The Grand -- If you cut me, I would shine. - the conversation i was having in my head

Moving Right Along...

Okay, who is surprised that my three-week break turned into a three-fortnight break? However, the break is officially over. What's more the site is now running on some new blogging software and sports a snazzy new design. You can check it all out here.

The site's URL has changed somewhat, so please update your bookmarks. Also, the site newsfeed is now located here, so please update your newsreader (if you're into that whole RSS thing, that is). (Of course, this paragraph is courtesy of my geeky husband.)

Posted by Renae at 09:16 PM | Comments (0)

(Official) Blogging Break

Instead of just leaving everyone hanging--you hoping against hope that I might actually post one of these days and me guiltily knowing that I probably won't--I'll go ahead and make it official: I am going to take an on-purpose break from blogging for let's say three weeks.

I'm hoping in the next week or so to give the morning sickness a big, wet kiss goodbye (it is getting better); we're taking a short trip to the Pacific Northwest to celebrate (a little late) two blissful years of marriage; and Jason is working on a new look for the blog, so that will be exciting too. Good times ahead, folks . . .

Posted by Renae at 11:51 AM | Comments (5)

Baby Morehead

We're going to have a baby! A baby. Baby. A baby. (I keep thinking that if I repeat it enough, it will begin to sink in . . . we've known for about six weeks now, so I think it's finally starting to.) We are absolutely delighted and, yeah, a bit scared sometimes, but mostly we are excited and so very thankful and utterly and completely in awe of this little blessing (and by "little," I only mean physical size-wise; right now the little squirt is bigger than a kumquat but smaller than a lime).

The ultrasound pic was taken about a week ago (at ten weeks). Everything looked great (I'm tempted to be obnoxious and already start bragging about the kiddo!). We're very glad the proportion of head (on the right) to body evens out.

Proud papa's thoughts are here. Jason is referring to the little bean as "Baby Opus" on his site, but, sorry folks, "Baby Grand" just isn't going to work.

Posted by Renae at 03:28 PM | Comments (8)

Jason wants to mow the lawn first

He says it's like a brand new jar of peanut butter or tube of toothpaste . . . but manlier. Okay.

Posted by Renae at 09:33 PM | Comments (0)

These are a few of my favorite things

A list of some of my favorite things in no particular order (inspired by this post):

1. Riding my shiny new bike.
2. My husband, who rubs my head when I'm blue.
3. A hanging basket of pretty purple petunias.
4. Sheets dried outside on the clothesline.
5. Sitting inside my house, doors and windows closed, and hearing Livia call my name from her porch.
6. "Take On Me" by A-ha
7. Laughing when I'm all alone because I remember something funny.
8. Talking politics with people who aren't overly invested.
9. Sixty-five-degree weather.
10. Borrowing something without asking first as a sign of familiarity (not presumption).
11. This photo of Jason.
12. Baby feet.
13. Making up words.
14. Telling Jason about something pop culture-ish that he doesn't already know about.
15. Giraffes.
16. Sitting down in the chairs and having a full conversation in the furniture store.
17. Riding a ferry.
18. Entering fully into worship.
19. Playing Pitch with Kate.
20. Working at Scooter's with Joie, who works at Scooter's but is not working at Scooter's, when Brook is working at Scooter's.
21. A glass of wine on the porch.
22. Being completely sucked into a TV series on DVD (e.g., Lost, Buffy, Angel, Battlestar Gallactica, Veronica Mars).
23. Guessing the right size Tupperware for the leftovers.
24. The smell of summer in the city.
25. Laughing hard.
26. A twenty-minute break with a friend that turns into an hour and a half (I'm looking at you, Rebecca).
27. Starting a project.
28. Being truly happy for someone else.
29. Finding jeans that fit.
30. Being far enough out of the city to see the stars.
31. Sunday afternoon naps.
32. Exploring a new city.
33. Wandering around Target with no particular goal in mind.
34. The total rush of energy the first day you feel better after you've been sick.
35. Roller coasters (real, not emotional).
36. Browsing around Borders or Barnes & Noble as a date.
37. Cable TV in a hotel room.
38. Giving a compliment that is graciously received.
39. Having mown the lawn.
40. Getting the mail--all the more so when there's a letter from a friend.
41. Cheering on the marathoners.
42. Avocados.
43. Seeing small and somewhat random prayers answered; seeing big prayers answered.
44. Riding the subway.
45. Introducing someone to a new restaurant.
46. Bouquets from the garden.
47. Drinking milk from the carton.
48. Being invited and feeling welcome.
49. Hearing and/or seeing what inspires another person.
50. Coming home.

Posted by Renae at 12:23 AM | Comments (12)

The year in cities

Barring getting stuck overnight anywhere in the next nine days, these are the cities where I spent one or more nights in 2006.

Lincoln, Nebraska
Nebraska City, Nebraska
Rochester, Minnesota
Omaha, Nebraska
Peoria, Illinois
Denver, Colorado
Laurel, Nebraska
Yankton, South Dakota
Toronto, Ontario
Fremont, Nebraska
Norfolk, Nebraska
Shawnee Mission, Kansas

How about you? Where'd you visit?

Posted by Renae at 08:54 AM | Comments (16)

He says he's not a morning person...

...and yet I was awakened this morning by Jason's rendition of this. So I'm skeptical.

Posted by Renae at 07:51 PM | Comments (2)

How does your craft graveyard grow?

Friday was one of those rare, lovely days where I had no work/editing obligations. I woke up with a creative bug and realized I finally had time to quilt. I have been working on a quilt for our bed since before we were married (although I am in no particular hurry since Jason's mom made us a georgeous one for our wedding). I had stashed the project away for so long that I first had to spend a good chunk of time ironing and figuring out where I was. In any case, I made a good deal of progress. I'm all done with the squares and now just need to sew them into rows and add a border to finish the quilt top (I say "just," but I probably have ten or so hours of work left).

Continuing the creative theme of the day, my friend Beth came over in the afternoon to teach me to knit. A fascinating process knitting is. You start with string and you twist it in particular, sometimes frustrating ways, and then it becomes something warm. Weird. I'm starting with a scarf and hoping to move on from there to mittens and then, if all goes well, a sweater for Jason (since we have had no luck finding one in our recent shopping ventures and since how cool would it be to say "My wife knitted me this sweater"?).

Those of you who know me well know that this flurry of creative activity is cyclical and that soon I will no doubt become consumed with work and/or overwhelmed with the repetition (knit one, purl one, knit one, purl one, knit one, purl one) and sheer magnitude of the projects (repeat until it's a long scarf) and abandon these partially finished projects to the craft graveyard growing in my basement. I am tempted to be embarassed of such predictability and perhaps seemingly irresponsible behavior. However, I have had a change of thinking about this recently.

I realized that these projects are supposed to be fun and/or relaxing. If they're not, they're not worth doing. And feeling guilty because I should be being creative is probably the worst way to make it fun. When I first learned to quilt, we took a trip up to Erin's parents' farm (her mom owned a quilt shop) for a long weekend. The rule was we quit (for the day) when it wasn't fun anymore. Brilliant.

Certainly there is something to be said for finishing a project. And I love that feeling too. I'm not saying that I want to have only unfinished projects; I'm just saying that perhaps unfinished projects aren't quite the enemy they are sometimes made out to be. Embrace the project graveyard!

(In this spirit, instead of giving up on my daily photo project [not to be confused with DPP], I've decided to continue with the a series--photos are numbered 1-26 and, so far, a1-a3; when I miss a day or two in the a series, I'll begin the b series...as long as it's fun.)

Posted by Renae at 12:22 PM | Comments (5)

ing

Thinking what a nice, relaxing Sabbath day this has been.

Drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows.

Editing even in my dreams last night.

Taking tomorrow off of work.

Planning to subdue my household, which I have sorely neglected these past several weeks.

