They call it HoFo for short.

So, I'm about a third of my way through Grad School, and so far it's good, although for the life of me I can't justify even the fraction of it that we're funding. But anyhoo. This semester I'm taking the 1-credit class that is required for all the people in my major (do they call it that in grad school?) called Holistic Formation.
I'm not exactly sure what it is. Last week was our first session, and our leader told us a lot of things that it isn't, but never really got around to telling us what it is. All I know is, there are about 8 of us, and we sit in a circle, and last week (seriously) they had us draw a "faith map" on big paper with... crayons.
I have a bad attitude about this.
Part of the requirements for this class is to come up with a spiritual something plan, which includes finding a spiritual director and going on a retreat. I have a wonderful SD whom I've been seeing for over two years now, and have been on more retreats than you can shake a stick at. I'm feeling kind of in pretty good shape spiritually (as in, I'm addressing my spiritual needs currently- not that I'm spiritually perfect). The crayon drawing I dutifully drew last week was one I've done lots of times, with my middle school students. I saw my advisor in the hall after class and complained about it, and she told me to be a "good role model" for the others in the group. Sigh.
It reminded me of the battle I had with a former pastor over requiring the Catholic school students in our parish to attend high school faith formation classes with the "publics." In my opinion, youth ministries MUST have something- something for the kids who attend Catholic school, who take religion class every day. But, at least in that program, sitting through classes for the public school students was no the something. The pastor thought that the CS kids should be in those classes because they would build community, but I suspected that they'd be so resentful about having to be there after studying theology in school each day that they wouldn't be very open to building community. The pastor suggested that maybe the CS kids could be great role models in the classes, serving as mini-teachers. I doubted that they would be happy with this conscripted service, especially after paying a registration fee.
I thought that the Catholic School kids deserved programming that was designed to suit their particular needs and stage, and I would have gotten around to that if I'd been able to stay at that parish longer than I was. But in the meantime, I thought it was better not to force them through a program that would only build resentment of the Church.
Now I'm feeling like one of those Catholic school kids. But I guess I have no choice, I will muddle through and earn my one measly credit and wear down every crayon they give me. But I'm not gonna like it!

a-choo!!

I came down with it Tuesday night, and woke up to a fully-engaged sore throat, stuffy nose and (well, you remember) head that itched from the inside. Thursday I soldiered through my day, yearning for my bed all day but making it through nonetheless. Friday we went to Maine to infect... I mean, visit my parents and then headed back home. Scott started to feel it last night, so we had some ice cream to soothe ourselves, and went to bed. Mine has migrated into my chest, which ALWAYS happens when I get a cold. Scott slept in this morning, until the afternoon. At one point I tried to get him to get up and have some breakfast and he said "No." It's never really easy to get him out of bed but he never has flat-out refused.
Tonight we're supposed to attend a banquet, and I have a fabulous dress to wear- but it's not looking good. Maybe a nap will help...

Fall

This morning I woke up with a sore throat- was it just from sleeping with my mouth open? No, it's looking like the real deal. Now my head itches, from the inside. Dammit, I'm getting a cold.
This year one of my resolutions was not to suffer. If there's a medicine that will stop whatever nasty problem I'm having, I'll take two of it, please. My house is loaded up with anti-itch cream so that no bug bite would bother me, and pain-killers (nothing with street value, just Aleve, Tylenol, Excedrin) for whatever cricks and aches might crop up. Now I'm dosed with Motrin cold and allergy but it doesn't seem to have kicked in yet, despite the fact that I took it over 45 minutes ago. Ah well.
Outside the sun is just breaking through the gray of this morning. It looks like Fall out there- our big beloved Maple tree is dropping just a few starter red leaves, but soon I know it will start to look like a real party with confetti. At work, the tree I park under drops acorns on my car, and when I head for home, they rolllllllll off. We're already planning our usual Fall activities, and panicking about the Summer stuff we never did get to. Suddenly it's almost October.
Ah well, what can be done? We can't help but go along with it. When October comes, I can't still be in August. I guess if we can't slow down the time we can at least ride it like a roller coaster. Hands up everyone! Here we goooooo!!

