NO.LA journal

the first haircut

2009-11-02T14:32:00.001-08:00

the boy's first haircut. The pout is from me trying to get my soda back. Toddlers do not share.

what keeps me going...

2009-10-29T18:55:00.000-07:00

The good news is that the hospital has granted me mercy and given us financial aid. still alot of money but 10 cents on the dollar of what they told me before.

the new normal

2009-10-26T19:16:00.000-07:00

If you are the type to check this blog after all this time then you already know the story. My life has taken another turn and we are working on the new "normal". Right now that's a day-to-day adventure, usually accomplished between coffee and bath time.

It's been a little over a month since my husband died. I still don't believe it myself. Forgive me if I'm a bit raw. It wasn't the way I saw the story ending, but you don't get to choose some plot twists. It's hard to accept when you only get 5 years with the love of your life.

I'll use this blog to keep everyone up on the progress, otherwise I'll spend my days on multiple emails and phonecalls.

Choose Life

2008-01-31T11:54:00.000-08:00

This video was created by a 16-year-old girl. I had to post it because it is not just well made but very creative and truly heartfelt.

The music is exceptional too :-). That composer/songwriter/singer is very dear to my heart. Her message needs to sink into your heart and change it.

Has This Lot Got Gates?

2008-01-16T11:54:00.000-08:00

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;
you hold my lot.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

psalm 16 : 5-6

----[+]----[+]----[+]----[+]----[+]----[+]----[+]----------

My son's latest adventure got me thinking about my favorite psalm : Does this lot have gates?

It seems that JJ's not fond of his lot, and it's lines haven't fallen in pleasant places.

We have gates up in certain doorways to keep our little man and disaster apart. One is in the doorway to the dining room with a tile floor and many "no-no" things. The other gate is blocking access to the living room (which also connects to the dining room).

I thought, in a stroke of genius, that I'd place them up 6 inches to allow the kitties access to what I call "the world's largest playpen" otherwise known as our kitchen and family room. It's worked, everything in here is child-proofed and little man can roam freely.

Monday afternoon I was trying to get some work done on my laptop. I had my mommy-ears on: hearing sounds of baby rolling annoyingly-loud truck across kitchen floor, hearing baby at gate shoving truck under gate (favorite past-time), sound of truck on tile of the dining room floor, then the sound changed back to wood floor. hmmm, something is not right here...

Just then I looked up to see JJ scooting across the LIVINGROOM floor with his truck. I thought I'd left the gate down, got up to check. Gate was right where it should be. JJ'd just found a way UNDER the gate.

Now the fun is watching the cats trying to get under the gates. reverse limbo lessons.

----[+]----[+]----[+]----[+]----

a friend of ours gave JJ a board book of the Prayer of Jabez for children. Cynical me summed it up " Dear Lord, Increase the size of my playpen..." but he's still not allowed in the living room unattended.

Pilgrim's Progress

2007-12-30T20:55:00.000-08:00

“Along the road
Your steps may stumble
Your thoughts may start to stray
But through it all a heart held humble
Levels and lights your way.”

Dan Fogelberg, “Along the Road”

---------[+]-----------[+]-----------[+]-----------[+]-----------

I’ve made a big personal change that has stretched my heart, part of it remains behind with those I love and part of it has moved on, seeking some healing from wounds from those who have hurt me. Even before Dan Fogelberg’s unfortunate death this song has been in head.

Through this transitional phase we are visiting churches and each time I have received little healings, some in the form of cleansing tears, some in little surprises that God plants in my path.

I’ve had my ups and downs during the christmas season, losing what I thought was a church-home, walking away from the altar I was married at, and the font my baby was baptized at. But I have regained something I had not realized was lost. Each and every time the consecration prayers are said there have been quiet moments where God reveals himself in new ways. My ears have been opened to those familiar prayers and I hear the difference in what I’ve been stumbling over for the last 4 years.

I have been saying that next year, if all goes as planned, I was hoping that our new church would have a “Lessons and Carols” service. Our Christmas was focused on family this year, we stayed in a hotel to be closer to the celebration. There was no church, no Christ Mass, but a blessed time with my boys.

We’ve gone twice to a lovely church in North Hollywood, St David’s. Yesterday my husband asked if we were going to church and I said, on the spur of the moment, “Let’s go to St. Luke’s”. It really hadn’t been in my mind to do this, and I wondered if I was hedging my bets, casting around until I find “the right stuff” that caters to me. I doubt my own motives sometimes, wondering if this is the right way, or if I’m off on my own.

We walked in to the church, a lovely older building, just in time for the priest to announce that this service would be a little different, the first part would be an abbreviated form of “Lesson and Carols”. To say the least I sang my heart out.

The words of the Magnificat read from the Gospel spoke to me of the power of God working through a humble heart.
[note] You'll need to scroll down on the page, the Song of Mary is said near the middle of Evening Prayer.

I was really overwhelmed with the idea that God had the desires and needs of my heart in mind, He spoke to me in a way that didn’t even register and set me on the course today to fufill something I have been yearning for this holiday season.

Christmas: top ten ways to survive the holiday

2007-12-24T10:11:00.000-08:00

1. Decide on Nov 15th not to go near the mall until way after New Year’s day.

2. Decide never to go to any of the area Walmarts either.

3. Upload your photos to walmart.com in early December, make gorgeous cards and memory books as presents. Order them, but get real cheap and decide to pick them up at the store rather than spring for the delivery charge.

4. Do all of your Christmas shopping at local stores thinking they need the business, and it’s just neighborly. Drag baby in and out of carseat until he mutinys in Best Buy and you get to see how many “neighbors” can do eyerolls while dialing CPS.

5. Decide to buy your Christmas tree on December 17th. Then get a 10 dollar off coupon from Lowe’s ( for the unplanned million-dollar steel replacement door for the garage). See all the great trees there on the 10th when you get the coupon. Save the coupon, drive to Lowe’s on the 17th to see that they have NO trees left. Throw coupon out of window as you drive away to find the last normal looking tree in SCV. Side benefit will turn out that the guys at Frosty’s Forest will be giving steep discounts based on the late part of the tree-selling season and their rather large inventory of odd shaped trees.

6. Wait patently for the email announcing your cards and books are ready. When the date passes, email walmart.com to complain—get a nice reply that does no actual good. Go to store, wait in line that stretches out of the photo department over a half-an-hour. Smile as the man looking for your stuff in the disorganized piles of stuff asks you for your name 8-9 times during his futile search. Go away empty-handed.

7. Resolve never to go to walmart again, ever, for any reason. Visualize the poor enslaved Chinese children they employ. Drive back to Walmart the next day to see if books have arrived, decide it’s way to late to send the cards anyhow now.

8. Stop by the Local grocery store for those last minute baking needs. Wait in the longest line they’ve ever had clutching your two little jars of spices. Get home only to discover in your psychosis you forgot eggs and the baby’s cereal—again–the real reason for the trip.

9. Leave some work-related last minute items to the Friday before the holiday, run around town getting printouts and going to fedex as everyone else is trying to leave from their holiday work parties. Fight traffic, get stuff done really quick then feeling flush with excitement that it’s ALL OVER---(except for the massive amount of baking you’ve decided to do to save money).

10. Get all crazy, decide you need a new top to wear for the holiday, head off to the mall late friday afternoon (see rule 1 go down in flames, bow head in silent prayer) Spend longer in the parking lot than the actual store. Get to store only to find that everything is on clearance (bonus) but mostly in sizes S, XS and XP (minor dilemna). Buy only large sweater in store, decide pink is OK for the family party, really, not a problem, red would be better but…

Get through it all, with a fairly good attitude and remember to smile when everyone who rings up your purchase, bags your order or politely listens to your sad tale of woe wishes you a “Merry Christmas!”

so good

2007-12-21T21:10:00.000-08:00

These pumpkin loafs with chocolate chips rock. The warm ones in my kitchen are in trouble. There are a few left over from the gift goodiebags. They are super easy to make.

I used my own spices rather than the premixed pumpkin pie spices--it's cinnamon, cloves and ginger or nutmeg. I took the suggestion to toss the chips with a little flour to keep them from sinking, that works great.

