Like everyone was there to help me make my streets look nicer.
In the afternoon I did not buy a bike, but got a chance to be overwhelmed by all the choices out there. I was smart to take a friend with me. Then I got to go with my friend as he picked out what he was going to wear in a bit part in Michael Chabon's newest movie, "Mysteries of Pittsburgh" (He was the guy who wrote the book that became the movie "Wonder Boys.") So I got to spend my afternoon in my favorite places: thrift shops and a quick pop into the Joseph-Beth bookstore at the Southside Works.
So it was a perfect end to a wonderful Saturday as I skated fast to "I'll Fly Away" and "Our God is an Awesome God." (The evening was sponsored by the local Christian radio station.)
It was the perfect end to a wonderful Saturday. I work almost every Saturday and so when I have one off, I often feel like I'm back in that place where I worked 9-5 and all I did on the weekends was watch movies in my garret. Because all my friends know I work every Saturday, and most of my friends spend their weekends with their families.
So yesterday I spent the morning picking up trash in my 'hood. On the streets I know because I've lived in Highland Park and walked all around 'SLiberty for over ten years. The Home Depot guy stood up and said, "These are my roots. I have lived here my whole life and I bought the house I grew up in. So thank you for coming out to clean up my 'hood." And that's what I felt like. Like everyone was there to help me make my streets look nicer.
In the afternoon I did not buy a bike, but got a chance to be overwhelmed by all the choices out there. I was smart to take a friend with me. Then I got to go with my friend as he picked out what he was going to wear in a bit part in Michael Chabon's newest movie, "Mysteries of Pittsburgh" (He was the guy who wrote the book that became the movie "Wonder Boys.") So I got to spend my afternoon in my favorite places: thrift shops and a quick pop into the Joseph-Beth bookstore at the Southside Works.
So it was a perfect end to a wonderful Saturday as I skated fast to "I'll Fly Away" and "Our God is an Awesome God." (The evening was sponsored by the local Christian radio station.)
Saturday, September 23, 2006
I've been in hiding....
("Deliver Me," David Crowder Band)
Okay, I've been reading enough blogs this morning to see that it's time for one of "those" posts.
It's just easier to pretend that I'm not a single, going on 35 year old woman with Bipolar II.
I want people to think I'm normal (which I am!) but I forget that normal means BROKEN.
We all are.
Right now, I'm the healthy one. I tease Marian that right now it sucks to be my friend. Case in point:
These are the things I've been doing. (If you have friends that are going through tough times, take notes!!) And by the way, if you don't have friends that are going through tough times, you probably don't have friends. (I mean that in the best way possible, but us depressives are really good at acting.)
And, as I always say to my dad, Happy Valentine's Day!
Okay, I've been reading enough blogs this morning to see that it's time for one of "those" posts.
It's just easier to pretend that I'm not a single, going on 35 year old woman with Bipolar II.
I want people to think I'm normal (which I am!) but I forget that normal means BROKEN.
We all are.
Right now, I'm the healthy one. I tease Marian that right now it sucks to be my friend. Case in point:
- Relationships are breaking left and right. It's BAD. There are shipwrecks and we need a whole new shipyard!!
- und so wieta (and so on, in German.)
These are the things I've been doing. (If you have friends that are going through tough times, take notes!!) And by the way, if you don't have friends that are going through tough times, you probably don't have friends. (I mean that in the best way possible, but us depressives are really good at acting.)
- Showing up. I call Marian and say, I'll be near your house, do you want me to stop by? Or more forceful: I have something for you (see next bullet), I can drop it off or come by with it on my dinner break at 4:30.
- Buying little gifts. This week I've purchased little books, a stuffed pig, and a pink magnet board (they didn't have anything with flamingos)
- Buying milk and OJ. Marian's car is broken and for a few days, so was her fridge. I brought her a can of cold ginger ale each time I visited.
- Sharing meals. This week I've driven 45 minutes to meet someone for dinner (meet halfway!), I've taken my dinner to Marian's, I've taken her to lunch. (Well, she paid, but I drove.)
- Commenting on blogs.
- Posting fun stuff. (We ALL need distractions.)
- Being honest with my dad. It's taken 15 years for me to stand up to him and say, "Hello, I am doing my best over here, and I'd like you to look at where I was 15 years ago and remember that, not recent history" (15 years ago: I was a straight A college freshman who wrote down every penny she spent and reported back to her investors, I mean parents, quarterly.)
- NOT BURNING OUT. This is key. For about three weeks, both Marian and I were down, and it was not pretty. Besides, we are two of the best young librarians at the darn place.
- Keeping in touch with bosses: especially my boss in Children's, who knows all about depression and sometimes I just flop on her chair and tell her all about Marian. I also keep Marian's boss updated, either by email or in person. This is key, because Jenny hasn't a clue on how to handle Marian. I'm teaching her.
- Watching movies. With Marian, by myself. Laughter is key. Laughter is one of the best medicines out there. And it's free!! And you don't need a prescription!!
- Going on walks. Which now that it is light enough outside, I'm going to do.
And, as I always say to my dad, Happy Valentine's Day!
Friday, September 22, 2006
It's Fiesta time! (and a bunch of random pictures)
While on vacation with my family, we stopped at lunch at a diner. This was the only picture my family would let me take...all their dishes were Fiesta ware. The pictures on the wall were of old cars from the fifties and there was a signed picture of Fats Domino. (If I got these facts wrong, hopefully Sis will leave a comment...) When I worked at Fox books dahntahn in the Gimbel's building, the lunch hour was our busiest time. Employee lunches were spaced so that no one had lunch between 11:30 and 1:30. During that time, it was standing room only in the aisles, and two of the popular standing and browsing areas were the house plan books and the collectibles books. This was where I learned about Fiesta ware, because there were books with pictures of dishes and how much they were worth.
