A Vapor's Voice

'It's tidings of comfort and joy"

2011-02-11T18:48:00.010-04:00

It is not scientific doubt, not atheism, not pantheism, not agnosticism, that in our day and in this land is likely to quench the light of the gospel. It is a proud, sensuous, selfish, luxurious, church-going, hollow-hearted prosperity.

- Frederic D. Huntington, Forum magazine, 1890, as quoted in Crazy Love.

Prosperity hardens the heart.

- William Wilberforce

A satisfied soul loathes the honeycomb,

But to a hungry soul, every bitter thing is sweet.

-Proverbs 27:7

Because I have such a sweet tooth and tend toward an addictive behavior with regards to sugary treats, I can readily relate to a feeling of overdoing it.

It's like a chocolate hangover, if you will.

It's this feeling of not wanting to see another sweet thing for 100 years, because your stomach is so cross at you for taking in too much, it has a terrible stale, sick feeling. Part of you wishes you could puke and get rid of it, just to bring an end to the gross feeling of excess. The only thing in the world that sounds good at this point is lettuce or water or maybe black tea. Something clean, clear, clarifying, and thin, to counter all the thick, rich, creamy excess.

I've had so much of a good thing, that is has become unpalatable and distasteful.

The thing that I loved became repulsive to me.

I believe we as westerners are sick on comfort in this same pattern. In so much as is in our power, we so strive to, and by and large have successfully polished, perfected and crafted our lives to serve the god of our choice, our comfort.

In years past when I was less in-tune to my body, I remember feeling the need to counter too much sugar with too much salt. For example, craving chips after a bowl of ice cream. It was unsuccessful, of course, as a solution, and only created a self-perpetuating cycle. One kept leading to the other and my poor body was an innocent victim of my mouth and my folly!

I find that it is the same with comfort. We so satiate ourselves on comfort and ease, that we keep having to push the envelope toward edginess and ugliness to bring back some feeling of reality or balance since our lives are too sickeningly sweet and ultra-clean.

Everything seems to reflect this pattern of unbalanced excess swaying from one gluttonous pendulum swing to another. We are manifesting it in all our expressions of life.

Genres of music have developed that are mostly fuzz and static and chaos, grinding, war-like grunting grating screaming. Visual art depicts mess, more chaos and aggressive black scribbles. Simple beauty when depicted in art now, is seen as unpalatably cheesey and even mocked by many published art writers and critics. Hobbies have developed to include jumping out of planes or off of bridges tied to an elastic, trying one's luck with wild and/or poisonous animals and many other daredevil adventures of which I don't even know. Here's a quick google top 10 list of some of the edgy danger some call fun.

The entertainment industry is certainly doing all it can muster to push the outermost limits of sensationalism. Sex can't simply be sex anymore - it must be twisted to involve and include almost anything you can think of and many you never would have, including pain and suffering.

I realize the last sentence is not a new development- there have been sexual abuses as long as there have been societies of people. I would argue, however, the prevalence, general acceptance and degree of perversion has increased in recent times.

The degree and frequency of violence in all entertainment media is well known. I just received a notice from Anna's school regarding a certain popular video game, to raise awareness. The description that was shocking to me, reads as follows:

This is a first-person shooter in which players control a U.S soldier who

works for the C.I.A. and participates in both well-known and secret events

during the Cold War (including assassinations and interrogations

involving torture). Players use a wide variety of weapons such as pistols,

rifles, machine guns, and explosives to kill/injure enemies.

Combat can generate pools of blood and dismembered limbs. Players can

use enemy bodies as human shields and execute them at close range.

In one sequence, broken glass is placed in the mouth of a man while

he is repeatedly punched, causing blood to spill from his mouth.

(Descriptive and graphic language plays a large role in the game.)

We're bored with anything less.

Did that sound good to you? Sounds like the opposite of true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy - what Philippians 4:8 commends to us as what should fill our minds and thought life.

(The game was Call of Duty: Black Ops, by the way.)

I see where idea of a God of comfort becomes undesirable when you don't know real suffering nor have suffered any lack. We have a growing appetite for the ugly and twisted. Have you seen the movie 300? I've only seen glimpses, but to me, it was such a dark glorification of freakish perversion, pain, and power, through violence and fornication. Don't go see it just to find out, if you haven't. No really, please don't. Remember Philippians 4:8!

I had the happy opportunity to see a few clips from a documentary film that showed some of the underground church in China, as well as rural ministries in Africa. The kinds of things they face day to day, year after year are things we in the West as a whole have never encountered outside of digital media. There was real suffering. Not a delay in a pleasure (Shoot! My wireless connection is SO slow! Och! What is their PROBLEM!??).

I mean actual suffering. The kind where you suffer.

Not the kind where you are inconvenienced.

Many had seen family members massacred in front of them, been victims of brutality themselves, lived in fear of imprisonment, and much more.

So much of the West is numb to this reality, in part because of the glorification and use of misery as entertainment.

An offer of comfort and joy to those in those real-life situation would be the most relieving, refreshing and life-giving salvation to them. They can see more tangibly the meaning and value of the Gospel. It absolutely has no less value to the affluent Westerner! We just can't see it or feel it. Nor do we particularly want it.

We're good, thanks.

Nothing could be further from the Truth.

We are not good.

We have od'ed ourselves so grossly on counterfeit pleasures that we have cultivated addictions to them; our appetites have been corrupted to favor them, turned toward them. It happens in the physical as well as emotional and spiritual. 9 out of 10 people reading this probably have physical appetites out of sync because of abuses and gluttony. When you eat too much sugar, you are initially sickened by it. (that might have happened when you were too young to remember it) But then it creates the appetite for more... and more and more. You seek that pleasure experience repeatedly, and don't self-control it. You will find eventually that you are eating it out of habit even more than pleasure, if you pay close enough attention, but you can't seem to stop. You've created a habit to perpetuate the excess. The same could be said of excessive quantities, salt or any excess. It creates imbalance that is self-perpetuating.

When a ball bearing in a car becomes damaged, it can no longer spin in its perfect groove. The bearing will eventually seize up from the damage and uneven wear. The misaligned groove that the imbalance creates just keeps getting deeper and bigger. The initial damage kept perpetuating itself.

Like I said, folks, I was there. I so so so get it.

It can change. I'm still working on it, but I have come a long way.

What are we going to do about it?

God save us from our gluttony of comfort and our riches.

Jesus provides the only true salvation.

The broken and contrite heart He will not deny.

Come, Everyone who thirsts,

Come to the waters;
And you who have no money,
Come, buy and eat.
Yes, come, buy, without money and without price.
Why do you spend money for what is not bread,
And your wages for what does not satisfy?
Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good,
And let your soul delight itself in abundance.
Incline your ear, and come to Me.
Hear, and your soul shall live;

from Isaiah 55:1-3

Disconnected

2011-01-09T22:33:00.008-04:00

If I could I would insert a recording of Don Chaffer singing "Lonely Sometimes" to play in the background while you read this to set the mood, but I don't know how. So - quiet it is.

Today, these are just thoughts that don't come to any real conclusions.

Just so you don't get your hopes up or anything. : )

------------

The most basic human interaction consists of 2 humans, within some proximity to each other, attempting to communicate verbally or with body language.

That is the closest connection. There is no middle man, tools or implements. Person to person; it is direct. If all of our senses are in tact, there are 4 mediums of information acquisition from the other- we can hear you, see you, maybe smell you, touch you. All of these are unique and provide information and shades of meaning that the others simply can't express in the same way. So there are different levels to which this interaction can deepen and transmit the greatest understanding. All of the senses are communicating something: remove any of them and that is one less aspect through which you are able to connect or commune.

Let's say that the first stage in introducing separation in communication and using a tool to connect people, chronologically, came with writing a letter, and having a third party deliver it. I then have in my hand something that was physically in my friend's hand at one point, and their words are expressed in their own distinct personal stamp and style of handwriting. I can see a visual, 1st hand expression of their personality, but not themselves.

There is a loss of 3 out of 4 mediums I would argue.

Then came telephones. I can't see you but I can hear your actual voice, though transmitted electrically (or however). I hear its inflections as you express and respond to me, and I can read a fair amount of your emotion and meaning from that. I lose sight, smell, and touch, and rely solely on hearing, but at least the voice is one of the most telling expressers.

Maybe losing 2.5 out of 4, having words themselves with the added bonus of vocal inflection.

Enter the internet. Via email, I see your words, but they are in impersonal neutral type, not in your handwriting, so I see the capital R that the computer produces, not YOU. Neither do I hear your vocal inflections. I do not see you, hear you, smell or touch you. Look at how far removed it is from the original. It is like a 3rd generation tape: one that was taped off of another that was taped off another, that was taped off of the original. The quality decreases with each step away from the original. I have very very little to go on, to actually effectively communicate with you. In place of all 4 senses, I must project in my imagination what I presume your tone to be, and the mood and intention behind these typed words before me. Quite a bit if left to conjecture, I would say! Miscommunication is rampant in this world. Everyone reading this surely has had instances in texting or email of your tone being misunderstood in what you said, or misunderstanding the other. In many cases it has been the source of high drama in relationships!

Lovely!

Isn't it wonderful the progress we've made? (excuse my sarcasm)

This is like, 3.5 out of 4 gone.

Now everyone else but me has cell phones and I'm using Skype. I can see and hear my mom on our Skype calls, but it is still very much like talking to a robot, as it is this digitally manufactured image of her and her voice. Also, since the signals are flying all over the PLANET and/or outer space, we often have a sketchy connection. I periodically can't hear her or see her or other various troubles.

Technically this should only be a solid 2 out of 4 loss (smell and touch), but combining connection difficulties and the artificiality of it all, I can only give it a weak 2 at best.

I talk to my dad on his cell phone (me on my LANDLINE - and I had to set down my WALKMAN to answer the PHONE. I know, I am such a dinosaur. Are any of you young'ins googling walkman now?) . Obviously we have conversations, but it is always much quieter than a landline call as the signal is weaker. The connection is removed yet another degree. It isn't from cord to cord across the continent, it is flying through the air harum scarum.

I've talked about this before too.

There is a great lack of quality connection and community in the world today, while quantity proliferates and overwhelms. I believe everyone is aching from it. Everyone seems to be complaining about it and the void it creates in our psyche. We frantically strive to fill it with other distractions, and saccharin substitutes for true connection, our fill-ins usually in the form of a digital reproduction of the original, the actual thing you wanted in the first place but choose not to, or can't have for whatever million potential reasons. Social networking sites like facebook attempt to fill the space of real relationships and people text instead of talk, and live imaginary lives online or in video games instead of in reality with other humans. Addictions to these outlets are as common as houseflies these days. There's got to be a reason for that! It's trying to fill some legitimate, real need we have.

So why don't we just go to the source? I have so many questions and theories about the larger impact of these changes. I think are a great many that we won't see until it's too late. Hindsight will be, as it always is, the perfect vision interpreter of what happened right under our noses, unbeknownst to us. I do fear that the further we get away from the original, the harder it is to go back. It won't be automatic and easy, cause it won't be the norm, we won't be accustomed to it, so it will have awkwardness added to further dissuade us.

Someone else is raising many of the same questions and concerns, I later come to find.

There's way more than enough blather on that topic for today. Thanks for listening!

As always, I love feedback! Comments?

funny/cool/thought provoking response options are only one click away just below here...

tempting tempting... clicky clicky!

cough

2011-01-09T14:29:00.004-04:00

Who can relate to this experience:

You are just wrapping up nice bout of the flu or a bad cold or virus, and as a parting gift, it leaves you with a lingering cough. And I mean lingering. That buzzard might stick around for another month while you are otherwise in normal health.

And then who has attemped, through Shaolin monk-like subconscious-transcending efforts of mind control over body, to suppress their never-ending stream of cough for the benefit of their bed-partner, or someone else who's sleep might be affected by your all night Concert of Croup.

Have you done this?

I have. Last night. I was able to suppress about 2/3 of my coughs I'd say, which I was pretty impressed with! But then another solid 30% totally slipped by me without my ability to intercept them at all. And alas, neither me nor my bed-partner got any sleep basically all night. He, because of my 'coughing fits' of which he didn't even know how few he got compared to what might have been, and me, because of my coughing fits, plus my focussed attention the rest of the time on overpowering or at the very least muzzling said coughing fits.

If you are contemplating this plan of action, feeling heroic in your ability to take control of your body, my word of advice to you is this:

Just sleep on the couch.

Holiday Greetings

2011-01-04T08:40:00.004-04:00

from Niamh:

We wish you a merry Christmas,

and a Happy New You!

apparently Niamh is pretty optimistic about the results of all those new resolutions.

The Light of Your Face

2010-11-01T23:23:00.002-03:00

My dad is a sucker for gadgets.

He once bought me a bagel slicer, and at its presentation I said,

"But I already have one!"

"You do?" he replied, surprised.

"Yes!" and I pulled out a steak knife from the drawer.

...

He also had this flashlight (let's not get into his obsession with flashlights...) that was attached to an elastic band so that you would wear it around your head, and like a miner, you could have hands-free illumination wherever you point your face. He got me one once, cause no one should be without this little gem, right?

And it can be helpful, especially since I have no light of my own.

My face emanates no brilliance or splendor.

But God does. He doesn't need a headlamp.

All I need is his gaze upon me to illuminate me.

Simply directing his face to me will give me light.

God, You see me. Shine upon my darkness and give me light!

May I reflect it out into the world!

Sustainability: Suffering

2010-09-02T21:19:00.006-03:00

This has become quite a buzzword of late, in discussion of environmentalism, economics, you name it.

In my ongoing endeavor to quantify my emotions and perceived "needs" I was mulling over the idea of sustainability as it relates to suffering.

We've all heard stories of people lifting a car off of a trapped person, or other miraculous and normally impossible feats when emergency need arose. They were able to endure, survive and accomplish something normally impossible - but not for a prolonged period of time. They had to lift it and get the job done in a serious hurry, cause they certainly weren't carrying it around like that while they shop for groceries or try on several pairs of shoes.

But of course we all endure any number of stresses on a daily basis, for years and years. Some of those may make themselves mainstays for the majority of your life.

So different stresses have varying levels of sustainability.

Some are, some simply aren't.

And different people have different levels of strength.

So how do we determine what is sustainable for us?

Some things, like carrying cars, we are physically unable to do for a long time, so clearly it is unsustainable. Other things we may be able do for a long time and still survive, but it would be unhealthy to do them: smoking, doing drugs and eating junk food for physical examples. Many people do one or all of these for years without dying. But that doesn't mean that they are good to do and cultivate in your life.

What about emotional stresses like abusive relationships, energy draining jobs, unhealthy social boundaries, loneliness, etc?

Most of these have a fairly subjective assessment of stress level and are not conveniently quantifiable so as to render the answers clear. Most of the time we decide what we consider sustainable for ourselves and build our own arbitrary boundaries to enforce those decisions. The apparently random times that one person says "I can't ____" and the next person presses through the unthinkable can be befuddling.

Myself and another mom friend of mine (who has also been dealing with health issues) have regularly come to a place of Redefining Can't. It's become a buzz-phrase for us.

9.75 times out of 10, oh yes you can, like it or not!

When you say, "I need a break," from a task, stress, situation, person, you are deciding that boundary. Maybe you could take a lot more. Maybe you think you can't. Usually you can, but should you? I have no idea. Often it seems that break can be life saving. Sometimes pressing through is invaluable for building character. Sometimes pressing through only hurts yourself and others involved. Oh for a clear outline to know when to say when!

I have seen this in other's lives, where a situation in their life that was unsustainable (in the "I can't bear this" sense, not the I-will-die-without-water sense), eventually exploded quite messily, after they had toughed it out for longer than most would expect. In the end, they acted very uncharacteristically to satisfy these felt needs that they had denied for too long, apparently.

I want to avoid this, but I also don't want to be indulgent while using this 'fear' for an excuse.

I want to have healthy sustainable boundaries, that are willing and happily ready to be sacrificial when it is appropriate and right, and doesn't make a martyr of one's self unnecessarily.

God, give light to my path, and give me a good strong fence within to play and live!

Die Princess

2010-08-27T22:47:00.004-03:00

I wish more mothers of young daughters these days would read and agree with these 2 articles.

Click em!

Princess culture producing overspending narcissists

Harms of commercialized childhood - Princess edition

One of the many industries I would love to see go bankrupt.

*added later - this thread kinda epitomizes the opposite view than I hold. just fyi.

Snuggly Cement

2010-08-26T08:55:00.009-03:00

City Mouse failed to say anything about her first trip home in 7 1/2 years.

It was nuts. It was soooo good. It was therapy.

I couldn't believe how it made me cry like crazy, even taking the highway exit that led to my childhood home, seeing all the landmarks, parks, businesses that I remember, familiar signs, familiar homes, fences, schools, cracks in the road that I remember from 20 yrs ago.

Every thing is familiar.

I fit in! A trippy experience after 12 years of being a Martian. (total years in Canada - 4 in Toronto, 8 in Nova Scotia) I was driving on the highway, with this strange sensation in my chest, thinking, "I feel like me again." I forgot what this felt like. I loved it. It was like going back in time. I felt lighter, freer, smilier, bouncier, at peace.

I realize now, all these images form the backdrop for all my childhood memories. For all the people, interactions, and happenings I remember, this was the background. They are so inextricably linked with the comforts, the things nearest and dearest to me, simple pleasures of that time of innocence and foundation for all that I am now. A crumbling brick wall that hasn't been fixed since I was 10 brought tears to my eyes, it and so many million other little things like it just brought back a flood of memories and feelings.

It was intense. I loved it. I miss it very much. I am a fish out of water here, but hey.

I took Anna with me, left Niamh at home with Daddy. She was Daddy's girl anyway, but this 10 day one-on-one sealed the deal! They bonded over their common passion, tractors.

