Blueberry muffins with a twist

I made these muffins on the occasion of our pastor paying us a visit this afternoon. Since I didn't want to have to make another grocery run this week I was to find aNamaste muffin mix in the pantry, blueberries in the freezer, and an orange in the fridge. And thus were born orange blueberry muffins. I mixed up my muffins as per instructions adding 1 1/2 cups of frozen blueberries, the zest and juice of an orange, and half a cup of sucanat (a minimally refined sugar) since my mix didn't have the sugar added. I must say they came out very well. The orange gives them a bit of an interesting twist. Our pastor ate three which I take to be a compliment. I also cut up a cantaloupe, but since Allen and Tom pretty much ignored it I got to eat the whole thing by myself. Yummy.

another peek at grad school

Every once in a while I have a peek at what might have been and find that there are some really interesting graduate programs out there. Unfortunately none of these were ever on my radar back when I was graduating from college, and now that I have the perspective to appreciate them I don't have the money. Well I never had the money. It was only my stipend that allowed me to attend grad school in the first place, and we can all see how that turned out. I fairly hated the place. My favorite part of going to school was the walk from our apartment to my eight o'clock class. The rest of it...meh. One day I sent in a few e-mails and submitted an application to be withdrawn from the university. That was that. Some days I still wish it could have worked out. My parents would have been a lot happier with me, and it would have fulfilled a dream of mine. But I have to ask myself, "what really matters here?" If I expected that a piece of paper would earn my parent's approval I have only to remember my own college graduation to know that's not true. That one B I made the summer before my sophomore year sort of nixed that on my mom's side. Talk about growing up with perfectionist tendencies! For my own sake, education was so completely ingrained in my psychic that I would have worked myself into the hospital for a piece of paper signifying completion of a program I intensely disliked and whose philosophies and shibboleths grated my weary and bleeding soul. Hardly a satisfying accomplishment. I know these things, and yet it's still the death of a dream. It was a very cheap, second-rate dream, but it was all I could afford at the time. Sometimes I wonder whether that shabby, much abused dream of mine will ever come back to me -the part that really was mine I mean and not just the fears and urgings of my parents. It seems like it must still be there somewhere in my passion for writing, books, and the well-informed imagination. I just don't know anymore.

Sick and tired....

...and just about as happy and satisfied as a girl can be. Allen and I went dancing tonight with the gang at Just Gotta Swing. I kick step, rock step, triple stepped myself just about sick with the exertion and heat, and then I charlestoned on some more until my feet got too heavy to move. When we left I was tired, literally covered in sweat from head to toe, and feeling like someone had punched me in the gut I had danced so hard. Of course part of my sore tummy could have been me trying to digest an apple while I bounced around to the sound of "fried green tomatoes." Note to self: eat earlier before going to dance. But gosh I had fun. Allen and I learned another charleston variation. He gets better as a dancer all the time. I got to dance some with Jered -our local lindy hop guru. I tend to be a pretty uptight person about some things. I want to know the rules and follow the rules 'cause doing that means being a good girl, and being a good girl is safe. Lindy though. If you get too uptight about the rules you sort of miss all the fun parts. As anyone will tell you about dances like lindy and swing, messing up confidently and with flair is all part of the dance 'cause nine times out of ten if you screw up boldly it will just end up looking cool. On the other hand if you do everything perfectly but have the heart of a wee cowering mouse you'll look horrible no matter how well you dance. In a way that's good training for me. So many times I followed the rules (or tried to) just so I could be a good girl and not get yelled at. Guess what. I got yelled at anyway. I still tried to follow the rules though because rules are good. They separate the good from the not good, and I really, really wanted to be good. Not good was scary. Now I still think rules are in general good to have. I'm no anarchist. But I'm thinking more about the rules. It's in the little stuff like not apologizing profusely and pathetically for forgetting to take the steak out of the freezer to thaw for supper because me being a good girl doesn't hang on a piece of steak anyway. It's also in the little stuff like letting my hair down and dancing without obsessing so much about whether or not I get the steps right. It's about being just a little more confident as a person who can do things and be things without constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure I'm appeasing the ghostly Powers That Be which still tend to haunt my life. It's about being Natalie.

I'm on to you Brian

It occurred to me to play around with putting a black background on my blog. Let me tell it makes photos POP! Pretty awesome really. Too bad I'm not a black blog sort of girl :) I'm telling you, Brian, I'm on to you. It's the black blog that's doing it :D

Seriously, Brian is an awesome photographer who ain't even on the same continent as me photographically speaking. You should check out his blog if you haven't.

A church and a garden

These are actually from two different days, but unfortunately if I went strictly by days some days would have 20 pictures and others 3. For my posting sanity I decided to even things out a bit.


This is St. John the Baptist Catholic Church in Charleston. We got there just as the sun was getting low in the sky, and striking the most wonderful tones from the stonework. Pardon if the colors are off. I've been trying to adjust the colors as I go to recapture the vivid tints I remember from that afternoon. Unfortunately I'm still rather new at all this.


I loved the dimple details in the stonework, and nice wrought iron fences get me every time.


Hmm, yeah I think I got carried away with the color values. I still love this close up. That church simply soared.


And a pretty shady side yard with the sun behind. We went at the perfect time. The days were warm without being too hot, and the nights never got so cool that we really even needed an extra blanket at night. I hope we can go back to Charleston again sometime.


Part of free tickets included entrance to the Magnolia Garden Plantation. It's rather expensive if you decide to stop by sometime. They do have lovely gardens even though very little was blooming at the time. The house is very nice if you like that sort of thing. Personally I've seen lots of historic houses over the years and probably wouldn't spend the extra money for a house tour ticket again. Apparently they have one of the most photographed bridges in America, which for some perverse reason I failed to photograph. This is a view off the famous bridge though. Not sure about that cross in the distance.


And this is part of what was once the first formal garden in South Carolina. Hard to think Charleston was once brand new and a few miles out was something of a wilderness where hardy young souls brought their brave wives out to grow rice and attempt assemble their scraps of civilization into a semblance of European elegance.


This is actually one of my favorite pictures from the whole trip. I don't know if that spanish moss fell or was placed, but I think it's one of the most charming pictures out of the lot.

Coming up next pictures from out sunset cruise. That will either be a really long post, or I'll break it up over a few days. I have so many favorite pictures from that group it will be hard to pick.

Just when you think you're doing great...

So I've been doing a lot better about keeping the apartment clean and keeping my spirits up lately. Considering my tenuous relationship with work those tend to be one in the same. I have a little chalkboard that I use to write up my to-do lists. It definitely helps me in biting off manageable, satisfying pieces of housework. Making great big slash marks through my completed tasks is fun. I also feel just the teansiest bit green doing so knowing that I'm not squandering money and resources/landfill space on my daily lists. Not a big deal exactly, but I suppose it's partly the mindset that matters.