Stretching my poor sore arms that are still stiff from playing with the Wii on Thursday.

Reading (well, nothing at the moment, but planning to pick up) Peace Like a River, which I bought several weeks ago when Rebecca and I went to the library booksale (as soon as I get done blogging).

Enjoying the fact that Jason is just over there reading in the big, comfy chair.

Wondering if it should trouble me that this is the third night in a row that I have wanted to go to bed before nine o'clock.

Resolving not to commit to NaBloPoMo next year. Seriously, folks, there simply isn't something to blog about every day.

Yawning. See also wondering; resolving.

Posted by Renae at 09:12 PM | Comments (1)

Two Truths and a Lie

1. This is what is currently written on our kitchen chalkboard.
2. I wrote it down because it's what Jason asked me to call him.
3. The nickname was inspired by a conversation with Joe and Karen.

Posted by Renae at 06:59 PM | Comments (7)

Light fixtures and the unfortunate case of trying to repaint the bathroom.

The week after our honeymoon Jason and I tried to repaint the upstairs bathroom. It was bad: like find-me-crying-in-the-closet bad. We tried to paint this lovely, watery blue over the yellow that was there, except it wasn't just the paint color that was watery. Even after three coats, you could still see the yellow through the new paint. Well, you still can, actually--to save our sanity, we abandoned the painting project, and despite many offers from courageous friends to help us finish it up (Christina, Brook, Joie, Rebecca, both sets of parents--forgive me if I've missed anyone), we have not returned.

One of the side projects we undertook in the process was to paint the gold fixtures (lights, medicine cabinet, switch plate, towel holder) silver. And, not surprisingly, we had almost as much trouble with the fixtures as with the walls. We were using spray paint, and we just couldn't get it to be not drippy and runny. So finally we just gave in and put it on all thick and swirly. Now the modern art part kind of clashes with the old-school etched-glass glass part, so it reminds me of an ill-conceived Trading Spaces art project. The thing is, though, that I kind of like the light fixtures in spite of all that.

When all is said and done, we have an unfinished-looking bathroom that works just fine. This is not to say that we will never finish it, but what I finally realized is that I don't actually care all that much. Even better, neither does Jason. I think we care (don't care) the same amount, and somehow that makes me really, really happy.

Posted by Renae at 01:46 PM | Comments (3)

Potential

I have a bit of a thing for attics. I like that they have lots of different angles and slopes. I like the view from higher than the rest of the house (third or even fourth floor). I like that they often hold secrets or boxed-up memories (I remember sneaking up to the attic of my grandparents' seven-bedroom farmhouse to raid whatever my dad or aunts and uncle had forgotten up there and being endlessly fascinated by papier-mâché Jonah and the Whale in my other grandparents' closet/attic place). But I especially like that whenever I go up into an attic, I feel like I am stealing away--even when I lived in an apartment where the attic was actually our living room, I often felt that I was hiding out up there.

The attic here is unfinished--nothing but stacks of insulation--and the steps up to it currently serve as our linen closet, but we have hopes of someday finishing it. We have tossed around several ideas--tv room (too bright); guest room (we'd want to use it more often); art/craft studio (more for me than Jason); kids' playroom or bedroom (frankly, we want it for ourselves). For now the most practical plan seems to be to make it a shared office. The potential problems of keeping it cool in the summer and warm in the winter notwithstanding, wouldn't it be great? I'm very tired of editing this afternoon, and I'm tempted to crawl up there right now and start figuring out where to stash all that insulation. Seriously.

Posted by Renae at 03:10 PM | Comments (2)

Porch lights

When we were engaged, Jason mentioned that he had seen lights strung up on a porch--just lights, not Christmas or other special occassion lights, just white all-the-time lights--and that maybe we could do that with our porch as well. I was thrilled at the suggestion, not only because it's a cool idea, but because it reminded me that we were making plans to have a home together and it let me know that he was thinking about it too.

It took us a while, but finally this spring we got the lights put up. The setup may be rather ghetto, as Lou would say--we either have to thread a cord through a hole in our front screen door or run a bright orange extension cord all the way to the outlet on the back porch (the current plan). But the lights themselves are lovely--warm and welcoming. When we have them on (less often than I'd like), I just want to go out to the sidewalk to look at them or open up the blinds so I can see them from inside. They make me want to linger long on the porch with good friends. They make me think (remember?) that something special is going on, something good and full of laughter and lightness.

Posted by Renae at 08:02 AM | Comments (2)

Real time

A little background: One of the interesting things about still living in the Grand--but now with just one boy instead of three other girls--has been finding a way to refer to the time and structure of the relationships when it was the four girls living here. Joie and I had a conversation not too long ago, and it occurred to me that we usually use the shorthand of "the house," as in "I never really thought of that before the house" or "Remember in the house when..." or simply "I miss the house." In every instance "the house" refers probably to the physical place but primarily to the relationships: even though I still live here, I often say "when I was in the house...," meaning when I lived with Brook and Joie and Charity. Jason and I have a slightly different shorthand: he'll say "when you lived here...," meaning, of course, "when you lived here before I did."

The other day Jason was trying to figure out how to change the air filter on the furnace, and finally he asked, "How did you do it when you lived here?" My immediate answer was, "I don't know; Brook probably did it." (Incidentally, he finally figured it out and the real answer must have been "nobody did it," because hoo-boy it was nasty.) And then I got to thinking about how often I answer these questions with "probably Brook": Who bought toilet paper when you lived here? Who changed lightbulbs when you lived here? Who tested the fire alarm (other than cooking disasters) when you lived here? Who changed the electrical outlet from two-prong to three-prong (impressive!). All Brook.

Why the clock: On Tuesday evening Brook, Joie, Alison, and Rebecca came over to celebrate Brook's job change. Toward the end of the night, Brook walked into the kitchen I assumed to put her glass in the sink. It took longer than it should have, though, so I wandered in to see what she was up to. I found her setting the third of my three kitchen clocks back for Daylight Savings Time (I might have gotten to it eventually). Classic Brook! And just one of the gazillion delightful things about her.

One more Brook-related clock story: When Lou and Brook and I lived together, Lou and I would always have our clocks set about five to ten minutes fast, which drove Brook crazy. She finally set the clock to the "right" time and put a big sign above the clock that said "Brook's World," to which our friend Kacy added "has nothing for me, and Brook's world has everything." Funny stuff, and even more so if you catch the reference.

Posted by Renae at 03:30 PM | Comments (4)

A dining room table

November is National Novel Writing Month (our friend Jared is going to participate. Go Jared!). I am not nearly that ambitious, but I am instead going to participate in National Blog Posting Month--which means I'll do my darndest to post every day in November.

I found out about this blogging month business through Chookooloonks: The Journal, a wonderful blog by Karen Walrond (whom I don't actually know...unfortunately--she seems just amazing). I am additionally using her idea of posting about some of my favorite things. I loved her reasoning:

Okay, so let's do this: For the next 30 days -- except for Love Thursdays -- the images I'll use on here on Chookooloonks will be photographs of some of my favourite things -- items which, for me, help transform our house into home. In many ways, I think photographing these items and telling you why they're important to me will give you about as personal a view of me as I've ever done, so I'm a bit nervous, but hey -- you only live once. And if, as they say, you can't take it with you, these are some of the things that if I could, I would.)

So...here goes:

Before I moved to the Grand three and a half years ago, I lived for six or seven years in places without a dining room. And I missed it dearly. You know that I'm not necessarily a formal dining room sort of gal, but I missed having that particular kind of space. I prayed for a while about "someday" having a dining room and then, to be honest, kind of forgot about it and even moved a couple more times to dining room–less digs.