But oh my, I think I have a city girl on my hands in the eldest! Anna LOVED it. She loved the Plaza. Loved the fountains, stores, sidewalks. She was like an aboriginal taken from the middle of the Serengeti or something and dropped in downtown Hong Kong. A little culture shock. She looked down at the sidewalk and exclaimed with big eyes, "WOW! What is that?!? It's so cool! You don't get muddy!"

I know. Amazing, eh? It was the invention of the wheel as far as she was concerned.

Anna took this beauty, capturing the lilies and mint my mom cultivated outside the house in which I grew up. Still there and giving joy to the observer! I hope the people of the house and neighborhood weren't too freaked out by my photos and videotaping. I'm fairly confident the police must have gotten a phone call or 2 about this strange entourage spending a little too much time walking back and forth on the street, staring at random houses for no apparent reason.

My little fashionista loving a Plaza fountain.

I think my dad took this one of me in the antique district by my old neighbourhood. I spent many's the day riding my bike and taking walks with mom up and down these streets.

Think the sweater and boots look too warm? It was a couple months ago, don't worry. We were still chilly. Of course Anna wasn't, because she is a Canadian polar bear. One chilly evening at a public playground, another family had bulging eyes seeing Anna running and playing in pure bliss wearing a tank top while their son had on a puffy winter coat. Anna kept insisting, "I'm fine! I don't want my jacket!" Hilarious.

"She's Canadian," I leaned over and assured them.

Knowing nods followed.

There were many tears as we boarded the plane to come home, and they weren't mine.

Anna didn't want to leave. She sobbed on my lap saying, "I wish this was the first day we got here again and we were just getting here!"

I know Baby, believe me.

Don't Judge a Weed by Its Leaf

2010-08-05T00:34:00.009-03:00

Say hello to my Million Bloom Plant.

That is actually what it's called, and the name is pretty accurate.

It was a gift from a sweet friend at church.

I love it, it's beautiful, except that at first I spent so much time dead-heading it, my family went hungry. It behaves more or less like a petunia, so I thought it required dead-heading to re-bloom, but reading up a little to do this blog post I found out it doesn't. Oh well. Forgo the housekeeper I guess. Back to the kitchen with me.

However, it doesn't seem to be rooted deeply. Get a little overzealous in your dead-heading and you'll unintentionally yank out the whole stem. It's quite easy actually.

I was thinking about what a show this plant puts on. It blooms constantly for months, from May til hard frost. In a warm climate it can even be perennial.

Then I thought about some of my experiences weeding in the garden. Talk about roots! Anyone who has ever gotten their hands even a little dirty in a garden knows of what I speak. I have been baffled and amazed at how a little leafy scruff can have a root that seems to burrow under the ground a mile like the Toronto PATH or something. You pull... and pull... and pull some more, and a root you never imagined judging by the look of it comes out, certainly a lot more than there had been leafy display.

It's the flora equivalent of an iceberg.

And I think about how so many Christians are like that. There is a big display, loud Amens, big Bible, membership in all the right groups, participation in all the meetings, a presentation of enthusiasm, but no hidden life in Christ: no deep roots, no grounding, no prayer life when nobody is watching, no hunger that drives us into the Word even when distractions try to draw us away, no loving the unlovely.

Everything is above ground and pretty.

But a flood and a strong wind will uproot the one that doesn't go deep.

A little minor pruning could prove to be the ruination of the shallow-rooted one. He can't bear up under it. Instead of bettering, it destroys him. He spends all his energy and nutrients he gathers on constantly producing more shows.

The weed was spending his energy on cultivating those long roots, and propagating. His appearance may be humble (yet still beautiful in my estimation), but that wasn't his priority. Therefore he has a poor reputation among those who cultivate showy gardens.

He is shunned and cast out.

While he may not have the colors or the flashy display of the other, he is sturdy, he does have his own grace, he'll be back next year, and he will spread. Those expansive roots will make more plants, also sturdy and deep rooted. In winter, he will rest and endure, he will do without and survive, and as soon as there is an inkling of sun and heat again, he will be back. He didn't die in the season of difficulty, though he mightn't have liked it. He quietly waited for the Spring. He stored up and was rarin' to go as soon as the opportunity presented itself, as soon as conditions were conducive.

As the song says, "Ya gotta go down, if you wanna go up.

You gotta go lower, if you want to go higher and higher.

You gotta hide and do it in secret, if you want to be seen by God.

Cause it's the inside outside upside down kingdom,

where you lose to gain,

and you die to live."

Life Lessons at the Beach

2010-07-24T21:14:00.005-03:00

We went as a family today to the beach. I love to collect beach glass, and you can see a glimpse of my collection in the background, filling the base for my bamboo. In my hand is what I found just today.

While others swim, tan, dig, or build, I'm on a treasure hunt for beach glass.

When we arrived at the beach, we searched and settled on our spot, put down our things, and began the beachy festivities. Children ran for the water and began constructing sandcastles. I roamed. Far and wide I scanned, back and forth, digging, perusing, searching, collecting. I didn't even begin to look around where we laid our things. I immediately left to walk and look elsewhere. I found some, but not much, and they were pretty small. I came across one or 2 larger ones, but disappointing in general.

But then to my surprise, when we came back to our base to dry off, dress, and prepare to leave, I found one... and another... and another... and another! Such an amazing concentration, and of greater size than others I had found all day elsewhere while I worked hard at looking.

Then as we walked to the car, 3 more were effortlessly at my feet as I was simply making my way, leaving the beach.

Life lessons. There were abundant treasures to be had right in my own nest. The things I was seeking were not far away - they were right beneath me. I needn't stray nor strain, but take the steps I would naturally take, without worry, and explore and not dismiss what already surrounded me. A little Taoism, a little Ecclesiastes, the theme remains.

Contentment. Finding, seeing, embracing the beauty in what you've been given and what and whom surrounds you; not breeding contempt in familiarity, but loving the common, the simple, the imperfect.

You might be surprised at what you find.

I was.

You Are What You Eat, part 2

2010-07-24T09:44:00.008-03:00

I'm really not doing great at keeping continuity in a series, since part 1 of YAWYE was way back here in April'09, and not even well-written. But hey. I'm under no contractual obligations here. That's the beauty part.

SO. This is what I want to say to the world today.

Let's say you are going to build yourself a house to live in. All I give you for building materials is pudding cups; the little plastic individual serving ones covered in a little sealed foil.

So you build a house out of them, somehow. Then someone drives by as they inevitably will and the gust of wind knocks down a wall, de-stabilizing the roof and collapsing the entire structure. You rebuild, cause you have confidence in your method as I assured you these were reliable and safe. Surely it is a fluke that it didn't work last time. It rains. You are soaking wet and freezing cold as pudding cups afforded you no protection and were nothing even close to water-tight.

And on and on the story would go.

When you eat, you are giving your body the cellular tools with which to build itself. Eat garbage, and you give your body no option but to construct itself - your very organs, nerves, muscles, bones, brain, hair, eyes - out of garbage. The cells cannot be as strong, resilient or effective against the storms of life (bacterial, viral, genetic, toxic, etc.) as they could have been, built out of better ingredients.

Every cell in your body has a limited lifespan and, when it dies, will be replaced. Based on this process and rate of cellular replacement, you will have what more or less amounts to an entirely new body, bones included, over the course of 10 years (cells other than bones take approx. 7 years).

Why do we not regenerate to be newer and nicer over time then? Mistreatment, conscious or not, accelerates degeneration, and weaker, damaged cells constitute the replacements. Any and all mistreatment of our body contributes to the damage and oxidation, including smoking, drinking, environmental pollutants and toxins, dietary toxins, dehydration, insufficient sleep or sleep of compromised quality, emotional and physical stress, insufficient nutrition, insufficient exercise and oxygenation and certainly more.

Building stronger cells, I argue, is like building your house out of stone or brick. A strong wind of virus is less likely to level your house. A rain of nerve malfunction can be kept at bay. A landslide of cell mutation may be resisted, overcome and corrected.

A house of pudding cups is powerless against such onslaughts.

Degeneration will happen whether you like it or not, whether you live perfectly or not. We are mortal. But we can help or hurt matters tremendously. May I plead with you to build yourself out of worthy materials! Those french fries or hot dogs will be with you longer than you thought, and not only on your belly! They may be supplying the materials for the liver your body is currently working on, or brain, or heart! Those of us with children, may we take seriously the influence we have in establishing eating habits, and supplying the fuel and building blocks of our children's bodies.

Know that I preach to myself as well, lest this sound accusatory.

I say this for your blessing, not your cursing!

Be well, and do the good you know to do. Today.

Transparency

2010-04-16T11:28:00.005-03:00

The introduction of blogging, facebook, myspace, twitter, etc. to my world presented me with a challenge. Everyone I know - family, neighbours, church friends, grade school friends, high school friends, university friends, musician friends, in-laws - from every subset of my life, were all converging in one location. There was a bit of an identity traffic jam, with maybe a few fender benders, and some unanticipated social juggling. I found I had to decide who I am, and it had to be through and through, the same to everybody. This may make it sound as if I lived the life of a total hypocrite prior, presenting different Jenni's to everyone. In a way I did. Mind you, it's not like I went out clubbing and smoking up with one group and leading prayer groups with another. My morals didn't change from one group to another, but language certainly did (no ghetto accents with in-laws, for example, or Christianese with fiddle cohorts) and the content of conversation differed vastly.

But when my blog could be potentially read by any of the above, and when facebook status updates are read by all of the above, it brought a level of transparency I hadn't ever had among my subsets. If I am excited about God, and had an awesome prayer or worship session and am busting with enthusiasm about it that overflows into a blog or status, I would formerly have chosen a smaller friend group of Christians with which to talk about it.

But now, everybody sees it.

I may have reserved my discussion on amaranth or hydrogenated oils for the few health nuts I know, instead of opening it to a broader audience.

The fiddle people, who may have vaguely known I was not Hindu, now see, 'whoa, she's really into this God thing', and possibly even 'she really likes to go eat pancakes' *. The church people are now hearing random references to Arthur Muise, about whom they haven't a clue. (A great fiddle player, by the way.)

So I had to make some decisions. What do I believe in? What am I prepared to represent?

Am I willing to own it in front of anyone?

Am I willing to be scandalous to one group while identifying with another?

There were lots of people I didn't hide my faith from, but I didn't advertise it either.

Now it's ALL out there! No secrets! I had lots of trepidation at first.

I struggled with, "What can I say that is neutral enough for every audience?"

And then I gave up. There is very little editing these days.

The whole Jenni : the Bride of Christ, the fiddle player, the MS patient, the mommy, the Irish speaker, quinoa & amaranth-eater, is all open to the public.

I have been deleted from some people's friend lists for being too Jesus freaky. That's fine. I believe there are even verses of blessing that might apply to that.

But for this development, for the acquisition of a more fearless approach to life, that doesn't change me to suit the viewer (only in so much as is actually appropriate and culturally considerate maintaining kindness in interaction), that is more real about who I am, what I believe, where I stand in the universe and on eternal matters of the soul:

For this, Internet, and often-sketchy social-networking sites, I thank you.

*"go eat pancakes" is a reference to the common misunderstanding of my reference to something called IHOP- more commonly known as the International House of Pancakes, but when I say it, is referring to the International House of Prayer.

I'm not that into pancakes, for the record.

The Generation Gap widens

2010-02-19T12:38:00.003-04:00

I am feeling age creeping in. It is a little weird sometimes.

The generation gap is widening.

I say and do things I associate with my parents and even grandparents, with frequency.

At Christmas this past year, I found myself with an uncharacteristic desire for cheesey holiday clothing and/or jewelry. What's happening to me???

I am mostly unaware of, and even fearful of many new technologies. I don't know how to use them, nor do I often even understand their purpose. We have had an ipod for a couple years. I've never used it. I don't know how to turn it on.

Did I just say that?

I do own a jump drive now, however, and have used it... once...

I am getting more moles and freckles. What is up with that?

My makeup has much more of a purpose now. Concealer has become a near and dear friend.

I am concerned about my bedtime, and consider 9pm a perfectly reasonable and sensible bedtime, and 5am a common time to start the day, not end it.

I don't understand a goodly portion of what the young people are saying these days. The slang is beyond me. I have given up on it. After approx 3 wildly failed attempts that ended in public shaming, (in particular, one time when I described myself as a SAHM, which I understood to mean stay-at-home-mom, but I was shocked when I was informed that Urban Dictionary by the way, ahem, says that means sexy and hot Mama. This was not what I was going for in my public self-description.) I am resigning myself to datedness and old faithfuls, like 'you go girl' and the simple and universal adjective, "Cool!" in place of other confusing misnomer synonyms like sick, gross, wicked, bad etc. Is diseased the next description of something really desirable and attractive? How about loathesome? malicious? painful? heinous? odious?

"Wow! Where did you get those shoes?!?! They are nauseating!"

Would that give a new twist to that little catch phrase about "throwing up a little in my mouth just now"? Would that then be a good thing? Something was SO amazingly nauseating, you actually threw up in your mouth a little. I'm happy for you.

Super. Sounds like we're on a good road here, folks. Definitely want to keep on it! See where it takes us!

Not me, however. But you go right on ahead. However, if I give you gifts that you don't like, I really can't be blamed, because the last time you saw it and said you didn't like it, I misunderstood that you DID in fact like it.

This reminds me of a Scripture passage, however. Isaiah 5:20 says, "Woe to those who call evil good and good evil..." I think of that verse every time I hear these opposite-day adjectives.

I don't have a sweet clue what music is trendy anymore. Most of my favorite musicians are no longer living. And I don't mean Kurt Cobain. Much more obscure usually, many never did a professional recording.

When I go to the store with the humorous idea to buy clothing, I hold items up in the air with a confused, furrowed brow, unsure of even how they are to be applied to my body, let alone how to coordinate them with other things. It looks like a drape of fabric to me that I would have as much luck with as a sari. What happened to holes for your head and arms that were pretty self-evident and needed no explanation? While I love the creativity and variety, I miss understanding what I'm looking at sometimes.

Other clothing and styles that I wore in grade school are back in again. I've been around long enough to see the cycle.

*sigh* I need a young person to adopt me and give me little masterclasses to keep me at least partially in the loop. My five-year-old and mother-in-law are failing.

Another sign of true aging: I don't care that I'm out of the loop! Be gone, Oh Loop! I'm more and more ok with nerdiness.

Sunday, Going to Church

2009-11-15T21:00:00.005-04:00

Anna looked at all the traffic as we drove to church Sunday morning and said,

''Wow! Are all these people going to church?''

I wish, Sweety. I'm pretty sure they're not.

Here's where I'm at, as sung by Rita Springer.

Listen to it as well if you like by clicking on the song title.

Phenomenon

I am not here just to see a phenomenon.

I am not here for experiential bliss.
I simply come to the feet of the God I serve,
The One that I love

I am not here for the sake of the people's praise.
I have not come to see the thunder and rain.
I simply come into courts of the King above
The One that I praise

I want to find the way to His chambers
I want to be in the presence of the Lord
I am in need of his mercy and favor
Forever more

I am not here for the sake of a miracle.
I am not here just to see the dead raised.
Yes, I believe in power supernatural
That's how I am saved

I've had enough of this life of a Pharisee!
I want to know this Jesus who's been loving me -
I'm running into the temple just to see the one that I love

I want to find the way to His chambers;
I want to be in the presence of the Lord!
I am in need of his mercy and favor, Forever more

I give my heart to the one they call Jesus
Seeking out first the very kingdom of God;
You are the Way and the Truth I believe it
You are my phenomenon

You can move mountains whenever You want to
You can speak to the sea whenever it pleases You

Forgive me, o Lord, if I have been a market place-
Turn me upside down so I will seek Your face
And if Your presence comes into this place
So will the thunder and rain!

You are my phenomenon.

You are mine and I am Yours.

May I be all Yours, God, all Yours...

Confession and Challenge: Readiness

2009-10-25T23:11:00.007-03:00

So many thoughts; swimming, swimming, and I come here to sort and inventory, apparently.

I am so full of lies and self-deception. Seeing myself on youtube recently came as a real surprise, and was only one aspect of the self-awareness program that I have been subjected to the past couple weeks.

I say I know and believe that Jesus could return any day, any minute, because no one knows the hour. But I don't live as if I believe this.

I'm just going to be totally transparent here. As much as one hand is grabbing the other hand telling it not - to - type - this - I've been embarrassed lately by how many times a visitor has come into my house unannounced - that's fine, I welcome it - but more times than I would have preferred, they came in and found me in front of the computer- not in front of my sink, or with a broom in my hand, or a mixing bowl in front of me, or sitting on the couch reading Niamh a book, as I would have preferred. But apparently, without my really realizing it, I am whisking away to the glowing blue screen more often than I think is good, or I would not have been embarrassed.

I feel like I'm caught with my pants down.

I don't want this to happen when the Lord returns.

I don't want Him to come, for the trumpets to sound, for Him to descend from heaven with a shout and with the voice of the archangel, and for me to be busy scrolling down checking facebook status updates. I want Him to find me ready, about my Father's business, not distracted with folly and vanity. I want to already be looking into the sky in anticipation.

Is it true that every action we do is an act of service to something, or someone?

When we go to the toilet, we are serving our bladders.

We work serving our employers and providing for/serving our families.

We can preach the Gospel, serving the King of Kings.

We can dress to impress serving our pride, or spend the time and money otherwise.

We can serve the lowest and in so doing, serve our King, Jesus.

Eat to serve your hunger.

Read to serve your curiosity or desire for entertainment.

Exercise to serve/benefit your muscles.

Is it true that every action we do gives glory to something or someone?

If I choose gouda over swiss, I am declaring by my choice that I believe gouda to be superior, or that at the very least I prefer it at that moment. If I spend the one hour of free/personal time I have at the end of a day on emails/blogs/social networking instead of in prayer or the Word of God, am I not passively stating my preference, where my desire lies? With every purchase, word selection in our speech, book read, music listened to, show watched, food eaten, we are declaring preferences in our choices - if we prefer it, we are exalting it above the other options.

