join the rabble

Internet treasure hunt!

2009-06-19T05:54:00.000-07:00

I was trying to find videos of photography to use in my photo workshop this summer ... and found ...

http://www.vimeo.com/5191149
-come on...feel the Groningen
The artists behind this video aparently are competing in a competition and they get points depending on how many people watch this short little flick. It is beautiful.

http://www.vimeo.com/4224453
-one day like this
Truly lovely video by the same artists above...

http://www.vimeo.com/3330839
-voyage
This one shows the south of France... if you're curious to see clips of things France!

http://www.vimeo.com/4532659
-dog park baptisms
A church in Florida baptizes new believers in a lake at a dog park... apparently, they usually baptize people at the beach but tried a new spot ...
I can think of no place better... with happy dog tails wagging all around them... and frolicking pups... I think it truly captures the joy ... watch and see...

http://www.vimeo.com/3502471
-Divya Srinivasan
This is a video reel of an amazing artist... I just discovered. She did the artwork for Sufjan Steven's Illinoise album... she seems brave and emotive in her work ... her entire online portfolio can be viewed at the following link...
http://www.pupae.com/portfolio/index.html

Culinary Discoveries

2009-06-15T08:17:00.000-07:00

no offense mom! but I think I can safely say that I entered adulthood lacking a very important domestic skill... how to cook well.

Sure, I do know how to feed and fend for myself. Last year I survived on my own. I admit, I ate most my meals at the camp where I worked. It was very convenient to have a full-throttle kitchen and dining hall staff heaping my plates full of food; albeit, camp cafeteria food. (Actually, Sky Ranch has some pretty stellar meals... Holla for Mexican food night!)

But when it came to me cooking in the kitchen... all I really did was... eat salad... open a can of tuna... heat up some Campbell soup... or boil some spaghetti. That is pretty much... the extent of my kitchen prowess.

Let's face it: when you mother is a pediatric anesthesiologist she is much more adept at life-saving meticulous surgery on an infant ... than combining ingredients to make a great casserole. And when your dad is a cop: no one wants to break into a crack house and then turn around to make dinner an hour later.

Although Dad did cook often. Somewhat fitting his profession he enjoys hunting. So Dad always grilled up venison steak. We ate a ton of deer steak growing up. We would joke around the table... " We love deer. They're delicious!" I heard later in life that venison steak is actually one of the healthiest meats for human digestion. You get more protein for your bite and less fat. Beef steak was somewhat unknown to me. How was I to know that deer steak is leaner, thinner, and drier in comparison. (Although, to this day I still prefer deer steak.)

Marinade? What was a marinade? I did not know you could soak meats in delicious concoctions and make them taste better? Besides when Dad was grilling, we let him be.

And so I was never apprenticed in the ways of the kitchen... until now.

Here at Camp of the Peaks... we live at more of a French pace which includes longer mealtimes. If you've seen the cartoon movie "Flushed Away" there is an antagonist French frog character. This frog jumps up in his beret and says something like "let's go!" His fellow French amphibians ask, "what about lunch?" Their leader repeats himself..."let's go...in 5 hours!"

Well, with all this emphasis on food. I felt a little inept in the kitchen arena. Fortunately, I have Gwen. Gwen is a sprightly, beautiful, girl from Charrrrrelston, South Carolina (you have to draw out your "charrrle" so you can say it like a real southern belle.) She is a co-missionary and our camp cook!

She loves to cook and bake. She is mightily good at it. You would never imagine such a tiny person cooking for 100 French teenagers, but she does! with pizazz.

She has graced me with her cooking knowledge and is giving me her recipies. She is coaching me through her dishes and teaching me how to cook!

At first, I had no real inkling to learn this task that seemed so ardurous! Yet, slowly, over time, I am being weaned into loving the amazing food produced here in France. My old appetite for easy-made noodles has long ago started to wain. I can no longer bear to eat easy-made fast stuff. New nutrition information has steered me far from sickining corn starches and syrups. I want to eat healthy. I realize that in order to eat healthy... I can't cut corners. I actually need to know how to cook. Make things myself.... and oh horror! ... make them from scratch!

It all started when our apples started to go bad... (did I mention that there are less prespervatives in everything here... everything is served fresh... and doesn't last forever... and this makes things a little difficult because we live on a mountainside. We can't make it to the grocery store everyday like most French do. They usually buy their bread fresh every day! It is really good bread too...) ANYWAY... our apples were slightly old and we wanted to save them. So Gwen taught me how to make an apple crisp dessert that used the soft apples.

Then she taught me how to make... ginger snaps, alfredo sauce, potato soup, cuccumber pasta, and tonight she is teaching me how to make home-made pasta sauce. Tomorrow: freshly baked muffins.

and I... I... really like cooking. The food tastes so unbelievable! Blandness begone! I want to go... and cook more things!

and all I can say is that France and food go together like... peas and carrots? .... voila!

my new little home

2009-05-28T08:44:00.000-07:00

home continued...

2009-05-28T08:28:00.000-07:00

bye for now...

In France again!

2009-05-22T13:07:00.000-07:00

I am back in the lovely land of baguettes and cheeses and wines and many other fine things. My travels across the Atlantic were smooth and easy... the eyes of our predecessors, of long ago times, would POP if they knew how easy it was for me to cross this ocean.

I slept nearly the entire trans-Atlantic flight. Not even the summer exchange students from LSU speaking in strong and loud Lousianna southern accents could keep me awake.

Across the aisle from me sat the most typical French man I had ever seen. Don't ask me to describe him... because I can't exactly. He didn't wear a beret or anything extremely Frenchy like that. But the way he spoke and carried himself was just French. He made me chuckle. It was especially funny because he seemed to show up everywhere after we landed in Paris. I saw him when we picked up our baggage. He was at the train station. Even at my train platform... he was taking the train leaving from the platform next to mine. After traveling all the way from Dallas, TX we finally parted ways... his train lurched away north to Strausburg and mine lurched south to Lyon.

There are brilliant red poppies everywhere here! They dot the fields and roadsides. They are stunning. I've never been here in time to see the poppies bloom.

I've made my bed in a deliciously musty 300 year old stone building... with a colorful patchwork quilt. I ate dinner with my camp family... delicicious chicken pot pie.

Walking through the camp at dusk... all the early summer smells fill the air. the trees and dirt and flowery smells...

pink clouds hover about the shadowed peaks...

... it is so lovely.

Time to recover from the hustle of airports and the din of the engines... peaceful sleep in my quiet quilted corner of the world.

Beautiful April Morning

2009-04-16T10:37:00.000-07:00

What shall we do this morning?

Let's go for a walk...

... we walk by beautiful Indian Paint Brushes...... all the way to the lake.
(and I nearly stepped on a big snake)

We rescue a fish we found washed up on the rocks.
We found a boat tied to shore. But we didn't take it out.
Instead, Sampson played in the water...
... and we kept walking down the shore.We found some trash...
...Then, walked back home through the woods.

The End.

Rendevous with the DREAD SANGLIER!

2009-03-07T14:04:00.000-08:00

Like the DREAD Pirate Roberts roamed the oceans in the movie, The Princess Bride, around here (in rural rhone-alpes region of France)... roam the DREAD SANGLIER! Sanglier... pronounced "sang-glee-ay" are a type of boar.

Now, when I first saw their large and ominous tracks in the snow... and I was first told of their existence... I thought... "Interesting." "A wild pig roams these frozen forests." and didn't think anything more.