I also made crybabies for the goodiebags.

All I want for christmas...

2007-12-20T21:24:00.000-08:00

Is my two font teeth! (oops, got 'em)

He's one year old. How did that happen? He crawls at the speed of light, gets into everything, and laughs all the time. He's a very happy boy.

Time to start expressing myself

2007-10-12T17:08:00.000-07:00

So, my friends have all gone quiet, but I'm just working up to having alot to say.

Stay tuned...

How to Open a Stroller

2007-08-08T12:22:00.000-07:00

technique inspired by Steve A. shown here with stroller,

child and nephew.

1. Drive wife to any location, park car and, as you get out of the car say "I'll get the stroller while you get the baby."

2. Open trunk, pull stroller out part way, shake stroller in hopes that it will magically pop open.

3. Stand semi-helplessly as wife extracts 8-month-old infant from car seat while balancing diaper bag, toys and orange binkie in her free hand.

4. Completely remove stroller from trunk, select appropriate sheepish look, and hold stroller out towards spouse as she approaches.

5. After about 2-3 seconds of choosing to ignore her non-verbal cues, realize you should take baby from spouse so she has a free hand.

6. Watch carefully as she pops the safety latch and shows you for future reference where the latch is, flicks the handle and opens the stroller.

7. Nod when she shows you the OTHER latch that hold the whole thing open.

8. Hand baby back to her so she can strap him in properly.

9. Start walking to entrance of building you wish to enter while she finishes attaching toys, shifting diaper bag and then starts slowly to follow you.

10. Finally remember to make appropriate comment about how lovely and talented she is to have mastered such a difficult procedure.

--[+] --[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--

How to close a stroller.
reverse instructions, but forget that OTHER latch and how it works.

--[+] --[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--

rinse and repeat...

Rant

2007-03-28T13:09:00.000-07:00

Ok, so this may be random. I was just trying to post a comment on Joann's blog when I had to go verify my email for goggle to become acceptable to blogger again (so much for that upgrade being transparent) so Joann--I had this whole great thing written, but now it's gone and the moment has passed.

I was up here on Steve's computer because my old mac with it's outdated system can't be upgraded any further and I needed to see if I just wasted 3 hours filling in tax forms. AND the answer to that was a resounding "YUP"--all that work went poopy. Thanks you IRS for making forms that only some people can save... I'll be starting over again tomorrow

I started doing my taxes yesterday so I would stop reading the internet concerning my son's upcoming immunizations. I'd really like to be dead enough from the neck up not to wonder why he needs 25 doses of 9 different vaccines before his 18th month. Besides, the California Legislature is wiser than the rest of us mere mortal concerning these things, nobody in the medical community needs to do long-term medical studies to test their theories before making laws-that would take away from their campaigning for the right to kill preborn babies for their stemcells to cure Michael J Fox and raise Chris Reeves from the dead.

[Blog Challenge] POTD:STEVE

2007-01-31T13:39:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is my hubby's big b-day.

He's a man with a funny story or two, so let's share OUR best funny stories (featuring him, of course), shout-outs or just plain congrats. Blog'em and I'll link em, or use the comment area.

photo: Steve and JJ in the nursery. The first arms that held my son where his father's.

5 weeks

2007-01-19T10:19:00.000-08:00

It has been 5 whole weeks since this little man has changed my life--wow. I have a hard time remembering what it was like before--maybe that has something to do with lack of sleep. Wouldn't trade it for the world.

I thought I'd let everyone see him since most of the church folk just think he sleeps in the sling all the time. He has his daddy's eyes. And sadly-for now at least--his mom's complexion issues.

John Joseph is home!

2006-12-17T12:03:00.000-08:00

JJ, born wednesday december 13th at 1:30 pm,

weighing 7 lbs 9 oz, and measuring 20.5 inches.

We have a date!

2006-11-27T15:30:00.000-08:00

The doctor and I had a little chat today, and since John Joseph has elected to remain upright with his head just under mom's ribcage, we will have the pleasure of his company on Wednesday December 13th just about noontime. (unless he has other plans about breaking out earlier)

I'm not upset about the c-section part of this, I guess it's better. I'm not one for surprises and all-nighters. We'll work around the rest of it.

So muster the troups. Consider yourself notified. Plan accordingly. I'm off to finish the christmas shopping I haven't started yet...

The Day AFTER Kind of Faith

2006-10-23T14:00:00.000-07:00

I am busy catching up from my trip to Colorado. Steve and I had a great time visiting Longmont and staying at Chris and Joe’s new home. They said you are all invited to CO, they have a big finished basement and plenty of room.

I got to sit and watch it snow,( totally cool). Joe fed and spoiled me all week. We visited Este’s Park and saw the elk walking down the middle of the street.

;-> don't worry, we didn't buy a house.

----[+]----[+]----[+]----[+]---

While I was there I was going through my mother’s papers, some of which got left behind. I came across an email that I had sent to her 10 years ago.

I had just survived one of those hideous lay-offs at the publishing company I worked for did occasionally to make the “street” happy. Some self-important author released a statement about his future plans, as leverage to get what he wanted from said company. The stock dropped by half it’s value in 3 hours. 400 were let go from the main office alone. 1 out of every 2 in my division.

Think about that scripture that talks about two men working in the field and one is taken and one left behind… (not that I believe in “the rapture”)

The email was about my new moment of faith: The day AFTER Passover kind of faith.

Think about the feeling the Israelites experienced walking out their doors THAT day. Seeing the land littered with the firstborn, thinking about the blood that saved them on the doorpost. It must have been exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Only then could they walk out into the desert with their God.

God actually had me stay home on the day of the layoffs then. My boss and his boss both lost their jobs that day. Things got a little hairy after that, leading to me hurting my hands. But God provided all along that time.

I see the desert in those next ten years of my life, even if God was with me, leading me. I see the promised land now and I feel like I’m living in that blessing. I didn’t see it that day.

I had deep awe and respect for God’s plan as I walked out the door and felt the blood that was shed for me protecting the doorpost of my life.

----[+]----[+]----[+]----[+]---

editor's note: I'm not preaching here-- we leave that to the skirts, my degree is from the school of experience, headmaster: Jesus Christ, Son of God.

Lalalalalalala…TMI

2006-09-26T09:47:00.001-07:00

You've had this conversation with someone, where you get to the point of no return and they share just a bit more than you EVER wanted to know about them. And that point is different based on your relationship and closeness. You can handle a girlfriend's angst over a sticky situation if you know you don't have a lot of face time with her hapless spouse, but it's a whole new kettle of fishwhen it's family.

I, personally, can hash out any thing with my sister and my best friend Kelly.They are my go-to team, sparing the ladies at church with the real quandrys of life from my perspective.

But someone had the need for prayer-n-share sunday night and I was NOT ready for what I heard. Can't say as I'd EVER be ready for this convo, on either side of heaven.

My mother has a boyfriend. His name is Ralph.

Now sure, it's been almost 2 years since my dad passed away, and if you've spent any real time with my mom you know she's been hunting for this particular duck for awhile now.

And I've heard far too much information on this subject in it's planning stages, mom always had this need for TMI when I was a younger woman, a girl just does not NEED to know about her folks' private life. She's even shared a few things with our priests (in public) that would make ya blush. Gotta love this new chapter starring dementia.

But I gotta tell ya: giving dating advice to the demented is not for the faint of heart.

A few things I NEVER thought I'd say to MY mother:
(and as a matter of christian charity I will omit the replies)

" I know he likes to kiss and hold hands, but…"

"Dating advice when you are young is that you should see ALL the seasons with someone before marrying but maybe YOU should know someone for MORE than a week …"

" How do YOU know his scar branches there?" (I did not wait for a reply)

" You do know you can still get a REPUTATION (not to mention a disease) in an assisted living facility"

"one foot on the floor at all times, young lady"

"most spirit-filled men I know wouldn't make that request."
(filled with WHAT spirit is all I could think)

"the bible does not suspend the rules once you reach 80."