Like I said, I've felt pretty good about all this, but lately I've been battling the tired and grouchies in a big way. And before anyone hints at anything let me say it's exactly the wrong time of the month for that -whichever one you mean. From talking to my mother-in-law it seems like underneath all this progress I've been making I've been doing more than a bit of burden bearing on the side, and it's really been weighing down my heart. As some of you know I don't have the best relationship with my parents, and I really don't get to see them much. My mom pretty much ignores I exist, but Dad will talk to me when the opportunity presents itself (like us showing up at graduation and such). Really it's for my dad that I seen to be carrying this burden. And by burden bearing I don't mean the useful sort that you can do much about. Well, I can pray, but I'm afraid I tend to forget that prayer is actually does storm heaven and therefore don't do so much of it. Nope, this is the good old heart crushing kind that consists of standing around with your hands too tied to do much of anything. You see my dad has diabetes, which can in time turn into all sorts of things if they aren't taken care of properly. Being an herbal girl I have very different feelings about what constitutes "properly." I could reel off a list of things my dad eats that he shouldn't and another list of things he could do to feel better that he doesn't. It's that age old woman's cry "If I had the feeding of him...." But I don't. And I'm not going to unless very drastic things that I don't wish on my family were to happen -and even if they did I probably wouldn't. Ok, so I can't go see him, can feed him, can't really influence the way he eats 'cause Mom sure as heck ain't listening to me. (To be very honest she'd likely say she was just returning the favor, but that's neither here not there right now.) And that's just the physical side of things. I've lived in that family. I've seen the junk, and I've been detoxing ever since. The sheer amount of brokenness that masquerades as a close, loving, evangelical family is staggering. That's not to say we weren't all those things, but we were all that and a lot more. Writing this, the last thing I want anyone to think is that I'm just pointing fingers at my family. I'm not. I'll be the first to recognize that both my mom and dad came out of vastly more broken circumstances and did what they could with what they had. It's only that here I am enjoying peace and happiness way beyond what I ever even dreamed was possible....and they don't get it. To them I'm the rebellious child who, scorning family ties, decided to make her own way. I almost feel like a character Plato's Allegory of the Cave. If you haven't heard it, it goes something like this. Once there was a group of people who lived and worked in a cave. This was their whole life. All they could see of any other world were shadows thrown against the wall by the dim light far away at the mouth of the cave. The people down there used to make up stories about the shadows -where they came from, what they were, and what they meant. Then one day, despite much jeering from his peers, a youth determinedly made his way out to the mouth of the cave and out into the world where the shadows lived. Once there he found a world so different from the one he expected, from the one he came from, that he was amazed. After living among them for a time and learning, the youth decided he must journey back into the cave and tell his friends and family of the wonders he had seen in hopes of persuading them to make the journey out into the shadowlands with him. All the way back he planned out the stories he would tell them, picking the most convincing details, selecting moving and vivid anecdotes. But when he got there and began to tell his stories all the people around him began to laugh at him. Not even his family would be believe him when he tried to tell them of the beautiful country he had found. The mocked him all the louder. Finally with a heavy heart the youth realized that he couldn't persuade anyone to return with him and made his weary way back to mouth of the cave. (My apologies to Plato for this crude retelling.) Somehow, by the grace of God, my eye were opened to a few things that I would love to go back and tell my family about, however they aren't so very interested in hearing them. It hurts with regards to my dad especially because he always seemed more sympathetic with my trials. Even though he really couldn't do anything, he always seemed to understand a bit better. Maybe also in a way he seems as trapped as I did. I suppose the thinking goes, "If I could help Dad, then Dad could help Mom, and everything would be ok." Only I don't see way for that to happen. It gets pretty heartbreaking at times with my hands tied the way they are. Sometime it's literally feels heartbreaking -like I have a heavy stone weighing down on my chest and bruising my heart. That's why I'm writing about all this. For me to write is to think and get things worked out a little instead of leaving everything to simmer inside my head. If I could bear some of their burdens and actually help my family out it would be different. As it is, the only thing that I can do to any purpose is pray. All the rest is simply a piling on of emotional bricks that can't help them and can only hurt me. Somehow I have to open my hands and say, "Even if something happened to Dad that in an ideal world I could have helped to prevent that's not my burden. It's theirs. Even though I would have shared it with them. They didn't want me to, and it's still theirs and not mine. Even if they were to somehow try to blame me, it's not my burden." Then I have to trust that if there really is something I can do that God will bring it to my attention.

You know I usually hear about this kind of thing in the context of a mother and her child. I have to sort of wonder how I ended up here. Well I can see the road, but I still wonder why this road why this struggle. Anyway, I may end up posting some more about this over the next few weeks. It's sort of what's going on at the moment.

Carriage Ride around Charleston

In exchange for sitting through a promotional spiel we got free tickets to several pleasant excursions in and around Charleston -including a carriage tour of the area. I think next time though we're going to have to walk because even carriage pace is too fast to really see much less capture much of the place.



This the inn where Col. Robert E. Lee stayed at the time of one of the Charleston fires. He actually saved the inn by ordering wet linens to be hung in the windows facing the fire. At that time of the year the linens were actually wool and were actually quite good protection. Unfortunately time and neglect did what the fire couldn't, and there was no Col. Lee to save it this time. The current inn is actually a reconstruction. It's still pretty though.


Due to the zoning regulations that govern historic Charleston you won't find any modern convenience stores or gas stations. You will, however, find little mom and pop operations scattered around the district.


This is one of several beautiful, large houses on the tip of the Battery overlooking Charleston Harbor. One of them boasts a pair of pigs guarding the entryway. The owner is actually a higher up in the Piggly Wiggly chain -possibly the owner.


Just one of the many houses in historic Charleston. I absolutely loved the masses of confederate jasmine growing up around these old homes. The flowers are so delicate, but it has a ripe, lazy scent that just hangs in the air all along these old streets.



After our carriage ride we went and walked through Battery Park. It's dotted here and there with statues of various people and events important to the history of Charleston. Dixie.


In the middle of the park they have a large, elevated gazebo. Every direction you look the tall pillars and arched roof frames another beautiful old live oak.



And here's a statue of General Moultrie.

God gets scary

I've been poking around a few of the church-friend blogs on my list. Apparently a very special man just died. I don't know how he died; I couldn't pick out his picture, but I probably stood in line to receive communion with him. I may have even shaken his hand on Sunday evening. Now he's gone though, and a woman I don't know but probably take communion with is left a widow. They're my family, and now he's gone.

Sometimes our God is scary.