They assured me they were only dangerous if they were with their young... then they would charge you... etc, etc. And still... I just thought of them as pigs. You know, a Miss Piggy on a bad hair day. Something to avoid, but not to fear...

until tonight. when I had my first real encounter! It all started innocently. I walked out of the chalet... the camp was empty. The sun had set over the mountains... but the twilight was reflecting off the snow and orange clouds above. The moon was exhilaratingly bright and the first starts were twinkling. I thought... "how beautiful" and decided to go for a little walk uphill to see the mountains in all their glory... (you see... there is a little break in the trees and you can see the mountains better... but you have to walk uphill a ways... away from the buildings and closer to the woods).

As I ambled along the road... admiring the general splendor... I heard a rustle rustle to my left in the forest... and there I spied... a boar of enormous proportions... grunting along in the snow! It was shockingly huge... with giant tusks... and a hunched back...

it didn't look piggy at all!

It looked at me and started running toward the road...(which, though not directly toward me... was still closer to me than he was before)...

EEEEEEEK! I wanted to shrilly scream, but reigned my emotion and started to back away... and the WILD BEAST ran across the road and up this shear hill with the prowess of a tiger and the speed of a gazelle... albeit and very fat and lumbering one. It's hooves made pounding noises on the pavement... as did my own kicks as I ran down the hill and back toward camp.

All in all... it was a dizzying experience... even as I write this I find that I have been holding my breath.

The other night, one of the missionaries told me about a man that he offered to drive home... he found the man walking from the village of Bourg d'Oisans to another village very far up the mountain...(the man was inebriated... and confessed he had recently lost his driving license... hmmm I wonder why....so he had been walking from the bar in town up to his little mountain village three nights a week... a walk that took 2 1/2 hours!)...(I couldn't help but think that was extreme dedication). This man walked the busy mountain road that runs along a sheer cliff... THIS ROAD IS TREACHEROUS! It curves and bends and at some of the more dangerous turns... the road seems to be only barely wide enough for two cars. May I remind you, there is no side walk... there is barely space for the cars... let alone a drunk guy stumbling along at night.

Anyway, there are two ways for this man to get to his village... via the road or via a trail through the woods (the trail through the woods would take an hour off of his walk home). He walked the extremely dangerous road BECAUSE he was too afraid of the SANGLIER to take the wooded path. I don't blame him, now.

a little picture story...

2009-03-04T01:53:00.000-08:00

what I've been up too...

2009-02-28T06:52:00.000-08:00

I left the U.S. Feb 13th but arrived in France on Valentine's Day. I think the correct term is “lugged” two giant suitcases across the world and I was overjoyed to meet Candide, Dan, and Tim at the train station in Grenoble. We all ate Raclette for dinner (which is a very delicious cheese based dinner… where you heat cheese in little skillets and eat the melted cheese with potatoes and slices of meat). yummmm. The next day we dove right into our family camp. There were about 6 families, a few couples, and a few people who came along on their own and all together we were a good crowd. Our daily schedule during camp generally included:
8:30 Breakfast of chocolate chuad (hot chocolate) and bread
9:00 (for me cleaning dishes, sweeping floors, wiping tables until 10)
10:00 meet for worship (Seigneur, ton nom est élevé…)
10:30 I would baby-sit the youngest kids (Marion 3yrs & Laura 4yrs) while the parents listened to a local French pastor speak each morning. The girls and I played on “drums” made from pots and pans. We also found a giant cardboard box to use as a voiture (“car”) and a caverne (“cave”). In addition, to the copious amounts of toys, balls, and colors we had at our disposal. Yet, the simple drums and the old box were our favorite toys!
11:30 We would all grab our sack lunches that the cook (a fellow missionary named Gwen) prepared for us. A baguette sandwich, a piece of fruit, a lump of cheese, and (the French never forget desert) a chocolate bar.
12:00 By noon, all the families are scurrying about to get their kids into long johns, pack up the vehicles with skis… because the rest of the afternoon was free for the families to ski or snow-shoe, or go sledding in the surrounding mountains. I was fortunate enough to ski with the families for three of the days. A few days, I stayed at camp and helped watch the kids for parents who wanted to have a “kid-free” ski day. I got to go sledding with one of my charges and we built a bon homme de la neige. (“snowman”). One afternoon I stayed behind with a French woman named, Caroline Berger, and we had a French lesson. First, we started of with a French Bible and English Bible. She taught me how to pronounce and understand the first Psalm in French. Then we spent two hours practicing French words… before we knew it… the sun was starting to reach the mountains… and we had spent the whole afternoon together. It was lovely.
5:00 Everyone returned a little colder and perhaps a bit fatigued from the afternoon of skiing or tromping about in the snow.
6:00 I would help prepare for dinner, set the table, wash the cook’s dishes with my fellow staff members at camp.
7:00 Dinner is served! Beginning with a salad or cold vegetable, followed by the main course, and then desert. Meals were at least an hour, usually 2 or 2 ½ for me, including dish washing and cleaning up the kitchen each night. I love dinner. Mealtime is very important relationship building time. Each night, I find someone new to sit next to, or sit next to someone I want to talk with more.
9:00pm I am usually finishing my last corner of the kitchen with a mop by now and downstairs in our meeting room… all of camp is gathering for the night event! We start with more French worship and then games ensue. We spend time together until 10pm or occasionally 11pm (we sit together and have tea before bed a few nights). Then it is time to say “bonne nuit” and go to bed.
Camp ended on Feb 22d, and we said good-bye, exchanged emails. The families signed up to return to us for family camp in August. I can’t wait to see them again and will keep them in our prayers… each family struggling with the serious stuff that we all know; possible divorce, depression, and happier struggles like new babies on the way.

Since camp ended, we (everything I do... nearly always includes the camp staff team) have been cleaning camp! Scrubbing every toilet, vacuuming every room, washing mountains of sheets. We had a septic tank clogging issue… due to freezing temperatures, perhaps. We aren’t really sure what caused the block up and the overflowing of nastiness… but for almost a week… one of our bathrooms was disgusting! Poor Dan, fellow missionary, had to work on unclogging and dealing with the nasty. I also had to spend a few hours mopping up poo water one day!

There was a large retreat group using our camp this week. Apparently, someone in their group was sick, because I discovered some very nasty blankets in the washer… when I went to wash some camp sheets… and spent an hour cleaning the washer and the blankets… but at least the chunks were sanitized I kept telling myself. Since, I have worked at camps since I was 16, this definitely wasn’t my first rodeo, discovering and cleaning up vomit… but it never gets any more pleasant!

All in a days work at camp!!!

I also developed a pretty inconvenient cold (sore throat, goobies, nose running)! Which I blame on the difference in temperature between Texas and here. There is a blanket of snow on the ground here… Thankfully, the cold hit me during a few days of rest.

Our next camp starts tomorrow. It is a kids ski camp that I will be helping to clean for… so more dishes and toilets are in my future. I also will get to practice my French with some kids, make them laugh, and I even have to take them skiing on Wednesday (I know… that is a terrible job, isn’t it!)

All in all, I am so content! I step outside into the snow banks and feel more alive. I see the grateful smile of the French people when they find me scrubbing their toilets or dishes. I am having engaging and meaningful conversations. I am forming lasting relationships.

AND! I get to be near the French loved ones that I already have worked for and loved on since 2002. Things are going merrily along… yet keep our work and health in your thoughts… there is so much work to be done. Miss you all and send my love.

traveling mercies

2009-02-11T14:21:00.000-08:00

This week was an adventure.