I'm spent the day monday with my seared eardrums healing, and me pondering life. She's "happy" or at least distracted. She's not the first woman on the planet to revert to 13 concerning a man, nor will she be the last. There has to be some extreme category of mercy in God's play-book for those people with brain injuries. And it's not as though I didn't have some hint of this possibility. But why me?

Oh, my…

Look for the possible sequels:
• planning a wedding for the demented
• the demented guide to broken hearts

on the road again

2006-09-15T11:05:00.000-07:00

I am married to a PK (pastor’s kid). He and his siblings had a very different upbringing than mine but as adults still find ways to express themselves in covert ways surrounding some subjects.

This leads to the ripest of conversations especially when one or another of them starts dating someone new. Suddenly everyone is interested in going into the missionary field, etc. Since only one or two of the kids are old enough to understand but young enough to not need to know these things, very few people have to be asked to go find something else to do.

Recently Sister-in-law #1 was bold enough to announce she had a new boyfriend to the group at a family gathering. Questions flew, of course, and she answered some, ignored some and then in a flash of brilliance chose to mention his new truck and how big it was as a distraction from a line of questions she was unwilling to pursue.

Immediately she saw the flaw in her thinking as one of her nieces started in about vehicular compensation for a lack of "God-given" gifts. This old saw was expounded on and done so in the most tasteful manner possible. The giggling ensued and everyone made their replies and observations.

I could tell that the tide was about to turn and somewhere some feeling may become involved. Being the hostess and not wanting to mop up blood off my living-room floor it seemed my responsibility to divert this conversation.

I got to thinking about how people are always pointing out big truck and making that comment. So, I decided to try out a new tack.

I interjected “Your brother (who happened to have left the room just then) who often likes to remind people he drives a really small car, generally agrees when I bring this subject up…”

The room went silent. I could see the wheels turning but not one woman could form a comeback to THAT one.

Just then Steve came back into the room to find out why it had suddenly gone quiet.

Amateurs…

--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--

One the other hand there’s me and my thought process. I’ve lately been incensed by the latest H2 commercials that have people running to trade in their minivans for these environmentally irresponsible, gas-guzzling behemoths. The tagline to one of them is actually “Reclaim your manhood”. Subtle, tasteful, NOT.

[editorial note: that tagline was replace by “restore balance” which must be a PC way of saying the same thing.]

I have had for sometime what I consider to be the ultimate comeback for those who feel the need to own said vehicles. It stops my husband in his track each time I say it. It was a comment actually made originally to my brother-in-law Joe who does not blush so easily. It stopped him in his tracks as well. When I said it recently my husband actually had to leave the room and returned blushing furiously.

Now, for the sake of my one young reader (hey, Nomi—don’t you have something better to do than read this?) and not adding to her education I will not come right out and say what I normally say. But, upon request, I may whisper it in your wife's ear.

I’ll leave you to ponder for a moment what a “Hummer” could be named after...

Ah, but you are all so pure of heart it’ll never occur to you. Now, please, remember that commentary needs to be kept "PG"

5 years

2006-09-13T10:04:00.000-07:00

I tried to write something for Monday to give you a sense of what it was like for me on Sept 11, 2001. But words did not come and a mere recitation of facts didn’t quite convey how much that day changed my life. It taught me lessons, some seem really hard but necessary.

As an American most people assume these things called “rights” just magically apply. Not so much. It’s all an illusion, which in the end is why we cling to God, who is not an illusion.

Neither George Bush or the Democratic party has a plan to save your soul.

A few things I learned top ten style.

10. You cannot run for your life wearing flip-flops.
I recommend having your feet shod with the readiness of the Gospel and some sensible shoes. All previous discussion about toe cleavage and what you can wear in the office seem ridiculous after about 5 blocks.

9. God does not guarantee a tomorrow.
He guarantees His love and mercy and that he remains the same. I‘m not saying “carpe diem” but it’s always good to clean up messes immediately, it stains the carpet less.

8. Never rely on a cellphone.
Always remember that the long-distance lines work when local and cell service do not. On the same note, ATM machines may not be reliable in a real emergency. Clearly, even if you pay for these things, they are not a right. Electricity is not a right either.

7. Sometimes distance is the only solution.
Remember what happened to Lot’s wife when she turned to look back? I was amazed at how many people stood there and watched when all I wanted was a few more miles between me and that 2nd tower as it came down.

6. TV sucks
especially when ALL the reception towers get blown out of the sky and you have one channel for 2 months. CNN sucks. I have a friend who wear a purple shirt refers to them as the “communist news network”. They spread so much fear and misinformation to New Yorkers that day. I could have gone home 3 hours earier if I had not listened to them.

5. What you think is important may not actually be important.
My boss and I were frantic to get this project launched, but it did get delayed 2-3 weeks and it was fine. All his general angst and butt-chewing of his staff seemed to evaporate when this put it in perspective.

4. Sometime it rains ash for awhile afterward.
Not everything is a sitcom, wrapped up in 22 minutes with space for commercials. For those who weren’t there “the pile” burnt for over a month, everyday, all day and night and folks had to go back to working and living in close proximity. We went back Friday.

3. Anyone that tells you the people living near a concentration camp couldn’t smell what they were burning is lying.
Just my first-hand observation. I’m certain others may disagree, I even know a few who think it didn’t happen.

2. Post Traumatic Stress is real.
I’ll let you know if it ever gets better.

1. No one really wants to know what I know or saw now.
I’m cool with that. I’m glad you, the folks I love weren’t there. I’m not sure, to this day, why I was there. But I was.

0. Remember to say “please” and “thank you”, and it’s always appropriate to be grateful.
I found refuge in a home many “Christian” folks would be horrified to enter, my hosts’ lifestyle did not affect their ability to not judge me but to offer me safety when I was in need. I would return that courtesy one hundred times over.

All in all, the real miracle is that only 3,000 people died.

BOTD: Zapata Street

2006-07-27T09:55:00.000-07:00

I happen to have been introduced to the sometimes lovely small towns in Mexico through my sister's timeshare. I found this blog that is so well written it's like a mini vacation each time. I also like the author's view of second chances at happiness and his devotion to La senora.

ROTD*: George's Bistro

2006-07-18T10:53:00.000-07:00

* Restaurant of the day

DIS-claimer: the reviewer is spoiled by living near and eating real ethnic food for a period of 25 years while living a very different life. She remains unimpressed with Southern california cuisine, with a very few exceptions.

--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--[+]--

The Husband and I have been casing this place for awhile because it's in the same strip mall as our gym. Since it was a balmy 108 degrees I'm surprised I could be pried from our airconditioned cave. Curiousity finally overtook us saturday night so we waltzed in ready for cuisine of some sort. I had hopes that Bistro meant something other than fancy word for "place to eat" I was thinking of the little bistros on lafayette (in NYC) with their great nicoise salads, steaks and fries, quiches and the like. you know: FRENCH BISTRO.

Not entirely. It was Italian. I like Italian, I know Italian. I'm a little obsessed with Italian things. Art, Travel, but especially food. (Luckily I've given up the obsession with Italian men--THAT gave me indigestion.)

So, Mr Adventurous, my companion, ordered the Fettucine Alfredo with blackened chicken to make it less of a heart-attack on a plate. He's big on this mac and cheese variation, so it was a crowd pleaser.

--------

Editor's note: Mr Adventurous would like it noted that he was eating bland because his morning meal during the men's meeting at Jimmy Dean had been a delightful experience but left him with a bit of a upset tummy. Duly noted, please forgive my harsh assessment.

--------

Now this where I admit my bias was going strong because I've been to the Hotel Fredo and had this dish in Rome (don't ask Julie, she probably won't remember this detail of our trip) Being in Rome adds alot to a rather bland dish for kids.

Me, I'm in Bolognese mood, and rigatoni goes well with this sauce. Well I'm still in that mood, because what I got was NOT what I expected. For a dish that's supposed to be 3 kinds of meat (ground veal, pork and beef) it had a high note of mushroom and an undertone of the same, there was alot of bad red wine there too in the middle, bound together with cream. Subtle is not a word to be used here. I ate some, trying to be kind, thinking perhaps this pregnancy thing may affect my palate or my mood. As I squinted at the view of the parking lot and watched the parade of massive pickup trucks go by I wondered how I got here.