The Bible says (I Cor. 10:31) whatever you do, whether you eat or drink, do it all for the glory of God. (p.s. I won't go there as much as I could, but to me this says that we can glorify God or not, by our food and drink choices.)

Am I glorifying God in my choices?

Do my preferences betray me or do they reveal a heart after God's heart?

How can I claim that I am person of One Thing, as David did in Ps. 27:4, when my fickle adulterous heart seeks a harem of lovers? I know what it's like to have the hunger where my desire for God is insatiable. I must read, I must pray, I must worship and sing to Him, it is fire in my bones -- rocks for the internet! It sounds awful! Turn it off, get it away from me! It can't possibly come between me and my God!

But that's not where I've been. I've run to distractions whenever I had the chance. If I ran and read a verse with anticipation the way I ran over to check my email the last month I could have done a lot of reading. I'm might have grown in God, instead of knowing all about someone's cat's visit to the vet whom I don't talk to in real life or have real relationship with.

I remember not having a sweet clue what facebook was. Why can't we live without it again? I joined to see one friend's photos. A real life friend. Who knew it was like trying crystal meth or something. One sample and you're toast! Maybe not the very first time, but give it time, it will suck you into its vapid vacuum.

I am reminded of Chambers' quote: Beware of the good thing that keeps you from the best.

I John 3:3 says that everyone who has this hope fixed in HIM, purifies himself.

If I have this hope, I will purify myself. So do I? Yes?

Then get going.

Anyone who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins.

James 4:17.

Let's go for it. Seriously.

Shake everything that can be shaken, Lord.

PBP. GIFWMY.

2009-09-10T00:01:00.003-03:00

Maybe you haven't seen that before. If not, it stands for "Please be patient. God isn't finished with me yet."

God has certainly been patient with me. Good grief. It's amazing, really. We as humans should learn from this. If we know (or think we know) very much more than another, be patient with that person! The gap between your knowledge/wisdom levels and theirs are certainly not approaching that of God's and yours, but He, with love and kindness, endures our folly and waits while we grow EVER so slowly, over yeeeears and years.

O Let us love as we are loved.

I moved to this area called Monastery 7 years ago. It is a very isolated and remote place, by my big city standards. It was within the same year that I saw God's really un-subtle sense of humour when I realized that there was no accident that I was here, that the name of the place was what it was, and what that implied for me. What is a Monastery, but a sequestered place of prayer? It is to this place that He brought me, and I felt that I was to learn here to pray, and to embrace a life of prayer.

Now, I am a very noisy, social creature by nature; so in order to quiet me, and to teach me to lean on Him, to be still and listen, and not lose myself in an occupied flurry of friends and activities, He had to dump me in the woods. I would not have chosen this myself, as that lack of social activity sounded like nightmare to me. I feared it. I struggled through years here, wishing for it to be different.

Why I didn't simply yield to the lesson that He made clear to me from the beginning, I dunno.

But I feel now, my knee bows, after years of stiffening my neck, and bucking against the goads, (how many Biblical references can I throw in one sentence?) I am beginning to submit, and learn, and discipline, to see, and hunger, and kneel. Praise be to God, who waits, and who leads us on, whose glory shines and draws our hearts to Himself. Who does not change, who loves us in our weakness.

-------------------------------------------------------

I was thinking about the verse tonight, II Chronicles 7:14, "If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land."

I never understood why it took humility to pray. I don't see it as any great stretch to know that it takes the power of God to move on the hearts of men in order for them to come by the bus load from the pub to the church, or fall in the streets under conviction of sin, as happened in the Hebridean revival of the early 1950's. I would never expect any worship leader to be cool enough, or preacher convincing enough to cause this kind of remarkable occurrence. So of course, we would need to pray - that didn't require any stretch or uncomfortable humility to me. Like if I was asked to carry my house to the other end of our field. Would it require great humility to concede that I couldn't do it? No! There would be no chance! Of course another way would have to be found.

So I was thinking about it tonight, and I thought - to really give oneself to prayer, takes away from our lives as we might otherwise lead them. Maybe I will spend less time primping before church, and more time praying, but then - Ack! - I might not be perfectly coiffed! What would people think?? Maybe I spend more time on my knees praying at home, and am found when friends or family come in and discover me there. Maybe I spend less time on my house, and accept the judgment from others that I am not the ultimate Martha Stewart of Monastery. Maybe I spend less time social networking seeking affirmation and social strokes.
These require humility from me.
Humble yourself and pray...

I don't begin to think that is a full meaning behind the verse, just one little color in the rainbow of meaning and an implication for me.

Thank You, God, for not giving up on me.

Slave or Free Man

2009-07-22T23:54:00.009-03:00

We all serve somebody. Larry Norman says so. I think he's right.

Just today Chris and I were talking about parenting in this light.

When you have kids, you sign up for slavery, as a radio commentator put it. Now, I would never trade this or go back. But as he heard in a radio show this morning, men are slaves to work to fund the lives and provision of their families; women are slaves to the family and home. They are on a pager 24/7, never off-duty, never on vacation - your time is no longer your own. You are always on the clock.

I heard a preacher say that a fundamental essence of our nature is our hatred of being told what to do. Five year-olds do not have the monopoly on this reaction; it is common to mankind. We have our own will, our own ideas and plans, and we want to do what we want to do, how we want to do it. When another will crosses that, we bristle. We don't like it. When our schedules and to-do lists are made for us, when the content of our life and time expenditure is decided for us, we don't like it.

This is one type of slavery, if you will.

Here is another:
It seems the vast vast majority of humanity are slaves to vanity, myself included, as my head hangs low with shame. Vanity in many forms, but all vanity in the end. By Vanity I simultaneously include and infer love of self and futility. I find the one leads to the other rather naturally.
The felt need to impress another human with our own coolness, superiority, or acquisitions and the lack of desire to please God, and more so the lack of fear of God, result in such a wealth of evils and waste. Years and years of millions of lives that amount to a landfill of time.

Maybe I should hold my tongue and not write when I'm this tired? Am I too bold? Meh.

We make ourselves slaves to money, to pride, to people-pleasing.
There is a slavery of service one could submit themselves to that holds monumental virtue, but it doesn't see the droves queuing up at the Lifestyle Line that the others do.
Why? My oh my, we are wickedly evil.

Parenting is a service of this virtuous variety, but it shouldn't end there. May this merely be for me a springboard and training ground to become a true self-pouring servant of God and his kingdom, embracing the least and being a blessing to true need and true lack.

Imagine now, if truly, you didn't care what was thought of you:
if someone thought you were attractive
if someone thought you were smart
if someone thought you had a nice house
if someone thought you were talented
if someone thought you were strong

It would be very freeing.

I heard once, and loved it ever since:

A man is free not when he lacks nothing,
but when he needs nothing.

round, round, round she goes; where she stops nobody knows

2009-07-21T00:17:00.008-03:00

Although the evidence can't be seen here, I do actually blog, a lot. I just don't have a computer in front of me at the time. I have composed hundreds of entries, mentally, and proceeded to forget them by the time a computer was accessible. Oh well. There's enough yapping voices screaming for attention in the world without mine getting lost in the mix.

But here I go anyway! yap yap yap...

I am changing. It's kinda weird but really good. My perspectives on health and life, church; my expectations, my hopes, my desires, beliefs - they are all changing. And the vast vast majority of people I know would laugh at and dispense with me entirely if they were to really follow these thought trains with me. Most Christians I know would be offended, scared, threatened, suspicious. Most non-Christians would be as well.

All I can say is, it is a time of change, of flux, of upheaval. Something is going to give. Something might break. Things will be lost, things will be gained. It will be good. God is in it.

I mentioned last year about feeling stagnant, personally relating somehow to waters that weren't integrated into the flow of a stream. You've seen this, right? You know what I'm talking about?

Picture a stream. It is crystal clear. The sun in shining through it, and through the ripply texture of its flow and motion you can easily discern every rock in the bed, even its mottled or solid color. It makes you smile. There is something so fresh and life giving about it. It seems right and natural. Then you look on down the stream a ways, and you see this pocket off to the side. It is kinda covered in what looks like a layer of scum. It is not flowing with the rest of the stream. For whatever reasons of physics and its physical boundaries jutting it out from the center of motion, this little pool is left swirling around and around on itself. It looks murky and gross. You think, ugh, what happened there? blech. You don't even want to touch it. You can't hardly keep from touching the fresh looking water. While the stream only a couple feet away looks like the definition of purity and refreshing cleanliness, this looks like it might hold disease and bugs. If it were possible, the water looks sick.

There is much more to this principle and pattern in our lives. Chinese medicine, and a number of other health disciplines and schools of understanding attribute a number of health issues to an interrupted or poorly flowing stream of energy in the body. It is called the qi in the Chinese perspective. Is it stagnant, slow, or interrupted? Problems will follow - emotional, physical, and spiritual.

I am not ready to present all my applications for this. I need clearer articulations prepared before they are accessible. But I feel there are many.

There is life in the motion, there is death in the stagnation. It doesn't just look that way for fun. We are attracted to one and repulsed by the other for a reason. We are not that different from the stream.

- By motion I certainly do not mean that we need a constant state of variety and change in our lives to be happy and healthy. Good grief no.-

When I find out how to say what I do mean, I'll get back to you.

Is that so? Why yes, yes it is.

2009-05-12T18:49:00.007-03:00

Anna is 5 yrs old. These are some of the humorous, sometimes wild yet strangely insightful things she has told me recently.

"Old dresses don't die. They just get holes in them."

Prince Edward Island = "Prince Ever Island"

"You know, in the middle part of Canada, the don't use dryers for their clothes. They build what they call a rukajuk, it's kind of a furnace washer. They use thorns to hold it together like this *hammering gesture*. It's the same kind as what they use in California! (as if that should clear it up for me)

"Mommy, what would happen if we went CREEHH *big cutting gesture* with a knife and the blood shooted out!! Jesus would have to build our bodies again. He would have to go ham ham ham with a hammer, and use all his tools!
HA ha ha, no that's just a joke, He would just use his own blood and skin to fix us."

Yes, Anna, that's just what He did. A truer word never was spoken. His own blood and skin to fix our brokenness.

Drive'er Herbie!

2009-05-01T12:48:00.009-03:00

Anna got the culture ball rolling today with her question,

"Mommy, do you know what an orchestra is?"

Wow. Yes Dear, I sure do.

So I introduced my girls to Beethoven's 5th, as conducted by Herbert van Karajan.

Thank God for Youtube. I would so love for them to actually experience a live orchestra, but the nearest symphony I know of is at least 3 hours, and a hundred dollars away. Hasn't happened in my 11 years in Canada and likely won't anytime soon*. At least this way, thanks to the univerality of the internet, they got to wow at the size of a double bass, see that many fiddles (as Anna called them) all in unison, puffy-cheeked tuba players, etc.

What a different world that once was mine. Pit, chamber, ragtime, and baroque orchestras, string quartets, fancy dresses at potentially pretentious but exceptionally beautiful performances; airports, shuttles, subways, green rooms, rigorous practice and exhausting rehearsals, sweaty chin-rests, commondering conductors' batons, auditions, late nights.

It is interesting how the seasons in our lives come and go. I can look back to that season as if it were glamorous, and in its way it was, and I didn't know how good I had it. But there are things about my current season, that are certainly enviable, though certainly not glamorous. All of them collectively will amount to a lifetime of diverse and treasured memories.

After watching Karajan's Beethoven, she added, "I want to be a conductor someday!"
Their interpretive dances were priceless as well.

Without my prompting, my girls truly seem to prefer and engage with classical music to other styles. So much for 'inaccessible"!! If a 2 yr old has sufficient attention span for and can engage in it, why can't an adult?

Here is a semi-relevant picture of my high school orchestra with a guest conductor, David Barg. Takes me back. :) I'm sitting principle 2nd violin. At least 4 of the players in this photo are still actively involved in music, 3 of them full time. (I'm the part-timer). 2 or 3 of 4 have their MA in Music: one is teaching and playing full time in symphony and chamber groups; another is performing all over, and has recently been SOLO at Carnegie Hall, thank you very much; another is busy around Boston and greater New England area with various fusion groups and small ensembles. I perform in annual summer concert series, as well as ceilidhs here and there throughout the year, and have weekly piano and fiddle students. At the time, I'm sure our instructors had to wonder if any of their efforts would stick as I wonder with my students. At least for some of us, more than they could have known.

*may I clarify to my American friends/readers that not all of Canada lives in the cultural wilderness as here described. It is a geographical issue, not a reflection of national interest or lack thereof. Canada has its equal share of the world's top artists in every field, indeed, and makes a valuable contribution to global creativity and expression.

How could we

2009-04-18T01:17:00.003-03:00

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

The finger of God, which once directed the blazing stars to their place on the universe's stage, like the director of a great cosmic play, descended to write in the sand in Israel, to hold a child's hand, to bleed crimson drops of His own holy Blood on rough hewn wood, to bear the treachery and hellish punishment of every man, woman and child, in every place, of every generation.

Because He loved us, even though we spat upon Him, physically at the time, and with our sinful rebellion to this day.

Phenomenal. What magnitude of undeserved love.

Oo oo, I know, let's celebrate with a fashion show! I bet my kids have cuter dresses and hair than your kids, and then we'll eat sugar! Yes! Sugary bunnies! That's it! This is a perfectly appropriate commemoration of the most weighty moment in the history of mankind!

I'm really not feeling that disjointed logic there, lately. If you know me, you know I have loved egg hunts in a big way from toddler hood til like 2 weeks ago. Then as I felt this sobriety this year, and again, watched the commercial mayhem blowing around me like a whirlwind, I was taken aback. What are we doing???

-----------------------------

I am heavy tonight, with the weight of contemplation, and sense of responsibility. I have been thinking about war tonight, discussing it, and am pressed by the price that has been paid for the lives that we have: by Christ for spiritual freedom, and by countless soldiers through the ages for my current social and political freedom.

I can do with my life what I will. I have powerful, impacting choices before me every single day I awake to a new sunrise. What will I do with my choices today?

The tremendous cost at which that time and freedom came impresses upon me to make the most of the opportunity that all of life is!

To squander those in so many vanities and frivolities is to spit upon the dead.

My own words find me guilty.

Seize the day. Live fully and with courage. Impact. Believe. Love.

Act with love, decide in love, speak with love.

You are what you eat. part 1

2009-04-15T14:40:00.004-03:00

Well, I hope you haven't all turned to alcohol and drugs to fill the void my lack of blogging has created.

I have been thinking- not necessarily coming to any great conclusions about life, but definitely trying to work through stuff. It seems like there is a lot to work through.

But alas, my inner philosopher is stuck inside a dishwasher, laundress, cook, butcher, baker, bum-washer.

Here is one of my currents, totally undefended, potentially controversial, and definitely debatable.

I blame Disney for a lot of corruption in our young children. What? you may say.
Disney? What's more benign and clean-cut than Disney?
It's called wolf in sheep's clothing.
Even though their clothing is as spotless, white and fluffy as it comes, I wish I had never introduced almost any of them to our household.

Of course Disney doesn't have the monopoly. They are but one outlet that corrupt Mankind uses to administer his own greed and manipulation.

I am amazed at the influence on young minds that all viewing has- movies, tv cartoons, computer games, you name it. Almost all of Anna's games and playing are acting out movie/cartoon plots, using their characters, reiterating their scripts. The content of all these things are written on her imagination and psyche. The choices and paths that those characters choose, she imitates. They set an example for her, whether I/we like it or not. She follows those examples naturally.

That's huge.

There is so much I want to change in my life, and in my home. I'm working on it, but we have a long way to go yet.
Lord, help me. Help us.

Anna says:

2009-03-29T07:06:00.004-03:00

"Hey Mom, you know how pirates kill tigers so they can use their skins?"
"No, I didn't. How is that."
"Well, *chuckles awkwardly at having to explain it* they want to use their skins and wear them to blend in to everything that's orange." *makes hand gestures around the room, as if to suggest the presence of orange things around.*

Of course! Orange camo. For a pirate.
Orange and black, bold-striped camo.
I can see where that would be useful.

-------------

We started a new thing this last week which is my new favourite thing. Every night at our bedtime prayers, I ask Anna to select a place at random, be it a country, city, whatever she thinks of, and we pray for them. We have prayed for California, Egypt, Mexico, Texas, China etc.
It has become the highlight of my day.

One night the conversation went this way.

"Ok! Who are we praying for tonight? Pick a country."
"hmmmm... *thinks for a while, being sure to make the right choice* Ham."
"Ham?" I ask, not sure what she is getting at.

"*furrowed brow, confused look, trying to figure out what was not right about 'ham' that made me inquire*

~more time passes while she thinks~

"TURKEY! Turkey. Let's pray for Turkey! Let's pray for the poor Turkey people." *

There! Now you've got it! She knew it was some kind of meat. Just remembering which one was the stumbling block.

*by "poor Turkey people" she meant the people in Turkey who may live in poverty, not that Turkish people should be pitied, merely because they are Turkish. Just for the sake of clarification.

Bowomanews

2009-03-26T22:36:00.005-03:00

These are my girls lately. In case you haven't already pillaged my facebook albums.

Anna is not actually getting into fiddle playing, she just grabbed it for fun one day, and it looked like a photo-op to me.

So gorgeous. So fun. So sweet. I love them to iddy bitty pieces.

I danced with more vigor last week than I have in years. And didn't pay for it later. Awesome.

My dad will be here in a couple hours. His last visit was in 2007. Gonna be so good to see someone from my family. I miss them.

How do you refer to the family you grew up with vs. the family you may currently have, as in spouse/children? I often run into this semantic dilemma.

I have so much I could be saying, but I am enjoying and cultivating an offline life these days. It is way more productive folks, I have to say! I went through most of February and March without reading a single blog and only replying to maybe a half dozen emails. Oh well! Our closets are getting organized! I may or may not come back.
... only the shadow knows...