It started this last Thursday night…
Thursday night: Arlington and then home to Southlake
Friday night: Mason, TX (just northwest of Fredricksburg)
Saturday night: Brownwood, TX (central Texas)
Sunday night: Comanche, TX (little bit east of Brownwood)
Monday night: Missouri City, TX outside of Houston
Tuesday night (last night): Denton, TX north of Dallas/Ft.Worth
Friday night: Paris, France
Saturday night: Camp des Cimes, La Rivoire, Bourg d’Oisans, France

I’ve been reflecting on everything and I’m trying to crystallize all my favorite moments into memory…

Starting last Thursday… I played “volley-pong” around a ping-pong table with a crew of Indian students from University Texas Arlington. Goba and Anyesh (I know I have miserably miss-spelled their names) taught me how to play ping-pong using the rules of volley-ball… the result… little plastic ping-pongs flying through the air at break-neck speeds… running to hit the ball with your paddle to your team mate… running into the wall in your distraction… running while contortion-ing your arms like a Picasso painting to try and hit the ball back to the other side of the table.

Mason, TX is a beautiful small town in the middle of Texas mesquite flats and scattered scrub oaks. Surrounded for miles, by nothing but goat ranches, prickly pear, and pick-up trucks. I was there for a church retreat… we drove into the Texas sunset… up and down the hills… over cattle-guards… down a dirt path (for miles)… and finally descended down the steepest hill to discover a tiny little creek-bed valley that had whittled-out a beautiful hole between the hills. Lined with rock cliffs and floored with oak leaves. In this little hide-away were the largest oak trees… that grew horizontal to the ground, like crab-legs extending in long beautiful directions… littered with children climbing on their branches.

Conversations with people that I love to be around ensued. The hustle and bustle of a large group of people preparing a meal… and then all of us sitting down to eat it. Stories being told. Cooling temperatures in the night air… and as only country Texans know… that certain earthly smell… the aroma of the trees and soil that grows stronger as the earth cools.

Watching “Arrested Development” on the wall with a projector. Enjoying farm-made cheese and wine. Playing “salad-bowl” (a conglomeration of charades and word games) around a kitchen table while sipping peppermint tea.

Jumping on the trampoline with my two little cousins Hannah and Jack. Hannah is twelve and Jack is eight. Hannah asking me questions… about God… about loving enemies… about her 6th grade crush Thomas who is moving to a different school.

Driving through the pine forests along I-45 as rain sprinkled the car… and finally, out-driving the storm and reaching the line in the sky between the dark rain clouds and the light-blue sky. The sun had just showed up when…. glug-bump glug-bump glug-bump… my back tire went flat. The wind was whipping! The storm front was right behind me… blowing my luggage over and making it difficult to keep my page in the car manual open to the right page! I was half way finished changing my tire. I loosened the lug-nuts by myself… which took all my muscles combined… got the spare out… had gotten the car on a jack… I had grabbed my camera to take pictures of the little dilapidated white shack and the green field at which I was parked.... when all of a sudden…! A giant 18-wheeler pulled over, and Doug the trucker/ odd knight in shining armor helped me finish changing my tire. Good Samaritan incarnated.

Falling asleep next to my grandmother, Peep, under her canopy bed. Intricate wood arched over my head with white lace hanging along its frames… an old treasure that Peep and Pop have had since they married over fifty years ago. It was storming! Rain pelted the side-walk outside. I didn’t want to get my pajamas from the car… so I borrowed pajamas from Peep… a giant moo-moo pajama dress…white flannel covered by little pink rose-buds. Peep and I told stories… rubbed noses in an Eskimo goodnight kiss… and fell asleep to her favorite radio station… soft-rock… I think I fell asleep to Cat Stevens “Bridge over troubled waters.”

…it was a lot of driving… but worth every second.

something looming on the horizon

2009-01-27T19:59:00.000-08:00

beautiful things are happening. it was very very cold today. I spent most of my time indoors. sitting in front of one of those plug-in-the-wall heaters...keeping toasty warm as I sent emails... talked with people on the phone... filled out forms... all working toward getting to France sooner than later. Finally, having been cooped up in my pajamas in the house all day (oh the joy of working from the house! pajamas worn nearly the whole day!) I decided to go for a walk with the dog... through the cold and dreary woods.
Did I mention that sleet was falling from the sky?

It was a glorious decision.

I bundled up.
Long Johns.
Fleece lined pants.
Monkey Fleece (I love my friends... thank you again for my lovely monkey fleece)
Big- waterproof- winter boots
Favorite gloves.
My new SCARF-HAT! (Yes! it is both a hat and scarf in one! the little hangy-bobs from the side of the hat are actually long and knit like scarves so I can wrap them around my neck.)

My dog, is the shaggiest, largest, dog. He is quite warm (half Great Pyrenees...with a thick winter coat).
So we started on our way... as the sleet made icicles on the top of my hat and the sides of the leash. We trudged quite happily to the trail-head near the house that winds endlessly through the woods around the local Lake Grapevine.
We splashed through icy creeks. We carved through bramble-bushes anointed with frozen droplets. We slugged through cold mud. We didn't see another soul.

The gray sky grew darker and darker gray. We were in the thick woods but far off lights popped up on the hills along the skyline... as the houses atop the hills were somewhat visible through the naked trees.

It seemed to be really quiet... but listening... I could hear the swishing of my pants. the crunching of dirt under my boots. the padding of the dogs prints on the ground. the fluttering of little bird wings. a very distant bark (probably from the houses on the hills). an even more distant train blaring it's horn. the rumble of a plane engine high in the cold atmosphere.
and the tiny-splittering of sleet hitting the world.

Nothing exciting is happening right now... I make it home... covered in ice. (My curly hair is actually frozen that way.) Eat leftovers (Pad Thai...yum yum). Send emails and write my blog.

Today was a quietly beautiful day. and tomorrow is coming!

stumbled across this

2009-01-23T10:35:00.000-08:00

A brief rainstorm,
in which I was lathering away the daily sweat,
suddenly burst forth
Thoughts that seemed well-dressed
I treasured. Curiosity

wondered around
the thought:
want is the seed of interest.

To peer under every stone,
and mound of earth,
to filter fingers through pages
and minds, mining,
to fuel the exertions of comprehension,
humility is the spark.

The premier map-writers admire
the grid and squirm to think
what’s beyond the edges.

The politicians
the pastors
the professors
the planners
do not seem passionless, but the

pursuit of viable alternatives
are not advantageous.
Advancement,
fuller pockets, greater pulpits,
projects and pledges are preferred to the

Truth taboo.
Simplicity too complex:
ignore–angst is their diet.

They make defining
popular.
They make everything
logical,
seeming so, they disguise
starvation-bellies, orphan-farming, savagery-cycling.

Proud fools
caress the phantom:
omni-science. (comforting thoughts so they can remain comfortable)

Explaining the world,
they ignore it. (graph the hungry)
Ruling the world,
they destroy it. (kill the opposition)
The Renaissanced are sparkless.

Dingy ignition: love & modesty,
yet nothing finer
shines
than limited ones
plumbing the limitless.

No one asks the spark-people
Where their imaginations have gone?
Except those who have lost their own.

Yes, I am one of those...

2009-01-14T09:16:00.000-08:00

...girls that loves all things Jane Austen. I own every book. and I have read them all. repeatedly.

I found the audio book Pride & Prejudice the other day and took it with me to drive to east Texas on Monday. I started listening to this wonderful book in the car... and listened to it the next day on the drive home... and then... popped the CD in my computer and listened to the book all the afternoon. I listened to the whole book in one day. I could not put it down, so to speak.