But wouldn't you know that this house (the answer to so.very.many.prayers) had one! And what's more, we got this beautiful table from Zion. We (probably Charity) let it be known on the Zion e-mail list that we needed a table, if anyone had one. And it happened that there was a table in one of the offices that wasn't being used, and they said we could have it. I do like the table itself--it seats about eight quite comfortably and I think we've squeezed up to twelve; I like the look of it; and I can even forgive that the leaves take more patience than I have every time--but more than that, I love where it came from and I love what it does.

The table was the first experience I had had of a church providing for a need of mine (and, truly, this was really more of a desire than a need). It's not that I didn't understand that the church, that is, the people in the church, could do that sort of thing; it was simply the first time that I had ever actually let a need be known. It helped me very concretely to understand that God is not stingy, that he is able and, the part I had more trouble believing, willing to provide something as straightforward and specific as a dining room table. I was not yet even attending Zion at that time, but having the table helped me feel a part of a community, something bigger than me (and, more specifically, the body). Still does.

And, of course, I love the functions that it serves--just as I suspected I would. From dinner parties to art projects to good conversations (I remember especially one with Charity while we were folding those crazy Christmas party invites a few years ago) to the mail piled on it today, it holds, literally and figuratively, much goodness and many memories.

Posted by Renae at 05:42 PM | Comments (3)

Not your father's recliner

So Jason and I made a trek to Omaha yesterday in search of furniture. The quest for a couch is becoming a saga. No luck as such, but we did end up making a purchase. That's right. This old school beauty (in red!)--or one very much like it, I honestly couldn't tell the styles apart, they're all very puffy--will soon grace the corner behind the door formerly (well, still, actually) known as the L'Abri corner. No, really, I'm not kidding.

Now I hope at least some of you are appalled that a woman of such impeccable taste as myself would actually allow onto the main level of my home a rocker recliner (as everyone knows, recliners come from bachelor pads; they go directly, do not pass go, to the basement or other preapproved boys-allowed-to-decorate space; comfortable as they may be, they're ugly). To you I say, yes it may be ugly, yes it may be puffy, but don't knock it 'til you've tried it, doubter. And when you do try it, bring a lot of books and be prepared to beg to have your meals brought to you for the rest of your natural life. Because, I'm warning you, you're not gonna want to leave.

Posted by Renae at 10:50 AM | Comments (8)

Airshow

We headed out to Air Park this afternoon to watch the Lincoln Airshow (although I think it's official name is something like "Guardians of Freedom Airshow"). I was delighted to find that inside my husband still lives the spirit of the most charming eight-year-old boy. We brought home toys. I'll leave it at that.

Posted by Renae at 06:56 PM | Comments (2)

Happy Anniversary to us!

We headed up this weekend to Yankton, South Dakota, to celebrate our anniversary. After a beautiful day of lounging in bed, watching cable tv, we thought we might venture out for some dinner and a nice, romantic stroll along the dam at sunset, where we could pray and reflect on our first year of marriage. These creepy little (big, actually) buggers would have none of it and quite literally chased us back up the hill to the car. It seems like there should be some sort of profound blogworthy lesson in that, but not tonight.

My wonderful husband, though, does have some thoughts on marriage that are worth reading. And here are a few pictures from our refreshing and relaxing weekend.

Jason, I love being married to you. Thank you, and one more time, Happy Anniversary. Now bring on year two!

Posted by Renae at 10:22 PM | Comments (4)

Why we're glad we don't have kids quite yet...

Saturday noontime. We wander down to the kitchen, both still in our pajamas.

Me: Oooo! Cake!
Him: Not until after you've had your pizza.

Posted by Renae at 12:17 PM | Comments (2)

The face used to make the passport

Jason and spent a good chunk of the afternoon yesterday applying for our passports. It was Jason's first time through this process. I am sort of embarrassed and sort of proud to admit that this will be my fourth U.S. passport (yes, one, two, three, four). While it's cool in some ways just to have one, I have to admit that I have liked better those passports that have had a cute picture. My first picture was by far the best--I was, after all, a fresh-faced twenty-one year old. That passport got stolen in Paris (I lost nine stamps to boot, bummer) and was replaced after many, many hours at the U.S. embassy; the picture for the second passport was not so great. Since the replacement was valid for only one year, I had to get a third passport to visit Brook in Zambia. That pic was capital W Wretched, and I was gleeful to have to replace it with a new picture for my fourth passport (new name, new passport). The current picture's okay (and my hair looks downright good, if I do say so myself). And it is such an improvement over the last one that I hardly even care that I look kind of mad in it. I am most proud of the fact that I didn't touch up my make-up or fuss in front of Jason--he would have teased me mercilessly. He says it's just a picture, not a glamour shot. Well, no need for it to be a mug shot either, is there? I'll stand behind my belief that the pic is important; you use it

When You Go Anywhere

This passport your face (not you
not you, officially, your picture, but the face
used to make the passport) offers
everyone its witness: "This is me."

It feels like only a picture, a passport
forced upon you. Somewhere this oval,
sudden and lasting, appeared. It happened
that you were behind it, like it or not.

You present it--your passport, your face--
wherever you go. It says, "A little country,"
it says, "Allow this observer
quiet passage," it says, "Ordinary," it says, "Please."

--William Stafford

Copyright © 1987 by William Stafford

Posted by Renae at 01:42 PM | Comments (6)

Unexpected

After I got back from a walk this morning, I thought I'd spend a few minutes weeding the little herb garden outside the back door. I reached for a vaguely familiar-looking weed and pulled up a carrot. Random. (Charity, did you plant that?). Just in time too for the fruit and vegetable detox that Joie and I started this morning.

Posted by Renae at 08:58 AM | Comments (2)

We've got a good life

All weekend long I've had in my head "Take It from Me" by The Weepies (it's the one that's playing when you go to the website). The catalpas (aka wedding trees) are blooming, and all seems right with the world.

Posted by Renae at 09:07 PM | Comments (2)

Books books everywhere

For several months (a year maybe?) I had one bookshelf arranged approximately by color (ala Chris Cobb's There Is Nothing Wrong in This Whole Wide World installation at Adobe Books in San Francisco in 2004). But lately the arrangement had been lacking the zip it once had--largely due to the fact that I (and perhaps others) frequently took books off the shelf and replaced them willy nilly, so whereas I used to get "Hey! Your books are arranged by color!" it got to be more like "Um, you've got more red books near the top....Oh, and blue in the middle....Hey, it would be cool if you arranged these by color." So the other night Jason and I decided that it was time to tackle putting our books in order.

While this project was nothing compared to the bathroom-painting incident the week after our honeymoon, which at one point found me crying in the closet and which is still not quite done, the two book collections becoming one was not without its challenges. As with many projects I undertake, I started out all gung-ho, but my enthusiasm flagged when I got overwhelmed. Turns out that we have quite a few books--and that Jason and I don't always agree what subject categories they belong to.

On the one hand, I have always secretly wanted a house so full of books that you could hardly move about. But on the other, after a day or so, I was getting a little stressed out over the more chaos than usual in our dining room. So I was most grateful when Jason just found a place for the rest of the books this afternoon.

The books are now organized (more or less) by subject, not color, so if you want "that yellow book," you're going to have to remember if it's a novel or a book of essays about evangelicalism in America. Sorry.

Jason's Flickr set is here.

Posted by Renae at 09:00 PM | Comments (0)

My kingdom for a "before" photo

Our camera was out of batteries, so, Blogworld, I am afraid you will never know the full effect of the ruling and subduing that was accomplished at the Grand this weekend. We had the best team of RUFers (RUFites? RUFfians?) ever--Nathaniel and Eric are absolute heroes. Heroes, I tell you.

Four hours of squatting, pulling, raking, spading, mowing; three giant garbage cans of leaves and weeds; one flattened squirrel; two Mormon missionaries; and eighteen bags of mulch later, I give you the miracle that is our yard.