Jazz Piano

2009-03-13T22:02:00.003-03:00

I love it.
I can't do it. But these guys can.

www.myspace.com/haroldoneal

Harold O'Neal attended my high school. I will never forget the first time I saw Harold playing. It was after school, most everyone was gone, the halls were quiet, except for this music... this enrapturing music... where was it coming from? I followed it around curiously, until I finally sourced it, and cautiously opened the door, to sneak a peak at its maker.

I expected to see a visiting clinician, but instead was surprised to see as scrawny little kid on the bench, cranking it out. I'm sure he was bigger than this at the time, but my impression was, how does he even reach the pedals? But he's creating stuff that is totally over my head!

This guy was destined for much much more than this room or these halls knew.

Well, he does not disappoint. He has only gone on to become more amazing. I am so proud of all he is doing, I wanted to take the opportunity to give him some recognition. Even though I doubt he remembers me. That's ok. :) I will remember that little kid at the piano, with Mozartian genius, and an effusive stream of creativity out of those nimble hands to match.

www.myspace.com/mosheweidenfeld

Last year at one of my ceilidhs, a tall fellow came up and offered to play a set for us (we ask for volunteers from the audience) and I don't think I'd ever been so floored at the surprise that awaited me as when Moshe took the keys. Do I have to follow this guy? Oh dear. It was a show stopper, and I got his cd, and I recommend it! He is a great player from New York, and I even got to use a couple of my Hebrew words on him, just for the fun of a little confusion. We had a great chat he and his wife were totally charming and sweet people.

I secretly curse my whiteness for disabling me from grocking jazz. I love it, but can't do it. I'm too white. I've always been the one on the sidelines gazing mistily at the jazz players, wishing to be among them. Ah well. I'll stick with the jigs and reels, and let these guys rock it with the funkitated rhythms, syncopations, stack-a-mess chords, enigmatic flight of melodies, and of course,
the smoooothe grooooves...

A New Leaf

2009-02-07T09:18:00.003-04:00

I didn't plan it this way, but contemporaneous with this turning to a new decade seems to be the opening of a new era for me.

I am simplifying and pursuing purity in ways and at levels I haven't before.

A purging of possessions is part of this. As I reflect on materialism, and attempt to pull up at least a couple of my madly entangled, profoundly and shamefully deep roots out of the world and its stuff, one thought was this: in looking at people who seem to 'have it all together,' I considered their disattachment to stuff.

Maybe, they have fewer things to keep together. That would make the task much more do-able, non? I could have it all together, if that only meant a couple things.

My mom would corroborate this line a thousand times over if you asked her: stuff takes time. What I mean by that, is that possessions require time from you. If I didn't own this computer, I certainly wouldn't be blogging right now. Every item that needs dusting, putting away and/or cleaning after it is used, organizing - takes your time, and it mightn't sound like much, but I promise you, it adds up remarkably.

I know a lady whose husband was quite the pack rat, and she lamented to me that after 20 yrs of marriage, she felt she had lost an entire phase of her life to shoveling stuff. That is how she spent the last 20 yrs, with nothing to show for it. Move the junk, try to organize it (which she found impossible as it was simply too much), give it away, throw it away, whatever could possibly be done so as not to live in utter chaos.

I don't want this life. Now, I am not saying that my house is so junked up, but the principle applies on many levels. I often find my mind is racing, in a thousand undetermined directions, too much to pray and meditate on the Lord as I would like. I have described it as 5 radio stations going at the same time, none of which are properly in tune. I hate it. I don't want that lack of mental clarity and inability to find the stillness.

I want to pare down, distill the truly valuable in life, how I truly want to spend my time, (not how it gets spent by default or without thought to its passage), and live deliberately, thoughtfully, with beauty and value.

So, I am trying to thin down possessions, bad habits, bad food, all the while believing that less is, and will be, more. More contentment, more health, more peace, more time, more happy.

Joie de Vivre

2009-02-06T13:35:00.003-04:00

Picture this: you are in a quiet house, with little activity. There is no television or music playing. Everything is still. Your face is expressionless.

Suddenly, you run into the center of the room, begin running in circles and giggling. The giggling turns into hysterical laughter. You keep running and laughing until you fall down. This could go on for quite some time. Then, since you find yourself on the floor, you roll around, and run into furniture, which is all the funnier, and makes you laugh more.

Haven't done this lately? Me neither. My kids can do this. I dare say, children in general can do this. There is something wonderful and inspiring about the ability to just be joyful and carefree, out of nothing. Nothing happened, but the happiness and playful spirit that was already in them enables them to just run and laugh and enjoy the fact that they are breathing, that their legs work, that they can see and hear and delight in all their senses.

What have we lost as adults that we can no longer do this? No wonder children pity us. Seriousness has its place, but does not also carefree liberty and a little silliness still also have a place?

Cards, cake, species analysis

2009-01-27T13:49:00.008-04:00

As I enter a new decade, there is lots of reflection. I'm happy about my new decade.
This was the year of cool homemade birthday cards. Observe:

and a cool gift bag too! kewl.
Thanks, special friend. :)

And the announcement you've all been waiting for, I know the suspense has just been too much. I'll knock a few points off your collective blood pressures with this long awaited disclosure.

Q: What was the cake this year?

A: Tiramisu. And it was gooood. Even though it came from a place called M&M Meat Shop, which does not sound like it would have good tiramisu. It sounds like a butcher, but do not be deceived. Or maybe it is bad tiramisu, and I am simply an easily-pleased not-connoisseur. The person who originally introduced me to this Italian treasure will not believe me, but this post was composed (though not posted) before we re-connected. Honest.

Anna is so funny.
Anna: IS God the sun?
me: No, He made the sun.
Anna: But He is light, right, He makes light all around Him. He put a light bulb on His head!

me: Anna, can you hand me my crochet hook from the counter?
Anna: Ok. *gets it and hands it to me*
Mary: Anna, you're so good to help your Mommy!
Anna: Ya, I try to help the old lady.
*laughter erupts, first hesitantly and in some shock, then more freely*

I was nursing Niamh and she started laughing. "Hey! You're a MAMMAL! You give milk, and you are HAIRY!"
Yes Dear, thank you. It sounds so flattering when you say it that way.

It is difficult to keep much pride when you have children around.
That is of course one of their purposes in our lives, and one of their many great values to us.

I have sooo many posts simmering, I can't find the time to sort it and type it. I am a boiling pot right now, my lid sputtering around the edges. I am eagerly awaiting this elusive phenomenon known as personal time.

Impetus of Encouragement

2009-01-05T22:02:00.005-04:00

There are some things I can neither explain nor quantify but I cannot refute them. I have seen it too many times. While I can't give anything conclusive or logical about the following topic, I have to share my experience.

There are many Proverbs of this variety, "Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones". (Proverbs 16:24) That sounds all sweet and poetic, but MAN it is true! Encouragement is incredibly powerful (as is the crushing power of discouragement, conversely!), and I am all but stumped before it as I observe its impact on my psyche.

I have even blogged about the excitement and warm-hearted feeling from receiving packages, and also about a trip recently from which I felt such renewal.

This is the part I can't explain, but also can't deny. I came away from that trip with motivation for life. Seriously. It sounds as if I'm overdramatizing, but I'm just being honest. After experiencing malaise for quite a long time, I found it very difficult to motivate myself to live better, to improve my skills and make good choices regarding health etc. Why am I juicing and training, jogging, and hitting a heavy bag so I can sit around my house and change diapers? Why should I practice music if the only thing I ever play is Twinkle Twinkle for Anna?

However, after this trip, I was so psyched and driven to be as healthy as I could be, to exercise, study, learn, improve, work hard, you name it. All this, because I wanted to be more able to optimize opportunities like that one. What good is it to go on this great trip but not be able to leave your hotel room because you are too tired, or not be able to go on walks because you are too weak, or play music at different places because you are losing skills?

SO I came home with a huge smile on my face, and found myself with strong desires for living the best I could. Before that, status quo sufficed. Day to day life didn't require too much; I seemed to be getting by fine without juicing or exercising etc. But if there are chances to do more? Good grief, I want to be up to it! I guess without these things, and over time with no change in daily life routine, I didn't feel the need to bother. Inspiration provided impetus.

I felt the exact same way, curiously, last night, after talking to an old friend: dearly beloved and much missed. I left our little chat wanting to be healthier, stronger, and not lazy in my grasp of life, but Carpe Diem, even though we hadn't talked about anything like that. It was merely the encouragement and strengthening my heart felt from the love and support of friend.

That is so powerful. I find it remarkable. The power of life and death really are in the tongue (Proverbs 18:21).

New Year 2009

2009-01-01T11:17:00.003-04:00

May it be happy.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:

where there is hatred let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy.

Lord, may I not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

Because it is in giving that we receive,

in pardoning that we are pardoned,

in dying that we are born unto eternal life:

Amen.

Prayer of St. Francis

but we keep trying

2008-12-25T19:23:00.011-04:00

I got the first part of this post in an email. Hang on, don't tune out just yet; I have more original content for you afterwards.

-------------
Santa rides in a sleigh.
JESUS rides on the wind and walks on the water.
Santa comes but once a year.
JESUS is an ever present help.
Santa fills your stockings with goodies.
JESUS supplies all your needs.
Santa comes down your chimney uninvited.
JESUS stands at your door and knocks.. and then enters your heart.
You have to stand in line to see Santa.
JESUS is as close as the mention of His name.
Santa doesn't know your name, all he can say is "Hi little boy or girl, What's your name?"
JESUS knew your name before we did. Not only does He know our name, He knows our address too. He knows our history and future and He even knows how many hairs are on our heads.
Santa says "You better not cry"
JESUS says "Cast all your cares on me for I care for you."
Santa puts gifts under your tree,
JESUS became our gift and died on the tree.
--------------------------

As I watch the customs and festivities around me, which to me seem pretty centered around materialism, I almost had to laugh, or cry, I couldn't really decide.

Everyone is after this rush that they can't quite achieve. Christmas is built up to deliver such excitement: oh the thrill, the joys, the ecstasy! I even saw commercials advertising for products that get the desired response from children; the parent goes and asks a clerk, "Where can I find the I love it!! Oh Oh oh!! It is so amazing!!! ??"
and the clerk answers that is in Isle 4 right next to the OH MY Gosh!! AAAHH!!! How did you know?? The people are screaming, sounding like they are about to fall on the floor in a fit of emotional overload.

After all the present opening hoohaw at our house this morning, Chris brought in a television and watched some Disney parade extravaganza show, which doubled as an infomerial for Disney theme parks.

I just couldn't get over the amount of energy and expense expended to make the most sensational, fantastic, thrilling show/experience/product. All this stuff is supposed to take your breath away. They hired famous multi-platinum artists to sing I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Cluas, acrobats, dancers, pyrotechnicians, bands, stages, elaborate sets, you name it. Same kind of hullabaloo as I talked about in the Olympic opening ceremonies.

And everyone sits picking their nose. You might smile, but no one really loses their breath, or is that impressed.

The salesmen, the ones selling products and shows to buy happiness and thrill, work themselves into a sweaty frenetic frenzy to try and do the most amazing thing they can muster. I can almost hear them gruting, panting.

Yet God says one word, and the stars are hung in their fiery place in the firmament.

One word, and there is LIGHT, where there hadn't been before.

One word, and your spirit soars, when before you felt hopeless and swallowed by inescapable darkness.

One enigmatic word, and a MAN and woman were made, with all the awe-inspiring complexity of the eye, all our inter-related internal systems, all the intricacies of the cell and DNA. From the miniscule to the majiscule, God has done the most mind-blowing things.

Us = TONS of effort to make something mediocre

HIM = no effort to make the most phenomenal thing in the universe: indeed, even the universe itself!

But we overlook those wonders, and instead jump around in our spastic psychosis trying to muster up the thing or experience that will fascinate us, that will inspire awe and give pleasure.

Silly creatures are we.

What greater consequence is there of our folly, however, I wonder, far far beyond simply our own boredom and vain striving?

Here's a couple pictures, cause pictures are pretty, and break up the monotony of all my words.

the girls enjoying some delicious Chewy Ginger Cookies

Dis `n Dat

2008-12-23T10:48:00.006-04:00

A random concatenation of thoughts.

I haven't been around much for a couple reasons:

1) Niamh has decided to start the day at 5:30 lately, and frankly, I'm just not ready at that point. Neither is she, she is still sleepy and sufficiently cranky, and yet she persists with this idea.

I am less than chipper or productive as well.

2) Any time the computer is on, one of the kids (yes, both already) think it is their turn and want to do stuff on it. Why did I ever instigate this initially? They never needed to know there are cartoons or games for kids on the computer.

---------------------------------

Anna says: "I wish I lived in Japan so I could eat seaweed."

---------------------------------

Nova Scotian winter has arrived! When I went out to get wood for the fire at 7 this morning, I was surprised when met with a foot of snow right up to the door. I shovelled a path and the steps before even attempting wood retrieval. It was up to my shins.

---------------------------------

Anna wrote a letter to Santa, giving her list of requested presents. Canada Post replies to these letters, and today Anna's reply from Santa came in our mailbox. A group of volunteers answer all letters sent to Santa in Canada. I found some of the content hilarious and a little Canada specific, particularly the part where Santa was saying how he takes a reusable lunch bag on his Christmas Eve world tour. Love the recycling plug. Good job, Santa.

---------------------------------

Think of this post as a month's worth of Twitter in one convenient blog entry.

Always looking out for you, in this often busy season. I just keep giving and giving, what a woman.

I have lots of stuff simmering again... oh for more opportunity to post.

Jumping on Jesus

2008-12-05T16:24:00.003-04:00

But first:
Months, months of work, I flushed today in a moment's impulsive decision.

One cup of regular coffee.

It takes months, some will know all to well, to acclimate a well-seasoned snobbish palette to the lifeless *marf* of decaf. However, it can be done. It just takes time, and eventually, you will forget what delights a well brewed cup of french roast holds.

I gave in today, and reminded my mouth of the forgotten pleasures. Bad, bad, bad. I was almost contented with decaf. Now I can go back to hating it for a couple months, giving up on drinking any altogether, then finally coming back to it in desperation and not minding it.

Now onto Anna news.

We only have one tv channel here, well, one in English, one in French, but we don't speak French, so anyway.. We have one channel, and Wheel of Fortune is what happens to be on at our supper time, lucky us. Anyway, Chris is quite good at these games. He can solve all the puzzles before anyone else. Jeopardy too, which I am useless at. So there he is answering all the puzzles before the contestants, and it tripped Anna out. One night she was actually paying attention and heard him say, "Red - beans - and - rice, " then the person on tv say it 10 seconds after him. This tripped her right out.

"HEY! How did that guy on tv hear Daddy? Daddy, how did you talk to the tv!!" Now she tries it, but to no avail, they can't hear her. Poor thing. It is funny seeing her yell at the tv things she wants them to say. Of course, yelling louder like, Hey Stupid! Can't you HEAR ME??? Och.

-------------------------------

Out of the clear blue the other day she asked me if Jesus lives in your heart, and I said,
"He will if you ask Him to."
So she went over on the floor, knelt, folded hands and prayed, "Dear Jesus, come and live in my heart. Be my Lord. God, I know He is yours, but I love Him, and would you share Him with me?"
then she stood up all happy and came over to hug me.

Well a few minutes passes, life has resumed, and Niamh is playing her favourite game of sit on Anna's belly and bounce/jump while both of them laugh hysterically.
This time, however, something had changed. Jesus was now in the mix.
Anna yelled, "Jesus! You're going to have to get out again!!! Niamh is jumping on you! Niamh!!! Stop jumping on Jesus! Niamh! NIAMH!!!"

But I assured her that Jesus didn't mind, in fact, He loves kids and will get cross at you for insinuating otherwise.

Dairy farming and dress pants

2008-11-27T14:10:00.003-04:00

Anna was explaining to me the other night how dairy farming works.

You see, the cows go down (don't ask specifics, apparently) and milk their selves [sic] and it makes a river (this must be American dairy farms, where they are allowed those hyper-production hormones) and the farmers go down to the river of milk with their buckets and dip them in and carry them back to the farm to give to people.

Wow. What a method.

Maybe this is what was going on in the Bible with that land that was flowing with milk... (and honey - so did the bees use a similar technique?).
Possibly where she got this idea. Otherwise I'm stumped.

Also heard, after watching some traditional Hawaiian dancing on YouTube: "I wish I could go to Hulaland."

But one of the funniest stories remains:
Anna attends a school-readiness program one day a week. Since I don't have a car home with which to take her, we have various people with whom she gets a ride or from whom I borrow a car. One of the families only counts sons among their number; their mother is the only female in the house. One of these young sons is in Anna's class. His usual school-time garb includes sweat pants, runners and a hoodie sweat shirt, all unmatched, of course. Even the shoes are not typically laced up or tied.

However, on the days where he knows they are coming to pick up Anna, he demands to wear his dress shirt and pants. He looked like he was ready to be the Ring Bearer in some one's wedding last time they showed up in our driveway. He even comes to the door to pick her up; hands in pockets, standing a bit off from the door, looking sheepish.

The following week when we didn't ride with them, but I still saw him at school, there he was back in the sloppy sweat pants again.

Hee larious.

The older son was helping Anna get her belt on and she said, while smoothing out her skirt, "Thank you, Brian, for helping me with my belt." And the brothers all looked at each other surprised like, uh, duh, what are we supposed to do?
"Uh, Sure. No prob," came the clumsy reply. Their mother thinks it is great that they are passively forced into being gentlemen in the presence of a lady.

Then today we were listening to Anne Sophie Mutter playing the Sibelius violin concerto, and there is this where there are really fast triplet arpeggios in complex chords - so it sounds a little harried. Anna walked over and looked and the stereo and laughed. "*chuckle* It sounds like they are rewinding!" Then after a minute it resolved into something a little less harmonically obtuse with the full orchestra, and she said, "OK! *phew* Now they pushed play!"