On to Charleston

Well, I've finally gotten around to posting more pictures from vacation. There are from our first afternoon in Charleston area. We stayed at a very nice county park on James Island. If you ever want to camp and see Charleston I highly recommend it. You can set up your tent and listen to the bullfrogs and birds, when when you want to head out you're only 15 minutes from the Battery. I loved it. I only wish I'd taken more pictures.


This picture was taken off the fishing pier at the park. They rent bike pretty cheap at the campground, and most every night (and some mornings) Allen and I would ride our bikes around the various loops. One loop went along the salt marsh for a ways. At one place they have a lovely hanging bench swing just perfect for watching the sunset with your favorite hubby.


The reason why the previous picture was so dark and this picture is so wet is that only an hour or so after we'd set our tent up a great big storm blew through. We ended up racing it back to our tent thinking we'd hop in the car and head to town until the storm blew over. When we went to hop in the car, however, we discovered that while the car was unlocked we hadn't a clue where the car keys had gone. Allen went out in the pouring rain to hunt all over for them. It wasn't until he had come back and was leaning over the door talking to me that he looked up and found the keys on the roof of the car right where one of us had set them while pulling camping gear out of the car.


Here's a picture I took on the way out of the park after the storm. It's hard to catch the light just right after a storm when you still have dark clouds frowning on one half of the horizon and heavy golden sunlight pouring through on the other. We went kayaking on this little lake one morning for about an hour. They have some poky little creek areas around with lots of overhanging branches for hiding under. Allen and I raced. I won, but I thought my arms where about to fall off afterwards.



And here is our first taste of Charleston proper. This was taken from the walk along the Battery.

Who I am when I'm not who I thought I would be

So about a year and a half after leaving grad school I'm still trying to figure out who I am and what I'm supposed to be doing with myself. Growing up school and career where the big things. I grew up homeschooled with a stay at home mom, and yet the vast majority of my training was directed at making sure I got a good education and was ready for a career. Since I enjoyed learning that really wasn't a problem. All professions considered I really did think I'd prefer teaching at the college level since it seemed to be an admirably independent and scholarly pursuit. I liked the idea of being able to teach my favorite books to young adults and helping to forge and inform their imaginations. But, unfortunately that dream crashed and burned in the light of academia where the modern shibboleths are even more pronounced than one may imagine. So now here I am in a place unimagined by me some years earlier -without a career, kids, or higher academic attainments. Some days I can still hear my mom saying "and what exactly do you have to show for yourself?" Considering the state of my bedroom.... I've learned so much, but so much of it can't be quantified. I'm having to learn who I am when I'm not being defined by other people. I'm having to learn to do those housewifely things that my mom never really bothered teaching me, and it's not always easy. I'm having to learn to be comfortable in my own skin without surrounding myself with a wall of superficial attainments. It feels pretty naked sometimes. What I did justified who I was. Upon reflection though that's exactly opposite of what Christ teaches us. Apart from Him all our good works are filthy rags without one hope of justifying us. But with Christ and through Christ our works (done in humble obedience to Him) become the natural outworking of our justification. Odd how I never saw that before. It explains a lot though. You have to be who you are before anything you do can really have any value. I suppose that's why it feels like I've been a bit stripped down lately. I'm still slowly learning who I am and what that means to the things that I do. I'm still not sure who I am when I'm not who I thought I would be. I'm not sure of the larger purpose in my life right now. I'm still lacking that overarching goal that drives us beyond today into a sea of tomorrows. In some ways I miss it. I don't want to sit back and get lazy because I'm not sure what to do next. I suppose this is where I start reaching out in different directions -growing until I find the daylight.

midweek and all's well

Had a job interview today for a substitute teaching position. Really have very little clue as to how that went. Everyone was very pleasant of course, and I think I spoke well. It just depends on what what they want. Not having much classroom experience of course is a negative, but we'll see how they feel. I suppose I'll get a call in a week or so. At least it's not a traditional school, so they're used to bringing in people without a terrific amount of formal training.

Health class starts tomorrow which means I need to get my ducks in a row around here. This week started out pretty exhausting for me for some physical and emotional reasons. Haven't quite gotten back up to speed yet.

Tomorrow or Friday I may post some more vacation pictures. We'll see how my day goes.

want to instead of should do

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but when it comes to housework I've discovered that whenever I focus more on what I'd like to do than what I should do I actually get more of what I should do done. For instance, giving into the urge for self-fulfilling housework, I cleaned about a quarter inch of dust off of my baker's rack and completely reorganized it. There's tons of other stuff that's probably a higher priority like cleaning out the laundry area, picking up my bedroom, and wiping down the kitchen counters. BUT! When I make up a should do list my ninja powers of procrastination kick in, and I can hardly make myself get two things done. My want to list? I can fly though it in about an hour or less because I'm doing things that make me feel better about my home. Although they might not be the things that my mom would want me doing if she were standing over my shoulder, part of the point is that she isn't. My home. My chore list. It's not about what my mom thinks I should do anymore. I'm an adult. I can make decisions. It's about time I started taking a little ownership of my own life.

Hilton Head- coastal life

Here are a few of the coastal/sea creatures we saw along Hilton Head Beach.


We saw hundreds of these little fiddler crabs in the marshy ground under the boardwalk. Those are snails on the stalks of grass. They climb up the grass to get away from predators.


Apparently the horseshoe crabs were molting around the time when we got there. Allen and I had thought maybe there were just a lot of dead ones washed up, but when we went to the aquarium in Charleston they told us it was molting season. We must have seen nearly a dozen shells washed up in places on the beach.


Here's a picture of what typically washed up the shore's edge. It was neat seeing all the different crab shells.


I mentioned seeing a whole tidal pool of tiny hermit crabs (the one day I forgot to take my camera out with me). Well we stumbled across the granddaddy of them all. I didn't know it but there are actually different species of hermit crabs. Can't remember the names, but if you come across a tiny one that doesn't have striped legs you cannot in all honesty tell your small child they will grow up to live in a conch shell. It's the stripey legs who do that.


Speaking of which here's a picture of the smaller sort of hermit crab. If you look closely you can just see its trail.


There were a bunch of whelks scattered around on the beach. I caught this one in the surf with his front door open.

Tomorrow, I'll try to get up some Charleston pictures. They might wait until Monday though depending on what it going on around here.