I'm no mermaid, either.

I am no mystic. I bring a boulder-sized grain of salt when I hear about miracle sightings of what-have-you. There was a moment in time when the YM community was in a tizzy about rosary links turning gold, and I've heard lots of stories by people I don't know who have seen the sun "spin" or who have witnessed other kinds of phenomena like that. I guess my attitude isn't so much a "that is bunk" kind of attitude- it's more "okay, cool for you if that's what does it for you."
To me, though, the idea of rosary links turning gold or Jesus appearing in a kit-kat seems like a miss. What good does it do the world? I mean, if anyone can make their visage appear in a kit-kat, it's Jesus. But whyyyy? If we could trade those golden links for food for the poor, then I'd be on board. I just don't know if (or why) the Mother of Jesus or the Savior of the World would bother with appearing like this. Maybe it's just me but I think miracles should do something big for the world. How about a nice cure for poverty now and again, huh?
When I was in high school, at a particularly prayerful time in my life, I was alone in my church, staring at the figure of the risen Christ on the wall. I stared at his face for so long that his lips began to appear to move. But I couldn't understand what he was saying! I couldn't read his lips and he wouldn't speak up. It looked like words, but... ah well. Of course it was an apt symbol of my relationship with God, even now- He, speaking mystery to me. Me, not getting his message at all.
I'm not a complete disbeliever in miracles... and I guess ultimately, it's none of my business. If a newly-gold rosary brings you to a new level in faith, then good! And Mary-sightings in windows certainly get people talking and praying, and remind us of her presence. So that's something. But I'm no mystic. God doesn't speak to me in gold flakes or fillings. He doesn't speak to me at all. But I know he's around.

Soundtracks

So, I may have mentioned that this is a stressful week for me. I have three big events at work this weekend, bang-bang-bang... and I have big roles in all of them, especially Saturday's ministry day. My Dad had knee replacement surgery this week, which meant a lot of organizing of my siblings and me, to take turns being up there in Maine with my Mom. With most of us on an educational schedule, this would already have been a tough time to fit everything in. I'm jealous of my sisters and brother who live close enough to run up there in between things.
My Dad has had some complications, including a particularly scary one today. I've been worrying in between all the amazing amount of stuff I had to do today, from a 3 hour New Testament class (that last hour's a KILLER) and getting everything done for this weekend. On my way to class, I knew I needed some music to crowd out the thoughts in my head. I wanted something I could sing to, LOUD, with lots of words and no deep meaning.
I grabbed "Katy Lied" by Steely Dan out of my CD case and knew right away that it was the perfect choice. It's lyrics are mostly nonsense, something really hard to make any meaning out of. Whatever story they put together is so odd that it's hard to apply to one's life. And this particular album doesn't spend a lot of time on instrumental breaks.
I first got this album when I was leaving Washington to head back home from a serious folly, on a train trip that would take 4 days. It was a new album to me so it had the added distraction value of giving me lyrics to learn. It kept me going all the way across the country. I feel like I owe a lot to this album!
So Steely Dan it is, until I can get through a trip leg without fear and worry creeping in. Hopefully this won't contaminate the album for the future.