I was cracking up!

time ran out

2008-11-25T22:14:00.003-04:00

For those who are following this story about an Irish priest, I have what I find to be a very sad and depressing update.

I wrote him this huge letter, like 4 pages long, in Irish, thanking him and encouraging him, updating him on my life and how his gift impacted me. I had pictures made up for him, a recent family one and one from back then to help him remember me.

As I was searching online for his address or how to find his address, I found not an address, but
a death and burial notice. *sigh*

I missed the boat big time on that one, and feel like the hugest heel around. I missed him, simply because I didn't get around to it in time. I get a sick stomach every time I think about it.

So the message today is: just like those often cheesey forwards that tell you to tell your family you love them etc, I'm saying don't procrastinate! If you have a loose end to tie up, get after it. Don't leave 'em hanging.

You really never know how much time you have.

Expat City Mouse

2008-11-18T13:55:00.004-04:00

... would like some cheese with her whine.

When the City Mouse moves to the country, a few things change for her. Or maybe it is more accurate to say, a few things stay the same. Most things change.

I have found myself with a crazy desire for art and beauty. While reading Peter and the Wolf to Anna last night, and explaining to her the difference between a clarinet and an oboe, and describing a bassoon (which with the help of my new best friend Youtube, she was able to hear a proper demonstration) I realized it had been soooo long since I had seen any of these exotic wonders in person. I used to see them on a daily basis in high school during orchestra rehearsals. Now all I see is fiddle, guitar, piano. Ever.
So Youtube is my friend because I am able to watch classical concerts and ballets and modern dance recitals in the comfort of my own home.

Jenni trivia: Did you know I never actually wanted to play the violin? As a wee bairn I always dreamed of playing the flute or cello. But never violin. I enjoy it now and all, but it wasn't my first choice. Neither was Irish. I wanted to speak French. God had other plans I guess! A French- speaking flute player is more how I envisioned myself.

City Mouse misses all the fancy city stuff from her home town- er- city. She misses museums. She really misses classical concerts. Because of my connections I was able to see the KC Symphony almost on a weekly basis, for only $4 a concert. I told myself I would attend some concerts when I was in Toronto, but at $75 a pop for nosebleed, I said nevermind. Also on a near-weekly basis, I attended concerts of the top chamber musicians doing international tours. I was so spoiled, and I had no idea. My church had fantastic musicians and enthusiastic parishioners. My family thought I was a marvel and a wonder. I visited indie coffeehouses and indie rock concerts with great regularity as well. I read books, attended museums, poetry readings and festivals. I had dozens of friends in university, from every nation I ever heard of and many I hadn't.

Now, I sit home 6 days a week, I haven't laid eyes on a wind instrument live in 6 years, and thank God there are a few Africans visiting the university here that attend my church or I would forget what black people looked like. The only art I see is in the medium of crayon or play-doh. The only international cuisine I get is what I attempt. My 7th day outing includes the same 2 buildings every week: church, grocery store. Drive straight there, straight home. You can imagine my thrill when I stop at the beautiful coffee shop on the way home. Not often do I do this, for reasons of time and money. But I enjoy it immensely when I do. So I generally see 4 buildings: my home, my mother in law's, church and grocery store.`

I dream about Toronto. Although my hubby would prefer a Lucifer's Lake of Fire Cruise Ship vacation to visiting there, it puts a smile on my face every time I think about it.

In my desperation for some fine art culture, I started practicing some classical music on my violin. I even did some improv along with some solo classical piano recordings: the closest I've had to playing in a chamber ensemble in a long while.

I had to get all this negativity out before American Thanksgiving. Maybe this is Canadian Ungrateful Day. Maybe this blog entry is how I celebrated it. Weehoo! What a celebration! Do I know how to party or what!!??

All this being said, folks, you know i will be back around to chipper and thankful in a matter of hours. You just hit the blog-timing jackpot for crummy content.

I am super excited to report, that I get to go out of town this weekend. I'm really looking forward to it, as you can easily ascertain from this blather.

some quotes

2008-11-10T12:25:00.003-04:00

Poetry replaces grammar, gospel replaces law, longing transforms obedience, as gradually as the tide lifts a grounded ship.

Wisdom begins with sacrifice of immediate pleasures for long-range purposes.

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." Oliver Wendell Holmes

"Never believe that a few caring people can't change the world. For, indeed, they are the only ones who ever have." Margaret Mead

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." Unknown

"We come this way but once. We can either tiptoe through life and hope that we get to death without being too badly bruised or we can live a full, complete life achieving our goals and realizing our wildest dreams." Bob Proctor, Radio and TV personality, success trainer

"You can't cross a sea by merely staring into the water." Rabindranath Tagore, 1913 Nobel laureate for literature

All my pity and prayers

2008-11-05T08:26:00.003-04:00

Goes out to Mr. Barack Hussein Obama, who, when he wakes up this morning, will be handed one of the crappiest and most overwhelming To-Do lists in the history of the Earth.

And I complain about cleaning out closets! Ha!

God's Skittles*

2008-11-04T16:48:00.005-04:00

This post is a couple weeks old, as I have been waiting for opportunity to type.

*at time of typing, most all the leaves have fallen and their glory has faded away*

I'm still stuck on the fall colours, folks. Humour me.

(Notice all those ou's? I'm a good Canadian now. :)

As I drove home from church, for 3 consecutive weeks, I was awestruck to the point of laughing aloud in the car, almost in disbelief of what I was seeing. Luckily, wonderment isn't foreign to children, so the girls didn't think I was cracking up. At one point in the drive, which is all highway, I am at the base of a slowly inclining hill, and the road before me is straight. Because of the brightness and variety of the colours, the roadway looked as if it were bordered on both sides by great 50 foot high, multi-mile long rainbows, ribboning the length of the path. Seriously, every rainbow colour was there in full presence: Ferrari red, tangerine orange, banana yellow, summer grass green, eggplant purple, and many shades from peach to lime to add diversity, complexity, and interest. The only colour absent from the trees themselves, blue, was vividly visible in the sky, punctuated with radiating pure white cumulus.

I love how God can use colours and combinations that are so loud, but with such savvy and skill that they are not gaudy, but captivating and awe inspiring.

It mightn't have been little round fruit candy, but it truly was a feast for the eyes.

*God's Skittles have no hydrogenated oils.

Confessions: Bottomless Pit

2008-10-22T16:05:00.003-03:00

You may have heard, there is a problem with hunger and starvation in many places in the world.

Well, I am embarrassed to admit: it's my fault.

I am 5 feet tall and I weigh 110 lbs. However, in the global rationing of foodstuffs, I eat both my portion and Ethiopia's. I kid not. It is really sad. I was reminded of this a few days ago when I went to have supper at a friend's house and while still trying to be diplomatic she commented casually on my consumption. ''Wow.. you are good to eat.. heh *awkward forced chuckle*,'' as I cleaned my plate, and Anna's and her daughter's. A shameful display.

I am reminded of a comment I received from the waitress at a truck stop once. Chris and I stopped at this same truck stop when we were still dating, 2 Saturday nights in a row. The first night I ate effortlessly and completely cleaned a full pot roast meal with rolls, salad and finished off dessert and coffee afterward. The following week I only had maybe a side salad and water, and didn't finish the hot chocolate. When she came to clear the plates she asked, ''Are you done?''
''Oh yes, thanks,'' I inattentively replied.

''Really?'' came her response, ''Cause I remember you from last week, and for a little one, you sure can put it away!''

Chris of course buckled laughing. My reputation precedes me. Great.

All my years growing up it was commonly accepted and referred to among my family and close friends that I had a hollow leg. That was the only psysiological answer they found for, ''where does she put it?''

People would refer to that Purina commercial years ago about how small dogs eat twice their weight or something, a bunch more than big dogs, and likening me of course to the small dog, that the same principle must be at work in my situation.

And it hasn't changed in adulthood. It has been excused for the last four-ish years under the clauses of pregnant and breastfeeding, but really we all know that it was no different before, and it likely won't be after weaning. My dinner plates raise the eyebrows of any unsuspecting visitor, and not because the pattern is striking: one would need GPS to locate the pattern under the mountain of food.

So Africa, India: sorry.

Autumn colors

2008-10-14T12:11:00.004-03:00

Anna quote of the day, while all us girls were out driving together.
"When I grow up I'm gonna marry someone and I'm going to drive his car."
You go girl.

This "out driving together" was so wonderful. It was like going on vacation somewhere, but only 5 minutes down the road. The fall colours here are phenomenal. This area is known for them, and has a chunk of tourism based on them. Well, this year did not disappoint! MAN they are gorgeous! Yesterday we had rain all morning and then later in the day, we went for a drive. We saw two striking rainbows in the East, a patch of yellow trees that looked like they were spray painted they were so opaque, solid, intense yellow. No branches to be seen, nothing, just LEMON yellow! My favourite part of colours here however, are the cooler tones. When I think of autumn I tended to think of mostly orange and brown leaves. Not so here! Try FUSCHIA, purple, garnet, cranberry, salmon, coral, violet, and this neon red color that reminds me of Manic Panic. And all these fantastic colours in no small quantity!
It's like the angels had a ginormous paint ball fight.

I don't know how many of you share that frame of reference. Manic Panic is a hair dye used by punks, at least the ones at my high school. Does everyone know that brand or is it just me?

Anyway, we stopped by the beach on the way home, though it was too chilly to linger. The waves were high and rough and depositing copious burgundy seaweed onto the beach. The texture and shades of the clouds hold my attention totally rapped indefinitely. Some days they put on quite a show, and this was one of those days.

I always enjoy the perspective I find the sea gives me. I always feel in my gut this weighty sense of the profundity of God's work, of his majesty and miraculous creation. It quiets me (an accomplishment) and is like a touch of the Divine, untouchable, Infinite in a harried world.
I love it.

E-Props!

2008-10-08T19:58:00.004-03:00

Here's a shout out to Eolaí for breaking the 8 post long, 2 month drought of comments! Thanks, Bud!

For all the lurkers, I know you are there, cause I see you on my Statcounter. You're not hiding completely. I'm left to my own conjecture however of what you leave here thinking. I of course turn it to my favor.

I choose to think you're not commenting because you are stunned speechless, in awe of my wit and wisdom. Every thought is so well laid out, so complete, self-evident and instrinsically understood to be true and universal, it leaves nothing left to add to it.

Oh, and you're all self-conscious because my coloured pencil blog banner is so much cooler than most other things on the web. That's what keeps you coming back, isn't it?I know. You just can't stop looking at my awesome creation. Who could blame you.

a day lakeside

2008-10-05T16:14:00.004-03:00

My parents-in-law have a cabin on a lake. We went there this weekend and Anna pretended to fish.

It was beautiful. I do enjoy it there, as I do pretty much anywhere with water, I've discovered. If I was a moth, it would be my light. I am drawn to it.

Another Anna quote, from when she was colouring, and pretending to write.

"Hey Mommy, I'm writing you a message. Do you know what it says?"

"No, I don't."

She looks at me like I am crazy and answers:

"Of COURse not, ya Goose, it's just all wobbly!" Meaning, she is just scribbling, cause she doesn't know how to write yet, so how could I know what it said, since it says nothing. Silly Mommy! What were you thinking!

Grammarranter

2008-10-03T08:23:00.003-03:00

I hate words like this.

littoral \LIH-tuh-rul\, adjective:
1. Of, relating to, or on a coastal or shore region, especially a seashore.
2. A coastal region, especially the zone between the limits of high and low tides.

Doesn't it sound lovely? Yes! Great! What a great word. Let's incorporate it into our vocabulary! NO! Because I will be the only one who does it, and then when I use it, everyone will think I'm dumb and mixing it up with literal and of course making no sense when I talk. And then I will get cross at them and they will be impatient with me and it's just not worth it. I have the same problem with consonance, which, as my high school English teacher taught, is alliteration just using consonants (assonance being alliteration with vowels). But not once in my life have I been able to use the word and had someone understand that I was not saying consonants. Spelling it out, and an extra 10 minutes of conversation to explain the one word you decided to throw out usually isn't a welcome addition to the interaction buffet, at least in my area of the world, so there's no point in knowing it. I'm stuck wanting to express myself with my colourful and specific word that is left itching inside me, trapped, unable to be unleashed and set free like the little bird it is and it causes nothing but angst and brain bruises from its poor beating wings. Excuse my overdramatism. I got caught up in the moment.

I had a similar problem that I am still bitter about when I wrote an article for an Irish magazine in Toronto, and I described someone (Paddy Canny, to be specific, if you know him, or of him) as having a snell sense of humour, which means acute, or sharp, but the editors changed it to swell without informing me and it got published that way.
I still haven't forgiven them for it.

Anna Quote of the Day

2008-10-01T10:51:00.003-03:00

"Mommy, I smell something, and it ain't no angel mist either."

Context:
One of Anna's storybooks is about the night Jesus was born, written from the perspective of one of the shepherds. Angels come and leave angel dust on the ground and trees and angel mist, which apparently has this fantastic fragrance, that could only be angels, and all the shepherds pick up and go to Bethlehem to check it out.

This was her cute way of telling me that Niamh had pooped.

Riding the Techno Wave in Nova Scotia

2008-09-17T11:21:00.007-03:00

We have something new, we've never had before.

What, you already have one? Well well, aren't you special.
I haven't had one in 7 years. I missed it. Old things become new again.

I was disturbed with how difficult I found it to write those names. My hand was so shaky. Gonna have to drop out of my brain surgery degree program. I was free-handing it with a sharpie on slicky curved metal, in my defense, but still, in former times I could have controlled it way better than that. Oh well. I'm sure the mail lady won't be offended.

Since I have been in Nova Scotia, we have had to drive a couple minutes down the road to pick up our mail at the gas station. Since there is no 2nd car at home for me (which I would like to say is because I am environmentally responsible and happily sacrificing my consumption for the greater good... but is more like, insurance is expensive and I often complain about not being able to consume more, to my shame), going to check the mailbox was not an option for me. We were left to wait for my in-laws t0 check for us and drop it off whenever they came.

So I am all excited now that I can check the mail everyday if I want, and I can actually MAIL LETTERS if I want! *Gasp* Which, after only having the opportunity to visit a post office maybe 4 times a year since I've been here, (you read right) access to outgoing mail is also a VERY exciting development. I don't think anyone has had a Christmas or birthday card on time in all those years. But, hey, we are in with the techno revolution now! No waiting! Ultra convenience! Woohoo!

There's no such thing!

2008-09-15T15:01:00.003-03:00

In an attempt to soothe Anna's fear of monsters, we consistently tell her, there is no such thing.

So when Chris was leaving for work today, he and she had some exchange about why he had to go to work. He said he had to make money, she said why, and he said something to the effect of,
"I have to or the bankers will come and take our house."

Well I guess this sounded scary to Anna. Someone might come and take our house?? Surely Daddy must be kidding.

So this afternoon she was recounting this me and said, "ya, he said he has to make money so that the bankers don't take our house. But there's no such thing as bankers, right?" she said, sluffing it off with casual confidence.

And I answered, "oh yes there is."
She gasped and balked wide-eyed. "What!??!?!"
"Oh it's ok. They're not going to take our house. But yes there are bankers." And then explaining about financial systems of debt and ownership. To a four year old. That went well too as you can imagine.
Maybe I should have agreed with her. "Yep. No such thing."

Perfect Paradox

2008-08-30T10:53:00.012-03:00

Deep Thoughts, with Jen Dandy.
Installment #2
a mere 10 months after the first episode.

I played a ceilidh last night. Mar is dual dom, I managed to omit supper from my getting-ready regimen. So I stopped at a grocery store that was on the way, and thought, I'll grab something quick. I found a little serving bottle of chocolate milk (they didn't even have the plain milk I was hoping to get), and a little insta-lunch of Stackers.

I don't usually get this kind of stuff. As much as possible, I try to not eat processed food, except for flour and dairy products. I had never had one of these Stackers things. Somehow I managed to turn it into a philosophical experience and an opportunity to pontificate.

It was so perfect. I'm not at all saying that I enjoyed it that much, rather I mean that I was amazed by this hermetically sealed, formed plastic, formed cheese, pre-prepared insta-meal. Everything was perfectly counted out; there was a perfect number of crackers to pressed meat rounds and cheeses, sitting neatly in their perfect little divided plastic sections. Not a cracker was broken, nor crumb astray. They were all formed to stack on each other in perfect little piles. There was no evidence of the stink and squawk of the turkey who gave his life for my lunch (this isn't a post about animal rights, if you were getting worried).

We also like things like this lovely shelf. I evidence this fact by the booming business of organizer products and proliferation of Neat shows on HGTV, TLC or whatever.

We have manicured lawns, impeccably mastered music recordings, tidy rows of matching boxes/baskets in our basements/closets/shelves. We all have antibacterial hand wash that so any bacteria that manages to float over and touch us will get the KO. Lets have perfection on the molecular level! Lets even program our sperm-egg combos while we're at it.

We want perfect teeth (bleach 'em, paint 'em, align 'em), perfect skin (treat it, cover it, shave it), perfect moods (we'll drug you if you're not), perfect partners (we'll divorce you if you're not).

Everything! From the font and finish of a book cover to a woman's Perfecting Concealer, everything has been thought of and somehow "improved" from its natural or former state.

And yet...

We are a bottomless pit of desperate filth on the inside and more or less content to deny our state of tarry blackness.

It reminded me of this verse, Matthew 23:27 "Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men's bones and everything unclean.

I heard this quote, and will sum it up like this:

Isn't it ironic that at the end of the bloodiest century in the history of world, namely the 20th century, where we've seen the Holocaust of 6 million Jews, 20 million in Ukraine under Stalin, 50 million in China under Mao Zedong, 20% of Cambodian population under Pol Pot, 800,000 Tutsis in Rwanda, just to start, that you find in the universities now a denial that there is anything called evil? And still people will maintain that one doesn't need salvation, just education.