If a waiter cleared the dish I left in a New York establishment, the cook would have been out to ask "whatzamattawitcho?" or the maitre de would have stopped by to offer me something else.

Our first hint should have been that the bread was store bought and cold-even after we were told we had to wait until it was out of the oven. And they served it with cold butter.

I'll have to content myself with dreams of DaNicos on Mott Street with it's breezy back garden tucked amidst former tenaments and the little cave-like place in the back alley in Rome that I liked. I'll revel in the memory of Lombardi's, the first place to serve pizza in NYC and still the best place for pizza. I got to take Steve there last year so I know he's had REAL pizza at least once in his life.

And I'll head to our local Olive Garden when it gets to be too much...

POTD : Tim Haggerty

2006-06-16T11:40:00.000-07:00

There is nothing better than to hear from someone you've lost touch with. When you start to catch someone up you catch yourself up in a way.

Tim is an incredibly talented illustrator and amazingly warm human being I worked with a few years ago (ok, more than a few) and we struck up a friendship over the telephone. He lived in Santa Barbara back then and when I was out here visiting the Simi crowd on vacation I drove up to see him and another friend who was an illustrator who wintered in SB. That was back in the day when the world of Scholastic, art school and friends were a smaller, tighter circle. Just as I was moving out here Tim sent a card that he was pulling up stakes and moving to New Mexico. But, thank God, we all try and keep our client mailing lists updated. We had a great chat about where life has led, which is in a great direction for both of us. It's nice to be reminded that life has a way of doing that.

My favorite memory of Tim is having him play me Christmas tunes on his accordian over the phone while I was stuck in my office on a grey New York day in December.

Visit his portfolio and see his house project at http://www.timsportfolio.com

It helped with my bout of cabin fever and self imposed exile to this house. I am now willing to admit I've been trying not to waste gas or money so I've spent an inordinate amount of time here. I've been busy with work, enough to keep me going. But the last 2 weeks I've been busy enough to work from rising to setting. That gets old. I'm actually concerned that the only noise that will comfort my baby is whirring of the hard drive on my laptop. Or what will happen to the laptop once there is less of a lap.

p.s. Tim asked for us to pray him some rain, they are on high alert for fires and the wind is blowing there too.

POTD: Kelly

2006-04-25T09:18:00.000-07:00

Introducing another blog to the mix. Kelly is my best friend. I told her about my new website, which she obviously found. That led to the blog link. Now I need to go back and see what I wrote about her to form the apology correctly...

I'm looking forward to this, finally an electronic soapbox for the one who has many topics. Give her some time and then tune in.

Drum roll, please...

2006-03-18T11:47:00.000-08:00

I am proud to announce the launch of Glorygrl.com, a place to see all things glorious and meaningful in my life. Stop by and see what I do for a living, what I did and have some fun.

CONS: NYC

2006-03-18T11:22:00.000-08:00

The PRO List points out the core of what my life was like in NY. The CONS tell the rest of the story:

CONS OF NY:

TAXES: $7,000 property taxes on a house assessed in 1990 at $200,000, worth considerably more if reassessed (which was pending since the county was going bankrupt)

COST OF LIVING RISING (well, turns out to be a wash with living here in NOLA)

AGE OF HOUSE: built in 1940, needs repairs, can't expand. Did I mention the lack of central airconditioning?

COMMUTE: 3 hours of each day no matter how you look at it. 2-3 weeks of vacation spent visiting family, 6-12 hours away in an emergency.

HOLIDAYS: I'd been kicked out of a friend's holiday meals during a period of "family only" nesting-intensity. I resorted to Lean Cuisines and crying jags. Aunt's houses in DE were a torture-test although I like my cousins.

SNOW and my hands---not a good combination once you add a shovel. and the neighborhood kids were too good to take a twenty for digging out my driveway.

FRIENDS: Having 4 friends is cool when it all goes well, but that's not all the time.

Pete found a girlfriend, then wife, on the internet. I was a third wheel unlike his male friends.

Andy- did I mention the lunatic part? BUT he was portable, he moved to AZ when I moved here.

Esther- her life kinda devolved and we lost touch.

Kelly- not a great period in our friendship, she had a new baby and a busy life. then came the misunderstandings...

CHURCH: BIG, not always caring or responsive. If I attended a different service the greeters would hand me a visitors card, after 20 years...

MY JOB: They had pretty much picked out the path for my life and while it would pay well it did not include "free-time" before 9 pm on weeknights. There was a layoff coming and my designer was about to be caught up in it (if I remained) Instead I threw myself on my own sword rather than see her let go.

NEXT: WE have some fun looking at the good and bad expectations of living here. Be prepared to laugh at my naivete...

Reasons4NOLA

2006-03-15T10:27:00.000-08:00

Every good business sets goals as a part of their business plan. They research what they mean to do, see if there is an audience for their service or project, and then determine how to best serve that audience. If you talk to me about designing something for your business this is one of the first things I'll talk about because that helps me design whatever it is you need to fit your goals.

I'm also a planner in life. You'll see that I do not jump without thinking it through. I have lists, in books and on my desktop to remind me of what I need to do, remember to do and what I have done. I even have a tidy system of using a highlighter to mark of things that have been done so I can still read them, instead of scratching them out and not being able to tell what they were.

This is what I've learned over the last 12 years or so through my career. I've become more analytical, it's a way of looking at things in both business and life. I've been cleaning up my office space and I found a book from the months before my move west. It has a page of pros and cons for staying in NY and moving to CA. I speaks to alot of what was going on in my life at the time. It's an exercise I highly recommend. I'll share the pros of NY first.

PROS TO LIVING IN NY:

PROXIMITY to NYC concerts ( my one joy-I have a raft of ticket stubs, that's where the money went...)

commuter trains & subways go everywhere (and they run until the wee hours of the a.m.)

close and familiar - I know lower manhattan like the other side of my soul.

Madison Square garden (every band plays better at the garden) Bowery ballroom, Hammerstein ballroom, The Mercury, Jone Beach Theater.

Can (and did) go out to drinks, dinner and shows right after work (We worked until 6-7 pm on normal nights, on the way home, after rush hour)

SOHO -best neighborhood in the whole world-it has everything

I know how to get ANYTHING I want. (except men who would love me, but that's another story)

MY OLD JOB: worked for same company 18 years (5 different jobs)

loved jobs (see search for the holy grail as job description..)

hired back 3 separate times by same boss (that means I quit 3 times too, poor guy was long-suffering)

I am known, valued and established. (with 4 weeks of paid vacation time...)

STORMVILLE FLEA-my favorite daytrip every holiday weekend (antiques and celebrities-woohoo!)

MY HOUSE:
Equity, equity, equity
brand new kitchen I designed-sweeeeeeeet.
new boiler/water-heater (big investment)
my garden-(therapy and beauty)
big backyard (we pitched a huge tent for kelly's birthday and had 70 folks over for chow)

THE BEACH-
every saturday if it wasn't pouring or cold-I had an annual state park pass and the same spot in the sand next to Esther's skinny butt at field 2 of Robert Moses State Beach each time. 29 minutes from door to sand.

4 BEST FRIENDS:
(note: this was not part of the original list-and there's a reason: I felt like I had none then)

Kelly-my best friend for over 17 years, bandmate at one time, rock of gibraltar most times...

Esther-the other best friend in the trio of girls, you have all meet her. Amazing, absorbing story and life.

Pete - 20 years, too many concerts to recall, as solid as they come. He was a member of my first youthgroup at church. I was 20 when I first started a youthgroup and the kids were only 4-5 years younger. He took me to my first pro baseball game for my 21st birthday. Having a guy friends is great if multiple emotions are a no-no. A nice foil to too much girly anxiety.

Andy- meet him at work, incredibly fast friends at the time. Photographer, furniture builder and moody lunatic (ain't we all...).

SEASONS: 4 seasons, all pretty cool for various reasons.

SNOW DAYS- random, beautiful and completely plausible reason to stay home from church or work.

The view from NO.LA

2006-03-02T13:24:00.000-08:00

Moving. I know this will be on folks minds over the next few days.