Posted by Renae at 10:58 AM | Comments (1)

It's not you, it's him

If you need to get a hold of Jason for any reason in the next few days--or maybe weeks--I would strongly suggest you try me first. It's not that he doesn't like you, it's just that he's (finally!) getting a new computer--which I will admit does look pretty sweet. He'll be geeking out setting it all up and playing with all the new bells and whistles.

He is so giddy about it, and though I tease him, I of course secretly love it. This morning we (Brook, Joie, Rebecca, and I) taught Livia to say "Jason is a big geek" ("Say 'Jason'" "Ja-shun" "Say 'is a big geek'" "BIGGEEK"), and I wish I could share audio with you because it's so cute it makes my knees hurt.

Posted by Renae at 12:14 PM | Comments (2)

SOLD!

Hey people, I bought a house! I close on March 29th and move over the few days following. So, after April 1st you can find me at 1608 S. 6th Street. I couldn't be more excited, and I keep telling Bianca that she will have a yard of her own. She doesn't know it yet, but she's about to become a mostly outside, sometimes inside dog. Whoo Hoo!

Posted by Brook at 05:35 PM | Comments (3)

To Do List

Things I haven't done in nearly forever that I plan to do today:

1. Make blueberry (or possibly blackberry) muffins.
2. Quilt.
3. Clean.
4. Blog.

Posted by Renae at 09:11 AM | Comments (3)

Mail

I guess this week's theme is things I love--well, things I'm a little obsessed with, truth be told. I do love the mail. I get excited about it every day. My heart does a little flippity flop whenever I hear that telltale sound of Jeff opening the box, even though it sounds like someone is trying to break in the house. I love to be home to get the mail--or at least to be the first one home to get the mail--and I'm always just a little disappointed if it's already in a pile on the table (unless, of course, I've been away and someone's been getting the mail and it's a BIG pile).

Jason asks me every single day, Was there any mail today? Of course, there was mail! But he only means was there good stuff mail. But to me, it's all good stuff mail (well, some is better than others). I think the primary reason I love the mail so much is because it is so full of possibilities--Will there be a letter from my grandma that (always) includes information about the weather "up home"? Will there be a postcard from a friend in a beautiful faraway place? Will there be bills and credit card offers? Will there be ads and coupons? Will there be TIME SENSITIVE MATERIAL? Will there be (best of all) a package? And if there are none of those things, maybe tomorrow!!

And I might as well admit it, because I know it'll come out eventually (if Lou or Brook reads this entry). Yes, alright, I once said that one of the reasons I love mail is that it is a homonym for "male." I was young.

Posted by Renae at 02:12 PM | Comments (2)

Welcome 2006!

This morning we gathered for our third annual champagne breakfast. This breakfast/brunch has truly become one of my very favorite traditions--we gather and share a few hours and a box of Kleenex as we reflect on the year just past and talk about our hopes (and fears) for the one to come. This year it was particularly fun to have a man to kick out (I told him he could stay; he didn't want to; wonder why?). And since it is our sincere hope to continue for years and years, someone made the comment that in years to come this will turn into some quality father/kid(s) time (Jeremy's got a head start). May it be. Photos here.

Posted by Renae at 07:02 PM | Comments (4)

Under the tree

Since we'll be going to my parents' tonight and having Moreheads here tomorrow and Sunday, we decided to have "our Christmas" today. As I am pretty much every year, I had been concerned that maybe this Christmas wouldn't feel like Christmas. And, for the record, I'm not talking about the True Meaning of Christmas here; I just mean that flip in your stomach, snow on the ground, going to Grandma's, peppermint, gingerbread, rice pudding, wake up before dawn, time to open the presents, I'm five years old again kind of feeling.* I needn't have worried. This morning at 5:30 I was wide awake with Rich Mullins's "You Gotta Get Up" in my head ("You gotta get up, you gotta get up, you gotta get up, it's Christmas moooo-oo-oor-ning!"). I was so awake, in fact, that after trying unsuccessfully to wake Jason up with a few "Good Mooo-oo-oor-ning"s and several "Merry our Christmas"es, I came downstairs and got two hours of work done before he actually did get up (well, it's not really Christmas after all).

And, yeah, that's the complete works of Francis Schaeffer under the tree. Woohoo!

* Yes, yes, I know that it is not a parallel list, and I would edit the heck out if it were I working. But I'm not, I'm blogging.

Posted by Renae at 10:39 AM | Comments (3)

Some may call it a hemostat, but we call it a pretzel getter outer

A hemostat, for those of you who are unfamiliar with such things, is an instrument for compressing a bleeding vessel. Or, if you're the Talsmas, an instrument for getting the tree-shaped pretzels out of the almond bark.

This weekend we trekked to Norfolk for the third annual Christmas baking extravaganza. Notably missing was our wayward Charity. And utterly delightful additions were our dear Kate, Trish, and Christine. Since we didn't really have a specific event in mind this year, our ambitions were diminished, but we did manage to make Chex mix, gingersnaps, thumbprint cookies, peanutbutter cups, molded chocolate goodnesses, chocolate-covered Ritz crackers with peanutbutter, almond bark–covered pretzels, peanut clusters, and crushed up peppermint candy in chocolate and almond bark. Not so bad, eh?

Although Christine was freakishly energized, the rest of us were (are?) thorougly, but happily exhausted by Mary's (that's Brook's mom) slave-driving and abnormally efficient ways.

Posted by Renae at 09:13 PM | Comments (4)

Peppermint

Peppermint Ice Cream

1 1/4 c. water
1 (14 oz.) can sweetened condensed milk
2 c. light cream (I used half and half)
1 T. vanilla extract
1/2 c. crushed peppermint pieces

Combine ingredients in ice cream freezer container; proceed according to manufacturer's instructions. Garnish with additional crushed peppermint candy if desired.

Or, if you're me, try to freeze it, fail, put the mix in your refrigerator overnight (letting all the peppermint chunks dissolve), and try again the next day. Sigh.

Posted by Renae at 09:38 AM | Comments (3)

Morning Commute

On carpet sidewalks,
I walk from car to coffee,
Warm, above the streets.

(No, this is not a Lincoln skywalk. I don't have my camera. Pout. Pout. Pout.)

Posted by Renae at 12:08 PM | Comments (1)

Tree

Posted by Renae at 11:23 PM | Comments (1)

The one where we eat way too much and laugh until our sides hurt

Last night we had community dinner, Thanksgiving edition. Livia brought the heavy cuteness artillery with stripey tights. Jason carved his first turkey. Nathaniel can balance a spoon on his nose for an unnaturally long time; Brook and Joie can't balance spoons on their noses at all. Christina makes way cool art with her coffee and cream.

We had all the traditional fixins: turkey (which took an hour and a half longer than we expected; everyone was very patient), mashed potatoes (of which we do not speak of the preparation; the end result, though, left Jason speechless), sweet potato business, cranberry goodness, green bean casserole, corn, stuffing ("homemade"), homemade bread. We forgot the pumpkin sweetness, but Rebecca brought some sufficiently sugary fudge and all was well.

Photographic evidence here.

Posted by Renae at 10:11 AM | Comments (6)

Apparently, I was thirsty

I just returned from the grocery, where I bought 864 ounces of beverage. That's right, 54 pounds of soda, milk, and juice.

Posted by Renae at 03:20 PM | Comments (2)

ing

Thinking I used to write better blogs.

Drinking Celestial Seasonings Bengal Spice tea, a beverage I associate very closely with moving into the Grand two and a half years ago (there was dinner at McFarlands in Omaha, there was random thought out of nowhere that I'd like to live with these women, there was tea).

Feeling nostalgic (see Drinking).

Rejoicing that after three (four?) weeks without a reliable refrigerator the saga ends between 1 and 5 today (when dude is scheduled to replace the compressor).

Hoping against hope that the fifth visit from refrigerator dude will be the final one.

Not counting my chickens before they hatch (see Rejoicing and Hoping).