I'm gonna go out on my uneducated limb and say that I bet most of these perpetrators were educated people.

We need Jesus. Plain and simple. We are hopeless left to ourselves. We are whitewashed tombs of rot and stench with no good of our own. Our pretty facade deceives only ourselves.

God is not fooled.

If there is a moral to my story it is that.

My primary observation in writing this was the pure irony of how perfect we hope to make our immediate world, or own personal environment and situation, and yet how deathly horrid we are under our bleached teeth and ironed shirts, to the end that we have a murderous and suicidal love affair with sin, and the denial we live in about this hypocrisy.

nice hat

2008-08-28T20:34:00.006-03:00

We went on a day trip to PEI recently, and Anna, with her very vibrant artist's taste and love of colour, chose this hat. If the bright colours weren't enough, it also has rows of sequins. I chose homemade Gouda. We all have our kryptonite.

It was great.

I love trips.

It is beautiful there. We went over on the ferry, and it might as well have been a Caribbean cruise as far as I was concerned. Beautiful water, splashing and reflecting a coral sunset... mmm. Me loves Beauty.

I have composed sooo many entries in my head lately, I am surprised when I check back and none of them are actually on the site. I might get around to it. We'll see.

Here's a crazy Anna story. We were driving on the highway, and the following conversation ensued.

"Hey Mommy, I know how we can go fast."

"Oh ya? I thought we were going fast."

"No. Not fast enough. There's fire in the trunk!"

"WHAT!?!?! *checks rear view... sees nothing* What do you mean, Anna?"

"You can't see it, but it's in there. That's how we go fast. The fire comes out of the trunk and then we go supa dupa fast."

"Is that so?"

"Yep."

Niamh hacks Mommy's Blogger account

2008-08-25T15:29:00.001-03:00

Dear blog,

Attention babies!
Bored? I figured out how to get like 4 baths a day! Mommy wouldn't just put you in there cause you asked or point at it (she's too busy.. ya right!), but if you totally get filthier than filth, she will! Here's what I do. Take whatever you are given for you meal- oatmeal, potato salad, anything works. Grab handfuls of it, squeeze it through your fingers to start, and shmear it through your hair like shampoo. Try to get it in your ears, up your nose, up and down your arms like lotion, massage your scalp with it. I mean take mess to a whole new level. I guarantee, you will get a bath! It works for me every time!
Party in da tubby!

what I see

2008-08-21T10:47:00.004-03:00

Incredible injustice.

I watched one of those unsanctioned bootleg online videos of the opening ceremonies in Beijing, and all I could think of the whole time, was the money, the money, the money, burning and gone with every amazing and gorgeous display of fireworks, millions more in costumes and manpower. There must have been a zillion individuals involved in performing. Then there is facilities, power consumption, you name it. All these people attending these events are not hurting for money. They are not going hungry.

Watching the huge explosions and grandeur, I could not get the picture of a small hungry child out of my mind. Blame too many Compassion infomercials if you want, but it is a reality. How many could have been fed, given medicine, shelter, education etc. with the mad money expended at this kind of stuff? Maybe this is wildly oversimplified, but picturing the laughing, indifferent affluent, partying and having a great time while another suffers hopelessly and helplessly is just desperately sad to me, and I do believe justice will be served on the other side.

and the winners are:

2008-08-18T11:36:00.002-03:00

Nobody.
Well, nobody guessed right, but I love your attempts! Thanks for participating in my vain activity!

To end the suspense:

Why am I a toucan? Well, the answer isn't perfectly wholesome, it makes an anatomical reference to something I have two of.

Why am I a daisy? Cause I'm pretty but I stink.
I can't help that I really like Mexican food.

Such flattering terms of endearment from the ol' hubby. ☺

Two riddles

2008-08-15T21:45:00.002-03:00

Kinda.

If I was a bird, I would be a toucan. Why?

If I was a flower, I would be a daisy. Why?

The first person with the right answer wins my uproarious laughter.

I will give answers later, but not until I have at least a couple guesses in the comments.

Here's a clue: my husband Chris has dubbed me with these attributes.

Good luck, and happy guessing!

for the record...

2008-08-11T15:35:00.001-03:00

I thought of these first.

Brain Rain

2008-08-05T10:19:00.006-03:00

When it's like a desert out there, rain is sooooo refreshing. It turns dust into productive soil, and a dry hole into a pool.

And when cool things happen that stimulate your mind and your artistic muse, it is similarly rejuvenating.

I played a ceilidh last night with a great fiddle player who was driven'er as they say here, and that was musically great. Some of the best playing I've done in while, which was nice, cause I was wondering if I had lost it entirely. When you get a mojo going with another musician, I am amazed and what it pulls out of you that mightn't otherwise have been there. So fun.

So that was cool. And then I noticed against the wall, an older gentleman who had Is féidir liom JIG a dhéanamh written on his t-shirt. That's Irish, by the way, and I knew those shirts are only available in the Gaeltacht in Ireland, or online, but probably this guy had at least visited a Gaeltacht, so I had to meet him. He came up to me at the break and when asked, yes, he spoke Irish, and come to find he is from Conamara (a Gaeltacht), and is familiar with the area where I stayed, has worked near there etc. We had almost 15 minutes solid of Irish conversation which was super encouraging and fun for me: encouraging that I understood him, and he me. I press on in my goal! Then after playing a tune on the tin whistle he told the crowd that one of the reasons he had come to that town was to meet me, and how impressed he was that I sound like a native! Yay me! :)

This sounds egotistical I guess, but if you know me, you know I'm just excited for affirmation, since I have done soo very much of this as an auto-didact, I'm not super confident in my pronunciations etc. sometimes.

------------------------------------------

I have a new game I play. It's called give-the-phone-to-Anna-when-a-telemarketer-calls. Anna likes the game too. I like hearing her responses to their requests for one of her parents, and her attempts at making conversation with them.

-----------------------------------------
some of Anna's English:
covereds = cupboards
tugga four = tug of war
their chuthers = each other
high hill shoes = high heel shoes

-----------------------------------------

One of the best rains on my brain of late has been that I have been somewhat frequenting

here...

*sigh* aaaahh yes, fresh beachy watery airy goodness how I love you.

Did I mention this is 5 minutes from my house?

That is Atlantic Ocean by the way.

Did I mention that I have lived here 6 years and it was 6 years ago when I first visited this beach, then didn't see it again til this summer when I have become a bit more vocal about my wants, and I've been half a dozen times in the last month nearly. And it is love...

To All 1 Year Olds: A Notice:

2008-07-16T16:01:00.003-03:00

FYI: Cream of Wheat is not finger food.

You have now gotten the memo.

Don't miss next week's installment: Our Friend, Gravity!

Here's a sneak peek!
He's the one who pulls the food off your spoon onto your lap when you hold it upside down!
He's the one who makes you crack your head on the floor when you walk backwards off the edge of the chair!
He's the one that pours the contents of upturned food bowls and drink cups onto the floor!
He's the one that makes balls and toys come hit you in the head when you throw them up in the air!
He's the one that makes Mommy's... uh, never mind.

Basically if it was up, and then it went or is going down, you can blame him.
He's kinda like a floor magnet.

Knowledge is half the battle!
Tune in to next week's edition for techniques on avoiding incidents thanks to this ubiquitous and pesky force!

If I were an artist...

2008-07-06T18:57:00.006-03:00

I would paint a picture of how I feel right now.

I would use a lot of bright colours.

I am invigorated.

I just got home from a trip to Halifax, and though I could give all kinds of stats to try and quantify and validate why this was big and wonderful for me, I really don't care to, as I weary of feeling like I have to find excuse for my feelings. So in this post, they will just be as they are, unqualified.

I so loved it.

There was one image that kinda sums up the trip for me. We did a lot of walking, in beautiful Cape Cod style neighbourhoods. Through one there was a bridge running over a stream , with a series of small waterfalls on one side. At one point, because of the arrangement of boulders etc., there was a 3 ft square ish pool of water that only seemed to swirl in itself. It wasn't plugged in to the flowing fresh current of the stream over the falls. Water would run/trickle over into it, but then was kinda stuck there. It would swirl around in circles, not going anywhere, at least not at any pace more than a gradual drain, with foam on it and looking kinda murky. The rest of the water rushing over the falls was clear as glass. It looked bright and alive and on the move. It looked like it was full of diamonds.

I can really identify with that little pool of water.

I feel like I got to run in the clear water for a couple days.

Refreshing.

I got to see beautiful things, and spend time with wonderful people, especially a friend I dearly miss. I feel more impetus for life, and for being better able to embrace it.

This was the view from my hotel room. Purrty. ☺ Beauty does a body good.

G.I. Jomance

2008-06-26T13:16:00.002-03:00

Anna's little neighbour friend has one of those foot tall G.I. Joe dolls and she brought him over to play a couple days ago. In the hands of two 3-4 year old girls, however, he loses all his macho in a big way. They even named the poor mute guy Romance, his sealed plastic lips unable to defend himself against this imposed image revamping. He was Prince Charming, and the purpose of his big muscles was merely to save Rapunzel from the tower. No shooting or wrestling or sweating. He was probably minty and/or Axe fresh when he rescued her too.
---------------------------
I have apparently finally acclimated to Nova Scotia. Every year until now, I never found the summer hot. It never got as warm as Kansas City, so I was comfortably enjoying what the locals felt was sweltering. This year, everything changed, and I knew it was changing over the winter. I wore my actual winter coat, maybe twice over the whole winter, and that only while building snowmen for hours. My unlined denim jacket sufficed otherwise, plus a scarf of course, because I am a white person after all.

However, this summer, barely here, has not even reached 80 yet, and I have already begun sweating, and been borderline to complaining about "the heat," which would not have hitherto have been acknowledged as such. In former years, I was just finally taking off my sweater. I was always embarrassed to be standing behind a girl in the grocery store who was wearing shorts, a tank and flip flops, while I still had my scarf on, socks, boots, and had not yet identified where in storage my tank tops were.
Adaptation does apparently happen.
------------------------------
Two cool quotes from today:
"The only way to see is to shut my eyes, to gaze on that which I cannot see."
Anna: "I wish I could hug Jesus...."
me: "Me too, Sweety."

acorns and an old doll?

2008-06-21T18:57:00.004-03:00

Anna went on an overnight camping and fishing excursion with Nanny & Grampy this weekend. she caught a trout while fishing in a brook. She got so very excited when she caught it that she totally forgot herself and forged out into the stream, well over her boots, after that fish. When it started to take off on her, she tried to stop it with her boot! I love the visual of her big eyes, probably squealing, wildly stomping and slapping at the water trying to catch a fish with her foot.

With Grampy's help, she did end up catching it, and ate it, the WHOLE thing, for her lunch the next day. She was so proud.

Then after the fish experience, they were picking strawberries, and at one point in the picking Anna stopped and said to Nanny & Grampy, "When I was young, we didn't have strawberries. I only had some acorns and an old doll to drag around."

It is not necessary to say that everyone split themselves laughing at this tale of unknown origin. Hilarious. Great old-fashioned entertainment.

I love leaves.

2008-06-18T13:57:00.004-03:00

I love it when this....

becomes this...

and this.

Jenni smiles. She likes it a lot.

back from vacation

2008-06-07T17:56:00.002-03:00

I wish. In reality, I am beginning the third week of not leaving my house.

But I am here to say, you know what one of my favourite things is about having kids? Cause there are a number of them:

One of my favourite things is how being around them takes you back to my own youth, and I can remember feelings and experiences that would otherwise have remain untriggered, pushed into some old storage box in the attic of my brain.

I love remembering the feeling of no schedule or time limitations. Remembering being so unconscious of self and unafraid of men's judgments on you: such freedom. Exploring the veins in a leaf for as long as I felt like laying there in the grass. Listening to an entire symphony on headphones, giving my attention to nothing else, eyes closed, absorbing every nuance and colour. I probably sang along too. I'm sure that was brilliant to observe.

I would put on a 2nd Chapter of Acts or Phil Kaeggy album and dance around my house like a nut job. I loved it. I thought I was amazing. I would play air piano along with the band on the coffeetable. Actually, that`s not true. I played air piano on the top of this big stone elephant that I assume was a plant stand, I don't know what else you would do with it, except play air piano that is.

Fun times.

blabby bloggy

2008-06-06T23:48:00.003-03:00

Optimism is on vacation in Florida.

I miss music. I miss long extended sessions of sitting with tapes, rooting through someone's obscure repertoire and gleaning some new choice prizes for mine. I miss the inspiration of learning. Music and otherwise. I miss the chemistry of playing music with other humans. Laughing and enjoying each other's company.

I get tired of no sidewalks and that means muddy shoes.
I get tired of insufficient social interaction and seeing something besides my own kitchen rather infrequently.
And there's a few others,
But when Spring, glorious Spring comes, and I walk even so much as down my driveway, and the crisp sea wind blows my hair back, and I smell the chlorophyll and the wildflower blossoms, and look out to the ocean, the brilliant blue sky, the whole earth is just bursting with rejoicing and praise, exalting its Creator, I am recentered and contented.

So, walk into your driveway for pete's sake and stop complaining!

Yaaa. Well, it doesn't work that way EVery time...

Anna says:

2008-05-27T20:37:00.003-03:00

A couple weeks ago Niamh broke a mug of my grandfather's and I cried. I was already homesick and stressed feeling. Then a couple days ago I was scooting Niamh away from the table so she couldn't get to my current mug. Anna had me explain to her why I scooted her and I did.
"... and if she breaks your mug you will cry and weep!"

Weep??? I don't think I'll weep for pete's sake. I cracked up laughing.
---------------------------------
We were dropping off a friend from church at her house after the service. It was the first time we had given her a ride so Anna inquired, and I explained. Later in the trip, she piped up glibly from her booster seat in the back, "Ok Mommy: you can just drop me off at Tim's."
Ya, right. Dream on.
--------------------------------
This summer it will have been 2 years since my mom was able to visit.
Yesterday Anna packed a little backpack and said,
"I'm going to Kansas City. I'm going to find Mimi! Bye!"
-------------------------------
Pulling into the grocery store parking lot, Anna sighed romantically and said,
"Oh, isn't this a marvelous place?"
Wow, we need to get out more.

If Niamh could blog

2008-05-23T20:39:00.003-03:00

Dear Blog,
It's really too bad Mommy's hips aren't bigger, so that there would be room for entire villages, as well as myself, of course. She could be an incredible asset in war torn areas. She could go in, and carry everyone on her hip, and they would all be safe there! I am invincible there; it would be great for all those poor people to also be safe there. She wouldn't mind. I know when I am scared, which is pretty much anytime I see a person that is not my parents, sister, or grandparents, and I start to quiver and bawl in fear, I'm always relieved and safe as long as Mommy holds me. And of course the milk is so comforting! I'm sure Mommy wouldn't mind sharing that with everyone across the world who needs comfort too. She doesn't mind me having some whenever the mood strikes me, which is most any time.

*smiles*sigh* I would share her hip with other suffering individuals in the world.
Mmm, happy thoughts. Mommy's hip... mmm... I'm safe from the vacuum. She's tricky my Mom. She can carry me while she changes clothes, brushes her teeth and washes her face, washes the dishes, does laundry, did I mention vacuums? I love my Mommy. :)

Would you like some cheese with your whine?

2008-05-22T12:42:00.005-03:00

I feel like I'm losing myself. Not in the spiritual, absorption-into-God cool kinda way either.
I used to have a niche in an Irish session- don't anymore. Could no longer hold my own there.
I don't feel I fit in at church, in a university, with fiddlers or in a symphony, with my blood family (the family I came from, not Chris and the girls). It is confusing. Where do I fit? With whom?

I feel reduced to a function. I have thought a lot about this post from my friend Katherine, where she says, M is for Mom, not maid. I laughed out loud when I read that, saying, Oh, is it?

I suppose it is part of life, and its cycles. I had seasons where I could develop my interests and pursue them, and now I am mostly tasking. The predetermined to-do-for-others list every day more or less indicates that I am an adult now, as opposed to being someone to be pitied. I am a grown up and everyone has to do it, whether they are at a paying job all day, selling their life for a house and groceries, or at home with the kids wiping bums, your time is not your own.

I hear a ''Suck it up, Princess'' somewhere in my head, and I know where from.
You know who you are. ☺

Don't worry, I'll get over myself. Misery loves company, so here I am sucking you into my vacuum. Oh - sorry! I thought you were the curtain! my bad.

Anna's quote of the day: ''Wow, Mommy! You are so tall!!''
Also, she has renamed the 7 dwarfs: Lumpy, Dumpy, Frumpy, Bumpy, Zitsy, Ritzy and Ditsy.
Lovely, isn't it?

2008-05-16T20:44:00.003-03:00

I'm stealing Martha's quote of the day thing.
I have a couple from today.
after hearing Jesus Christ sung in a song, she asked,
"Why does Jesus cries?"

Eating and enjoying an apple, she exclaimed,
"God makes the BEST food!!"

These don't compete with Martha's quote from her son,
"Why would you be tired, Mommy?"

"I don't know Pablo Rodriguez."

2008-05-06T21:51:00.007-03:00

"Neither do I. Does he play the fiddle?"

Makes sense, eh? No?
I know.
But it is what I swore I heard someone say the other day when in fact they had said,
"I don't know a thing about fiddle music."
Don't ask me how I got the 2 confused. I really must be half deaf. I'm sure Chris would concur.
------

So I've gone back and forth with myself a lot on whether or not to talk about MS stuff here, but that is part of the reason I started this blog, to have a venue to say freely what I mightn't otherwise, as stated before.