The initial premise of this blog was to muse about how I found myself moving 3000 miles and changing my life. It wasn’t a bad life before. I had a good job, with possibilities for advancement and happiness. I had friends. I had a few little loves that I could string together and get all the feelings of big love from, just not all in one person. I had a church I loved and had been with just short of 20 years. I had my garden and the my beach pass. I was busy and, for the most part, content with my situation.

My family has learned that distance doesn’t matter so much. We’ve lived way too close and way too far from each other. We love none the less. My niece and nephew are, for all intents and purposes, my brother and sister. My sister is one of my best friends. And, thanks be to God, my parents and I enjoyed a really close bond. We had to pry my father’s grip off the east coast to get him to leave. He needed to be there in case I needed him.

As a child we moved every 2.5 years on average. I was born in Van Nuys, we then moved to Miami where I went to kindergarten, then south to Perrine where I attended first and second grade. We moved to Connecticut, lived in one place for my third grade year and another for 4th -6th grade. We moved to Long Island for Jr. High and I completed high school there. And while it was not my favorite place on earth I stayed there, in the same house, for 26 years. (Of course a few family members moved in and then out in that time.)

I told folks I would never move to LA. I meant it, there was nothing here for me work-wise. I am the niche queen. I have 20 years of professional experience working in educational publishing. It’s not an easy transition from doing something that you have come to understand actually matters in this world. If I have helped make learning to read and learning to love to read easier by my skills, then I can face my God knowing that I did my life’s work. At least one of my life’s purposes. After doing that for awhile, small-business websites seem trite. I have to be searching for the Grail, or it’s not engaging enough.

But God spoke to me on an airplane at 30,000 feet as I flew back to New York. He said that it was time. And then there was that peace.

I had made a promise to a friend to be there with her family. I was a Godmother to one of her girls. I had been a part of that family for 17 years. They had a hard time letting go. We’d actually been through a rough patch and had not really been able to mend. So it seemed like I was doing it to punish her. She didn’t have that experience of moving, she lived in the town she was born in. Her high-school sweetheart was her husband. Actually --her husband’s name is Raymond, they live in Lynbrook , just like the sitcom.

It was hard to let go. But it was right. It wasn’t like there was any words of knowledge, or congratulations. My boss who'd hired me 3 separate times over 20 years was blown away, my friends were hurt. I see now what was at work, but then it was an unpopular decision that I had to stand with. I had to put myself first this time, even if it made no sense. I had to go back on a promise to a friend. There was sadness. It felt like jumping out an open window into nothing. It was not my plan. But sometimes the step of faith required does not have the reward so visible that it makes it easy to step out.

But, once you step out…

Fired--Thank you, Jesus.

2006-02-18T15:43:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted for awhile because I haven't had much energy while sitting in front of a computer. Truth be told the last few weeks have been icky and last monday the icky ended. I got fired. This is a new experience to me and it only took 20 years and two career changes to arrive at this lovely juncture. I never got fired even while working in the Internet boom, and that's a miracle. I survived something like 20 rounds of layoffs at one place in 2 years.

I will not bore anyone with the discussion of the whys and wherefores. That job had one advantage--it was 4 miles from my house. Past that --it wasn't what I do for a living, and all I can say was "what was I thinking?"

I couldn't even get a good sulk up and running monday after I got home from cashing my last check (before it went bad). I was home, camped out on the couch, when the phone rang. My friend from NYC, who I used to work with, wanted to know if I was available for some work. She's calling back next week after she gets my old boss onboard. 2 days later someone asks me if I want to do the design end of a business he's starting. Then the check I've been waiting for arrives. I don't even get to have a good pity party before things start to pop up. Not to say that I've been a pillar of faith this week, but I'm working on it.

PoTD: Herman

2006-01-24T13:52:00.000-08:00

2006-01-16T13:24:00.000-08:00

Psalm 16

2006-01-13T12:21:00.000-08:00

1 Preserve me, O God, for in thee I take refuge.

2 I say to the LORD, "Thou art my Lord; I have no good apart from thee."

3 As for the saints in the land, they are the noble, in whom is all my delight.

4 Those who choose another god multiply their sorrows; their libations of blood I will not pour out or take their names upon my lips.

5 The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; thou holdest my lot.

6 The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage.

7 I bless the LORD who gives me counsel; in the night also my heart instructs me.

8 I keep the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.

9 Therefore my heart is glad, and my soul rejoices; my body also dwells secure.

10 For thou dost not give me up to Sheol, or let thy godly one see the Pit.

11 Thou dost show me the path of life; in thy presence there is fulness of joy, in thy right hand are pleasures for evermore.

--[+]--[+]--[+]-----[+]--[+]--[+]-----[+]--[+]--[+]-----[+]--[+]--[+]---

always been my favorite psalm, it has not only the acknowledgement of how good God is to us but the recipe for a sucessful relationship with Him (always before me, at my right hand). All in 11 verses. This is a memory psalm for me.

Blog challenge

2006-01-13T09:52:00.000-08:00

click on this guy and print him out. Go wild.

2006-01-12T08:29:00.000-08:00

Prayer Rope

2006-01-11T11:51:00.000-08:00

CROSS
+ in the name of the Father and the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

SMALL KNOT
Glory to you, O God, Glory to you.

JOINING KNOT
O Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of Truth,
Who are in all places and fill all things;
Treasure of blessing and Giver of life:
Come and dwell in me* and cleanse me from every stain
And save my soul, O Gracious Lord.

SPACE AFTER EACH LARGE KNOT
+ Glory to the Father, and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be. Amen.

ALL SMALL KNOTS
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

2ND LARGE KNOT
Holy God, Holy and Mighty, Holy Immortal One have mercy on me. (3 times)

3RD LARGE KNOT
O Most Holy Trinity, have mercy on me.
Lord, cleanse me from my sins.
Master, pardon my iniquities.
Holy God, visit me and heal my infirmities for the glory of your Name.
Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy.

4TH LARGE KNOT
Holy God, Holy and Mighty, Holy Immortal One have mercy on me. (3 times)

JOINING KNOT
(Lord’s Prayer)

SMALL KNOT
The Father is my hope;
The Son is my refuge;
The Holy Spirit is my protector.
All Holy Trinity: glory to you. Amen

CROSS
+ in the name of the Father and the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

-[+]----[+]----[+]----[+]----[+]-

*All prayers can be prayed in the plural. Or may be used for intercession: have mercy on [name].

** Alternate prayers for small knots: (use the same prayer for all the knots)

Lord make haste to help me, Lord make speed to save me.

Lord, according to your desire and your wisdom, have mercy.

Through the prayers of our holy fathers, Lord Jesus Christ our God, have mercy on me and save me.

Guardian Angel, pray to God for me, a sinner.

[A psalm verse]

Blessed [name of saint], pray for me a sinner.

Pray unto God for me, O Holy Saint [name], well pleasing to God. For I turn to you, who are the intercessor for my soul.

O Virgin Mary, Mother of God, pray for me a sinner.

Rejoice, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you, O virgin Theotokos; Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, for you have borne the Savior of my soul.

PeeWee's big adventure

2006-01-04T13:37:00.000-08:00

It never fails. Nothing happens until after all the emergency care options close for the long holiday weekend. Then you find it--the ginormous gaping hole in your pet's neck. It was like something out of Animal Planet's Most wanted.

So, in case you don't know, the nearest 24 hour emergency vet is in Reseda. And it was New Year's eve, raining--well--cats and dogs and the victim seemed to be taking it in stride. So, being the good cat mommy I administred the neosporin quickly. It was in a place licking could not reach, so we were good.

Turns out monday is a holiday and since everyone knows nothing bad ever happens on holidays, tuesday morning I am on the phone to the "cat doctor" who issues me a non-emergency emergency appointment. I felt incredibly guilty when the lady said I should have rushed the injured party to reseda to prevent infection. So I get to lose yet another hour of pay to take kitty for a check up so my inaction doesn't kill her.

Both my cats have not spent much time in a carrier, dislike it intensely, and have to caught unaware to even attempt placing them inside this torture chamber. I've had them 4 years and just in the last 2 months I've been getting them used to being picked up for any reason.