I have a soft spot for day lilies. I bought this for a dollar at a yard sale the day my cousin Hannah turned one. She's eight now! It was a road trip just Mom and me. When I lived in my parent's guest room, this picture was one of the main focal pieces. But then my mother redecorated and took it down. I recently brought it to Pittsburgh and relocated it in the foyer.
Another vacation photo. This was taken at Lacawac, a nature reserve. I loved the way the grass came up through the spaces between the stones. Sis, Dad, and my brother are looking at the water bugs. I don't know where my mom was...These are what I would call "Blackbird pictures." I was at the Weis Markets in Hamlin, PA, and I thought the packaging for these fresh herbs was unlike any I'd ever seen.
I think they're going for a French countryside feel...
The picture for Italian parsley looks very American, and what's the deal with this Tarragon...
and this Tarragon? And did they run out of pictures so they used the same picture, only larger, for Lemon Thyme? And who is this man? Father Thyme?Alright, if I'm going to get a walk in before work, I gotta boogie. Next week, it's back to Thursday Show and Tell! Woo hoo!
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
The conversations we have in Tech Services...
My co-worker and I sometimes have the most bizarre conversations, such as...
Me: Shoot, I just priced this donated video at $1,200 instead of $12.99!
Me: Blue's Clues, let's see, the cutter is B62--oh look this is with the old Steve. I like him better than the new guy.
Her: Yeah, this afternoon before I picked up my 6 year old from the busstop my four year old and I were watching Blue's Clues and Steve was on and I kept looking at him, thinking, he doesn't look like the type to abuse drugs...I kept looking at his eyes, wondering if he was using drugs then, on the show...
************
So I googled and came up with this, which clears Steve's name: he went into music! His band, get this, is called the Flaming Lips. A far cry from "What's New, Blue?"
We were both very relieved. Ah, the power of the information. Thanks, Google!
Me: Shoot, I just priced this donated video at $1,200 instead of $12.99!
Me: Blue's Clues, let's see, the cutter is B62--oh look this is with the old Steve. I like him better than the new guy.
Her: Yeah, this afternoon before I picked up my 6 year old from the busstop my four year old and I were watching Blue's Clues and Steve was on and I kept looking at him, thinking, he doesn't look like the type to abuse drugs...I kept looking at his eyes, wondering if he was using drugs then, on the show...
************
So I googled and came up with this, which clears Steve's name: he went into music! His band, get this, is called the Flaming Lips. A far cry from "What's New, Blue?"
We were both very relieved. Ah, the power of the information. Thanks, Google!
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Round Trip...
Ann Jonas has a children's picture book called Round Trip, which is a graphic treat. You read it all the way through, a trip to some place, during the day, and then you flip the book over and it's the ride home, at night.
I sometimes feel like my walk is like that. Even though I only go out for 15-30-60 minutes, and my route is out and back on the same sidewalks, the landscape hits me differently whether I'm going out or coming back.
I have discovered more spiderwebs and today saw three bikers--one was a man who just was toodling around for fun--the other two were "serious" in their uniforms and helmets. I also attempted to take photos of some spider webs--but I think I need to go earlier in the morning or on foggy wet mornings to get the full effect. (The sun does not bode well for catching the thin webs.)
I am just grooving on my digi camera--instant gratification!! Although my camera is not good at nature close-ups: zooming in on spiders or white fuzzy caterpillars, I feel like just taking the pictures is a rough art form--and it forces me to pay attention, which is drawing me closer to God, as I am awestruck by His creation. I am grateful for the park--I am such a city girl and am so grateful to return to my residential street after spending time out, looking at spiders and such, but I am enjoying my nature walks more and more, and my eyes are becoming keener to details.
Maybe I'll post some of my rough pictures...I wonder if Blackbird is going to reinstate Show and Tell anytime soon?
******************
Oh, and I saw Little Miss Sunshine--Do not stop go, do not collect your $200, GO SEE IT! It puts the FUN back in dysfunctional. I laughed, I almost cried, it was better than Cats (but don't tell Sis!!)
I sometimes feel like my walk is like that. Even though I only go out for 15-30-60 minutes, and my route is out and back on the same sidewalks, the landscape hits me differently whether I'm going out or coming back.
I have discovered more spiderwebs and today saw three bikers--one was a man who just was toodling around for fun--the other two were "serious" in their uniforms and helmets. I also attempted to take photos of some spider webs--but I think I need to go earlier in the morning or on foggy wet mornings to get the full effect. (The sun does not bode well for catching the thin webs.)
I am just grooving on my digi camera--instant gratification!! Although my camera is not good at nature close-ups: zooming in on spiders or white fuzzy caterpillars, I feel like just taking the pictures is a rough art form--and it forces me to pay attention, which is drawing me closer to God, as I am awestruck by His creation. I am grateful for the park--I am such a city girl and am so grateful to return to my residential street after spending time out, looking at spiders and such, but I am enjoying my nature walks more and more, and my eyes are becoming keener to details.
Maybe I'll post some of my rough pictures...I wonder if Blackbird is going to reinstate Show and Tell anytime soon?
******************
Oh, and I saw Little Miss Sunshine--Do not stop go, do not collect your $200, GO SEE IT! It puts the FUN back in dysfunctional. I laughed, I almost cried, it was better than Cats (but don't tell Sis!!)
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