I've started taking walks. The weather is nicer (positively heavenly today), it is good for me, I need the exercise, the girls and I need fresh air and to get out of the house. Thus the institution of a new tradition.
But during and after each walk I've had some kind of weird malfunction. The last time it felt like my dentist had rammed shots of Novocaine all over my thighs. The good part, I suppose, is that recovery time seems to be getting progressively shorter. My first walk left me unable to control my feet well enough to stepdance for the whole evening, but my last one was better within 10 minutes. So that's cool. I'm still unnerved to be seeing pretty much daily, not entirely predictable activity, however. Had some emotional upset from it too, but am not going around all freaked out or anything. I still feel confident that whatever happens should be gone soon enough, so when it comes on I don't get too worked up. That does not mean I like it.

I get periods of weakness, where I can't really lift Niamh, or cut through cheddar cheese, but it passes. It was bad for a while where I didn't have the strength to lay Niamh down in her crib. That was an unmentioned reason why I couldn't get her to sleep in her crib for a long while. I couldn't lay her down gently enough, I would always wake her with a plunk. How I groaned after the work into the last 45 minutes of getting her asleep and getting that close to total crib-sleeping nirvana, only to have my hopes of free(er) time dashed on the rocks of an unhappy, sleepy child's cries. It is hitting me more, the potential reality of a reduced functionality in the future, a future that I can imagine now. Maybe that sounds fatalist, but as I pointed out before, that's not always entirely bad.

That'll suffice for my complaining today. Loves to all y'all.

One final thing that is probably only funny if you grew up as a long-haired female in the 90's like me:
Do a Google image search for scrunchie. Kinda cracks me up.

conspiracy theory #1

2008-05-02T13:00:00.002-03:00

I think Weight Watchers got together with Christie to make sabotage packaging. It is singularly the most noisy plastic to manipulate that I can think of, making access to the cookies an affair of volumous announcement.

In other words, you can't get them quietly, no way, no how. There is no hiding it.
Everyone in the house will know -
JEN IS GETTING A COOKIE.
*crinkle*crackle*rumple*
JUST THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW.
*crack*smoosh*gerkl*

This is not helpful.

a new painting

2008-04-30T16:01:00.004-03:00

This is one of my mom's newer ones. I am a poopy photographer, and it is washed out from reflections etc. But I still wanted to try to share it. I like it. :) I love my mom's work. She has done some really amazing stuff over the years.

your muscles are talking

2008-04-29T10:21:00.003-03:00

I have always been fascinated with physiognomy. I watch people (yes, be paranoid) and how their muscles move, how their expressions are formed, affects, etc. It often is telling for self-consciousness, nervousness, pride, and others. Very interesting to me.

My favourite, however, is a baby. They are so perfectly natural. No affects yet. No mimicry. No self-consciousness. I love it. No weirdness. Totally genuine and pure.

Today is the 3rd day in a row that Niamh has taken a one hour nap in her crib. Why is this newsworthy? She hasn't slept more than 10 minutes in her crib for the last 2 months. So yes, I am excited, and I am hoping and believing that this is the beginning of a new era in independent sleeping. She is 11 months now, so we're all good and ready for some normalized sleep habits.

She is also walking exclusively. I haven't seen her crawl at all in a week now.

I was talking to Anna about likes and dislikes, and how everyone has different ones. She said, "I like three things. My baby, Niamh Eileen, Nanny, and Santa. And presents."
I didn't bother telling her that was four. I was very glad that Niamh was included her in list of likes though! Yay! I hope and pray it will always be that way.

false assumption

2008-04-20T15:33:00.002-03:00

heard last night at a 50th birthday party:
scene:
someone hands me a Bailey's and I make an unsure expression.
"OH go ahead!" another female attendee encourages me.
"Your baby is 10 months! It's not like you're nursing!"
*laughter erupts*

uhmm... nope. Not at the moment that is. If Niamh had been there, the likelihood that I would be nursing at that moment would be pretty good though. I had to laugh at the assumption that of course one is not still nursing at 10 months.

flushing diamonds with dung

2008-04-20T11:02:00.005-03:00

Many posts are simmering. I will complain in this one about how youth is wasted on the young.

I have been SOO discouraged from encounters with teens lately. One was complaining about how school is useless and boring, how it is so ridiculous that they are learning about World War II. "It's over," she argued with annoyed indignance. "It's done, it's in the past. It isn't happening now, so why would we need to learn it? " *rolls eyes*

I was so blown away I was speechless to even argue with her. Why? Goodness sakes, where do I begin? There are so many reasons. The utter disrespect and cluelessness as to the pain and suffering of so many people, and the people who put themselves in the line of fire for someone else so she could be leading this comfortable affluent life. The self-absorbed world of these teens, while I will likely get comments saying, oh they all are that way, you were too, or whatever, is making me nuts. Ya, Girl, you're right. Who needs education. Pffh.

I talked to another guy who recently became active, we shall say, with his girlfriend, and was kinda proud of it. His cocky demeanor nearly made me vomit. HE was not spared the earful of my first individual. He was willingly oblivious to emotional and spiritual impact on either of them or any potential physical repercussions. Throwing away precious gifts of purity. A completely topsy turvy value system to my perspective. No no, this short term physical thing is TOTALLY worth potential parenthood, disease, emotional disability and spiritual corruption! Sure, why not! Sounds great. Who needs God, who needs health or wholeness.

Then there is the plethora of little people (who am I to talk, I know :P) I see on Facebook, people I know in our community here, who play with sin. Walk the tightrope, dabble in this or that, and then come and play church. I am not even sure if they know what they are doing. I feel certain they don't understand severity or implications of their actions. SO much is bound up inside me when I see this. I am successfully containing all manner of screams, running over and shaking them and falling on the floor with tears, begging them to heed wisdom. That's what I'm doing on the inside.

I've also had more MS activity lately, which very effectively drives the point home to me of the tremendous value of the strength and energy (and TIME) in youth. That it is cluelessly taken for granted and wasted on video games and flirting with sin is just bringing me to the edge of psychosis.

so, waddya wanna know?

2008-04-09T14:29:00.003-03:00

I have a lot of questions about what is appropriate to actually be including on this globally public format. (unless you happen to live in a restricted access country)

The issue of information availability is seeing increasing attention as it becomess increasingly problemmatic .

I have friends who hide pretty well nothing in their blogs and/or online profiles, save bedroom details, and some who don't even disclose the names of their children, assigning them a letter or fake name. They keep things pretty anonymous.

I just realized in thinking about it, that if one wanted, they could follow the link trail and learn:
all about my daily life and schedule,
religious beliefs, church affiliations,
how much and what supplements I take,
how and when I've had any MS exacerbations
what books I read, have read, plan on reading and what I thought about them,
mine and all my family member's names, birthdates and ages,
plenty of pictures of me and my family and some of my house,
most all my likes, dislikes and hobbies,
favourite games and hobbies of my children and family,
my group of friends and associates,
you name it.

The only thing that was not right out there was my phone number and address which one sec: yes, I checked, they are available on Canada 411. Everything but the street address.

That's kinda freaky. I love being able to share all my intimate thoughts with my friends who are not local to my area, (that would be, uh, pretty much ALL of you), and just venting my feelings in general. However, I'm starting to have a little paranoia about the readily available nature of it all, to anyone less friendly. Not just blogging, although it discloses a lot, but also on social network site profiles. Hmph. What to do.

love/hate relationship

2008-04-02T15:49:00.002-03:00

with these 2 websites.

Play Blogger is a real-time slideshow of whatever photos people upload to their blogs. So it can be anything. At all. Sometimes it is boring, but other times it is riveting. I find myself living vicariously through other people's lives, their travels and trip pictures, restaurant plates, you name it.

Irish KC is as it sounds kinda. It is the blog of a Dubliner who lived in KC for 8 years, and wrote humorously about the differences between the 2 places. Having a connection on both ends, I find it riotously funny. And stupidly time consuming. I know I am setting myself up for everyone to say, "well, Jenni, you are clearly spending too much time online," after my last post.

Ya, well, shut up.

Poor Niamh is a little confused. Although toilet sounds like toy, it is indeed, not. *Sigh* so for now I will scrub the thing every day, at least, with touch ups in between. For those times when I or someone else forgets to close the bathroom door.

techno world part 2

2008-03-30T19:27:00.004-03:00

I remember renting VCRs. We only became the owners of one when I was maybe in grade 6. We would go to our local grocery store and rent a couple videos and the silver monster of a VCR for the weekend of movies.

You had to be kind and rewind, because pushing play didn't automatically start you at the beginning.

If you jogged with your walkman, you might get a bruise on your thigh from it slapping against your leg, and you couldn't even attempt in with the discman, because it would do nothing but skip, and you would be lucky if you could get through one whole cd without having to change the batteries anyway.

I remember the days PG (pre-Google), going to the library when you had to do a paper, looking through the card catalogue, then searching the rows of shelves for the number of the book you found, on the paper card. A book, made with paper, and a reference number scotch taped to the bottom of the side binding. Be quiet, go sit down and read a while only to find this book talks about your topic, but only aspects totally unhelpful to your specific paper. Rinse, repeat: like ten times.

Now it's just - Google it. You only have to ferret out your search results, scan a few irrelevant web pages. But you don't get to hold and smell any books in this process.

Speaking of doing a paper, I remember how completely shell-shocked I was when. in university, I learned I couldn't hand in hand-written papers anymore!!!! What? You're kidding, right? How can they possibly say that? What is happening to this techno world. How can I do that. I don't even own a typewriter... hmph.

I was talking to a friend recently who was shocked that my mom didn't have Internet. "How does she get pictures of Niamh?" she queried, full of concern, and slightly confused. I told her I print them out, and mail them to her. In a paper envelope. "Oh. Right."

-------------------------------------------------

I have another speech brewing. It will likely never come to fruition as I will never find answers I'm satisfied with sharing. Right now it is just these questions:

Why do we have less time with all these supposedly time saving "conveniences"?

Why, with so many more means of communication, do we truly connect less, and have less community?

The discrepancy between what they did in the old days compared to what I do today is mind blowing to me. I personally know a lady who raised 13 kids, had an alcoholic husband (safely assume, not a big help around the house or with the kids), no indoor plumbing, grew and ground their own flour for the bread that she baked, you name it. She says she built a big wooden box into which she would throw the children when she had to make the trek out to the well for a bucket of water, so they could only hurt each other and nothing else while she was gone.

How in the world did she manage? I can't comprehend accomplishing that much every day.

Of course she didn't blog. But I really don't spend that much time blogging. Once or twice a week max, 30 minutes-ish. Sometimes I go a couple weeks.

I don't have to scrub my laundry on a board, or spend an hour or more hanging it out to dry. What/Who/Where is the real time bandit? Where does the guilt fall for the great Black Hole of Time?

I am looking into it. I'll let you know what I come up with. I just started a good book (made of paper) that will help me with this at least a little bit.

Input?

and I just thought He was tidy

2008-03-23T19:53:00.003-03:00

Ooooh, but it is so much more than that.

I just came to a better understanding of a verse (a dull way of saying, I got goosebumps and tingles in my tummy) through some cultural information that would have been common knowledge to the people of Jesus' day.

The verse is John 20: 6-7. It is describing the time after Jesus rose from the dead, and a couple disciples came to the tomb, and this is what they found:

6 Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb; and he saw the linen cloths lying there, 7 and the handkerchief that had been around His head, not lying with the linen cloths, but folded together in a place by itself.

I believe that everything in the Bible is there for a reason- that God is purposeful and doesn't include anything just to fill space. So why did He bother to mention that the handkerchief was folded and separate? And why didn't Jesus just let it drop to the ground in a pile when He got up, or toss it in with the others?

WELL, it was the custom in that day, for servants to wait for the Master's cue before touching anything on the table. Don't clear anything til he is good and done. If he tossed his hanky down in a heap and left the table, that meant he's all done.

However, if He left the hankerchief folded, that meant

He was coming back.

techno world

2008-03-21T21:15:00.002-03:00

I've been reflecting lately on the techno explosion.
When I was in high school, nobody I knew of had a cellphone unless you were Posh Spice. If you were cool you might have a pager. I did, of course. Cause _I_ was cool!

I did not have an email address until after I graduated high school and got a job. My boss signed me up for the hotmail I still have. I didn't even know what email or the internet was. I remember hearing about the internet on the news and being suspicious of this new weird thing.

It's of the Devil, Massy!

Aahh, the days when you could count the number of emails in my inbox(s). Now there's also the social networking sites I'm embarrassed to admit to, Facebook and Myspace, even Goodreads. That's where you pretend to be intellectual and literate. At least I do, maybe other people really are.

I have already confessed to still using a walkman. Oh, and a 3.5" floppy disc.

I saw a really funny cartoon that was a cassette dressed up like Darth Vader and it said,
"Ipod, I am your FAther."

About half the people my age I know are at least moderately computer competent, being able to do some light programming. The other half laugh and say, I'm not good with computers! hehe

I know very few of my parents' generation who can program even enough to post a layout on their blog or myspace page. If they know what those are.

I know NO one of the younger generation who can't do that stuff. They all have cell phones, ipods, laptops, jump drives, and whatever else I don't even know exists.

I sound like my grandmother. (read with gravelly voice) "When I was a child, we played tag outside til the streetlights came on. We didn't spend time on the computer or check our email cause we didn't HAVE email or know how to turn on a computer. "
Since when am I old??

Determination

2008-03-17T22:37:00.003-03:00

Struck by potential.

I mentioned once a while ago that someone, ok, Niamh, sometimes violently opposes getting her diaper changed. Picture this little fart of a kid, a 20 lb, 2 ft long baby. Not a great big bunch of muscles compared to you or me (especially me) and not much weight to be throwing around. But when she really gets it in her head that she is not getting her diaper changed, holy moly, call in the SWAT team, it is a serious effort to keep her tush on the ground and get it re-wrapped.

This 20 lb weakling, if you add to her natural muscles the force of her determined will, can almost take me. She can pretty well quadruple her strength with her pluck, if she so desires.

Am I the only one that finds that remarkable? If she really gives herself to the idea of opposing my intention for her, she has a fighting chance against someone almost 6 times her size.

It makes me wonder how much potential and productivity is drained from our endeavors because we don't put out heart and soul into it. We don't give ourselves to it. We don't give everything we've got. Why do we hold back? What are we afraid of?
What could we accomplish if only we would? Why does fear so grip us?

How intense is our desire?

Niamh can make a mild protest, and it is nothing for me to keep her there. If she really digs deep and kicks, squirms, puts all her gusto into the battle, the things she can accomplish are remarkable. And her, this tiny un-formidable form.
Am I a silly optimist or is there anyone with me on this one?
I apply it : spiritually, socially, personally.

Are we really as powerless as we may think?
Maybe we are a Hercules that hasn't yet realized it.

I asked a music mentor in high school once how far I could make it with the violin. Give it to me straight, I implored.

He answered me, "That's up to you. The only way to find out is to do it. I can't know. It depends on you. The possibilities are far beyond what we can know."

She's a quick one.

2008-03-16T14:43:00.002-03:00

Well, well. This morning in the shower I realized for the first time that my url, bowbreath, while it originally meant the nonphysical "breath" of my violin when the bow was drawn across it, can also refer to my breath, as I am a Bowman.
Duh.

Let them eat cake.

2008-03-12T14:43:00.007-03:00

It is a birthday after all.

I'm copping out on saying something with words or having ideas and going for more pictures.

It's funny that I consistently brag about my cakes when they are not that awesome, and not that gorgeous. Also my photography is rather lacking. But I'm still proud of my little molehills.

Somebody turned four. That is a chocolate trifle, my interpretation of her request for "Chocolate milk cake." It is supposed to have kahlua poured over the cake in a soggy but wonderful tiramisu type idea, (I have had that version and highly recommend it, for more aged company) but we omitted the ethanol for this event and added produce in the form of strawberries. Yum!
I believe that makes it healthy.

The birthday girl said it was the "best party ever!!!"
Well I'm glad you liked it, Sweety. I'm also glad to know you are not frequenting other parties -clearly, if you thought this was that great.

Niamh has started playing peekaboo from behind curtains, laptop screens, blankets, whatever she can get behind. Pretty cute.

A good time had by all.

wonders for the senses

2008-03-05T12:25:00.005-04:00

Chocolate is to the sense of taste, what baby skin is to the sense of touch.
There is just nothing like it. Fresh from heaven, the most perfectly soft, fresh & smoothe thing ever. Watch out cashmere, velvet, rabbit down: you ain't got nothin' on this.
------------------------------------------------------

Flowering teas:
Gorgeous, delicious.

It starts with a tight little ball, and when the water is poured over it, blossoms into a beautiful bouquet in your pot. What a delight for the senses!

I was given the pot and a few balls for a gift recently. So perfect. This is a luxury item I can really get behind. Looking for a gift for a friend who is a tea-lover? Look no further. Except for where in the world you will find this to buy it. Please, Truth, don't burst my bubble and tell me that the workers are only paid a half penny per ball to sew them...

Lupin flour alert

2008-03-03T13:41:00.003-04:00

Putting this out cause one of my friend's children went into anphylactic shock when they ate a chocolate from Belgium. His EpiPen saved his life. The kid has a peanut/legume allergy, and though this said no peanuts, it was a chocolate candy after all and most of them have potentially come in contact with peanut molecules, it still triggered a reaction. They are apparently using Lupin flour with frequency now in Europe, cutting it in with regular wheat flour, and it doesn't have to be labelled anywhere yet. But it will trigger people with nut allergies. So I'm just spreading the word, since it is potentially fatal after all, and I certainly had no clue and was shocked to hear this.
Read more here if you want.

seeking a muse

2008-02-18T23:11:00.002-04:00

in a sea of ennui ~

such an inspirational malaise of late. Daily duties need sprinkles of delights.
Need the rumble of rumination taking flight.

I've recently discovered a new world that is inspiring me - New York hoofing. It is the new, crazy, no-sailor-suits-here tap of the young generation, and it is sweet. Check out Jason Samuels Smith or Sean and John on youtube. It is crazy awesome. Or the kathak tradition from northern India: a tradition I didn't know existed at all. This blew my mind. Ironically enough, I learned about it from a documentary on Irish television!