Always time for one more

more cat pictures

Thoughts on friendship and marriage

It's interesting the trade-offs we make. A single gal can surround herself with other young women of similar tastes with whom to travel, eat, talk, etc. A married woman is companioned by this amazing man that she wouldn't trade for the world who nevertheless listens to very different music, doesn't have the same burning desire to take a walking tour of England, and doesn't get excited about farmer's markets. There's a few as might think the former picture is nicer, but the prevailing sentiment (and rightfully so) is that marriage is the preferred state. I think this just points out though how much we women really need each other whether single or married. Face it, there are times when it seems I have three interests to Allen's one. Which is not to say that he's single minded by any means. I've yet to see a subject on which he couldn't talk. It's just that I'm something of a jill of all trades with a huge area of interests that really aren't even on his radar, and some of this is simply because I'm a woman. They keep saying it, and it's true. Your husband can't be everything. We need our friends to help us keep going and growing.

Hilton Head- sea and sand

Here are more of the promised pictures. It's taking me longer than I thought to post them. For one I'm having to choose from so many. For another thing I'm trying to clean them up as I go along.



Aaron demonstrating his deep appreciation for seafood. Incidentally those guys were all over the place. Aaron and Andrew found this one down the beach and brought him back in a bucket for photo ops.



Having rescued poor Mr Crab from Aaron's appetite for seafood al fresco, Andrew bids Mr Crab farewell.


Oh, this little light of mine. I'm going to let it shine. This was my sandcastle. For some reason I keep building lighthouses.


Aaron catching a wave. They were all out there at one point, but by the time I got my camera pointed in that direction this was the only decent shot I got. There really wasn't that much wave to catch anyway. The sea was pretty calm the whole time we were on the coast.


The guys trying to build a larger model of their successful prototype arch. Unfortunately our engineers hadn't made the proper stress and strength calculations, and the whole thing collapsed.


So they decided to bury Aaron. Actually Aaron gets buried on every beach trip. It's something of a tradition. Last time I built a little mountain village complete with volcano on top of him. Oh irony of ironies. It was an earthquake that destroyed my poor rustics and not the volcano they feared.


And one final picture of the beach that day.

Tomorrow - images of coastal life.

Hilton Head- evening pictures

Since these pictures were taken in something of a higgledepigglety order I'm loosely grouping them by theme.


The boardwalk over from our condo. In the mornings you could see all kinds of birds along with a few thousand snails and fiddler crabs. I never saw so much coastal/sea life on any trip as I saw on this one.


The sun setting behind a tidal pool. One pool Allen and I found on a morning walk must have contained 50-100 tiny hermit crabs. All but one or two of them were smaller than my pinky nail.


Allen playing frisbee with his dad and brothers. Except for the first night when the wind was outrageous things were pretty calm for our stay at Hilton Head.


Allen and Aaron decided they were going to try building an arch out of sand. Of course when they finished it was pitch dark. Hence the picture. It stood up though. As you might guess, Aaron loves sandcastles. That's one of the reasons he wanted to come to Hilton Head -the sand is so much better for building than what you normally get on the gulf. The boys also enjoyed getting to see the old house they'd lived in as young'uns along with their old pastor and a few other places they'd remembered.

Tomorrow -fun with sand and sea.

Vacation pics

Tomorrow I'll post some of my Hilton Head pics.

Dresser redecorating

I did this a week or so before we left to go on vacation, but I'm just now getting around to putting up pics.



This is my dresser before. Pretty crowded and chaotic.





Here is my dresser after I've organized my jewelry on my pretty new rack. All my pretty little doilies (all four of them-three in that pic) are grouped on top of the dresser. The mirror is thumbtacked to the ceiling. I wanted a tiny little mirror just to check my earrings and such. I was going to put it on the wall, but since my dresser is positioned at a slight angle it worked out better to hang it from the ceiling.


And here's a close up of some of my favorite earrings hanging in their new home.

An ivy'd hall dream

If only one could come back to this quiet place, where only intellectual achievement counted; if one could work here steeadily and obscurely at some close-knit piece of reasoning, undistracted and uncorrupted by agents [and] contracts...abolishing personal contacts, personal spite, personal jealousies; getting one's teeth into something dull and durable; maturing into solidarity like the Shrewsbury beeches--then, one might be able to forget the wreck and chaos of the past, or see it, at any rate, in a truer proportion. Because, in a sense, it was not important. The fact that one had loved and sinned and suffered and escaped death was of far less ultimate moment than a single footnote in a dim academic journal establishing the priority of a manuscript or restoring the lost iota subscript. It was the hand-to-hand struggle with the insistent personalities of other people, all pushing for a place in the limelight, that made the accidents of one's own personal adventure bulk so large in the scheme of things.

-Harriet Vane contemplating life at Oxford in Gaudy Night

Happy Graduation!

My sister Julie just graduated from high school tonight. I'm afraid I don't have good picture to share with you though. Anyway, she was valedictorian and got two or three scholarships plus some other award. Now she's off to nursing school. Julie with needles.....that's a scary thought :p I'm sure she'll be a terrific nurse though. Julie, we're proud of you.



P.S. Tomorrow I plan to start posting vacation pictures. Right now I'm off to reread Have His Carcass.

Loving my church family

Reading the blogs and reconnecting in small ways with the people I take communion with every Sunday has been one of the best things I've ever done. These people are like sandpaper for my soul stripping away the rust and challenging me to think and be in ways I never before dreamed possible. Thanks to Tom (pastor) and everyone else I'm learning that I really can like and love these people who are so different from me. Ever so slowly I'm learning that I can be me without looking down on everyone who isn't me. I'm also learning I can be me without feeling totally backwards and weird. It's a humility and an exaltation at the same time. Thank you RMC.

yearning after others

Having just come from coffee with a friend my brain is burbling over with fresh thoughts. That's one of the reasons I love my friends so much. Every meeting renews me and sends my thoughts whirling about in new directions. Even the most commonplace conversations can lead to fresh insights. On the way home from visiting with this particular friend my thoughts turned to the question of intimacy. As a married woman I am in the most intimate of all relationships. I share my living space, my daily experiences, and my body with one person. As the Bible says, "Abraham knew Sarah," and Allen knows me. And yet I still crave intimacy. I want to dig into people's heads and find out what they're thinking and feeling. I want to see their bleeding, brilliant, throbbing hearts and hear their stories about the scars on their souls. Sometimes. I admit that I'm not always the most compassionate and involved person. At times it's easier to camp out with my novels and my web comics than get out there and really try to care. Despite my apathy though there are some people who make me want to dive into their lives. I want them to pull me in and teach me to hear the voice of God and find His footprints in their lives. I want to find a tiny part of myself in this person who is so different from me and who yet has been bound to me by the waters of baptism and wine of Christ's blood. Unfortunately there are so many times that just doesn't happen. Sometimes conversations lag and struggle to find ground. Other times we completely fail to invest in the other person, to catch the clues to their struggles because we are so caught up what we want to say and all we have to tell. I suppose I should say "I."