Simple Woman's Daybook

FOR TODAY 09/11/09...
Outside My Window... It's a regular Fall day- the wind is whipping, it's prematurely dark, the sky is cloudy and the rain comes and goes. It's a perfect day for cooking up some comfort food and watching old movies.
I am thinking... about the movie we're watching (old), from 1938, You Can't Take it With You. It is making me so happy, really, inordinately happy. It's about a crazy family bent on staying happy. It's making me laugh out loud. The dance teacher just said "I feel so good life is dancing around inside of my like a squirrel!"
I am thankful for... this fleeting chance at relaxation- this week will be a crazy whirlwind of activity, from our first weekend of GOF to my father's knee operation in Maine, to a banquet, and of course classes. It's exhausting to think about it, so I think I won't. Truth is, I love pretty much all of it, so that helps the stress stay at bay, a bit.
From the kitchen... Tonight I baked a chicken, and made spaghetti squash alfredo. Oh it was so good!
I am wearing... jeans that I bought today, two sizes smaller than my old jeans!
I am creating... well, nothing right this instant. I'll be creating all week- there's stuff I should be creating right now, by rights, but... tomorrow.
I am going... to Maine on Tuesday to visit my parents- Dad's operation is Monday, and we all are taking turns visiting. I think I'll bring the fixings for a good breakfast, including real cream and bacon and good coffee. Stick up for breakfast!
I am reading... all fun reading is off the docket now, and it's on to lots of Freud this week- and the Gospel of Mark.
I am hoping... that I can get it all done. Oh, I had decided not to think about that, right?
I am hearing... this lovely movie.
Around the house... mess! But also, a husband with a full belly and two sleeping cats.
One of my favorite things... is watching old movies. James Stewart and Jean Arthur are just adorable in this one. Last week we watched "The Man Who Came to Dinner." It was wonderful.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: Oh seriously, let's not talk about that now.
Here is picture thought I am sharing... here's my view out the window in our kitchen, I have this beautiful view every time I do dishes or wash my hands. How fortunate am I?

I'm not starving

Today was a long day, starting early with the funeral of one of our favorite parishioners, a 91 year old pip who we will sorely miss around the church. That meant, on top of the sadness, that we were at work earlier than usual, and dressed up.
It was a fairly productive day, but when I was ready to leave, Scott wasn't, and so I waited him out until it looked like i could make a break for it (both our cars were there).
On the way home, despite the fact that I was starving, I stopped at Target, and wandered around there for a while. Then I went to Trader Joe's for dinner fixins, and finally got my growling stomach home at around 9:00. I put dinner on to cook, and tuned into the prez's speech.
Just as dinner was juuuuuuust about ready, my phone rang. It was Scott, back at the church, calling to tell me that I had his car key in my bag. I checked, and he was right. I fell to my knees, shook my fist and wailed "WHYYYYYYYYY!?!?!?!?!"
No, I didn't, but I could have. Instead I changed out of that darn skirt, turned off the burner under my dinner, and got my empty belly back on the road. Soon, I hit a construction area which detoured me onto the very road I needed to travel, in the opposite direction. I will admit that here is where I started to pout.
I flipped on Canadian public radio, and As It Happens was doing a story about kids from some Canadian high school who sponsored a Hunger Banquet for their peers (they called it and "awareness lunch" I think. Those crazy Canucks!). One of the students said "it's not really much of a sacrifice to go for two school periods without food, but it did make me think."
I immediately apologized to God for using the word "starving" while driving in my nice car, soon to be back in my cozy home, with enough food to feed a lot of starving people quite nicely.

SNORC?

Starting today, life gets faster. We were up and running from an early (for us) hour, and just now are sitting down for the first time today. Tomorrow looks a lot like today, and then, every other day, forever, or at least until Easter. It's overwhelming to look at my calendar, which I've now started color-coding so that I can keep track of the different departments. I started class today, and the professor handed out a 55-page list of "recommended readings." FIFTY-FIVE PAGES!! I thought he must have been joking. He wasn't, though. Fortunately, the "required readings" were only about 3-4 pages long. Ha.
This morning as we both rushed about, I pulled out my brown shirt to iron. Weirdly, I saw that it had a letter N on it. Then, a letter S. They were TINY, but perfect. I went on to find O, R, and C. Here's a picture:
I wish I'd put a dime or something in the picture so you can see how tiny they are. They are about the size of a pencil lead. Really small. It was so strange to find them there, on my shirt. No idea where they came from.
As you can see, they spell SCORN. Or, I guess, CORNS. Either way, it seemed like a warning.
I got in my car and noticed that my trip meter was it 666.8.
But on I went, and made it through the day fairly unscathed. So far.