So, my little black and white instigator found herself--still half asleep from her nap on the couch being stuffed into a carrier. It's like threading a needle with a porcupine. And off we go--and then wait an hour for our exam. Turns out, other than gaining a pound over the last year, she's doing great, scab and all. 55 bucks later we are home and not speaking to our cat sibling or mother.

But, as I was drinking my coffee this morning, I heard at least three big hissy fits from the four-footers. can you say "kitty prozac" for everyone?

woo-hoo, sort-of...

2005-12-20T10:38:00.000-08:00

I'm working next week. Good for the bank balance, but only if this check clears...

Making Crybabies

2005-12-16T12:36:00.000-08:00

It starts with the box. Plain, brown and mysterious. I have no idea how old it is or where it came from. It was passed down to me-- a great honor.

My generation only has the two girls—Christine and me. The generation before had my mom, Betty (Mary Elizabeth) and her sisters-- Jane (Martha Jane) and Patsy (Patricia). But the generation before that was group of women who ran the world. My grandmother, Dot (Naomi Doris) was the youngest of those girls. And the person who passed that simple wooden box to me was the eldest, Mary B Valentine.

We call her Mae-mae.

She was a school-marm, never married, she made her life full by keeping tabs on the family and making sure they were doing it right.

Chris called Mae-mae “the silent menace” in her younger years, they had a very different relationship, but they also had more time together. I was 11 when she came to live with us the last time, she was 91. I remember her sitting at the card table she kept at the end of her bed, listening to the Red Soxs playing baseball on the radio, playing scrabble and giving me bits of chocolate and candied orange slices covered in sugar taken out from the bottom drawer of her dresser. She smelled of Blue Grass, an long-gone fragrance. I found a bottle of it in the duty-free on the Channel Ferry between England and France 10 years ago, I have that bottle hoarded away in my medicine cabinet. I take it out and spray it just to remember her.

That box was her way of measuring the world. She kept all the family treasures in there. Every cake, cookie or bread you can think of is in there, each written in a type of shorthand, long-extinct. Friends and family relied on her to keep the memories of every favorite for birthday and special times.

The recipes are only reminders of amounts. You were taught to make each of them when she thought you were ready. And there was a way to do things, no shortcuts. Mysteriously, the recipe never worked if you went against it. It was a show of your mettle to make it and have someone who knew say “that’s it.”

Crybabies are the Everest of these recipes. I have not found, in all my looking, another recipe quite the same. It’s an old-fashioned cookie. Not fussy, not decorated. The name may or may not come from the idea that a crying baby would stop if they tasted this sweet tender cake full of molasses and spice. And this recipe is at the very least 100 years old, perhaps more.

I was taught to cream the butter and sugar just so. Add in the molasses and then start to stir in the sifted flour in tiny amounts. You didn’t waste flour, or get it on you. Not even the last part of the 5th cup when the mix is so stiff and your arm aches from the effort.

Then the way to hold the spoons that gets the right size onto the baking sheet. Too much, too big, a little too greedy and the crybaby is mushy in the center or burnt on the bottom.

The first time I got it right, all on my own, was one of those important moments. I was 12.

Over time I’ve gotten better. I tried to keep to the recipe, but my hands would not allow me. I’d watched Mae-mae in her 90s stir this batter. I couldn’t break tradition even 30 years after she passed. I can still hear her voice and know she’d be right. It’s done this way. Eventually I’ve allowed myself to cheat, just a little bit, and add a bit of water to get through to the end. But I know I shouldn’t.

Chris taught Julie to make crybabies. She's the first woman to learn from someone other than Mae-mae.

Mae-Mae was in here 90s when Julie Anne was born. She was down in bed for the final time when Chris brought Julie back as a toddler. Julie, being a woman of this family, carries on a bit of Mae-mae in her and shows it each and every time she makes crybabies.

This is not just a recipe to either of us. It's the standard we all measure ourselves by.

can I get an AMEN?

2005-12-14T14:51:00.000-08:00

psalm 119: 71 (from daily readings)
It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn thy statutes.

--------
OUCH.

can't stop drawing chickens

2005-12-13T14:42:00.000-08:00

need a laugh? http://www.savagechickens.com/ love them post-its.

PoTD: Grumpy

2005-12-13T11:42:00.000-08:00

Grumpy seems to be a theme today.

Steven wore his "grumpy" dwarf sweatshirt to disney last friday and I always like to kid him that it's "truth in advertising". I'm always stifling a laugh when folks who know him from work say stuff like "you KNOW how he is..." well, there's a little secret to that--he 's nice to me and no--I don't know what they are talking about. But despite his inscrutible demeanor, for those who don't know, lies a true heart that is only occasionally grumpy. cynicism and sarcastic retorts are just his charms.

He gets cudos for putting up with the true grump--me--for the last week while holiday plans were worked out.

This holiday is just not going to all silver bells. I've been told I get the week off between christmas and new years ----without pay. nice. ----like the memories and the family upheaval/tranplantation weren't enough. So if I don't exude holiday bliss at cookie exchange or in our times together, please kiss my bah-humbug.

rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances...

always more

2005-12-07T14:33:00.000-08:00

To all the girls a-moaning---There is always more to do. One more load of laundry that shows up in the hamper or nearby. One more dish to clear and wash. One more chore that needs to be done before I can feel peaceful.

The christmas holidays went from being a hallmark moment to being the most stressful time of year. Because Hallmark moments take staging, cooking, planning and cleaning or it just doesn't look like the picture on the card. It requires new clothes that look "festive" that can only be worn once and only get sold from october 1 to november 15th--and if you are too late--oh well--you missed it.

I'm kinda glad that christmas interferes with the holiday weekend this year. There is no logistical way for us to be everywhere we are invited, the driving alone would kill us, and if one more change of plan or machination takes place I'm staying home and eating a sandwich and then taking a nap on the 25th.

And--newsflash folks--it about JESUS, not family.

The birthday boy gets His way!

... even if it means church twice in 24 hours (not the first time on that for this girl)

And if God leaves me a helicopter on the lawn (doubtful), then I'll see the families too. But, there are 12 DAYS to Christmas--and if I don't get there on the first day--oh well!

I'd love to hear how the rest of the tribe is handling that weekend.

fashion advice, please

2005-12-05T09:29:00.000-08:00

Friday is the annual big day--the "happiest place on earth" becomes the place with the most squares. And, in the face of this I was thinking, since I will be among those present, what should I wear?...

I want to make a statement, you see.

Recently my husband was questioned as to my inclinations to become square, and this was tied to the new policy at square corporate--"If you're not square, you're not employed there." I told my loving husband, if they did make me go to a square place on sundays in the morning I'd be wearing a "frankie-goes-to-hollywood" style t-shirt every sunday and the message wouldn't be easy on the eyes.

My husband has since learned that his pedigree as 3rd generation square--despite his current leanings--qualifies him as a lifetime member.

So, since I am an oddity to the square population I was thinking that real-estate on the front of my sweatshirt should not go to waste in the presence of senior pastors/management this week.

any suggestions?

Daffy Award

2005-12-02T09:29:00.000-08:00

This qualifies as that spirit of daffy duck thing (from the other day)-basically good believers going just a little too far.

and the award goes to the vatican for this one: limbo.

I'm glad to hear that babies don't have to wait in line eternally to dance under the bamboo anymore. This is a PR program (to get folks to baptize infants) gone terribly wrong. Not as bad as the leg-growing thing a few years ago.(lucky you if you don't know what I'm talking about there...)

in memorium and hope

2005-12-01T15:16:00.000-08:00

Today is World AIDS day. And it always has me thinking about all the folks I've lost to this devastating disease. Because God blessed me with a job in publishing, in New York City in 1986 I was there among folks who were the first to be sacrificed. Most of them were funny, charming, endearing and so full of life. Yes, you might be able to make the case they their choices lead to their being in harms way. But I'm not in a position to judge, only love and miss them.

In memory of Rick, Stone, Richard, David and in hope for a cure for Patrick-who has survived despite all odds. And so many others.

Lord,
If you can love me, a flawed imperfect sinner, then I can love those you have loved and for whom you died. Please have mercy on them and me. Please bless us with a cure, that your name may be praised by all men. amen.