What struck me on the way home though was that this painful struggle for real friendship and intimacy with those around me is itself a sign that God is redrawing my heart to look more like His. When you consider that, being triune, community is an intrinsic part of God's nature it's not so surprising that as humans its one of our heart cries. We are, after all, created in His image and are therefore like Him in every way that it's possible for a created being to be like God. I admit that with all the heartbreak that can go on in this search for friendship it can seem easier to go stone-faced and just deny our need for other people, but we were no more created to be stones than we were to live alone. Somehow out of all the everyday heartbreak that had me curled up and crying in a corner as a lonely teenager God has managed to pull a living heart that refuses to shut up and let me muddle through life as gray shadow, and tonight I find I can draw encouragement from the very fact of my longing since it represents one more little way I look like my Father. I'm alive and not dead, and however much my heart may break it still looks a little bit like the loving, communal heart of Christ.

Seeking out community hard, and it hurts. There are so many ways in which my desire for intimacy is thwarted and frustrated, and I know that my desires will never be truly satisfied this side of heaven. However I take encouragement in two things. Firstly in that I've discovered yet another mark of God's likeness on me and secondly in that this desire, springing as it does from God's work in my life, is bound to be satisfied in God's good time.

We're back!!!!

Allen and I are back from our vacation. Now I think I need another one we were so busy. First we went to Hilton Head with Allen's folks to see where Allen and his brothers were young. (This was Aaron's graduation trip.) Then after they left to go home Allen and I headed north to Charleston where we spent a very pleasant few days. From there we took a day trip to Hunting Island (don't bother) while meandering down to Savannah. Two nights in Savannah plus a change of plans led us to Jekyll Island (a place from my childhood). Another change of plans involving rain and mosquito swarms led us back home last night. Lunch/afternoon spent with friends with church afterwards. Back at home deleting endless freecycle and flylady e-mails and catching up on blogs.... I'm tired. Pictures and musing will be posted later this week in between unpacking and scrambling myself back into a routine of sorts.

At least I've cooked supper (or where did my day go?)

I need to be getting the apartment clean and things ready for our trip. Instead I'm tired and half brain dead. All that stuff I was going to do. Barely started. That special surprise I was working on for a friend. Haven't touched it. Long week + time of month + lots to do = tired Natalie. And I would just come across Anna's inspiring post about housewifery today. Too bad I'm too brain dead to feel more than slightly guilty about it. Maybe we'll try for inspired tomorrow. For now I'm just glad that there's a great big pot of soup bubbling on the stove for a very easy supper. That salad shooter makes fast work of carrots and zucchini. AND! There will be plenty to freeze for reheating later at the campsite when I just don't want to lug out the dutch oven. Hmmm, supper made and camp prep in the works. I don't feel so guilty now. I think I'm going to retire to the back bedroom with a Pratchett book until I work up the oomph to face that stack of clothes again. I have some serious sorting and putting away to do. Serious.

Congratulations Aaron!

My brother-in-law, Aaron, graduated cum laude with honors in Mechanical Engineering Saturday, and we are all so proud of him. He's a really great guy to know and often a lot of fun (when's he's not talking to Allen about memory allocation and such -goes right over my head). Pretty good dancer too. And if you think he looks tall. Yes. He's 6'8" I can truly say I look up to the men in that family :P

Here's a picture of him dressed up for our wedding


And Aaron engineering sand assisted by yours truly.

Love your neighbor as yourself

I'm starting to learn that this formula really does work. A week or so ago I decide that I was going to bite the bullet and start shaving my legs every time I shower. For my not so active lifestyle that means every other day. I used to shave my legs once a week. Sometimes less. After I started shaving my legs I started wearing skirts everywhere (even at home) just because my brain says "you aren't going to encase those smooth legs in blue jeans?!?" Programming I guess. Since I never really shaved my legs unless I was going to wear skirts, my brain now thinks nearly everyday is a skirt day. Also, I'm taking the time to do my nails and in general keep myself more up. What I'm finding though is that I'm just that little bit more willing to do something for Allen (or whoever else is around). I look neater, and I'm also helping with a more willing heart. I wish I'd learned this years ago. The other thing I'm learning is that it's totally ok for my to bypass the stuff I "should" be doing and head for the stuff that bothers me. It's ok to clean out the car instead of clearing off the coffee table if that's just what I want to get done. I don't have to live with all the woulda shouldas. As Allen likes to say "they don't live here." As a result I'm beginning to feel a teeny bit more empowered to tackle the work around here in a way that appeals to me. Yeah I know, that doesn't mean I can use perpetually organizing my sock drawer as an excuse to not do the dishes, (although I wouldn't mind trying some days). Really though. It's starting to sink that those voices in my head are...well, in my head. They don't live here, and I don't have to listen to them anymore. Nothing drastic has happened to hammer this in. I'm not a completely changed person on anything. I'm just that little bit more aware. It's a good feeling.

Update

I just got a call today. I'm going in for a school tour on Monday morning. I'm excited to see where God is going to take this.

stepping out

Well I just sent in my resume to apply for a job teaching kindergarten at a Waldorf style school in town. I think I may actually have a chance at it. Apparently they aren't ed degree state certification fanatics, and for being a secular school they seem to have a pretty cool approach to education. They're one of the non-standard types that don't pop children in small, dull compartments when they arrive at school, and I really like that. They seem to a little more imaginative than montessori although I really can't comment very well on the differences. The stuff that goes on a kindergarten classroom seems to resemble the sorts of things that would go on in my livingroom if I had a dozen kids around the same age -cooking, storytelling, puppets, crafts, play time, songs. Since I've thought several times that the sort of job I really want is pretty well summed up by "mom" this sort of job actually seems doable/likeable. I'm thinking that I'll probably get an interview, but after that we'll see.

I actually found this job after Allen encouraged me to think about getting one. Even though he's happy to have me at home, he was encouraging me to find other ways to share my gifts with people. He knows I like to spend time with people and do things that I find meaningful. It recharges me in a way that being at home spending time by myself really can't. Not that I'm anywhere near a true extrovert, but I do like spending regular time with people in a way that Allen doesn't. So right now I'm just sort of stepping out to see what God has for me to do. I'd appreciate prayers as this job really does sound good. No weekends and plenty of time to come home and get supper and in general take care of things like a good little housewife. I could never take a job that didn't let me be a wife first.

More Josh Turner

Elisa posting music on her blog has made me want to put up some of my own. I first heard Josh Turner on the radio about two years ago, and that bass voice of his is just about enough to make your knees weak. I love it. I also think guys with guns and trucks are cool too (hello new relatives). Yep, I'm just a country girl, and my kids are going to be even more country than I am 'cause I'm going to send them down to the farm real regular. They're going to learn to shoot and clear brush and mend fences....and do the sweetest little lindy circle you ever saw. But they won't learn that from their grandfather. Heck, I think I may just send them up to Trina and co for a month every year :D She's certainly the most self-sufficient, feminine, and altogether inordinately skilled woman I've "met." Anyway, enjoy the music.