Longing to be outside on this most perfect of fall days. Alas, I am stuck for one more day editing the rodeo queens book.

Wondering if Lou Karre is still out there anywhere. Lou? Lou? LOU!!! Call me, please.

Putting my nose back to the grindstone. Now.

Posted by Renae at 10:34 AM | Comments (5)

Sort of the same, but different

I mentioned yesterday that we're having some work done on the porch. It seems one of the pillars was leaning, so they're just straightening things out.

I had pictured that to fix the porch they would just replace the pillars (I also had visions of unfinished wood and having to go to the hardware store to find paint that looks sort of the same as the color of the other pillars--who knows, that might still happen). However, starting at 6:45 yesterday morning (we'll make Jason a morning person yet), they started chipping away at the cement foundation and by yesterday afternoon they had completely replaced the right column (not the one that was leaning) and put back the original pillar. So in the end, I think the porch will look much the same as it ever did, except taller and straighter--and I see that a few plants are getting trampled in the process as well.

I don't want to go all metaphorical on you here, but, well, it IS a blog entry after all, so I'm going to. It makes me think that what's going on outside is in some ways a good picture of at least some of the changes around here these days. I walk around this house that I've lived in for two years, and it looks much the same to me. And then sometimes I realize that, hello, I have a really different roommate, and it's not really the same at all. It looks similar, but something foundational has changed. Blessedly, Tredways are still next door (how could I survive without them?), and because, as Joie put it, God is so wonderfully creative, Brook and Joie are just down the street (again, I ask, how could I survive without them?).

Charity asked what will happen to the site (I hope you don't mind, Charity, that I'm thinking about that question out loud here). Well, I think part of the answer is that as Charity mentioned a while ago, the Grand isn't a Web site, it's a famhold. And it's quite an adventure to figure out what that looks like now that we're spread out (a little here in Lincoln and a lot there in North Carolina), making the "hold" part particularly tricky. These days I feel like blogging more, and this has become a comfortable space to do that, so I think I will keep on, for now at least. Joie and Brook, unfortunatley, don't have Internet access right now and aren't blogging as much as a result, which I think is a bummer. My hope is that Charity will continue to pop in and that we'll continue to have some guest bloggers as well (I'm looking at you, Lou). So those are my thoughts for today--sort of the same, but different. How does that sound?

Posted by Renae at 10:55 AM | Comments (0)

Welcome Bianca!

Three weeks ago on Friday my long awaited puppy entered our lives. She is cute, hyper-active, chews on everything, and is trying to learn that all bathroom activity needs to happen outside. The pics are from about 6 weeks old. She is about 9 weeks now and much bigger. Come meet her if you can!

Posted by Brook at 01:21 PM | Comments (7)

Awww...

I don't know why, but mention of the Cold War makes me miss Charity. --Joie

Posted by Renae at 11:50 AM | Comments (6)

looking at the past in light of the present

so i've been wasting time at work today looking through pictures of last summer, longing for warm days, grilling out, and playing in the dirt. a few of the pictures made it on the blog and they instigated me to look back and see what was written a year ago. this post is what i found:

fun in dysfunction

my future husband is way cooler than 'Lando and it is HILARIOUS that joe and karen are now engaged. :)

Posted by Charity at 04:19 PM | Comments (2)

sunday morning

after running around in flip flops yesterday, this morning's snow caught me a bit off guard. but it sure is beautiful.

Posted by Charity at 10:44 AM | Comments (4)

Happy Birthday Joie!

Joie Anne Lovette
A lovely girl from the South
We love her accent

Joie Anne Lovette
The perfect height for hugging
The shortest girl here

Joie Anne Lovette
Cooks and bakes wonderful food
Does she have tapeworm?

Joie Anne Lovette
We are so glad she was born
Twenty-six today!

Posted by Brook at 08:38 PM | Comments (6)

Icky ickness

Me: There's some sort of hot dog water in the drawer.
Brook: I don't know what to do with that information.

Posted by Renae at 09:57 AM | Comments (3)

welcome 2005!

december 31st, 2004 was the best. new year's eve. ever!

Posted by Charity at 09:49 PM | Comments (19)

helen pennock's snow ice cream

For all of you Lincolnites with mounds of snow falling outside, Andy just made us the yummiest snow ice cream! Here's the recipe:

Get a really big mixing bowl or clean plastic tub.
Fill with clean snow.
In a separate bowl, dissolve about 1/2 cup of sugar, 2 tsp vanilla, and 1 egg in 2 cups of milk.
Beat until mixed and frothy.
Fold 1/2 cup of milk mixture into the snow, repeating with 1/2 cups until it begins to get thick looking and resemble vanilla ice cream.
Adjust with more snow or milk as needed.
Eat right away.

Yum!!

Posted by Charity at 04:39 PM | Comments (2)

snow day - reloaded

this morning i woke up, looked out the window and assumed that it hadn't snowed enough to close the university. as i was washing my hair in the shower, brook walked into the bathroom and asked if i had heard that the university had closed. really??! yes! woohoo! while we probably only got 4-5 inches of snow, the temperature has been blistering cold.

the pic is taken from our living room looking out the front window. the blip of orange is renae braving the cold as she walks to erin's house. brrr...

currently it's seven degrees, "feels like" -11, and snow is on the way again. hot chocolate anyone?

Posted by Charity at 02:43 PM | Comments (4)

snow days

Q. What makes two grown adults act like school kids again?

A. Winter weather. Renae and I checked and re-checked UNL's website this morning in hopes that the university would be closed today and we could have a snow day...

unfortunately, i'm writing this from my office... :(

Posted by Charity at 09:11 AM | Comments (2)

another christmas @ the grand

It's our second holiday season at the Grand and we started our Christmas decorating on Wednesday. Last year when Renae and I were taking the decorations down, we both had a feeling that this wasn't going to be our last Christmas as a famhold (family+household). And we were right.

We got our tree from the Noels, brought up the boxes of Christmas decorations and transformed our living room. We're heading to Norfolk tonight to take over the Talsma's kitchen to bake Christmas goodies. And we've finally decided on a reasonable Christmas party invitiation (mark your calendars for Dec 18th! more details to come!).

Many of you may remember the unbelievably complicated invitations we made last year. It took hours and hours and hours to print, cut, glue, fold, dry, glue, dry, tie. During the whole process we kept saying, "what were we thinking!?" But, they were in fact. the coolest. invitations. ever.

Good tidings! Great Joy!
Celebrate the Season!

Posted by Charity at 08:56 AM | Comments (5)

Thoughts while recycling

Brown. Brown. Green. Green. Clear. Brown. Brown. Clear. Clear. Clear. Clear. Plastic. Tin. Tin. Tin. Brown. Ah, beer from a bet that the buyer loved losing. Brown. Brown. Brown. Hey, I thought Brook was saving those. Brown. Tin. Tin. Aluminum num num. Tin. Plastic. Plastic. Clear. Clear. Oh, a gift from the Loos's. I love the Loos's. Brown. Clear. Clear. Plastic. Plastic. Paper. Paper. Paper. Mixed paper. Mixed paper. Tin. Tin. Tin. Tin. Wash and squash. Wash and squash. Awash in squash. Clear. Clear. Brown. Green. Brown. Green. I wonder why they call it Three Buck Chuck? Brown. Brown. Clear. Green. Who drinks Mt. Dew? Clear. Brown. Green. Tin. Tin. Tin. Tin. Tin. Ewwwwww! It could be worse. It could be much worse. Clear. Brown. Oh, tea from when Brook and I went to Omaha. Clear. Clear. Recycling must be done more often. Brown. Brown. Dang, we drink a lot. No, we just haven't recycled forever. And ever. And ever. And ever. Brown. Brown. Green. Seriously, who drinks Mt. Dew? Tin. Tin. Plastic. Tin. Tin. Clear. Green. Green. Green. I wonder who drank this? Brown. Brown. Tin. Tin. Clear. Ewwww! Ewww! Paper. Paper. Paper. Where do the paper bags go? Brown. Clear. Plastic. We've got to do our recyling more often. Clear. Clear. Oh! Because it has "Charles" in the name. Three Buck Chuck. Three Buck Chuck. Clear. Clear. Hey, another one. Is Brook really not saving these? Tin. Tin. Tin. Tuna. Tuna tin. Tuna tin. Tuna tin. I should have brought a tape recorder. I could have sold it to NPR. Glass. Glass. Brown. Green. Are these boxes cardboard or paper. Cardboard or paper. Clear. Clear. Clear. Plastic. Plastic. Tin. Tin. Paper. Brown. Green. Clear. I am going to use this to get out of raking leaves. Tin. Aluminum. Aluminum. Al-loo-mini-um. A-looooo-minum. Paper. Paper. Paper. Clear. Green. Clear. Green. Reuse. Recycle. Reuse. Recycle. What's that other one? Reuse. Recycle. Brown. Brown. Only four more bags to go. Brown. Green. Green. Clear. Clear. Clear...