Brokey McBrokerton

This has been a sobering week. Yesterday my office mate's husband lost her job, out of the blue, after 40 years with the same company. Effective Yesterday. It was surreal how fast it happened, and painful to watch my coworker realize that her health coverage was suddenly gone- she stood, dazed, in front of my desk alternatively telling me what happened and taking long pauses where she gazed off into the air, doing math and looking into the future. It was not expected, not even feared, and now they have no time to plan for "what if?"
This morning I sat down to write the rent check and realized with that old familiar feeling that we are ALREADY broke for this pay period. How does this keep happening? We have no kids, no home improvement/maintenance bills. As I glowed about yesterday, we own very little. I took pen to paper and added everything up. It turns out, we don't make much money. I had fooled myself into considering my salary as my income- but in fact, with the two of us together making what we make, minus taxes, we end up with what would be a fairly good (for a youth minister anyway... ha!) salary for one person. If we were one person on that salary, we could get ahead. But after taxes come bills, debts we are working hard to pay off, and the car payments- well, you know the drill.
It's embarrassing to have to tell people that we can't afford to go to dinner with them (and sad, because going out to dinner is one of my very most favorite activities!) but the fact is, we sometimes can't. We just have to keep on keeping on until the cars are paid off and the debt is paid down, and hope that people still like restaurants when we are solvent again. And we keep reminding ourselves that we chose this lot, we earned this situation (and to be honest, no high-paying job where I could not be doing what I'm doing now would ever pull me away... for long. Ha!) and we are making progress- and we are thankful thankful thankful that we have jobs at all.

The Load Out (Stay?)

Today as I was on my way from one spot to another, I was listening to Canadian Public Radio. They were interviewing a man in California, whose home was being approached by the wildfires out there. The man being interviewed had decided not to evacuate but instead to "stay and defend."
I started making a mental list of what I would do in this situation- what would I bring and save, what would I let go? I thought: I'd need clothes, enough to wear for a week or so- (if the fire was today, I'd only have to grab my laundry basket) and some shoes- my engagement ring- I'd craftily grab our camping gear, so we could be woodsy survivalists, if needed- but first and foremost of course, the cats.
Scott added, when I told him about my thoughts, photos and our computers- and I'd have to agree with that, they contain so many of our pictures and documents and whatnot, and I would need to check facebook from the woods. Tonight on the radio, I heard another story about a Katrina survivor who thought he had gotten out everything important, but had left quilts that his grandmother had made him. We have quilts.
But the thing is, we don't have a lot that we couldn't live without. Leaving our house behind would be sad, but of course it is not our house- it's our landlord's. We have a LOT of stuff- way too much stuff- but when it comes right down to it, there's not a lot that we need. I feel a certain degree of pride in that.
Still, I hope the fires don't come.

Gifted

I stayed up late the other night watching POV on public tv. This episode was called Hold Me Tight, Let Me Go, and it followed a few of the kids and staff at a residential school somewhere in England. The kids were pretty tough, could be violent (and spat at people! And "wee'd" on the floor!) and had to be restrained often. Iknow I've mentioned this already but in my 20's, I worked at similar programs.
I was reflecting on it today and thinking about the amazingly patient and loving staff portrayed in the film, and remember how I used to be able to do what they do. I don't think I could do it now. I really requires a tough heart, a resiliency that I lost when I moved out of social work and into ministry. I thought to myself today "anyone who CAN do a job like that MUST do it, because the rest of us can't."
But then it occurred to me that some people might think that about MY job. I have heard many people over the years tell me they could NEVER work with teenagers, which always kind of blew my mind. I always thought "if they only knew how great it is..."
But the fact is, we are all uniquely gifted. And what we can do, we MUST do, because God has gifted us for specific reasons, for specific purposes. I am more convinced now than ever that we each have a role in the Kingdom- and that it is true, God doesn't necessarily call the equipped, but He always equips the called.

half longs

Every year I think I'm a wicked cool gardener and plant vegetables from seed. It is a ridiculous endeavor. My neighbors put in little plants and by now have big raging bushes of vegetables that they are overwhelmed by and have to give away (thankfully). But not me, I nurture hair-breadth seeds to minor success and weird shaped bounty.
Behold the cucumbers from my garden this year:














They came out as golf-ball sized roundy cukelets. My neighbor asked me if they, like my carrots, are "Danvers Half-Longs." Well, undeterred by their weird size and shape, we sliced them up for lunch today and let me tell you they were delicious.

love first.