Would You Go With Me


Long Black Train


The Longer the Waiting (this one is one of my new favorites)

Remember that dorky cell phone game?

Well watch this.

Vacation woes

Grrr, looks like we might have to postpone our road trip. Winds of change may be wafting at Allen's job, and now might not be a good time for us to leave. Not sure where this is going to go...

Virtuous me...:P

I have maybe 2-3 really good blogs churning up inside me, but since my dearest husband is telling me it's bedtime I suppose I'll have to work on them tomorrow. I wish bedtime and contemplation didn't go together so handily. Since my head feels like a stuffed bear though, and dear Allen is trying to make me take care of myself I'm going to be a dutiful wife and toddle off the bed as hubby bids.

Saturday musings...mostly on weddings

What with my low thryroid and often staying up late and such I confess I'm rarely out of bed by 7-8 in the morning, but what with my stuffy head getting me up at unusual hours I get to see a very golden morning light streaming across the river and through the trees. You can't actually see the river from my patio in the springtime, but there's a lovely mist coming up the banks which, having caught the rising sun, looks like a veritable blanket of sunbeams. It's all yellows and greens and misty greys out there, and it's very lovely. Makes me wish I'd gotten out of bed when I first woke up. You know how it is though when you have a cold that wakes you up. First you toss and turn a bit, then you lie there and debate getting up, then you drift off for about 5mins, then you toss and turn some more, stare at your adorable sleeping husband, and finally decide that if you're going to be awake you might as well go into the living room. So here I am. I rather wish I was getting ready to help with Katy's wedding reception. Her mom helped us out quite a bit with our wedding, and when I heard Katy was getting married I was so eager to help her out in return. Unfortunately I got sick Monday night, and instead of helping out I'm blowing my nose and blogging. Sick people aren't exactly encouraged to sneeze all over the wedding feast. I'm feeling somewhat better at least today. Maybe I can get through the wedding without looking like a flu case. I still wanted to help out though...I couldn't even go yesterday and help set up like I wanted to.

It's funny to think about another young woman getting up and getting to the church early and trying to get her hair done and her dress just right before they're supposed to shoot pictures. Then waiting in the bride's room for what seems like years until you finally get to go the foyer and wait another age before you get to walk down the aisle to the one man in the whole world. I will add that at that point amnesia pretty much sets in. I didn't hear hardly a single note of the music I'd picked and which the organist had specifically learned/arranged for me. One of the elders of my church gave me away, and now he has a tiny daughter of his own. Sort of a dress rehearsal for the real thing only 20 odd years early. We must have looked and odd couple. Waiting at the church for long made me tend towards the hyper while Allen was just the opposite and tended towards solemn. Still, it's interesting to think that so many memories just like mine and yet not all like mine being made today by a young woman going through many of the same motions I did over a year and a half ago. I guess the thing that started me thinking about it was waking up and looking over at Allen and thinking about Katy waking up alone today but not waking up alone tomorrow. It's one of those weird mysteries of marriage. And you know. It just feels different. Riding in the car to Atlanta after the wedding. It was just Allen and I riding in the car like we had so many times before, but it was like nothing I had ever done before. I knew the Allen I'd dated. I wasn't really sure I knew this oddly silent man I'd just married. In a weird way it would have been a relief to forget we were married and just talk or be silent together easily as we had so often before. It was ok by the next morning though. Marriage seemed a bit more normal after we woke up, and it was fun to count the hours. Of course it felt like it stuck out all over us that we were newly-weds. The jam-packed, bedaubed car may have had something to do with that though. There wasn't hardly a spare inch anywhere in that car. What with packing for the honeymoon and all the last minute stuff that car was a sight to send valets running for the parking garage. It's funny. A wedding is one of those things where you just have to jump in wherever you are. If you're parents are driving you nuts (or breaking your heart). If you're stressed. If you're scared of sex. You just have to jump in there where you are and start paddling. It's easy for me to have regrets about things. I could have been a little more hands on in some parts. I wish things with my parents had gone differently. I wish I'd had a better foundation for approaching sex. But...I didn't. And what matters now? We're married, and I have grown more than I ever thought possible. I'm starting to learn that you really do have to start with what you're given and go from there. We all have our own starting places that really have very little do with how good we are or what we earned or what we did or didn't do and everything to do with the places in which God has put us. It's super easy to have regrets, but it's not actually all that much fun. It's more fun to like the life you live than to want to be living someone else's.

According to Allen...

...this is me. I suppose I'm currently recharging from this weekend.


see more crazy cat pics

Grrr

Tonight I'm taking a page from Trina and enjoying lots of Pau D'arco tea with ginger and honey. And echinacea. Somehow I've come down with something. My energy levels have been pretty high the past week or so. I think all the things I've been doing to help my thyroid are working, but today I've just been dragging. Twelve hours of sleep last night, and I still spent most of today on the couch reading. Supper got made, but that's about it. Also, it's rather dangerous for me to be seasoning soup when I've got something of a cold. The curry soup ended up with quite a lot of ginger in it. Good stuff if you like ginger though maybe a bit strong for Allen's tastes. At least the place got cleaned up for Monday. So long as I get around to folding the laundry I think we'll be fine.

Flylady strikes again

So I'm sitting in church looking for something in my purse while our assistant pastor is going through the announcements. By the time he's finished I've stashed all my various hair bands and bobby pins in their little pouch, tucked the lipgloss back into its pocket, stashed some trash paper in my pocket for disposal later and in general reorganized and tidied up my purse all in about 90 seconds. I also found my pen. Regardless of the state of my bedroom I'm claiming this bit of impromptu organization as a good sign.

blog stuff

So I said on the sidebar that I have a GAIM account as Natalieblogs. I did/do. Problem is that I can't be on my main GAIM account and that one at the same time. For that reason I now have an AIM account as Natalieblogs. If you wonder why I put that on there and you never see me around, now you know. You can still e-mail me at the gmail address. It forwards to my main account. Hope to hear from you soon!