Posted by Renae at 08:23 PM | Comments (11)

post-stealing

When watching this singing bird, Charity and I couldn't help but agree that there was a strange similarity to the kinds of songs we are serenaded with in the wee hours of the morning from our dear Renae. Charity, you might say, plays the role of the flying shoe.

Enjoy!

**we stole this link from Beloved Beginner. Thanks Elizabeth!**

Posted by Joie at 10:47 PM | Comments (3)

joie's world

who: joie
where: joie's room
when: last night
what: a thought from joie on the future of her life:

"Yesterday when I was eating my butternut squash soup, I thought, 'God, I just want to grow vegetables for people to eat!'"

Posted by Charity at 08:21 AM | Comments (12)

today's foxtrot

we actually had a similar conversation at our house this weekend:

Posted by Charity at 08:16 AM | Comments (0)

election @ the grand, 2004

A few quotes from the evening:

"I don't trust a guy who has a first name as a last name."

"No way! They're selling a U2 iPod?! Dude!"

"It's a go-getter, not a there bringer?" (referring to pizza)

"Look! That guy's got turkey neck! Turkey neck! Don't show the profile!"

"If you add a line to Fortenberry, you get Fartenberry."

"I just sliced my a*** off!!! owww!!"

"Crapo!!! in Idaho!!"

Posted by Charity at 08:18 PM | Comments (8)

To my future children:

Your Auntie Charity is mean. She made me throw away the "microphone stand" I would have saved for you.

Love,

Your thoughtful and imaginative future mom

Posted by Renae at 11:51 AM | Comments (1)

yes, we are girly girls

Kate: "What is your hair goal?"

Posted by Charity at 03:50 PM | Comments (3)

orange juice blues

R: I've got a hunkering for Tang.
B: A "hunkering"? Don't you mean "hankering"?
R: A craving.
C: You have Tropicana, no pulp, calcium and vitamin D fortified, not from concentrate ORange juice and you want Tang?
B: When I move out, I'm going back to cheap orange juice.
C: [defeated sigh]

Posted by Renae at 09:01 AM | Comments (10)

Kitchen Table Quotes: Friday Morning

I felt obligated to consider him.

I didn't like the "Christians."
My friends were coooooool. They were beyond their years.

I triple dog dare you to throw away the banana.
It's oozing ickness.

I feel like mooning you.
Ewwwwww!
Bums are dirty.

I knew when I said it that it was going to be an issue.

I think we should blog about this.

Posted by Brook at 08:28 AM | Comments (2)

lincoln: to the coast: and back again

lincoln: ground zero

birmingham: joie's nephew and cutest kid

gulf shores: drip dropping the days away

gulf shores: city of sand

gulf shores: the last night

chatty: classic john

chatty: a pose at Niedlov's with part of the chatty family

lincoln: 3000 miles later

Posted by Charity at 05:34 PM | Comments (4)

the stalk of the sunflower

we have two hugongous sunflowers growing in brandywine gardens. the other day as i was watering i noticed how fantastic the view was from the base of the stalk looking up into the sky. it seemed to reach on forever, where the light was too bright to see where it ended.

so on monday i made brook and joie lay in the dirt so they could see how cool it was. these are a couple of the photos we took. one from the ground looking up at me and one from me looking down on brook and joie.
.......
and this is just a totally unrelated poem i liked from the July/Aug issue of the Atlantic Monthly:

"All our righteousnesses are filthy rage;
and we all do fade as a leaf" - Isaiah 64:6

After my mother's father died,
she gave me his morocco Bible.
I took it from her hand, and saw
the gold was worn away, the binding
scuffed and ragged, split below the spine,
and inside, smudges where her father's
right hand gripped the bottom corner
page by page, an old man waiting, not quite
reading the words he had known by heart
for sixty years: our parents in the garden,
naked, free from shame; the bitterness of labor;
blood in the ground, still calling for God's
curse. His thumbprints faded after the flood,
to darken again where God bids Moses smite
the rock, and then again in Psalms, in Matthew
every page. And where Paul speaks of things
God hath prepared, things promised them who wait,
things not yet entered into the loving heart,
below the margin of the verse, the paper
is translucent with the oil and dark
still with the dirt of his right hand.

-Brooks Haxton

Posted by Charity at 10:22 AM | Comments (8)

Kids are squirmy worms

I have a newfound respect for those who can catch their babies looking really cute. You'd think it'd be a simple matter. No. I spent most of yesterday afternoon trying--and mostly failing--to get a good shot of Kasey's very-smiley-except-for-the-camera kiddos. Clearly my fault (or, ahem, the slow slow camera's) and none of their own.

Posted by Renae at 08:57 AM | Comments (1)

before the rain

not a lot to say, just wanted to share the shot of the clouds taken from underneath the porch before the rain tonight. at one point i wondered how our lives would be different if we didn't have a front porch. it was a sad thought, but thankfully one that need not be entertained!

the rain came. the temperature cooled. and the evening was lovely.

Posted by Charity at 09:46 PM | Comments (0)

Coffee with Calvin

This Sunday past was one of my favorite Sunday mornings in recent memory. Brook had to teach the young communicants class, so I tagged along to hang out in the Geneva House for an hour or so before church. I chatted with Steve (a bald man) about his son child, the pronunciation of Augustine, his youngest daughter's first experience with throwing up, and the merits of two coffee filters vs. one, and with (another) Steve and his daughter Jessie about green eggs (not the Dr. Suess variety), snoring dads, and the Psalms.

As I settled into one of the big comfy gray chairs, I noticed on the piano a display of several new books from the Christian Classics Bible Studies series from InterVarsity Press (I admit I can be skeptical of such Bible study guides, but I was actually quite impressed with the thought-provoking, non-obvious questions). I grabbed the one on Calvin, hoping to get a Reformed soundbite or two.

Though I was only half-paying attention to what I was reading (as I was also half-listening to the Steves' musings as to whether Grace Chapelites knew their theology or their coffee better), I was quite taken with some of Calvin's thoughts on prayer (excerpted from his Institutes of the Christian Religion). According to Calvin, the purpose of prayer is

first, that our heart may always be inflamed with a serious and ardent desire of seeking, loving and serving him, while we accustom ourselves to have recourse to him as a sacred anchor in every necessity

I like the idea of accustoming myself to prayer--it certainly doesn't seem to come naturally, as much as I would like to say otherwise.

secondly, that no desires, no longing whatever, of which we are ashamed to make him the witness, may enter our minds, while we learn to place all our wishes in his sight, and thus pour out our heart before him

This struck me because it fits nicely with several conversations we've had around the Grand as of late--being brave with our longings, hoping without shame.

and, lastly, that we may be prepared to receive all his benefits with true gratitude and thanksgiving, while our prayers remind us that they proceed from his hand. Moreover, having obtained what we asked, being persuaded that he has answered our prayers, we are led to long more earnestly for his favour, and at the same time have greater pleasure in welcoming the blessings which we perceive to have been obtained by our prayers.