After listening to the most classic love story ever written... I, of course, wanted more... so then I watched the movie. The really really old version. Black and white. Laurence Oliver as Mr. Darcy and Greer Garson as Miss Bennet (See picture below). Yes, I own the black and white version of this movie.

and the newest version with Kiera Knightly. and the Bollywood version (Bride & Prejudice). and I am dying to own the 6 hour BBC version... but it is really expensive... so I am waiting on that one.

In the meanwhile, I have Pride & Prejudice on my mind. I keep wanting to speak like English nobles in the 1800's. I want to use words like ...

consequence...affability...civility...attachment...decorum...

And say things like..."Pray, do tell!"

Pray, do tell me, why has the habit of throwing a ball fallen out of fashion?

Warning!! Christmas Confessions

2008-12-26T15:39:00.000-08:00

I wanted to blog lately but I didn't have anything nice to say... I've been haunted by harsh emotions that have mostly revolved around three main states of being...
(1) piercing sorrow (perfunctory tears...without provocation)
(2) flagrant rage (i want to punch a face... i want to break my knuckles on someones jaw)
and...
(3) extreme self-loathing (for feeling the above two emotions)

I mean... it is Christmas. We are celebrating Emmanuel. He humbled himself, became a baby, shed salt tears, had pooped that smelled (I mean literally, HOLY CRAP!) He became human. The cross was a horrible, painful ordeal. But think...LIMITLESS God confined himself to being a human. That must have been a very difficult change.
I should be shocked by joy. Filled with gratitude. Awed by mystery.

Instead, I have been choking on my own snot. Crying uncontrollably into my pillow until I'm so fatigued that I fall asleep. I want to be sedated... as The Ramones say.

Here is a snap-shot of my current living quarters I've shared with my sister. (There is Darby smiling sweetly in the picture. And she should be smiling! Wes proposed to her on Dec. 23rd! Hoooray! That was one very happy night. Like I said earlier... my emotions are like a miller's wheel whirling through rapids.)

My mom's house is like the inside of a high-school cafeteria microwave...there is stuff splattered everywhere. All of our family's collected crap, as well as all my step-dad's family crap, are crammed into this house. Twenty-five years of stuff. Living in this space enrages me. Especially, since I have tripped, stubbed, and fallen my way around this room... and the fact that the door to the driveway is in this room...so people are always walking through...when I am sleeping... or trying to change clothes.

Did you notice there is no door in the doorway? I should be able to get over this. This shouldn't be a problem. I know that I am being really immature and selfish and mean and ungrateful.

and Dad is so alone. He doesn't want to talk on the phone. He worked the entire holiday. He worked and 18 hour day on Christmas eve and spent the night in Pittsburgh, alone, in a hotel room. (my step-mom died in october... ) joy escapes me. My dad is physically alone... brother is off with friends... sister is off with fiance.... mother is off with husband and his odd relations.

but still... I have a roof over my head. A warm place to sleep. I have everything I need and more. my family loves me. God never forsakes me (no matter how LAME I am being...like right now)

The Lord has impeccable timing. I am reading two books by Shane Claiborne (The Irresistible Revolution and Jesus for President)...unveiling the absolute anit-Jesus way of life that suburban Americans tend to be living surrounded by their material belongings. Shane sleeps in the streets at night to love and spend time with the homeless. He discusses the rich young ruler from scripture... you know... the one Jesus tells to sell all his stuff and help the poor. And literally does that.

But more importantly than that...Shane discusses love... he would be showing some love to the strangers... I mean "relatives" that have now married into my life and inhabit most of the house (including all the rooms with doors...grr....trying not to be jealous...trying not to be jealous)

conviction. no one is seeing Jesus in me.

everyone, I humbly repent.

Lord, I repent.

sighting the demon-beast

2008-11-22T21:36:00.000-08:00

We had all piled into the Subaru to get some sushi from our favorite sushi place. All four of us were buckling up and I was backing out the driveway... and turning the bun-warmers in the seats up to full throttle. We were all chattering about the amazingness of sushi and how happy we were because we were about to devour some.

WHEN...

...jetting across the road from the neighbors yard... like a streak of lighting with two reflective evil eyes... a strange beast... I can't use the word "crossed" the road... more like flashed across the asphalt.

My mother screamed out... "its the demon-beast!" ...and we all sat with faces full of registered shock!

Stories of the demon-beast started circulating a few weeks back. When my mother was driving home from work late one night. Right down the street from our house... she saw this creature. or glimpsed it. In it's mouth was a fluffy snow white victim. Mom was shocked. She could not believe how fast it was moving. She chased it down the street in her little silver sports car... and could not catch up with it. Mother felt sad for the little white "bunny" that the thing had captured.

The next morning little "Fluffy" the white kitten's MISSING posters were all over the neighborhood. Mom called the number. A female voice answered... Mom then preceded to share the story of Fluffy's probable demise. When the lady on the other end of the receiver started uncontrollably balling...mom realized she was talking to a little girl. Who aparently sounded a lot like an adult and had deceivingly good phone manners. Mom started to call the creature the "demon-beast" as she is wont to make all things as full of hyperbole as possible.

BUT tonight! I actually saw the beast itself! It really was unexplainable. Quite deserving of the name "demon-beast." It emerged from the side-yard of our neighbor. From right under the swing-set they keep for their grandkids. It really moved so fast that its features were undistinguishable. At first I thought it was a deer, because it was so tall! It was huge. It was a tan golden brown color. Yet, it didn't bound. It moved so swiftly. No loping. No jumping. Just streaking. It's head (only dectecable because of two reflective eyes) didn't move as it ran. And it's eyes were boring at us through the windsheild as it ran...reflective, green, round, and quite large! It litterly lept over a giant red fence and dissapeared into the dark shadows of a neighbors horse pasture.

We searched the field with our brights. It was gone. We stopped at the stop sign. Flapping in the breeze was another "MISSING" sign. Apparently, there have been quite a few missing posters. Each week, a new little punting dog or precious kitty disapears. Hmmmm.

Tonight... we were watching TV... I hear howling. I mute the TV and there is a chorus of dog howling coming from the neighbor's yard. There is one shrill yap that I know to be the neighbors little punting dog. Suddenly the yapping stops! and there is only silence. Has the demon-beast claimed another victim?

it is too big for a bob-cat. definetly not a coyote. What is this thing!

procrastination? or should I call it something else...

2008-11-13T14:27:00.000-08:00

locked in this photo... is the image of my favorite restaurant in Chengdu. it's my favorite time of day. dusk has settled. and we would wonder down from my friends apartment around the corner and order home-made noodles layered with meat in a tomato, onion, and pepper sauce. all the lights would start glowing up and down the street. the temperature would start to cool as we sipped on steaming hot soup. they always gave us free soup while we waited for our food to cook. the steaming brew was some kind of broth... filled with exotic spices that tickled your throat. the porcelain kept my hands warm as I cupped the small bowl... there were no spoons... we just sipped from the bowl like a tea cup.

tonight I'm in east texas... and I am going out for Chinese food tonight. I know it won't be the same but I am still excited. lately, I've been caught up in busy routines and following strict schedules. I am ready to escape and break free a bit. my wandering nature is starting to get a bit jumpy.

i don't take well to confinement. if my week is becoming too mundane... i have to do something spontaneous. go for a moonlight walk. find someone to talk with. try to cook thai food. call my friends quite randomly with plans for them to join me in some venture... if they're up for it.

