How could we

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

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:

"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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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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

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

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

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

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

... 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

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

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*

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

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.