And at this last part, I was undone. I have rarely known a time in my life where I have felt so deeply blessed as I do these days. And while it's not been all that hard to remember that such amazing blessings come from God's hand or to be truly grateful, I have continued to struggle with a longstanding Cinderella complex when it comes to good gifts--that is, I fear that my life will turn back into a pumpkin and mice and rags at midnight. In other words, [lie from the pit] Don't love or enjoy anything too much, especially if it's really, really good, you'll only be that much more disappointed when it ends.[/lie from the pit] So to think that a proper response to answered prayer is to long more earnestly for his favor, to have more pleasure in his blessings is attractive, yes, but so very counter-intuitive, or at least counter-habitual.

Posted by Renae at 09:20 AM | Comments (4)

big-ass mushroom

I was getting ready to mow the lawn yesterday and saw this mushroom planted in the middle of the backyard.

It was HUGE!

I guess our yard was getting a little jungle-like and that's what happens when there's a lot of rain and humidity. But seriously, that was one big-ass mushroom.

Posted by Charity at 09:37 AM | Comments (14)

E Is for Extrovert

For several days I've been teetering on the brink of giving in to a sneaking suspicion that I may not be an introvert after all, and sitting here at my desk alone, alone, alone, I tell you I am this close. Indeed, my roommates have presented some compelling arguments, and truth be told, I am finding it increasingly difficult to hide behind excuses of being a verbal processor.

I admit that I would be not a little sad to relinquish that first letter of my Meyers-Briggs, as it has brought me much identity over the years. And I don't doubt but I would come to think of introversion as a sort of phantom limb (okay, that was too much).

On the upside, though, I would be honored to join Rebecca as an extrovert in the Shire. I think that would make the transition a little easier, the impending identity crisis a little less severe perhaps.

So anyway, where is everybody? I want to talk!

Posted by Renae at 04:41 PM | Comments (11)

where's mocha?

monday night afforded a good evening on the porch.

9:45p. we were sipping some wine when out of the corner of my eye i saw a flash of white trotting up the sidewalk. what was this mutant little creature? it was a stark white dog that, and as brook said, it looked like an oversized rat. we called to it, but it quickly skimpered across the street.

9:55p. ten minutes pass and a red convertable drives by and yells something, but we can't understand what they're saying. "aloha?" we turned to each other and laughed. when they yelled again we realized that they were yelling:

"mocha! mocha!"
"are you looking for a little white dog?" we responded.
"yeah!"
"we saw him run into the park about 10 minutes ago."
"thanks!"

then 4 figures jump out of the car and start running into the park yelling for mocha. they didn't find him and returned to the car to drive around some more. as they drove away they yelled their phone number so we could call them if we found him.

10:05p. the red convertable drives by again yelling for mocha and asking if we've seen him yet. "no, not yet!"

10:10p. blue suv drives by yelling, "mocha! mocha!"

10:17p. white minivan drives by yelling, "mocha! mocha!"

the torrential downpour seemed to cease the search efforts.

then later tonight as we once again sat on the porch after dinner, sure enough, the red convertable drove by yelling for mocha.

where's mocha? and why do all of these people love a little white oversized rat, with the jocular name of "mocha"?

written by jl & ct

Posted by Charity at 10:34 PM | Comments (12)

sunday summer swims

With summer here, we've reinstituted our sunday swim at the Kerns'. They've once again let us come out to the farm for the lone purpose of lounging around the pool and soaking in the hottub. At one point I leaned my head back and watched the dark clouds roll in over the roof of the house. The birds sang and a dragonfly danced between me and the sky. The dark clouds would eventually rain us out, but at that moment I felt peace.
.
.
Days like this keep the dream of "the ranch" alive.
.
.
It was also Abigail's 4th birthday today. What a cutie!
.
.
.
.
.

Posted by Charity at 05:41 PM | Comments (4)

2:30a

i'm tired, but can't sleep.

nothing seems rational at 2:30a.

the voice in my head sounds like edward norton in fight club.

i am amazed at how fast my mind can race.

my mind races over the same things over and over and over.... and the conclusions i come to are fuzzy and inevitably no conclusions at all. i tell myself that the light of day will make things clearer, but thats still another four and a half hours from now.

my bedroom door upstairs didn't latch and now i can hear it opening and closing, never completely latching and then swinging open again as the wind blows. i should go close it.... well, i went to close it, but it wasn't my door, but rather the door to the attic. and i made quite a racket in the process. there is no "quiet" way to go up and down the stairs in our house. the quieter you try to be, the louder the stairs creak. you would think that after living here for a year one could figure out a "path" to go up and down quietly. i'm convinced it doesn't exist....

why does the train near our house always feel the need to continually blow its horn at 2:51a? seriously, few people are driving around at this hour. once would suffice. i sometimes wonder if the conductors just want to annoy people because they're ticked off at having to drive a train at 2:54a.

abel gave the sermon this morning on environmental stewardship. good stuff to think about. joie and i had gone with him to see the movie the day after tomorrow for "research" last week and was thankful to hear it get mentioned in the sermon, because at least there was some purpose for us sitting through two hours of one of the worst movies i've ever seen. oh.my.goodness. it was horrible. i think every predictable, cheesy plot line ever made was put in this movie. bad script. bad acting. and overtly politcal. i think my favorite part was when dennis quaid and his buddies decided to WALK from philadelphia to manhattan to save his son during what was supposed to be the second ice age. hello! does this sound retarded to anyone else? it sure didn't convince any republican sitting in the audience to take environmental issues seriously. oh well.

well, i've read a few things, wrote a few things and now its really late. i better try sleeping again, before wierd things start happening. i think i'm ready this time...

"I flipped through catalogs and wondered: 'What kind of dining set defines me as a person?' ... It's just, when you buy furniture, you tell yourself, 'that's it. That's the last sofa I'm gonna need. Whatever else happens, I've got that sofa problem handled.'"

Posted by Charity at 03:56 AM | Comments (5)

unexpected

We (Joie, Renae & Charity) were having a discussion on femininity outside at Yia Yia's tonight - why we hide it, how we find it, why we're afraid of it, how to express it. As we talked, a man off the street approached us smiling and placed this bouquet of flowers on our table. He said nothing, asked for nothing and walked away. We had to smile at the perfect timing of this unsolicited gift.

Posted by Charity at 11:08 PM | Comments (7)

a worms-eye view

Do worms even have eyes?... Well, if they did, this is what the world would look like to them. The first photo was taken from inside the hole Joie and I dug on Saturday in order to plant some more rose bushes. It was both liberating and scary to be digging a huge hole in our front yard. But if I do say so myself, it turned out lovely!
.
.
.
The second picture came from the first week of Jazz in June at the Sheldon Sculpture Garden on the University campus. Jazz in June is one of my favorite summer Lincoln happenings. Good music. Good friends. And of course, a faithful dog. The Schulte's dog, Jackson, was definately the attraction that night. He was quite the socialite even with a broken leg!

Posted by Charity at 05:00 PM | Comments (0)

thoughts while baking cookies...

I think the Schaeffers are onto something here:

Eternity will be wonderful, but there is one thing heaven will not contain, and that is the call, the possibility, and the privilege of living a supernatural life here and now by faith before we see Jesus face-to face.
- Francis Schaeffer, True Sprituality

We have all eternity to praise God in perfect bodies, in perfect surroundings, with beauty beyond our imagination now. We have only a very short time to make known to our Heavenly Father, Our Savior and Shepherd, the Holy Spirit, our trust and love.
- Edith Schaeffer, The Life of Prayer

By living by faith I am free from the bondage of a salvation by works. But do I see living by faith as a privilege? I often fail to recognize that I get to show the Lord that though I cannot physically see Him, though I live in a world that does not know Him or desire to know Him, though the poor continue to be exploited, though greed runs rampant, though whatever it may be...I will trust. Here. Now. I will trust that Christ's death and resurrection are sufficient. That my sins are forgiven. And that one day the Kingdom of God will be seen in all its majesty and glory and I too will be glorified.