Spontaneity is so attractive. but at the same time... I have not been getting things done. my list of responsibilities keeps getting longer and longer and longer and longer....

...and then...this happens in my backyard...

...and all I planned to work on... lays forgotten on the shelf.

my cousins are hilarious...

2008-10-30T19:55:00.000-07:00

one of my cousins, Jack, "impales" the other, William, with his new samurai sword. He is going to be a ninja for Halloween.

embracing and battling the cold...

2008-10-28T15:05:00.000-07:00

the other night I was driving home late...flying down the winding road with only my headlights casting light into the darkness. I love driving. This was one of those moonless nights. The air felt a little wild and I knew a cold front was blowing in. The brown leaves scuttled across the road and spooked me for a moment, fearing some animal was attempting to cross the road.

It was an October night for the record books...leaves falling, wind howling.

This is the weather I love.

Of course, sunny days are glorious in their time. But everyone loves the sun. And even rainy days in their gloom have a special appeal for movie lovers...curling up on a rainy day is a nice treat. But I am one of those oddities... that champion the cold!

I love the cold, blustery days. Especially, the first ones of the season. I love the crispness it brings to the air. I love bundling in soft, billowy sweaters and scarves... that I get to pull out of the closet. Remembering... oh yea! I love that sweater...I've missed you all summer.

I love warming my hands by a fire. or snuggling up next to a friend while we walk in the cold.

I love the holidays!! Coming into a warm house. Drinking something in a green mug...that is sweet and steaming.

When I think about it...autumn and winter are also really harsh and terrible. I can enjoy them because I am provided for. I have a sheltering roof over my head. clothes to wear. refuge and friends. I can not deny the stinging feeling when you are miserably cold. the ache of cold muscles.

I guess the season reminds me just how grateful I am. I love you Lord for providing for me. I love you who have watched over me. I love you family! I love you friends that warm my heart! Thank you!

I love You who paints the trees in autumn and designs the frost on the grass.

Show me what I can do... to help make sure everyone feels warm this season. on the inside and out.

Because there is a lot of cold out there...

currently...

2008-10-19T13:03:00.000-07:00

I’m trying to be as quiet as a church mouse; although, the wind blowing through the open window is making enough noise to veil the small clicking of fingers hitting the keyboard. My Dad is asleep nearby, and this is quite a a feat. He hasn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours each night, due to his injuries from a motorcycle accident which wounded him and fatally wounded his wife, changing our lives in the worst possible way.

It is nearly 11 in the morning... and he is still snoring. Halleluia!

I was so nervous about this weekend. Roles were reversing. My siblings and I were going to take Dad under our wing. He wanted to stay with us. First, I picked Dad up from his parents house (my grandparents: Peep and Pop... for a little insight into their delightful characters read a previous blog from last spring). Then we drove through the cool October night up to Norman, OK, where my brother and sister attend OU. The moon was really lovely, hanging bright and mostly full in the sky, but it was hardly a distraction from my weeping father in the passenger seat. I listened to him tell the whole story of the accident to a friend who called him on the phone. How many times has he told this story? Too many times now... I am sure. Still, I suppose it needs to be told... it is amazing how many people each of our lives touch.

We made it to Norman. We all gathered in in the living room. My sister, Darby, my brother, Sean, and Wes (Wes is practically my brother; he has been dating Darbs for nearly five years...so he counts as family already). We haven’t been together like this in a very long time. We all sat down and watched the most hilarious episode of the The Office, with scenes of Dwight giving birth to slippery watermelons flashing across the screen, our tears gave way to chuckles. God bless The Office. Can I get an amen?

My Dad was really awed by my sister’s decorating skills. She has an engaging taste. She could be a designer. She built her own coffee table and actually put coffee beans under the glass. It is the only true “coffee” table, she says. It fills her little living room with a pleasant aroma. She has lanterns hanging from the ceiling and fresh yellow flowers in a vase next to the couch. My Dad was really floored by her creativity.

This afternoon, he is going to join me at Sky Ranch and see where I “live” too. It is a little strange...that it would take this much tragedy for Dad to finally see and get to know us in the spaces where we work and live. We always had to meet him where he was...

... now he is here. with us. seeing our daily selves first hand. for the first time in a very very long time.

I was nervous about this weekend...but the first morning we were together...I couldn’t believe the miracle in front of my eyes. We were all together, goofing around and making breakfast, and I looked up to see Dad sitting in a chair and reading through a Bible...

... it actually felt like Christmas morning.

my favorite season is finally here... FALL!!!

2008-10-13T18:52:00.000-07:00

that cool truck once looked like this

2008-09-15T19:28:00.000-07:00

before that lovely tiger paint job...it had to be scrubbed.

I am so grateful

2008-09-15T19:07:00.000-07:00

thankful, appreciative, filled with gratitude! Today I returned to the wonderful Sky Ranch school programs department. When I was in France, I got a few emails from the leadership here at the Ranch and everything just fell into perfect place.

First, there was an empty spot for me because one of the new staff can't come until January.

Second, the leadership offered me the same room and board that the Sky Ranch interns have.

So basically, while I am here in the U.S. my Sky Ranch family is taking me in, providing me a home, and helping me work and provide support so that I can return to France.

And finally, the most incredible fact of all! I get to return and work with some of the best people in the world. With my friends! There are a lot of new faces in the Outdoor Education department but everyone is so amazing.

Driving to work this morning, the full moon still hung in the sky casting moonly light into the morning. The colors of dawn morphed from deep blue to absolute liquid gold. The trees were vividly green in the morning light. The temperature was cool and refreshing. I could wear one of my favorite scarves quite comfortably. When I arrived at work, each hug from each person just filled me with so much joy.

All I could think... "Lord, I love you so much! Thank you so much. I can't believe that I get to work here while I raise my support."

I'll remember this later. when the floor drops. it will remind me to keep breathing. but right now... all I can think is

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

there is no title to this blog...

2008-09-06T11:30:00.000-07:00

because I'm not exactly sure where this subject will lead me. It starts like this: recently I had a thought.

This thought entered into my head for two reasons.

In the Musee d'Orsay this week, which I visited twice, I wondered the large halls and exhibit rooms. In total awe. Of course, there are the famous names...Monet, Manet, Van Gogh. (the last of these, left me speechless, in person his paintings hit you in the face with vividness and dimensional gobs of color). Each piece was a marvel, yet I was especially drawn to the depiction of death in the art. Don't know why.

Very negative imagery. Skeletal figures. dark shades. eyes clouded with fear. death if symbolized by a figure was ugly. it had talons. its victims were martyrs.
When I looked at the date of each piece...I noticed that each was from the last century or earlier. None later than 1920's.

Reason #1: Seeing death portrayed in art from the last century

Then I started to think about a line of poetry from Ryler Dustin, from the book Glenn let me read this summer.

"Look out for Ryler.
I overheard that kid talking to himself
for the first time in eight years
about how suicide is starting to sound
like another word for clean"
-from Blackbirds

Reason #2: I started to think about how death is depicted in our generation

...mostly in music.
The New Frontiers...
"Baby scream when they are bored,
So I'm not afraid of passing on"
-from Passing On

This song is not about taking your own life...I think it might be more along the lines of being willing to let go of life when the time comes...But the point is...death isn't so shrouded in darkness as it once was. Is this a blessing? a hope for us? or can it also be a curse?

either way... death is thought about differently in our generation. J.M. Barrie's Hook took the stage in 1904. The start of a new century. An age of technology. and Captain Hook says, "Death is the only great adventure I have left..."

I began to wonder.