Several years ago, I went for a massage. I was looking forward to a wordless hour, peaceful and calm while my tensions were smoothed away. The woman who was to give me my massage asked me about my work and life, and at the time I was a social worker for the state and a part-time youth minister.
A few silent minutes later, she asked me "I hope you don't mind me asking, but... what do you think about CHINS? Do they work?" A CHINS at that time was something you could file for in court if your family was in crisis but the kid wasn't breaking any laws and it wasn't a straight out neglect or abuse case. It stood for CHild In Need of Service. (Of course it should have been called a FINS: Family In Need of Service but that idea hadn't caught on by then- maybe it has by now.)
The massage therapist went on to tell me that her granddaughter was out of control, spoiled, didn't know how great she had it, and the girl's parents were at their wits end. They were considering calling the court to have her put on probation, or maybe sent away to a group home. She wondered if I thought that would bring her granddaughter around- would it make her thankful for what she had, if she'd lose it?
I wanted to stay silent and enjoy my massage, but I had that familiar burning that meant I had a message for her. I said "I think that filing a CHINS on her, and sending her away from the family will only convince her that her family hates her and has given up on her." She was, of course, taken aback. This was not the answer she was expecting from a social worker.
I suggested that this girl needed her family to take her in, take her on, be her hero. Instead of throwing up their hands in disgust, they needed to commit to doing whatever it took to bring this girl back in and love her, no matter what. I told the grandmother that she could love this girl back into the family. I suggested that she start spending more time with her, that she become the granddaughter's champion. And I suggested that maybe volunteering for people in need, AS A FAMILY, might help her better understand how blessed she is, how good she had it. I suggested they start attending church together.
She thanked me and finished my massage, and I gave her my card, and said that if there was any way I could help I'd be happy to, and that I'd be praying for them.
Many months later, maybe even a couple of years later, I got an email from the grandmother, thanking me. She said her granddaughter had come around, things were better, they were happier.
It makes me think about how easily frustration and anger can overtake our other emotions, blind us to other options we have, close off avenues that we should by rights be able to see. Negative energy, I think, is like a cancer, and we have to be vigilant at keeping it at bay. I have a bumper sticker in my office that says "Teach them Love." I think it's a good reminder for us as teachers and as learners. Love must be our first response, and love can change the world.

vacation ends

It was a great vacation, practically perfect in every way- when I look back on this vacation, the scenes will be all watery-looking, like as in a movie flashback to a perfect day.
It was a "staycation," pretty much, with some nifty day trips thrown in- but even though I was mostly at home, it felt like a lovely resort, except that there were no mints on my pillow when I got to bed at night, which is probably good because they would have melted. It was steamy, almost the whole time, but I didn't mind. We had one air-conditioned room, the bedroom, and spent a bunch of time in there eating meals on the bed, like a college student. But the best part was the mornings. (Parts? Were? If only an editor would read my blog!)
In the morning, while Scott slept in, I'd get up whenever and make my breakfast. I'd take it out to the porch with my book-du-jour, and sit out there until I didn't want to anymore. I read The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (hey that's a pretty cool book- did you know it's, like, allegory??), Driving with Dead People (dark, and not funny. But riveting), and Firefly Lane. I loved The Patron Saint of Liars, really, I mourned the ending of that book. Now I'm halfway through Annie Dunne, and all the way through my vacation.
As dreamy as the week was I'm excited to get back to work- just as our high school seniors are moving on and the end of their era has come, a brand new era begins- new kids, new families, a new theme, new classes, new plans. Here we go!!!!