And don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that this is a judgement from God, this disease is straight from the pit of Hell, meant to destroy lives that God loves and means to save.

--------[+]--------[+]--------[+]----------

I had a conversation with a coworker once after he and were accosted on the street by a street preacher. He wondered loudly at why someone would be so bold as to approach total strangers. I had a flash and replied "If you woke up tomorrow morning and KNEW the cure for AIDS, wouldn't you go and cure everyone you knew, and then when you had finished that wouldn't you go to ANYONE who had this disease and offer them the chance to live?"

He got really quiet after that.

a sermon begets a memory

2005-11-29T16:15:00.000-08:00

Padre seems to think he ran long this last week, he should really time a bishop on any given sunday and then compare. I've got callus from the pews at Intercessor, this ain't nothing...Preach on, Pastor.

Bishop Craig (Bates) always cracks this line:" Do you know what it means when a preacher looks at his watch during a Word?---absolutely nothing!"

But the sermon reminded me of a favorite "evangelism" moment I had a few years ago, I think about 1994 or so.

I had a friend at work who was the most amazing person: After training to be a teacher when he could have had a great career in the computer field, he had eschewed comfort and career to spend 3 years in Ghana with the Peace Corp, building water sytems and teaching computers in the most primitive surroundings. He was generous, had a true spirit of charity. He volunteered for the worst kind of dirty jobs and had a servants heart. All of his worldy posession fit into a steamer trunk and he was so happy to be alive. He was like the wealthy young man in the bible who Jesus said lacked ONE thing. But he believed in nothing past his own existance, He could not believe in God.

We spent alot of time talking while we worked, as well as a fair amount of after-work socializing/philosophizing over many pints of various brews. But nothing I could say touched his heart.

He did, however, live directly over the Time Square Church, whose pastor is David Wilkerson (He wrote The Cross and the Switchblade with Nicky Cruz--a very influencial ministry in the recovery movement from the 70s). Up to that point He was one of the few name pastors on the east coast I still admired, I thought I'd like to go see his place too. My friend said he would go if I went with him--just to see what it was. Months went by and nothing ever got set up. Then one really stressful crunch time came and my boss put me up in a nearby hotel over a weekend. After a huge hissy-fit about working on sunday morning I secured the morning off and we set the plan.

In my heart of hearts I wanted this friend to know God, so I hoped against hope that this would push him closer.

We show up at the church an hour early and fight our way in to the main space--[no overflow chapel and Max-Headroom pastor for this girl]-- and end up standing behind the last row of seats for the longest worship set of my life (they had to stretch out the event to make up for the obvious lack of purpose --unlike a liturgical service). My friend watched me like hawk so I couldn't really concentrate and or enjoy the service.

Finally--- the Word is about to be preached, the third Under-pastor comes off the bench for his once-a-year appearance in the pulpit and he starts out by praying in a loud voice, "Thank you, Jesus, for letting this body know the EXACT TIME AND PLACE of your return to the earth...this october"

I'm thinking to myself: Um, sure He did, forget what scripture says, really--it's ok, this is a new revelation.

We left the building shortly there-after...

Bishop Craig says there are many spirits out there--and they tend to be 3 categories: Spirit of God, Spirit of the Devil and My favorite: the spirit of Daffy Duck.

way too cute

2005-11-10T13:54:00.000-08:00

Ugly dolls, who knew? Yup, I want them all. I was never a stuffed animal type but these are too cool. For the uninformed, artist and designers have obsessive collecting habits, hence the 15 cookie jars. These, at least, are slightly smaller. I love McFarlane figures as well. I already have both of the Yellow submarine sets, since I moved into the house I thought I'd misplaced one of the figures, but looking at the site I realized he doesn't exist (yet). Smell the vinyl.

pick just one? I think not...

2005-11-08T14:36:00.000-08:00

One fine sunday morning the rector of the Church of the much-needed Censor had spent a little too much time getting vested in the “holy head” As he came zooming into the sanctuary he ran into his loyal band of worms, lollygagging about in the back of the church.

He was horrified, it was an Acolyte Nightmare, not one of them was ready to do his bidding, the candles remained unlit on their stands and the shiny object were not at all ready to be carried.

Deacon Sarcastic was idly twiddling his breakfast, a Baby Ruth bar, and reviewing his some-what unholy ideas on Swimming Pool Humor for the next church pool-party.

“What is this? a Snail Reality Show? Since when do we take so much time to get ready?” cried Fr. Inahurry. All the worms turned The Color Purple, indicating that they were no better than Stupid Canadians.

The group leapt into action--each reporting to the table in the back where all the church’s most precious object were kept in an ancient set of Tupperware. Each man, determined to redeem the group’s maligned reputation thought “We are men of action!”

Third sub-deacon Mefirst and fifth sub-deacon Icandoit both dove for the coveted Tupperware container that held the new incense to be used in the service that day for the first time. The ensuing struggle caused the lid of the ancient Tupperware to buckle and groan and then with a sound like an shotgun blast completely disengage from the container.

Tupperware Horror spread across their faces as there came forth a cloud of incense so malodorous that each man thought privately smelled exactly like the fermented Body Odor from a 13th-century monk's hobatoe. With eyes averted they each asked God for a quick death. Enmasse they made their way snorting and gagging out of the sacred space without genuflecting.

As they issued forth like a herd of demented sputtering penguins into the church hall they swarmed directly into a carefully posed group of elderly visitors from their sister parish of Alberta. Rector Inahurry, who was himself in need of fresh air, looked up in terror and before he could stop himself or his horde of worms from crashing the wheelchairs he cried what sounded like “Not... Stupid... Canadians!” As she recoiled in shock from the rector’s unseemly invective the church newsletter photographer, Mrs. Decently Inorder snapped a picture capturing the imfamous scene for posterity.

Sub-deacon Soulpatch chirped “Now, there’s a Scrapbook Page That Should Never be Made!”

oh well, guess not

2005-11-08T08:27:00.000-08:00

the recruiter finally let me know I'm not moving on in the interview process. bummer.

unrelated?

2005-11-07T12:17:00.000-08:00

About a week ago, as I was leaving church, my pastor told me that he and my mom had a new game where she growls at him and he growls back. He asked my opinion on what the growling was for. (all of this was out of her hearing)

My guess was that mom likes Stitch from "Lilo and Stitch", who growls all the time (she has a talking Stitch doll who growls when you ask "what's your badness level?") And her badness level lately has been... legendary, nuff said.

Fast forward to this sunday while making lunch. Mom is hanging out (being a pain) and she says (out of the blue) "I have a new game I play, I've started growling at really attractive men... and I'm waiting for one to growl back"

Mom needs to turn up her hearing aids, she may not have heard who is growling back.

read slowly and completely, please

2005-11-03T11:34:00.000-08:00

God has called me to live a different kind of life. His provision for me has been to give me great jobs, a career that uses all my talents (which He also supplied), and my education. I see clearly the path for my life is as He promised (Psalm 16:5-6 Yahweh assigned my portion and my cup. You made my lot secure. The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places. Yes, I have a good inheritance.) That career has provided me with a home and a retirement account. I did not have a ‘covering”(husband) other than God, and I struggled with that, but in the end God showed me that what He does is good. I have my covering now, and he is an unexpected blessing as well.

But what I like about where God put me, smack dab in the middle of Corporate America, was that I was judged on what I was good at, what I did and what I knew. And the rules of the game did not allow my bosses to judge me on stupid things like being a woman. They made their rules, so they have to live by them—or I could sue them to make it right. I got the jobs because of me, and I am a have never had a real problem with any form of discrimination in the workplace.

If I told all of you that some guy—who had all the same qualifications and similar skills—got to take over my job just because he was a guy, you’d think that was crummy. If the playing field was absolutely equal it would be completely unfair for that to be the deciding factor.

On the other side of my life, (the main part of my life) is the church and what I call my church-family. I have not always gotten the same treatment as corporate america is bound to give. I was out-of-step with other women, I did not have the attributes that most of them had—I was viewed as an oddity for having the job, being divorced (not my fault), and being fine with that path for my life. I was a business suit in the midst of sea of floral dresses, and I always felt that I was not valued the same as them, if not whispered about for being outside the “will of God” by being the way I was. But God assured me I was doing the right thing as did my pastor, who is a Bishop.