The thought: Has all the mystery of the world been lost in our technological age?

Is there anything left to explore in life? Unknown lands. Unexplainable feelings? Unsearchable questions? Or do we explain everything to such an extent... that we are left curious about the only truly unknown that all of us will experience: death.

maybe some would admonish me...

Admonishment #1: there is plenty of mystery in the world. a ton of things unknown. but my argument would be... that to the average person. It is easy to forget that. when you live in a concrete jungle. in education systems that explain everything with the scientific method. with psychology that even explains your feelings. you have to escape from this to find mystery. not all people have that much gumption...

Admonishment #2: death isn't such an unknown after all. As Christians, we go to heaven to be with God. That isn't unknown, is it! but do we have even a fathom of what that will be like! only imaginings.

I was thinking about this all week and today something happened. I am staying at my mom's house. One of the neighbor's daughter committed suicide.

She chose death.

I guess it just looked too good. has it always been this way... or is our generation making it look better than before. It is so horrible. this choice has cast a net of darkness that hurts people far beyond even those she knew.

2008-08-22T07:38:00.000-07:00

The "bridge" building at camp was once partially demolished by an avalanche in the 1960's. It was rebuilt... but is still essentially 150 years old. It looks like an old stone barn. Enter this building and you will find a small twisting wooden stair. If you ascend these stairs you will find four tiny offices. In the third office on the right, right now, you would find 5 people on computers. Including myself. Even though this space is only 10 feet wide.

Like my comrades, I am enjoying some new free time. Family camp ended today. The French families were wonderful. Although, I was really intimidated by them at first. My French is much better than it was 10 days ago. Today when each family left I couldn't help but wish I had a little more time with them.

I am currently in a state of mourning for my digital camera. My beloved Nikon. is . dead. c'est mort.

I have repeatedly felt the sting of wanting to take a certain picture and remembering that my camera is gone forever. and that it is my fault. for trying to cross a mountain stream with the camera in my hand. It was horrible... that moment I watched my camera flying through the air and felt the morbid splash of digital death.

I thought it had a chance when it dried out... but I was wrong... it officially died this week.

The day I dropped it in the water I took some truly beautiful pictures of mountain scenery. The picture above is one of them... from my camera's last hours of life.

It was strange saying good-byes today. I was harder for me, because I feel like it is my turn to say good-bye next. Only about two more weeks left. My mind is starting to wonder about what I'll be doing when I get home.

I am even a little frustrated. I have started to feel at home here, my French is coming along, I have grown closer in my relationships with French friends...and now...stop everything.

Time to go back home... for a bit.

Time to transition into a whole new world again.

Time to attempt explaining to people what happened here and find I don't have the words.

Time to get frustrated with people because they really won't care to hear about everything that happened here.

Time to miss out on the relationships I have been carefully building on here.

I guess it is also time to see wonderful loving...

family

friends

possibly sky ranch OE kiddoes

consume a few....

Dr. Peppers

Mexican food dishes

pieces of sushi

and I have a lot of work to do! It's time to get others involved in this enterprise.

So much work to be done.

For now...I am about to board a bus for 5 Euro and 10 centi. Arrive in Grenoble later tonight. Stay with one amazing Candide and a sweet and spunky Australian named Jess. Hopefully, eat delectable French cuisine on Candide's balcony in the dusky evening light.

and we'll all think about the beauty of being the children of God.

a time to pause

2008-07-31T06:38:00.000-07:00

This blog has been so neglected, but for good reason. The last month I have been fully engaged in an English camp for French youth... and it has been lovely. We had two camps. One for youth under 18 and one for adults 18 to 30. The last Peugeot (French car brand) left camp completely stuffed with luggage. With their bags and packs, the last campers left and I felt a little hollower. Last night, we pulled mattresses onto the soccer field to gaze at the night sky and shared thoughts, stories, and cups of tea. A pattering noise suddenly loomed in the distance and suddenly rain fell and chased us indoors. glanced at the clock and it was 4am. it was unfortunate that I had to wake up at 6:30 to help make breakfast... or so I thought... when I emerged from my cave and spied the most beautiful early morning clouds. French baguette and warm chocolate milk helped battle the angst of fatigue.

Everyone left at camp has hidden away in their various holes to rest. I am sitting on the stairs outside and camp seems to be a ghost town. But it's really peaceful and gives me time to think.

I am so eager to start my year here in France. I am trying extremely hard to learn something new in French each day (or should I say "chaque jour"). Quite a humbling enterprise. Chaque jour I make some kind of hilarious mistake. On morning, I meant to say... "do you like..." and instead accidently professed... "I love you..." to one of the French guys. I desperately wished for the gift of invisibility after that faux-pa.

There was also the time... I asked for the camper next to me to "pass the green beans" in french. Too bad my pronunciation needs more work. Instead I asked him to "pass the alcohol, please." I guess that is not such a mistake here in France... libations flow freer... still... they got a good laugh.

I have been sitting cross legged. so the blood flow to my feet have been sufficiently thwarted... resulting in the unpleasant sensation that the French compare to a thousand ants biting you. My camera battery is also running low. So I am signing out for the afternoon... From this stone stair case... under the tree by the volleyball court, under these rocky cliffs, and alpine skyline. Love to all.

P.S. the birch leaves shimmer when the wind blows

on a hike

2008-07-19T08:54:00.000-07:00

I'm still alive and blogging

2008-07-12T09:55:00.000-07:00

So...it is camp...which means that it has been entirely too long since my last blog. I am really too busy to submit something of substance now too. I have about four minutes before dinner starts and I rush off to eat delicious French cuisine.

I am going to write a truly entertaining blog and put it up here...sometime soon. If anyone on the OE dream team reads this blog...I miss them!

living in a tent

2008-06-02T21:56:00.001-07:00

I feel like an uprooted tree lately. On Sunday afternoon, I found myself at BRANGUS steak house in McAlester, OK. Squished away in a darkly light wooden booth, munching on onion rings which dripped with oil, I found myself feeling homesick.

(Notedly, the whole week I have been away from "home." I have been trapped...I mean...I have been privileged...to spend my recent days in small town in eastern Oklahoma. This town in so small, it doesn't even have a wall-mart. I am here for work and we've been busy running camps for about 150 students. playing games, shooting water guns, throwing oatmeal, teaching challenges, and listening to Jim Franks stories. One delightful refuge in the midst of this ilead fandango is the large and beautifully old Victorian home in which we sleep. Lyndsey and I have the best room. There are windows in the closet. A beautiful sitting room with windows in our room. AND a rocking chair. in which, I am rocking now as I type. )

but the feeling of homesickness startled me. I haven't felt that way in a very long time. A tight knot was tying itself in my belly. I felt transplanted. and the weirdest feeling of all, was the wonderment of trying to figure out exactly...Where is my "home?"

I don't feel at home in my parents homes. I usually feel at home at my apartment in Mineola, but my little abode is a complete wreck as I pack up to move out. All the faces of my life with OE this year have either left, or I am about to leave them.

I realized I was feeling anxious about the upcoming move to France and all the changes that are outside my control.

As much as I adore France, I haven't built myself a "home" there yet. (although I would like too!)

So currently I am a little "homeless." and I am wondering, will I ever find a place to rest my roots? or is my transient life a blessing in disguise?