I'm younger than that now

Holy Shit!* This aging thing is quite a trip.
I met up with some of my girlfriends the other day- we strolled down memory lane and realized with a shock that we've been friends for around 20 years. How on earth did that happen?
Then, when one of my friends was talking about a woman we all know, relaying her current situation and referring back to her backstory from 20 years ago, it hit me like a bat to the head: if our lives were books, (chick lit, obviously) we'd be at the resolution of a story arc. We know now, at around 40 years old, how the stories that began in our twenties, turned out.
We have perspective, wisdom, experience- we see consequences behind every action. We have sympathy and empathy that only comes from being in and out of troubling situations ourselved over the years.
We didn't have this back then, back when we started our stories together. It was all a laboratory, a writers' workshop, where we all laid down elements to an epic story- an autobiography.
A young woman, a dear friend of mine just starting in youth ministry gives me a hard time sometimes. She says "I can just hear you saying 'oh, you're so young, you'll see'" And she's right, things do look different from here, because while I'm watching her story unfold, I'm watching mine in reruns.
I'm grateful for whatever wisdom I've gained over the years, grateful for the teaching moments, the mistakes, the near misses, the lucky breaks. I'm grateful for old friends who can remember the beginnings with me. It's better to be 41 than to be 21.

* sorry about the cussing.

recipe: best ever fruit salad.

cube melon, other melon, and be sure to include watermelon. Throw in other fruits, berries. I'm thinking strawberries and kiwis would be delish in this. Put them all in a bowl, and then pour honey over them. Stir. Let sit for a while, overnight if you can resist that long.
Oh my it's good.

Stranger in a Strange Church.

I've heard it said that doctors can't enjoy sex. You know, because the Know Too Much. I imagine the same is true, in some way or another, for every occupation. Scott can barely stand to awatch movies that have Catholic stuff in them, because they always get things WRONG- like a combination of several liturgical colors on display at once in a church during a wedding, where they ask if anyone here knows of any reason why these two should not be wed? I have a higher threshold for this kind of thing than Scott does (I am the one who yells at him "IT'S A MOOOOOVIEEEEE." But seriously, are there no Catholics in Hollywood who could give these things a once-over?) but still, when I visit another parish, I have my Church Professional eyes on.
This week I'm on Vacation, and so I have the odd opportunity to take Sunday OFF. I decided to be ca-razy and go to Mass on Saturday, in a new church. I chose St. Joseph in Wakefield, one that looks sort of similar to my home parish in Brunswick ME. Bricks, modern decoration, round-square shape. As I walked in, I tried not to look for things to critique. Being a professional Churchy person means that when I walk into a parish, I'm looking at the decor, at the information racks- I'm looking to see if anyone looks back at me, if anyone smiles, if anyone recognizes that I'm an outsider. I'm looking to see where I should sit- somewhere nearish the front but not too far from the back- somewhere that I can see the musicians, see the ambo, figure out where to go for Communion when it comes time.
St. Joseph won me over- the people around me were friendly enough, that is, they smiled back when I smiled at them. There were no "obstructed view" seats, and I found a good place to sit. The altar servers were cute and well trained, the priest's homily was pretty good, they served Communion under both species. The musicians were phenomenal. They were two young ladies and a piano, and they sounded like a combination of Danielle Rose and the Wailin' Jennies. I would surely go back there. OH and at the end of Mass, the priest welcomed the musicians back from a trip they'd been on, asked for applause for our newest altar server, and congratulated a man who'd gotten a hole in one that day. I really liked that personal touch.
I'd go back, if only to pray along with those musicians- it seemed like a great place to pray. I hope my parish holds up to the standards for visitors who join us every once in a while...

Vacationing

This week the stars seem to be aligning for a true vacation week. Of course I'm not traveling anywhere, just a "staycation" as the kids are calling it these days, but these have always been my favorite kinds of weeks. My days are pretty much free for me to get up whenever, eat breakfast on the porch, then sit and read until I can't sit still anymore. The grocery shopping's done and the fridge is full (I noticed this time how few of the aisles I had to venture down, as most of my shopping happens out on the edge walls, where the fresh food is. That's a good sign, no?), and I don't even have a lot of laundry to do. The bedroom is clean and has an air conditioner in place, and the living room has a lazy but helpful ceiling fan for the not-quite as hot days.
I am devouring Driving With Dead People, a Memoir, which is fascinating, and like all the best books I've ever read, is affecting my speech patterns and creating in me an urge to narrate every moment of my own days. Oh and gobbled up The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe yesterday in one sitting. Today I actually sat in the sun with tanning lotion (sunscreen) on, for as long as I could stand it, which was only about 20 minutes.
I do have some plans this week, including one on SUNDAY which usually is an impossibility since I work in a church. I'm seeing some old friends, and maybe hitting the beach with my sister at some point. I'd like to clean out our garbage-can-nook, which is a far uglier place than the word "nook" makes it seem. It's smelly, and that's cutting into my porch reading enjoyment.
Meanwhile my grad school books have been ordered and are starting to arrive in the mail, like birthday presents but not. Cards, though, are appearing in the mailbox for my 41st birthday, this Tuesday.
I'm putting an entire Summer into one week and it's blissful. Ahhhhhh....