The Strength of Humans and the Terrible Grace of God

I am constantly amazed at what humans can withstand. I'm not even talking about people in Africa who've had their entire families destroyed. That's too big for me to even think about. I'm talking about people we go to church with and pass on the street. The amount of pain that some of these people have gone through is enough to make you ill just thinking about it. Going through it...some of these people I can't even imagine how they are walking around right now. I thought I'd been through some pain. Well, I have been through some painful stuff. But...pain on that level. I don't know what I want to say about this really. People hurting though. It's really scary. Think about. As a Christian I have to say that God loves this hurting person just as much as He loves me, and there is nothing standing between me and pain like that than God's mysterious will. I'm not here because I'm better. She's not there because God loves her less. If God wanted it, I could be in her shoes next week or next year. I haven't earned any exemptions from pain any more than anyone else has earned their pain. That is the terrible grace of God, and honestly, but for the grace of God I don't see how any of us could withstand His grace. God is good, but He is not always gentle. It's hard learning about both of these. When we're mad at God we want Him to be a monster so we can feel justified in hating Him. We don't want to say "I hate you" and hear in return "I love more than my own life. I will never leave you. I am constantly seeking you own best." What do you do when the one you want to hate most refused to play your games with you? If Allen is any indication...eventually you fall in love. Allen has taught me more about God's love than any person alive today. When I was screaming mad, hating myself and him too, he just held me and loved me until I pretty much gave up. It's really hard to hate in a perpetual onslaught of love. Of course sometimes the love makes it harder. Once we really come to terms with God's love we break our hearts again that a loving father has hurt us so badly. We want to run and hide until our father makes the pain go away, but our only refuge is in the loving arms through which all our deepest sorrows come. I really don't know how we do it. I certainly don't have enough faith to bless God in my darkest hours. That's something He'll have to do in me if He wants to hear it. I'm not being rebellious or flippant here. It's really something I don't think I have the strength to do apart from His grace. I suppose it's times like these when heaven seems only too far away. I suppose life is sort of like skinning your knee at the end of the driveway and waiting for your dad to come pick you up and carry you into where everything will be made better with Snoopy bandaids and fresh lemonaid. Life isn't just that, but I don't think it's less than that. All of us wounded and waiting for the place where all our tears will be washed away forever by Christ's love. It's like that hymn we sing at church:

1. Ten thousand times ten thousand,
In sparkling raiment bright,
The armies of the ransomed saints
Throng up the steeps of light.
'Tis finished, all is finished,
Their fight with death and sin;
Fling open wide the golden gates
And let the victors in.

2. What rush of alleluias
Fills all the earth and sky!
What ringing of a thousand harps
Proclaims the triumph nigh!
O day, for which creation
And all its tribes were made;
O joy, for all its former woes
A thousandfold repaid!

3. Oh, then what raptured greetings
On Canaan's happy shore;
What knitting severed friendships up
Where partings are no more!
Then eyes with joy shall sparkle
That brimmed with tears of late;
Orphans no longer fatherless
Nor widows desolate.

Someday we will arrive inside the terrible grace of God and find nothing to fear -only grace and love.

Btw, Dad, if you're out there somewhere. I miss you.

Beatles v Allman Brothers

Sorry, Elisa, the Allman Brothers are winning.




Blackbird was pretty cool though.

Why won't clean things stay clean????

Ok, so we clean up the back bedroom. Then we fold laundry in there. Therefore the back bedroom is no longer clean. But our bedroom is so not clean that we didn't want to do laundry back there. Then there's the living room. It too was clean, but yesterday contained a lot of blogging, scriptwriting, and dancing which meant that nothing got too cleaned up. Ok, so the kitchen got cleaned. That kitchen is always getting cleaned. It's ridiculous how much cleaning that kitchen can take and when I'm not even cooking no less. So it's blog, clean, scriptwriting, cook, think about sewing, look up swing shoes on the internet, get distracting learning about random kings of England, dance, think about sewing some more, run errands, blog about all the aforementioned...It's a crazy cycle. I've actually been doing pretty well. My energy levels have been good, but Allen has also pretty much been letting me sleep at late as I want due to a combination of me running around and us staying up too late a few times this week. It's awesome, but it also means that my window of opportunity (so to speak) is rather smaller than average. I suppose I need to just stop blogging about all this and just get a shower and get some of it done. I do confess though that it's just a wee tad frustrating.

Ok! Things I want to tackle today.

Kitchen cabinet.
Living room
Play Script
Cushion covers
Sending Carla that stuff I said I'd send her days ago.
Fix supper
Meet Elisa for more scripting

If I get brave....the bedroom.

Lindy +Youtube=why I'm still sitting on my couch

The stuff is seriously addicting. I watch it and watch it until I'm exhausted just from watching and hearing the music. It's wonderful. However, I have a clean sewing area, and I fully intend to take advantage of it. First though, a few script notes.

Flylady and Chaos or why I'm so proud of us

In the Flylady system chaos stands for "can't have anyone over syndrome." It's so true. There were times my mother-in-law would say she's dropping by, and I would completely panick even though she's the last person in the world to judge a person by their surroundings. But I did. I panicked, and then I panicked some more because things just weren't within 15 (or even 30) minutes of presentable. But praise be to God things are so much better than they were. For instance, we had a couple over last night. The husband is considering a career change, and Allen was sort of giving him an intro to programming just so he doesn't start on a college course and decide he's not interested. This is the sort of the thing that as a wife I'm really interested in helping Allen do -minister to other people using his strong points. Problem. The computer is in the back bedroom which also doubles as a sewing room and general stashing place. He and I both had been doing some work on it to get papers filed and things put away in the closet. Unfortunately the place was still an absolute wreck. I almost didn't know where to start. But...they were coming over. It really needed to be at least some better. WE GOT THE WHOLE ROOM CLEAN in about 30min. I was so proud of us. I honestly didn't think we could do, but apparently all our other bits of work had gotten us to the point where shuttling things away in the closet (mostly neatly) and throwing away the trash was all that remained. It was so incredibly freeing to see that huge expanse of vacuumed, decluttered floor. It makes me want to go clean out my freezer now.

Anyway, I'm not a model flybaby by any means, but she's right. Baby steps. You can do anything for 15min. Just start where you are, and you'll be surprised how far you can go.

Green eyed and hating it

Ergh! I hate, hate, hate jealousy. It's stupid and destructive and abso-freaking-lutely drives me up the wall. I stil get jealous. The craziest part is that I get jealous of people when I would never in a million years actually want to switch places with them. I'm jealous of who people who are close to their sisters, who's fathers are giving them away instead of watching from a back row, who have backyards. I want their funny houses and vacations and rosemary bushes and best friends, but I don't want to give up any of my neat stuff. I want my Allen and my green sofa and my cast iron pots. I want my books and my interests. I still want your stuff too. Is that pathetic or what? If I'm jealous of other people's lives maybe I should just get up off my sorry rear and make something of my own? Maybe I should think about that one a little harder? Gosh. It's pathetic. I'm most jealous of community though. For years growing up I heard comments: "you're so sweet," "you're so smart," "you inspire me," "I enjoy watching you." All of which were accompanied by various hugs and head nodding gestures meant to convey warmth and sincerity. I can literally count on one hand the number of times that actually turned in a friendship of any kind. Actually take away half my fingers on one hand, and I still think I could do it. Yeah, major pity party. Whatever. I'm tired of being treated as wall art!!! I'm not around to passively decorate your personal world. Jeesh. Put up or shut up here.* I want to have a decently large network of friends who look after each other and care for each other. I just don't know how to make it work.