The pastors did not have this attitude and often gave me a lot of the communications tasks—newsletters, album covers, etc and I gave them the professional results they were looking for.

Things started to change as our church came into the CEC. I had been in lay ministry over a 20 year period: doing youth and music simultaneously for most for that time. I sat on the parish council when we came into the CEC as well as the design work. I did not complain when I had a deacon assigned to oversee my work, or-- even though I designed websites for fortune 500 companies for a living --when some “brother in the Lord” with Microsoft Frontpage on his PC got to do the website I had been designing on my own time for 3 months. (can I get an AMEN from the geeks about how disrespectful that was?)

I was fine with this because I saw men stepping up for the first time in 20 years in the charismatic movement and it was good. I know the will of God when I see it. and I believe the chest-thumping part of it will eventually calm down, maybe after the single-malt scotch phase mellows everyone out.

So back to the original question about the guy and I on even playing field for the same job—does that apply to the church? What if it were me and a deacon, and the job wasn’t necessarily a clergy-only task?

--NOW STOP if your panties are bunching up take a deep breath-- and remember I am not criticizing the church, I am asking a question about attitudes that affect us all.—you all know me and I want to make sure you still remember what you know about me—I chose to join the CEC knowing it had this attitude and that might affect me, more than most women, because it is the path GOD chose for my life.

I have encountered this attitude again in the last few days, and it still bugs me. But in the situation I encountered it in I both love and respect the other parties, so I have forgiven them. It was someone’s choice to go back on a business deal with me and give it instead to a brother.

But what I really want to come from that is not a group spanking for this type of stuff, but to put it in front of all the saints here and ask: How do we value and treat the talented people who God has sent here? -- in hopes that we can honor talents God provided over some other measure or pecking order we impose on ourselves. I feel like it ties into the beer-can water thing on charlie’s blog. Would we not give out water (the fruit of someone’s God-given talents) to folks who needed it just because it had the wrong label on it? Or would you hold it in reserve until it goes bad?

And when I was talking to the brother this involves, who has already heard a much longer version of this rant (thank you for bearing with me on that), he said “I never gave it much thought” –my point entirely.

So, I’m asking for some prayerful consideration from those folks who think about this kind of stuff.

POTD: Esther

2005-11-03T10:08:00.000-08:00

(person of the day) My friend Esther--for having the most original excuse for missing church last sunday--she was picking up BONO from the airport. Talk about GOING BIG. She's a customer rep for a Limo company, and sometimes the job just sucks, huh?

I'm asking

2005-11-01T15:10:00.000-08:00

A funny thing happened on the way to my next rant, I thought better of it, having read someone-elses rant on an entirely different subject. I have the right to speak my mind and on occasion I have. I have a strong need for others to understand my view, and unless you get used to the way I express myself you may miss the message and fixate on the expression.

So, It's a funny dynamic our little reader/blogger circle has going on. Can we really let it all hang out or is that just for some, and not for others? I mean, let's face it, we have a little social compact here amongst ourselves and we actually are accountable for what we say to others in the group. That "right-to-my-own-opinion" thing seems to cut across christian charity and a few other social norms.

A little story to illustrate my point: I worked for a tech firm where the group of developers would go out socially after work, this group included managers and higher-ups. They had a rule that if anyone had information pertaining to work--hiring, backoffice deals, politics-- they would declare the "ground zero rule"--that meant nothing left the table everyone there was sworn and bound to each other. You could not use the information obtained to gain the advantage for yourself against anyone else in the group. Big Boss never did understand why noone was surprised by his announcements. BUT it was something that everyone agreed to in that circle--or if you could not be trusted you were excluded and denied access to the information. This little community of gearhead had it going on on the loyalty thing, christians take note...

I know if I put up the rant going on in my head that I will rain down alot of commentary--and on a level playing field I wouldn't put up anything I could not or would not be willing to defend, and I guess I have to ask each of you--skirts, worms, spouses/friends of skirted worms and then there's the rest of our little band who are none of the above-- is this little cyber circle a social/theological democracy (level playing field) or does it follow our real-world relationships? Is there such a place as out-of-bounds? Opinions please...

POTD: Mom

2005-10-21T14:35:00.000-07:00

I stopped by mom's house for lunch to try on a dress my sister and I share-in anticipation of tomorrow (no time like the present to finalize wardrobe for this occasion). Mom was supposed to have a companion today, who we hired to keep her from blowing up the microwave (again) or setting the house on fire. But alas, no companion and mom in this big old house alone. So I'm hanging with the moms for the rest of friday. (woo-hoo)

As I went upstairs, I said "are you going to eat lunch today?", I got a weak yes and I continued on up the stairs. The dress and a backup were succesfully located and evaluated. When I came back down I found two neatly made sandwiches---white bread with a nice thick coat of "I-can't believe-it's-not-butter" light, sliced hard-boiled eggs and the final ingredient was supposed to be tuna salad, but instead it was cold leftover pea soup.

Mom has officially invented the "pea-soup" salad sandwich. We weren't planning on mentioning this to Chris or Joe because kitchen privileges are a touchy thing in the house on the hill.

To my loyal readers: You all can keep a secret, right?

I'm busy waiting.

2005-10-19T15:14:00.000-07:00

waiting for Steve to come home from CO.
waiting for the phone to ring.
waiting for a package to arrive.
waiting for a check.
waiting for a sign-off.
waiting for Chris's house to sell.
waiting for 5 oclock.
waiting for the next boot to drop...

Waiting--not my favorite thing. yeah I know "they that wait upon the Lord..." I'm singing that one now in my head.

These boots... and my O.D.D.

2005-10-14T08:33:00.000-07:00

The boots are a symbol and an obvious sign of a disorder I have. I have been afflicted with O.D.D. (obviously different disorder) since childhood. I zig when others zag, I stand out in a crowd no matter how hard I try not to. I am a lightning rod for commentary on external things. Finally I decided to go with it after years of whining to God about people judging me for stupid things. (more on this later tonight at evening prayer)

I started wearing the boots about 10 years ago with my business suits to toughen up my image. They have been a stumbling block to a few folks at church and a few more in the world. But they have a certain attitude and the toughness aspect isn't about some of the things I've been accused of, it's about spiritual toughness that comes from walking with God and hanging in there through some stuff.

It's hard to run for your life wearing flip-flops, and I should know...

2005-10-13T12:33:00.000-07:00

The boots are back, I'm ready for a return to my real life.

Keep praying

2005-10-13T10:44:00.000-07:00

Recruiter's hard drive made poopy this morning, the interview was rescheduled for this evening.

DOTD: Jehovah Jireh

2005-10-12T10:31:00.000-07:00

(Deity of the day) Jesus

--same yesterday today and tomorrow. He is hard at work at answering a prayer of mine and today He came through. I've got a solid job lead and an interview! Go GOD!

COTD: Herman

2005-10-12T08:11:00.000-07:00

I've picked a new address for the blog, and I thought I'd honor a true friend

(cat of the day) Herman.
He is my big silky boy, a bundle of neurotic love, and a true New York apartment dweller. He is not adjusting to life in these parts well. He and Steve have a running battle to be top tomcat. For now he lives his days in the spare room under my old bed. If it wasn't so hard to give cats pills he'd be on kitty-prozac.

His former owner used the address above (herman8it) to explain where things disappeared to and as his security password for most log-ons.

POTD: Steve

2005-10-11T15:24:00.000-07:00

(person of the day): Steve, for his heroic efforts to stop the master bath's commode from overflowing onto my closet floor. It did nothing to stop the new water feature in the kitchen below, but that too was eventually saved. Thank God for the man who invented the shopvac.

Gotta start somewhere

2005-10-07T10:13:00.000-07:00

And so, after 10 years of designing internet sites, I enter the world of blog.

This new adventure is mostly about the following:
1. So Joann has someone else's blog to read and comment on--she seems so good at commentary.
2. I can heckle my niece on her blog from time to time.