Several Random... Things.

Every other thought lately is the start of a fabulous blog post, but unfortunately none of my thoughts are the rest of a fabulous blog post. So, here are the starts.

When did people stop looking both ways, or using crosswalks? When did this "I dare you to hit me with your car" attitude start?

I'm turning 41 in less than a week. I guess that puts me squarely in my 40's. Aging is a weird thing- my nephew just told me that he "doesn't feel 20." Good Lord.

This Fall I'm taking New Testament (my brother says I should do well in this because I've "already read the book." In fact I've already taken the class, but it was 20 years ago, back when the New Testament had just been written!

This is the time of year when I start to yearn for Fall tv shows to come back. A little. But you know, I can wait! So.

I feel kinda bad about this whole Summer reading thing. I guess I forgot that libraries existed. But I'll confess I love owning books... our entire dining room is a library, basically, and it would be even more library-like if I had creative control over the interior decorating scheme here. The other thing about owning my books is that I have a habit of underlining and noting in books, and librarians, I bet, frown on such a practice. I just bought my school books, and can't wait to get into them... but I still have some Borders Gift Card moolah to spend on a couple of choice tomes for the next week's reading.

I forgot to start running, which I had intimated would be something I'd be doing by my birthday. It's really, though, in my defense, only been in the last month that I can run up the stairs without a weird spot or two of pain. So, you know, maybe now. Or, soon.

I have had some really great ministry moments in the last couple of weeks, which makes me hopeful and excited for this coming year. Summer is such a down-time at a church, people scatter and not much happens but planning... all hypothetical stuff. But our young adult group has been fruitful and fun, and made me feel like a minister again- like riding a bike after a long break. I did that this Summer, too.

I've been away from Spiritual Direction since the beginning of Lent. I don't know what happened, except that things were just going so darn well for me, spiritually- I feel kind of funny going for direction when I'm not having serious struggles- you know, nothing to "work on." But it's time to go back.

A week of free time, mostly, stands happily before me. I want to go to bed so that it'll be tomorrow. But then again, maybe I'll sneak out and look for some shooting stars!

Summer Reading

For the past couple of Summers our insurance company, in conjunction with the Archdiocese of Boston, has invited us to participate in a nifty little program. For filling out a questionnaire and vowing to improve your eating and exercise habits in the coming year, they'd send you a HUNDRED DOLLAR gift certificate, to any place that was listed (on an impressively long list!) of options on a website. I've dutifully filled out the questionnaire, vowed to improve, failed to do so, and spent all my money at Amazon.com on Summer reading.
This year, mysteriously, the offer did not come. I was at a loss for what to do, as I don't have a hundred extra bucks lying around for Summer books. I asked around and got a stack of paperbacks from my sister, and vowed yet again to read the Chronic (what?) les of Narnia. I still might get to that.
But now it's mid-August and I haven't bought ANY summer books, and I have a little vacation coming up during which I'd love nothing more than to spend hours on my porch reading something wonderful. I got Borders gift certificates for my pre-birthday and they are burning holes in my pocket book. But at this point, shouldn't I use them for school books?
I just tore through a book from my sister called Firefly Lane, a typical Chick Lit tome, which was not great but kept me reading. I think I'm past any Chick Lit phase I may have been in, if I ever was. Before that I read the middle chapters of My Stroke of Insight, a true story of a scientist who observed her own stroke while she was having it.
So, what next? I think I'll take a stroll (ha: scroll!) through my Amazon wish list and treat myself to just enough reading to get me through the month of August....