Sailing in the Harbor

I did actually take a few pictures of the area we were sailing around. However with the rise and sway of the ship most of them were somewhat fuzzy, and no matter how you cut it a blurry picture of Fort Sumter just isn't that interesting. As I may have mentioned before, this is one of my favorite sets from the whole trip. I hope you enjoy them.



I couldn't get enough of the sails and ropes -sheets and lines I think to the initiate. Those ships really were beautiful. Can you imagine old Charleston Harbor full of these graceful vessels?



With sails like these who knows where you'll land? My favorite picture of the trip.



She was a handsome thing of knots and timber. Another of my favorite shots.


I love the peace of some of these shots. There was a beautiful, restful harmony of wind harnessed in canvas and cord.


You might almost have thought this ship had been painted and packed so as to strike notes from the dusk.


Framed with timber and rope, watching the sun set behind the battery was something not to miss with all the church steeples strung out across the city.


Unfortunately this is the best picture I could get of the bridge. The ship's movement made distant shots almost impossible. This still gives you an idea though of how fine it looked strung out across the harbor.


That (finally) concludes our visit to Charleston. Later I'll post some of our pictures from Savannah and Jekyll Island.

Some backstory- testimonies

Kat was asking me to post a little more about where I've come from, so I'm going to try and remember to post a little more of my own personal backstory as I go along. There are too many questions to cover in one post, so I'm just going to take a couple and run with them. I suppose you can call this piece of the story my testimony. I'll try to keep it brief.

I have pretty much the typical good Christian kid testimony -never knew a time when I didn't know the name of Jesus. I started out (so far as I remember) going to a little church called Chestnut Grove Baptist Church outside of Atlanta, Ga. I also remember having a little girl crush on the associate pastor there -Preacher Tommy by name. I used to make up songs about him. I don't know that I could have been more than 5-6 at the time. Even though I grew up in church it wasn't until we moved to Alabama that I "prayed the prayer" and eventually got baptized. Throughout that time I went to mainly Baptist and Bible churches. We tended to move around a lot. Something would happen in the church, and we'd pack up and move on. After a while my parents sort of got burned on church, and we ended up taking a year or so sabbatical from church. Us kids didn't much like that, but after we'd about been to every church in town we were getting a little tired of moving. I learned a lot about that though - like just how easy it is to be anonymous in the Church nowadays. Even when you've volunteered for VBS, drama, and been to the church youth retreats you just slip away like you'd never been there. No one calls to ask where you've been or how you're doing. You just roll off the face of their world. Pretty sad I think.

I also learned a thing or two about youth groups. Let me tell you they kind of give me the heebee jeebee's now. There's too much emotional manipulation going around under the name of firing kids up for the Lord. I've been on those camps. You come back after spending your days and night overstimulated by too much noise and sugar, and you just end up depressed for a week or so afterwards. They tell you about this like you're living in a spiritual high at camp that just can't be maintained in real life when really you've been at one huge rockfest all week. That's not a spiritual high -that's overstimulation followed by exhaustion. Somehow I don't think Jesus becomes more real just because you've paid $50 to get away for the weekend with two thousand other teenagers, and the Jesus band has an awesome drummer. That's getting away with your friends so you can clap and stomp your feet to musicians you really like. Don't get me wrong. There are some great musicians out there and some speakers with really great messages. I'm just skeptical about the results of growing up in a pyrotechnic church culture.

Putting that aside-eventually my family ended up going to the church my in-laws used to attend. We'd actually met them previously through highschool debate team, but this was my chance to get to know them better. During the course of this I started getting to know Allen better through their college/career age ministry even though he primarily went to another church. Well finally Allen invited me to visit his church one night. It's the Presbyterian church we attend today. The first time I went Steve was preaching on presbyterian church order. Wow. What a sermon for the new kid. After giving Allen several broad hints that I actually would enjoying visiting his church again with him sometime we ended up going together most Sundays. For me Calvinism just clicked. It explained some things I'd always had questions about. One the most important steps in this journey was reading Putting the Amazing Back into Grace. I was so convicted after reading that book. It answered questions I hadn't even been able to put into words before. I started reading more books by Reformed authors like J. I. Packer, C. S. Lewis, and Peter Leithart. And that's pretty much where I am today. I love going to church that follows the Church calendar, celebrates weekly communion, and is diligently seeking to build a community of grace. I have people around me whom I refer to as "heavenly sandpaper." They are the people who are shaking up my understanding of what it means to be a conservative Christian in the 21st century. I may disagree with them, but through them and with them I'm learning to how to be an authentic Christian -authentic because I'm secure in who I am in Christ and therefore don't need to either boast or whine. I'm still working on believing that God really loves me and responding to Him in love rather than from a sense of duty or obligation, but that will come.