Maybe I am an Abraham nomadically living and following God where He leads. Who knows where the next door will take me. I start to feel excited when I remember that. There are some surprising places yet to go. and there is a certain divine dependence that can only be learned living in a tent.

another great reason to work at Sky Ranch

2008-05-21T18:12:00.000-07:00

I've counted up the hours I have spent at Sky Ranch (where I work) in the last three days. Its been about 38 hours. Admittedly, some of those hours, about 4 or so, I was not working. Merely, enjoying the use of Internet or hanging out with summer staff. But I would say that 34 hours of work in the course of 3 days is still pretty exhausting. So today when I was finished grating zucchini for the giant Iguana (which has been dubbed Jub-Jub although Vernon still calls him Razor) and finished washing the feces out of the sugargliders food bowls (one of the worlds most disgusting mammals though they are deceivingly cute)...it was only 5:30 in the afternoon. I was finished early! My entire being radiated with a fatigue that only working at Sky Ranch (during the week that OE, iLeads, TCA, and summer camp staff are ALL jostling for spots on camp) could cause.

I felt like a warrior that had just fought a great battle and survived. Instead of sword wounds, my wounds consisted of...
leg muscle cramps
a burnt thumb (thank you char making)
splotches of mud covering my legs
ferret hairs clinging to my shirt
sweat tricking down my face
corn-cake dough inside my nose (YES! inside it! I had so much dough on my hands that when I wiped my nose...which was running...it got stuck inside...and I discovered it all hardened just inside my nose about an hour later)
paint on my face
sore smoky eyes
knots in my hair
zucchini under my nails
AND a usually cheerful persona now subdued by a mob of raving children and unsure adult chaperons.

I knew when I got into the car...I had to treat myself to something truly enjoyable. Solution: Go eat a panini and drink tea at Rockwell's. Call a few of my best friends. Talk to potential supporters for my upcoming mission work in France.

And! I ate the most delicious cinnamon roll. for desert.

Apparently, I forgot to take my Sky Ranch nametag off and TWO guys (at different times), both pretty handsome, started up conversations about Sky Ranch. Soooooooooo, working crazy hours and jobs at camp does have some perks.

Conclusion: At least in East Texas, working at Sky is a great conversation starter for flirting with guys in Christian coffee shops.

medical update

2008-04-28T23:16:00.000-07:00

Thanks everyone so much for keeping my family in your prayers. Sean's surgery went great. They took out all the old hardware (the screws and metal plates that held his shoulder together after he broke his clavicle a while back). They thought they would have to file the bone and do some other painful stuff...but they didn't have to! So his recovery should be faster and less painful.
More amazingly, my time in the waiting room with my parents went absolutely stunning. Better than I could ever have expected. I actually got them to laugh...I read them my blog about the grandparents. It was a nice relief.
I am so grateful.

BY the way...while we were driving to Dallas. I saw a billboard for a strip club called "Peppermint Rhino." I thought. That is an oddity. Why rhinos? Why a peppermint one?

my multifarious weekend...

2008-04-28T04:40:00.000-07:00

...ends with a new addition to my vocabulary. Maybe Nick and Courtney know this word, "multifarious," because they've been studying for the GRE. I discovered it today. Multifarious is having many varied parts or aspects. That describes my weekend perfectly. Let me break it down for you.

Friday night: Arrive at my mom's house. She is not there. However, my 18 year old brother and 20 other members of his high school are. They are having a small party in the backyard. The teenage girls are screaming shrilly every minute or so...probably some dense web of high school flirtation being played out within my earshot. I just know it is extremely annoying. All these girls seem to be shallower than a puddle (and by the way...very "pretty"...if perfect blonde hair...and thin...and wearing juicy couture...is your style). My respect for my brother is plummeting quickly. I overhear a thickly "valley-girl" accented voice tell the shocking news that "so-and-so is an atheist!" and watched the registered shock hit the other girls faces. How much damage will these girls do to the name of "Chrisitan?" I shiver to wonder at it.

Saturday morning: 6AM wake up. entirely too early. My sister and a friend from OU are competing in the "Old College Tri," a local triathlon. I'm to be their photographer. Kara, the friend, is very nervous because she has never done a triathlon before. I would have been nervous too. 300 meters of swimming, 13 miles of biking, and 3 miles of running. basically 5 hours of non-stop gut-wrenching exercisers. Your surrounded by major muscles and super fit people, that make you feel in comparison like jello jigglers. Yet, I had a good time. This was more of an amateur contest. My sister and I (after she finished....wonder woman that she is) stood about 400 meters from the finish line and cheered/whooped everyone as they slowly sauntered along. That was a blast! Darby teared up...she thinks its really precious to see them get some energy from the cheers.

Saturday evening: Visit with old youth minister! And she is going to support me for France! Then I went to the Village Church with her. Oh it was a wonderful respite from the dry crunchy church environment out in east Texas. It was a nice glass of cold water.

Saturday night: Teach my grandmother how to use a DVD player. Have to explain to her that the menu display is not the movie playing.

Sunday morning: attend the 39ers Sunday School with my grandmother. 39ers seems to describe the year that the members of this class were born. although my grandmother was born in the 20's. so maybe they were older. they certainly were a wrinkly, well-dressed, old bunch. They were lovely, of course, and I gleaned wisdom from their slowly spoken exchanges. At one point the withered teacher asked if anyone knew a certain fact...and another old grandpa stuttered..."why don't we google it?" WoW! I am impressed, they all knew how to google?

AND I actually sat in front of Mel Brewer, founder of Sky Ranch, in the church service. He wore a faded banana-yellow leisure suit. Shook my hand and was very glad to see me. He is so cute!

Sunday afternoon: visit my other grandparents. Peep and Pop. Pop always cooks something extravagant when I come over. Even though he can hardly walk. This time it was crawfish étouffée. He can't chop things anymore...really he can only stir the cauldron of cajun goo. So Peep and I were running around to do his culinary bidding. Cut this, Peep. Open this, Shannon. Hand me the green chiles. One of the most important aspects of this dish...the ingredient that really makes it superb...is the roux, a mixture of fat (esp. butter) and flour used in making sauces. Anyway, my Pop is obsessive about his roux. He and Peep continually antagonize each other in comic exchanges as they scurry about. (or really Peep scurries and Pop sits on his chair...stirring above the oven).

Pop: Aren't you finished cutting the onions, yet. Hurry up!
Peep: I can't hurry! If I went any faster I would cut my finger!
Pop: Oh don't do that. It would ruin my roux.
Peep: I'm not talking to you anymore today.
(5 seconds later)
Peep: What time is it?
Pop: I'm not going to tell you.

Later that night he called her his "sweetie-cutie." They are a pair.

Monday at butt-crack of dawn: Could anything more random happen this weekend? ...I ponder in a surgery waiting room...while my brother goes under the knife.