Ok, I confess. I'm self-centered. Also, I grew up talking more to adults than to peers. With adults you just talked about yourself, and they were happy. With peers (who now happen to be adults) it's a little different. They don't just want to hear about me. I know this. And how many times do I completely miss the cue to ask about their life? Tons. It's embarrasing. I know I do it so much, and I don't know how to stop. I'm just not one of those people who can get inside your life story in ten minutes. I don't know how to do. I want to care about people and laugh and suffer with them, but I'm such a self-centered, messed up bundle of insecurities that I tend to bungle it a lot. Try not to hold it against me. If possible be my friend.

Ok, angsted out. I really do have a wonderful life in many ways. I have some good friends whom I look forward to getting to know better. I just needed to get some of that out. If anyone is reading this who I know personally...I promise not be whiny and pathetic just because you were invited to Freddy Foobar's birthday party and I wasn't. I may however blog about it :D


*This does not apply to anyone to whom I haven't made previous overtures. If I owe you an e-mail, send me a mirror, and I'll lecture myself for a while. If you knew me in highschool or even possibly college this probably completely applies. Not that I'm carrying specific grudges. It just got old quickly.

Culture shock of a peculiar kind

Last week was a little bit nuts for me. I had something (occasionally multiple things) going everyday, and I forget that my energy levels can still be pretty unpredictable. When I'm up I'm soaring, want to get everything done, trucking out to Home Depot for some plants I absolutely had to go buy that day, but then when I get home, beautiful portulacas in tow, I look around and say, "oh, dishes, bedroom, why did I spend all that energy running around?" Duh, it's more fun to pick out spring annuals than to hang up yesterday's laundry. The week concluded with a lovely lingerie shower for a very dear girl who's getting married in under two weeks. I don't know her very well, but her whole family are good friends with Allen's family. The mom actually did a lot to help with our wedding back in August 2006 and is one of the sweetest ladies I know. However, therein lies my culture shock. If you don't want to read plain musings on feminine sexuality then I suggest you stop right here 'cause that's what the rest of this post is going to be about...

Let me start of with an observation that struck me deeply. When Katy started opening her boxes and bags I made the joking remark "let's see if there's anything in there that will make her blush." By the end of the shower I felt I had been pretty ignorant to say anything of the kind. Lacy, tiny, sheer, black, white, short. As her grandmother put it, "some of those aren't for sleeping." Katy opened everything with undiguised pleasure and amusement -occasionally commenting how her fiancee had been quite excited to hear about this shower and how he must want to be a fly on the wall. Blenders and tupperware are all well in good in their place, but guys don't get married for a matching set of china. The real hitting point for me was when she opened up a gift from her grandmother. Apparently the two of them had gone shopping previously, and the gift Katy was opening represented her grandmother's final selection from among the various trifles they had perused together. I will add that this wise young wife-to-be admitted feeling a tad weird at first shopping thusly with her grandmother, but I don't think it lasted long because she pulled out a sheer, dainty confection that told me something about how Katy got be that radiant, joyful waiting bride exulting over her feminine finery. I looked around. Katy, her mom, her grandmother. I began to see that my remark earlier had only shown how far I still had to go because I began to see (as I should have known) that there was absolutely nothing there that should/would have made her blush. It was like my mother-in-law told me once when we went to pick lingerie for me "I'm a wife, and you're about to become one. It's ok." There's nothing to be ashamed of here. Sex is one of the blessings (and duties) of marriage, and children (daughters) should be made to understand not only the probibitions against it's misuse but also the vast pleasures that await its lawful use. Unfortunately there are some many moms who don't think that way. Katy's mother and grandmother were obviously eager too see she had everything she needed for her marriage, and part of that meant nice lingerie. To me it spoke volumes of the wisdom of that family in preparing each sucessive generation for the vast mystery of sex. There. Bluntly said. All of us women there, married and single alike, had come to celebrate the marriage bed and the joyous lovemaking that should occur there. In preparing herself for her husband she had everything to exult over and no reason to blush. Neither did she have any reason for bravado. The marriage bed isn't a dare. It's honorable, and there's no more reason to swagger over having been there (or expecting to be there) than there is to swagger over driving within your own lane. Unfortunately for me I never got that sort gut level understanding of marriage, and some of my shrinking before marriage turned into a sense of bravado afterwards which, like the shrinking, is centered around the idea that there is something either to shrink from or to dare. And the shivering center of that idea is shame. I've felt this sentiment myself and heard it echoed in others -lawful embraces make me feel something of a slut. Good girls aren't interested in such things. The fast one's are. If I really enjoy the physical pleasure of my husband's embraces it must mean that I really have something of the slut about me. But of course it's the opposite. It's the fast women who are aping the true pleasures of marriage and not the other way around. Unfortunately too many dear women have gotten it all wrong, and are teaching their children (especially their daughters) all wrong, which then starts another marriage off wrong...Praise God I had the sense to seek counsel and had some good friends who were able to point me in the direction of true peace and happiness. Praise God as well that He's brought me so far from where I was. Still...a group of women, some in mom's generation or older, naturally and joyously heralding another woman's journey into wifehood...I found it startling and beautiful. I began to grasp things about genteel, feminine womanhood I'd never realized before. Mostly, though, it challenged my ideas about mothers.

coffee v tequila and the joys of Script Frenzy

You know there are some times when I'm not sure which one is more potent. Tonight I went and script frenzied at Starbucks with Elisa and Carla (and O.Z.) and (thanks Cal) enjoyed a free peppermint mocha. Whew! I was ok driving home, but now my head is nigh unto spinning. I feel like I've been sipping rum or tequila instead of creamy, sugared, sorta kinda coffee. I'm starting to remember why I don't drink coffee on a regular basis. It can seriously makes me tipsy. There was one time in Knoxville during a writing center staff meeting that I really did start acting drunk. I started laughing more and talking louder. Embarrassing. Afterwards I stayed away from coffee at meetings and stuck with hot chocolate or tea. Anyway, I just thought this was curious.

On another note, I am officially an amateur playwright! I'm currently working on the second act of my opus debutus in which we meet Esme (fairy-godmother in training), Amaris (protagonist), Lord Henric (Amaris's father), and Lady Ileana (her mother). We also receive hints that this whole "invite the fairy-godmother to the christening thing" isn't as straightforward as it appears. To be continued.