I artistically plateaued with everything - my dance, fiddle, piano: everything has gone stagnant, lost the spark of creativity. One heck of a nasty rut. Blech. A stinky trench.

So I've got to stretch - gotta grow. gotta move, find the flow....

Happy Valentines!

2008-02-15T13:42:00.003-04:00

Mmm... chocolate, flowers, a card, a box of strawberries...

In my book, you can't go wrong with the classics. Especially fair-trade organic chocolate. mmmmmm.... and strawberries.... oh baby. And my favourite colours of flowers. Good job, Chris Jo! That was better than my birthday. :) Oh, and pad thai for supper was rockin too.

cocoa and flowers buys my favor anyday. Did I mention how much I love flowers? I do. They are pretty even without Mary to photograph them. :)

Jenni has music in a book.

2008-02-12T18:08:00.001-04:00

I can't believe I've forgotten to say this until now, but I am a published composer as of December! This book came out at the New Year and I have 3 tunes in it, of which I am quite proud. I am not an avid composer at all, but the very odd time something non-regurgitated spills out, much to my surprise. My high school music theory teacher would be in shock, as she compared trying to get me to compose to dental extraction. Sorry, Ms. Gates. :)

Heard today: "Space Snakes are forever dropping off mustard pickles at the door."
Even if you had been there, it would not have made much more sense.

2nd verse same as the first

2008-02-09T22:52:00.000-04:00

so, remember that Irish speaking Fred Sanford? I'm expanding my repertoire with Irish cowboy/hillbilly, Irish valleygirl, Irish Ernie, Irish Bert, Irish Cookie Monster, British Irish (I could almost go into convulsions on that one, the bipolar disorder -identity crisis kicking in).

At least Anna is having fun and using more Irish. If it takes me sounding like a hillbilly, I'm good with that.

Wow my house is fun, if a little strange. We'll say, distinctive.

What language is THAT?

2008-01-30T10:12:00.000-04:00

Hi. I've been a little absentee because I'm working on other things. Remember the elation mentioned 3 posts back? So now I am working on my vocabulary etc. in an attempt to keep ahead of speed-learning children. I'm absolutely amazed at the things coming out of her mouth on a daily basis... some new words, sentence structures, etc. So exciting!

I might have before mentioned Anna's infatuaion with Shrek. Well, she pretends to be Fiona, and usually she says Niamh is donkey. Poor Niamh. Someday she will have a say in these these things. Well, Niamh must have been napping one day, and I became Donkey. Remember, that I endeavor to use Irish exclusively with her. I've also learned that one of the reasons she wasn't liking when I was using Irish was that I would do more funny voices and be sillier when I was using English. So shoot... stretch, Jennifer! I took a deep breath and did the best Irish-speaking Eddie Murphy I could muster. I was surprised, actually, it wasn't bad. I was pretty impressed with myself. Although it turned into more of a Fred Sanford from Sanford and Son after a while, the idea was still there, and it was hilarious if you are me.

But the excitement does not even end there. Who out there has seen Jonah, the Veggie Tales movie? Remember Chalil (however you spell it.)? mmmm... do you see where this is going? Yes. There is now frequently heard in this house, Irish Gaelic with a ghetto and/or Pakistani accent.

Classic.

I hope my children don't grow up too confused.

29

2008-01-18T12:59:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday to me!

Anna's world

2008-01-07T13:05:00.001-04:00

Anna got a little tikes camera for Christmas and she had taken over 100 pictures within the week. This is one of my favourites. It is actually pretty! I had been journalling at the kitchen table, and that is the book and centerpiece. What lovely composition! Mind you, most of the others are unintelligible, but I had to show this one off :).

Most of them are more like this:

Also, recently heard:

"I'll be there in a gypsy!"

"JOY to the world, the Lord is fun!"

One more for the road:

My own little Everest

2008-01-02T14:24:00.000-04:00

This cannot possibly be as cool to anybody else as it is to me.

I have been reeeally discouraged for the last, oh, year, about the progress, or lack thereof, of Anna's Irish. Mind you, I believe she understands everything I say, but she wouldn't ever use it with me. We have always had bilingual conversations in which I speak Irish to her and she replies in English, minus the odd Irish noun tossed into an otherwise English sentence.
"Mommy, can I have some bainne?" (milk)
"I'm not tuirseach." (tired-adjective, I know)
"Look at that puiscin!" (kitten)

I was just about to get downright depressed about it. I knew many people at the University of Toronto who had been raised with their parents speaking something else to them (Mandarin, Arabic, Bengali, you name it), but they always answered in English. They all reported understanding the parent language but being unable to use it themselves. I did not want this for my girls! I wanted them to SPEAK it.

Not wanting to give up, I tried to find ways to be more proactive. I joined an online group for parents raising their children with Irish (to which my brother-in-law said, "Wow, there really is an online group for EVERYthing."). I've gotten some great ideas and most importantly, encouragement, from other parents in there. I sought out Irish blogs to read, worked on my own Irish blog more which was surprisingly helpful, and made the general daily effort to be as exclusively Irish speaking to them as possible. In some literature I got from another parenting resource in Ireland, when it is only one parent seeking to pass on the language, it is recommended that that parent uses the language exclusively with the children. Ouch, I said to myself. Not possible, but I'm trying!

WELL! It has happened! Finally! Anna started using it with me all the time and I am simply ecstatic! That is part of her motivation I'm sure, that she has seen it gets her approval and some big mommy smiles, even when she might have been about to get in trouble. (no, it doesn't get her out of trouble, try as she might).

I don't think I can communicate why or how thrilled I am at this, but it feels so huge to me. Growing up in purebred mono-lingual anglophone Midwestern USA, bilingualism seemed so exotic, foreign and untouchably elite to me. I never imagined it for myself (even though I am not calling myself fully bilingual yet, since I'm not fluent at all in Irish) and to be passing it onto my kids is just thrilling. It feels like I have conquered a huge personal mountain.

Cool. :)

Memory Lane #1

2008-01-01T15:34:00.000-04:00

For Auld Lang Syne, or old time's sake, as the song recommends, I'm making a new recurring segment, which may or may not recur more frequently than the other recurring segment which is yet to recur.

This segment is A Walk Down Memory Lane, in which I tell some old story from my life that you may or may not know or be bored with hearing, and you can chalk it up to either having nothing of interest to report in my current life, or having genuinely exciting stories from earlier in my life than bear repeating, y'know, just like old people. Which is, by the way, a category I now fit into, depending on whom you ask. High school and uni kids now think I'm old cause, I mean really, I have kids and EVERYthing... I must be at least thirty, right?

Anyway, we won't go there.

Today's story is from my summer in Ireland. I spent a couple months there, lived with an Irish speaking family for a month doing Irish immersion. This host family put up students wanting to immerse from all over the world. In the house while I was there were also 2 Polish girls, a German lady, a Dubliner and an old guy (no really, he had turned 30 more than once... working on his 3rd round) from Texas. It was interesting, to say the least.

I had been looking for a copy of the Bible in Irish to no avail. Finally after one mass I approached the parish priest to ask him if he had any idea where one could be obtained. I thought it would be great for me to be able to combine my Bible study with my language study. He seemed quite surprised to meet a young lady who actually read the Bible, and who was so interested in both God and Irish. He had no information on how to locate an Irish Bible, because, as he said, it has been out of print for some time. He saw my disappointment, but we agreed that I could keep trying the used bookstores.

A few days later, our transcontinental crew was all sitting around in lazy recovery mode after the satiating supper, and there was a knock at the door. The woman of the house answered the door and after talking a moment came in and quietly called for me to come to the door.

"Jennifer, the priest is here to see you."

However, between her soft tone and the blaring Gaelic football game on the television, she was misheard by us all, and with huge eyes and gaping gobs all the girls were looking at me, "the POLICE??!?!" What did you DO?!?!?"

What?? I didn't do anything!!! I swear! I can't think of anything anyway!

Of course my fear was alleviated when I saw the priest at the door and understood the misunderstanding.

The others, however, continued to whisper furiously back in the living room theorizing about what trouble I might be in.

The priest had come, believe it or not, to give me his own personal copy of the Biobla Naofa . (I didn't know about this site at the time) I could not believe it. I argued with him about it, but he had made up his mind.

To this day, it is one of my most prized possessions. I still want to track him down and tell him that it is actually in use, it isn't just some expensive souvenir, or token that has gone to dusty waste on a shelf somewhere. That little girl still is pursuing both God and Irish.

2007-12-25T18:04:00.000-04:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS, Everybody!!!!!

monkey see, monkey dance

2007-12-22T14:06:00.000-04:00

I saw my friend do this, and I couldn't resist.

If you want to see the girls and me dance around in elf costumes, click this link.

It took me about nine million tries before the site decided to save my pictures, and by the nine million and oneth time, my patience was waning and my skepticism was flourishing, so the photo edit was better on any number of the early tries, as I got sloppy later on, thinking, it won't save anyway.... oh well.

Tao of Poo

2007-12-16T15:41:00.000-04:00

not Pooh.. but poo. Oh, you thought I meant this cute book? ha.. ha.. no.

you've been a SAHM not getting out enough when you start pontificating on waste.

There's that whole, 'the natural speaks of the invisible' principle, and observations in that vein teach me most about life, and well, I happen to be dealing with a lot of poo, as any mother does, and I can't turn off my observations, soooo... here I am with readers dropping like flies...
(she's not really going to talk about poo is she??)

2 things I've noticed:

The intensity/strength/potency/foulness of what comes out of us increases as we get older. The more impure that goes in, the more impure that comes out. Literally and figuratively. A newborn babes waste has virtually no odor. The more foods are introduced however, the more stink, with an exponential jump when meat is introduced. Then as adults we eat all manner of processed and unhealthy stuff and watch out - phew!

I want to say it is the same with our mind/soul. We have and continue to take in more and more impure things, and our output becomes more and more foul. I am thinking of all the sinful things of the world we are exposed to - and commit ourselves - that corrupt and pollute us spiritually.
Is it too much of a stretch if I liken the meat to our conscious, informed and still sinful choices? Wouldn't those constitute some of the real moral 'stinkers'?

I know for myself, I remember when I was younger, in grade school, and first learned about someone calculating a manipulative argument with me. They knew how I would respond to something, and lied to get a desired response. I was absolutely floored, as I couldn't even imagine thinking that way. That wasn't honest. It would not have even occurred to me to behave that way. Now, unfortunately, it does occur to me. I have to choose not to act on the sinful ideas that are now in me. Yuck. My corruption has gotten more stinky.

This one is less universal but still on the poo theme.
I know a child whom I won't overtly incriminate, but who really doesn't like to have their diaper changed. She hates hates being dirty, but the actual laying down and cleaning process she has a serious aversion to. She will lay there and cry through the whole thing. Let me go! Let me get up! And I thought, y'know, metaphysically, I can relate. I'm like that with God. I don't like my crap, but I don't like having to get it cleaned either. I wish it were as easy as wiping a wet rag over me to rid me of sinful habits/thoughts/motives/actions. But nooooo. These have ingrained for years and they are right in my nature. That doesn't excuse any of it, but gives one reason why they are not easy to get rid of. The other being that we are stubborn and evil and part of us loves our sin.

Thank God (literally!) that this is not the end, and HE doesn't leave us stranded with our poop. He will wipe our preternatural bottoms clean.. again and again. He is a good God and Father. He is patient with us while we make big mountains out of all our little molehills.

changing with the times... Christmas times!

2007-12-15T21:22:00.000-04:00

Niamh , aka Spitty Gonzales, is 6 months now. How my life has changed:

*Sweeping the floor has become a game of keep away, as she is crawling, and chases the pile wherever I scoot it to. I have to pretty well keep it with me as I go.

*what I might have lost in laundry from poopy messes, I have gained in meal messes, as she is eating solids, and shares her meals with her shirt sleeves, because, of course, fingers make a perfect complement to any pureed veggie or grain.

*I can no longer take a step without looking to see that it is safe, as someone is always ending up under my feet, or even intentionally following my feet around, so as to enjoy hanging on my pantlegs, or pulling on my socks. Who wouldn't, really!

*I have to make rounds examining each room of the house a few times a day, to both locate her and certify that she has not found anything she shouldn't have.

This is turning out to be such a cool holiday season. I am FINALLY settling in to living here, feeling more at home. I'm not feeling like I'm stuck somewhere weird when I should be home with my family... I am home with my family. A good feeling.

We have had insane snow lately, and made snowmen, baked cookies, decorated trees, fire burning in the stove, you name it. It has been so festive and fun.

The girls c r a c k m e u p.

Anna plays with Niamh, gets her laughing and vice versa. Anna is sooo good with ehr, I kinda can't believe it. Niamh is so happy and good too. Loves to laugh. Now that she is crawling she will play on the floor by herself with toys. Yay for entertaining one's self!!! My arms are getting a few more breaks (HALLelujah!) and she is more content, longer.

Here she is in her Christmas dress:

I think she looks so much more grown up dressed up like that. Beautiful!

and here we are decorating the other day:

I love this season! Ignore the vacuum and holloween chip box that had th Christmas balls in it.

A very merry season to you all!

Thanks, Anna

2007-12-03T12:56:00.000-04:00

last night in conversation:

*while patting my tummy* "Mommy, are you going to have more babies?"
*confused, replies* "Not that I know of, Sweety. Why?"
"Cause your belly is so BIG!"

...

Gee, thanks for noticing, Anna. Maybe Niamh was an inconsiderate tenant and left a bunch of her stuff behind when she moved out.
Or maybe I had too many candybars. Naaah. Can't be. You can never have too many candybars. :P

A video on education

2007-11-29T18:10:00.000-04:00

Heya-

for anyone interested in education, your own or your children's, or the future of the world, I think that this is a super video. It is 20 minutes long, but there is a lot of good humour, and is also stimulating intellectually. A must-see for teachers and recommended for parents. I really enjoyed it, obviously, if I'm blogging it. I must think there is something of import there. The only downside is the BMW commercial at the end.

creepy coincidence

2007-11-28T14:13:00.001-04:00

So I know these 2 ladies. One of them is from Nova Scotia, one is from Kansas. They don't know each other at all. I am their Kevin Bacon.
They have the same name.
They are both singers, both altos.
They are both blonde.
They have remarkably similar personalities, in my opinion. Remarkably.
They both had a terrible 1st marraige.
They divorced.
They remarried and had the marriage that people dream of, love love love, and were the envy of most all their friends because of it.
Their 2nd husbands were diagnosed with really similar fatal diseases, giving them 2 years to live, within a couple years of being married. One of these husbands has already died. The other is still in the 2 yr window.

I mean really. Is that not freaky? The universe is a vellly intellesting place. Creepy too, sometimes.

Any sugar daddies out there??

2007-11-18T11:04:00.000-04:00

This is a shameless plug. My hypocritical apologies for the fishing.

Follow this here link to the Litriocht (Every Irish book in print) website, to a wishlist I have compiled. It is kinda like registering for a wedding or something... if you happen to want to buy something for Anna for Christmas or just in general, here are a few great ideas! This is a bunch of Irish books, to further the cause of bilingualism. You can pick something off my wishlist and buy it for me - er, her. There are something like 400 more books on the site in that age category. I sifted through to the 10 or so that I thought best. Although, I'm sure there are 100 others just as nice.

For Christmas delivery, time is running out! Hurry! Make a rash decision! Prices starting at only 3 Euros!

No one understands me.

2007-11-16T15:52:00.000-04:00

Maybe I should paint my nails black.
Watch this if you don't get what I mean by that. Don't watch it with young children around. But from my background, that is hilarious.

I should clarify, since I am yet to make any sense so far this post. Some people understand me and my extremely small audience jokes, just no one with whom I'm regularly in contact.

When I'm running around the yard with Anna, I find myself making all these jokes that I crack up at, but no else gets, because they are referring to things like :

-my Grandpa's made-up language
-expressions excessively used to the point of humor by one of the sports announcers on Ireland's Raidi0 na Gaeltachta.

and other things that would just confuse the vast majority of people. Oh well.

Niamh doesn't care. She laughs with/at me even when I make these inacessible jokes. Usually. Sometimes even she gives me the blank stare.

A Vapor's Voice

'It's tidings of comfort and joy"

Disconnected

*cough*

Holiday Greetings

The Light of Your Face

Sustainability: Suffering

Die Princess

Snuggly Cement

Don't Judge a Weed by Its Leaf

Life Lessons at the Beach

You Are What You Eat, part 2

Transparency

The Generation Gap widens

Sunday, Going to Church

Confession and Challenge: Readiness

PBP. GIFWMY.

Slave or Free Man

round, round, round she goes; where she stops nobody knows

Is that so? Why yes, yes it is.

Drive'er Herbie!

How could we

You are what you eat. part 1

Anna says:

Bowomanews

Jazz Piano

A New Leaf

Joie de Vivre

Cards, cake, species analysis

Impetus of Encouragement

New Year 2009

but we keep trying

Dis `n Dat

Jumping on Jesus

Dairy farming and dress pants

time ran out

Expat City Mouse

some quotes

All my pity and prayers

God's Skittles*

Confessions: Bottomless Pit

Autumn colors

E-Props!

a day lakeside

Grammarranter

Anna Quote of the Day

Riding the Techno Wave in Nova Scotia

There's no such thing!

Perfect Paradox

nice hat

Niamh hacks Mommy's Blogger account

what I see

and the winners are:

Two riddles

for the record...

Brain Rain

To All 1 Year Olds: A Notice:

If I were an artist...

G.I. Jomance

acorns and an old doll?

I love leaves.

back from vacation

blabby bloggy

Anna says:

If Niamh could blog

Would you like some cheese with your whine?

"I don't know Pablo Rodriguez."

conspiracy theory #1

a new painting

your muscles are talking

false assumption

flushing diamonds with dung

so, waddya wanna know?

love/hate relationship

techno world part 2

and I just thought He was tidy

techno world

Determination

She's a quick one.

Let them eat cake.

cough