Restless

2008-04-24T06:00:00.000-07:00

I have three giant boxes full to the brim with old National Geographic magazines. The most recent issue is over twenty years old...so I relish in 1970’s advertisements. I often chuckle to myself when I spy an old car, a past king of luxury. Or ads for technology, in a world where computers were the size of an entire room and barely accessible to the normal joe. I actually should spend the cash and buy a year long subscription, now, in the present age. Yet, I am having so much fun peeking through these old journals. I have barely plumbed the depths of articles and pictures. The boxes were a gift from my grandmother, Peep (that is her grandmother name. I’m the oldest grandchild and somehow my toddler mind decided that “Peep” was the only name for her. It may have had something to do with the fact that she always poked my nose and said, “PEEP.”)
This sultry evening (thunder echoes in billowing waves...first distant...now closer) I’ve been reading from a 1980 edition of National Geographic. First, I read an article about water. Since I teach a class about Limnology (the study of fresh water) at Sky Ranch, I found the article very informative. I know I need to remember that it might be out of date...but I found the data about the Colorado River to be shockingly up to date with an episode of Planet Earth. The mighty river doesn’t manage to trickle into the Pacific Ocean some years. Too much of its water is pumped into our thirsty western lands. Even in 1980, the river was reduced to a trickle by the time it reached Mexico. I also read about Hans Christian Anderson, an ancient Mayan civilization, and the city of Milwaukee.
I was focused to such an extent that the contents of my tea cup, long forgotten, were frosty (or so it seemed). I could hear music echoing (along with the thunder) from my computer in the living room. The song: Ramblin Man’ by the Allman Brothers Band. As the lyrics wound their way into my room...”Lord I was born a ramblin’ man...” I heard in it a kindred realization. and felt this overwhelming hunger. A need to “ramble” somewhere. I am so tired of living a routine of work, even though I do enjoy my job, tons!
The first flash of lightning interrupted my typing. The thunder is now growing monumental. It adds excitement to my current small town life. I truly feel that I am a rambling woman. I haven’t been able to stay in one place for more that two years, since I graduated high school. I adore travel. I adore picking up and starting over. There is something so exciting about packing. I love choosing a favorite shirt to travel in. When I buy a piece of clothing I think in terms of...how well does this pack in a suitcase. Could I wear it on a mountain?
I like to surround myself with items from different places. In Mexico, at a small town mercado. I bought a bright yellow “moomoo;” you know, those old lady bag-like dresses. The abuela that sold her wares, stroked the fabric with her weathered hands, and assured me, “Hecho de mano.” Made with her hands. I couldn’t leave it behind. The treasured moomoo hangs over my closet door. A bright hand-woven beacon of a distant place and a remarkable old lady. It hangs there, a decoration. Feeding my longing to go somewhere again. I know that I don’t have long to wait. I leave for France in two months. Yet, tonight, those two months become two eons. The phrase “I can’t wait.” Literally, resonates throughout my being. I want to go....I want to go...I want to go

a nice place to stroll

2008-04-20T12:33:00.000-07:00

I have recently discovered a wonderful place to walk or bike around. The Mineola nature preserve. In a town, where the store fronts turn dark and lock their doors at 5pm, and restaurants remain open only a few hours longer. (not to mention the lack of funds in my pocket book) I find myself searching for things to do, quite frequently. One of my searches lead me to the preserve. The Sabine River flows through this little sanctuary, or rather flows over. Its flooded banks wind through the trees and make the forest floor look like it's made of glass. As far as you can look, the woods grow up through a watery forest floor. My Pop (grandfather) told me a story once. When he was a boy in the 1930's, the woods around their cabin in Pennsylvania flooded and then an unusually late and shockingly cold spring freeze turned the woods into arctic playland. He and his sisters tied blades to their feet and ice-skated through the trees and ice clothed leaves. I watch his face when he tells me this story and I can see in his eyes: gliding through the frozen forest is one of his happiest memories. It must have been stunning. so out of the ordinary. like a tall tale. Could this really be happening? I plan to borrow some rubber boots (the ones that reach up above your knees) and splash my way through the woods sometime soon. The water is no more than 6-8 inches deep. I was going to invent a new recreational activity...hydro-biking. And try to bike through the water covered bike path. A friend pointed out that wouldn't be a wise option for bike chains. The rubber boot option sounds like a good romp, though.

discussion about a topic that is talked to death: Leadership

2008-04-15T17:44:00.000-07:00

One of the leaders at my work just came up to me.
Clinton: “Shannon, I need you to work an hour (later than scheduled) tomorrow. Which would you prefer to work? 4-5pm or 5-6pm?”
Hmmmm. Let me think. Of course, I picked the earlier option. I had plans for the afternoon that included a bike and a rocky dirt trail at a nearby park. Then I heard my boss talking to himself as he walked away.
“Good, I’ll work from 5-6.”
Immediately, I wished I had picked the later time.
‘Wait! I will work from 5-6,” I called after him.
Yet, he insisted. He would work the later shift.
He didn’t have to ask me. He is in charge of the schedule and could have assigned me a time. But he did ask.
I think all of the staff I work with would undoubtedly agree. That Clinton is a great leader.
None of us would quail from completing a task he asked us to do. We can trust his character and know that he is the one who never shirks from doing a job harder than the one he is asking us to do. I have seen his selflessness numerous times. He has earned my respect as a leader.

I think respect is important for a leader. I have a hard time submitting to a leader I don’t respect. In fact, my behavior turns downright rebellious.
What I’m trying to determine...is if this tendency is a good or bad thing.

In some ways, I think it is a bad thing. There are authority figures in our lives that we should follow. If we don’t want to loose our job, we need to adhere to the orders of our boss. When we were teenagers (I can’t believe I am admitting this now) we needed to listen to our parents. Most hormonal teenagers aren’t the best judges of authority. With a few exceptions, our parents really did know that being home the night before a test was better than staying out until 2 am. Even if I was just innocently spending time with my friends.

Some institutions/occupations (dangerous jobs, fireman, police men, armies, I guess) can’t function without rigid rules and complete submission to authority without question. Lives hang in the balance. One miss-step could lead to disaster. I can only wonder...
who would want to be in that leadership position?

Civil War generals decided which regiments marched into the face of enemy muskets first. Those men would march their last step. Would they take those orders without a whole-hearted respect for their general? If their general displayed laziness, or never kept his details straight, would they have followed the order? Maybe this is a bad example, because they really didn’t have a choice. Leaving the field of battle without authorization meant receiving a bullet for desertion. I guess...the “cause’’ of the war factors into a battle situation and not just the leader. So perhaps I digress. But I’m sure a respected general’s troops were more productive.

Back to the main subject.

Is respect a requirement for a leader? Or am I totally wrong when I grow rebellious?

Questions I have pondered this week...due to a discussion with a friend...in which we did not agree. What do you think?

As an ending note... the respect I have for a friend is different than that for a leader. Leaders must earn a more demanding respect than people I love to hang out with!

Setting out...

2008-04-10T21:53:00.000-07:00

am I joining the popular trend of blogging that is circulating around our office? of course. I am a band wagon jumper, apparently. and of course, I shall refuse to use proper grammar. especially, proper punctuation. or complete sentences. because I like short choppy monologue. I am joining the rabble. of blogging. I like rabbles. I looked it up. I guess that sometimes the word could have a bad connotation ("disorderly mob"). but another definition is "ordinary people." I want to join them. the millions of brilliant minds that perhaps shall never be famous or grace the surface of a television screen or hear their words quoted by generations to come. instead they log them in digital history in online blogs. great stuff. great stories. imaginative. comical. all by "ordinary" minds.

then again. maybe they will become famous. and millionaires. that would be great.

I know that I have had a spectacular evening. and I probably could not relate with human words (maybe if I was a poet, I could) how much I enjoyed my bike ride through a twilight stricken swamp in east texas along the Sabine River wet lands. Or how delicious my turkey artichoke pannini was...slowing savoring each taste as I sunk in a giant leather chair next to a stone fireplace. fire radiating heat while it danced. or how much I loved talking to an old acquaintance on the phone. and remembering our memories. or how much I love driving with my windows down. on a warmish cool night. with great music. or how much I laughed at an extremely awkward and long anticipated episode of the Office. or how funny my friend's dog looked while I rubbed her ears. or how much i love my new old hat...from the thrift store...that may have once belonged to a very old gentleman.

so it has begun...I have a blog. and i have less hours of sleep tonight. than i originally intended