Oh yeah, and last week Pastor Tom told us (the congregation) flat out that we need to aim at reading our Bibles more. Since I know I don't even read mine one tenth as much as I should, I'm really going to try and get on it. Tom is the sort of pastor who makes you feel that he really is looking out for you and that you'd be seven kinds of fool if you didn't listen to his advice.

Great Big Sea

They are coming to Atlanta. Allen and I will be there. I am excited. If you want to be excited too you should get tickets and meet us there. In the interest of convincing others how awesome these guys really are I'm including some videos. They don't have good videos of some of my favorites, but these will give you a pretty good taste of their foot-stomping Newfie style.

Donkey Riding


The Old Black Rum


A Boat Like Gideon Brown (on Puzzle Pirates I have a sloop named Gideon Brown)


And a music video of them joined by the Cheiftans on Lukey's Boat.


I wish I could share some of their ballads with you, but they aren't up on youtube that I can find. You'll just have to take my word for it that they can be balladeers as well.

Lindy!

I feel like a real lindy dancer. My Aris Allens came in last week, and I have just come from trying them out. They are great.


Yes they don't look like what you might expect in a dance shoe. Lindy hoppers like to keep it low.

sneak peek

Since earlier today I told a friend I'd try to get up some more of my photos I thought I'd go ahead and throw up a wee sample of the subject matter. Hopefully the rest will get up in a couple of days. Then I have even more pictures I have to get up. Fortunately/unfortunately Allen found the other memory card. Fortunately I can take a couple thousand pictures on this one without worrying about running out of room. Unfortunately that's that much less impetus to get the pictures off the memory card and onto my blog. I'll try though.

Happy 4th

I hope everyone enjoyed their 4th of July. We spent part of our's eating hamburgers at Grandmom and Granddad's, playing Munchkin, shooting off bottle-rockets, and watching the various fireworks shows flickering across the valley.

Yummy, yummy eggs

Last night Allen fixed us some wonderful omelets for supper. There are plenty of times when Allen will chop, and I'll cook. Omelet nights are the reverse. I chop, and Allen is one who really makes all the yummy happen. These were Allen's first attempt a recreating an omelet he had at Kerbey Lane Cafe in Austin -namely their baked potato omelet. For these Allen and I used 3 baked red potatoes, 8 sliced of crumbled bacon, approx. 3/4c chopped green onions, aged Australian cheddar, and a total of six eggs for our two omeletes. Plus various seasonings of course. They were so good. To make them you sprinkle the bacon pieces and chopped onion on the eggs as they are cooking in the pan. Then after you've flipped it you add pieces of baked potato and cheese and fold over. As to seasonings a sprinkling of salt and pepper beaten into the eggs is sufficient. I like to add red pepper, but Allen can tell you I'm a cayenne junky. As to temperature, times, and flippablity I can say very little. Allen is the egg genius in the family. I mostly just scramble 'em with cheese. Not only were the omelets very good, the leftovers scramble up wonderfully. Today I scrambled up the leftover green onions with half a red potato lightly sauteed in butter, salt, pepper, and cayenne. Very satisfying with a slice of whole grain, 3-seed toast spread with coconut oil.

I love it when Allen cooks for me.

Blog friend, blog friend where have you gone?

One my blog friends, Elisa, is taking down her blog soon. Fortunately I have the privilege of knowing her in real life, so it's not as though all is lost. Her announcement just made me realize how much I like having lives written down in words. They become like favorite stories I can turn to again and again. When I'm tired, lonely, don't feel I fit in, mad, or even outrageously happy I can turn to these lives like turning pages in a book and find the comfort and camaraderie I seek.

For instance, while giving her blog a farewell read I came across a post in which Elisa blogged on her seeming disconnect with her culture as a young, single woman. From my vantage point I want to say "No way, hosea! You have the perfect single life -cooking, gardening, friends and pesto, Sunday morning bike rides to Starbucks, that glorious bike, walking distance to the botanical gardens!?!?1" Like I said -perfect single life. But there are all these reasons why Elisa didn't feel like she fit into the role. There are all these reasons I feel like I don't fit into my role. Why it shouldn't be the same for people around me I don't know. But I made that assumption. Then I stumbled back upon that blog post and found what a ridiculous assumption it was. Maybe other people feel the same way? Maybe I should stop projecting? Just a thought.

Anyway, it's been a wonderful trip reading her blog till now. I'll miss it.

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.