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. - Hebrews 11:1.

`/`/`/`/`/`/`/`/`/
Two things that I've been fascinated with lately are the Cold War and oil. I've always been fascinated with the Cold War, but after watching Fog of War I've gotten a renewed interest in Robert McNamara. Half.com has two books by McNamara on the way!

The interest in oil has come up over the past couple of years and the June issue of National Geographic has a good cover story on the future of oil and its production. What's fascinating about oil is that it influences not only the environment, but also politics and economics, and Americans are still unwilling to address these issues by changing their lifestyle. I cringed when I read this caption to a photo of two boys playing around on a Hummer:

The family car is tons of fun for two young fans, who turn it into a grandstand as they test-drive a pint-size Hummer near Atlanta, Georgia. "They even camp in it," says their mother. She bought th H1 for business but now drives it everywhere. "I know it's not fuel efficient, but I love knowing that anything I bump into, I win."

Posted by Charity at 02:52 PM | Comments (21)

subduing

i may have written about this before, but feel the need to talk about it again...

the creation mandate of genesis 1:28 says, "fill the earth and subdue it." as we progress through this technological age, subduing the earth has been translated into something abstract. this could take the form of being a lawyer, a stock broker, or a writer. most of my work, whether in academia or whatnot, tends to fall into this abstract category.

on the other hand, concrete subduing is the direct provision of the basic sustenance needed for life (i.e. growing food, building shelter). subduing in the abstract provides similar provision, yet less direct. you work as a mechanic fixing people's cars, the money you earn from this allows you to buy the same sustenance. and even in this there is some connection to the "earth": cars are made from metal, this metal was at some point an ore in the ground.

but today it was concrete. today my hands were in the dirt, pulling the weeds, and planting the garden. this concrete part of subduing is pretty powerful to me. there is something about getting my fingers in the dirt, watching worms wiggle around and seeing your garden grow. this concrete subduing brings a satisfaction that i can't achieve in the abstract. it may come from interacting so closely with God's creation or being able to see concrete fruits (or veggies!) of my labor. either way, after my day with the earth, i feel tired and peaceful.
.
.
.
the tredways and our house have collaborated on our gardening this year. we've been blessed having them next door and one night out on the porch we deemed our block "the shire". so it seemed only fitting that we name our garden "brandywine gardens".

Posted by Charity at 08:37 PM | Comments (1)

birthday musings

well, i turn 26 today. twice a year, at new years and my birthday, i get a bit refelctive about my life.... it was a year ago this week that we moved into the grand. its amazing how fast your life can change. within a week, joie decided to stay in lincoln and we decided to be roommates. rebecca called to say the house next door was for rent. joie called renae, we looked at the house, and decided to go forth without confirming any of it with brook. i barely knew renae, and knew joie only a bit more than that. brook was still in zambia and we had yet to embark on this experience we call "living in community." now its a year later and its amazing to see how far we've come. from thursday morning conversations to late night treats on the porch its been an incredible time. and the added bonus is the extrovert next door who sneaks over whenever she can and just the regular strange happenings of the neighborhood.

a year ago...
- i was finishing up my first year of graduate school, this year i'm almost done.
- there were people i was just getting to know (and some whom i hadn't even met!) that i now call friends.
- kids club/after school program was in the conceptual phase and now we're almost a year into it.
- i only read rebecca's blog, this year we have one.

the thought that has encompassed my mind the past 3-4 months has been 2 timothy 2:13: "if we are faithless, He will remain faithful." He proves this over and over again and it sustains the hope in my heart! i look forward to the next year and all its "diversions"....

the thing that is most striking are those relationships that continue to grow even after ten years and those that were just planted and have already blossomed. many thanks to those who've already sent birthday greetings from chatty, st louis, and lincoln. your friendships have blessed me more than you know!

Posted by Charity at 09:56 AM | Comments (4)

on the verge

it's one of those nights where we are on the verge of a storm. it's been humid, cloudy, and windy and i've been waiting for the storm to hit all day. as the sun sets, the temperature cools creating the perfect environment for a storm to brew. the dark clouds are in the west and i can smell the rain coming... but its not here yet. .. its how i feel about life these days. i can sense i'm on the verge... unfortunately weather.com's doppler radar isn't capable of telling me when, how, or exactly what will hit my life. will this feeling fizzle out into a few raindrops? or will it develop into a memorable, magnificent storm where the landscape will be changed forever?

Posted by Charity at 07:59 PM | Comments (5)

NASCAR roots

i visited my dad, stepmom and siblings today when the NASCAR memories came flooding back. they live about a mile from a dirt track and today we watched the local boys test their cars as racing season began. it brought me back to my childhood where NASCAR took preference over the NFL on sundays. i followed the winston cup points race, knew all about daytona and taladega, and rooted for "the intimidator". my ears even perk up now when i hear about junior. i learned about drafting, restrictor plates, and pit stops. from my experience, southerners are more die hard fans than midwesterners, but we're not far behind. so though my fascination has waned and i've tried to hide these roots with my clever talk of art, theology, and indie movies, i can't forget. here's to winston cup wishes and drafting dreams...

Posted by Charity at 09:26 PM | Comments (12)

eternal sunshine would be hell

we saw eternal sunshine of the spotless mind this weekend. loved it. though when i walked out of the theatre i felt like i had just woken up from one of those stressful dreams, where you can’t keep your eyes open or everything is blurry and your eyes won’t focus.

not to mention the fact that jim carrey and kate winslet were fantastic, it was such a fascinating story. one of the things it challenged is the idea that we should avoid feeling (or remembering) pain at all costs. i read this book that talked about how advertisements teach us that there is always something to relieve our pain, whether it be physical, social or emotional, implying that pain should be avoided at all costs. it fails to communicate that in order for growth there needs to be a process of composting, where we work through the pain and bad things which in turn fosters growth/sanctification, whatever you want to call it. by erasing painful experiences we lose the opportunity for growth.

also, jason sent an interesting article about the science of memory that stirs up questions about the implications of improving our memories. while it wouldn’t seem that this would have negative implications, i believe that part of God’s grace is to allow our memories to fade in terms of both the “awesome” and “awful” of our lives. if we remembered the awesome experiences of life as intensely as when we first experienced them would we ever be able to enjoy the more “normal” parts of our life? or vice versa. would we ever be able to get over the awful crap we go through?

the ending was probably one of the most satisfying movie endings ever (if you haven’t seen it, stop reading NOW!). when confronting the fact that their relationship would bring pain, rather than avoiding it and protecting themselves, joel said “ok.”

Posted by Charity at 10:37 AM | Comments (15)

concerning hobbits

i am obsessed with hobbits (case in point – this is a photo from our kitchen). i find myself undeniably attracted to them, whether they take the form of frodo, sam, merry, and pippin or elijah, sean, dom, and billy…. the question that intrigues me is: why?

tolkien’s fictional hobbits are not the most physically attractive creatures. though they may have rosy cheeks and fair skin, i would normally find it difficult to get past the big ears, small height, and big, hairy feet. yet, in reality, I am unequivocally attracted to them. by “attraction”, i do not refer to a some sort of sexual attraction, but rather a compelling magnetism. so what is it that has me so captivated by a 4 ft hobbit with hairy feet? here are some thoughts:

they laugh. they love. while the hobbits are at ease eating, drinking, and laughing around the table, they also show an unfailing love towards each other seen when each makes their own mistake and the others, in turn, show grace and forgiveness.

they have purpose. they have passion. though t