All this to say that I've been busy again. But now that I'm sorting out the easy stuff....it'll be on. ;)
All this to say that I've been busy again. But now that I'm sorting out the easy stuff....it'll be on. ;)
A little before 2, I woke up from a dead sleep. Something had just whined in my ear. You know that half-awake reasoning mode a person goes into. "Well, what could have just whined in my ear? A mosquito? An elephant? Was it just a dream?" Then I switched to the taking inventory of the room mode, with my eyes still closed mind you. "Hmm..all my limbs seem to still be in the bed, pillow under my head, still have all the blankets. WonderDog next to my knee...no wait...he's not next to me. Hmm..."
I rolled over a little and realized that my nose had just run into something furry. Now, understand, I'm afraid of the dark. I do, in fact, have lights on in my house all night. (Not the main lights in a room, but small nightlights). So, to wake up to a strange noise in my ear and realize something furry is on my pillow with me.....Houston, we have a problem!
Cautiously, I reach up to touch whatever it is on my pillow. Whew! WonderDog! That's a relief, seriously. I open my eyes and we're eyeball to eyeball, and I can tell he's distressed. I start murmuring comforting words and cooing at him when he suddenly cuts his eyes toward the closet. (Yes, I know, I'm anthropomorphizing him. Deal with it.) So, I look over there.
The door's open. This is...well let's just say there will be no sleep until the damn thing is closed. But here's the deal, I closed it before I got in bed. I always do. It's my little ritual--walk the house, check the locks, open and shut the closet door. I never falter in this.
Soooo......why's it open? Let's see, the door's open, the WonderDog has plastered himself to my head, and is under some sort of distress that I'm guessing, at this hour, has nothing to do with the corned beef hash I let him taste after I had my dinner. (Ok..it could be the hash, but he's little and frankly, I'd have been gassed out of the room LOOOOONG before the two o'clock hour if it was the hash.)
By this time, I'm awake and now, rather than turn on a light and close the door, my mind is racing through the possible reasons for it's open state.
My mind flits to the old wives' tale about cats not being allowed in a baby's room because they'll steal the baby's breath. I glance at WonderDog, "Is that why you're on my pillow? To steal my breath?" Whine....I'm guessing that means "no."
I lay there pondering for a few seconds, and my mine wanders over to a faint memory of a set of Stephen King short stories made into short movies. Wish I could remember what they are. Three of them packaged together, one of them is about a cat who protects the human child in her family from a troll who tries to steal her breath.
Do you see where this is heading??
The troll, as I recall from the movie, would show up after the little girl was asleep, bedroom door closed, and the cat (THANK GOD) had snuck in without the parents knowing. There was a creak of the bedroom door and then scampering across the floor, where the troll would climb into bed and start to suck the breath right out of the child. The cat would leaps onto the bed and a terrific fight ensues. Takes a little time for the cat to not only kill the troll, but be lauded as a hero by the family.
For the record, I do not own a cat. But I am terrified of the dark. So much so that I don't sleep on one side of my queen-size bed, I sleep in the middle. My rational mind understands that there is nothing under my bed. But you never know.
So, from 2:15ish (when I make this connection) to 4:00ish, I'm lying in bed watching the closet door. And listening for scamper sounds on the wood floor. And wondering why in the hell the WonderDog has dozed back off, leaving me utterly unprotected. I am not, even for a minute, sleeping.
I finally give in. I need to sleep, but I won't sleep with that door open. I sit up, get a grumble from the WonderDog. Apparently, I am now disturbing his sleep. When did I cease to be the alpha in my own house?
"Little dog, if I should die, think only this of me....I will haunt your ass and then show the trolls where to find you."
As the alarm goes off and I reach for the bedside lamp, the WonderDog wakes up a stretches, big yawns. Then wanders over to give me a good morning kiss. As if nothing in the world has happened. Really? REALLY? Glad someone got to sleep last night.
To see a few more ramblings, visit Carry on Tuesday and Sunday Scribblings.
I want to be part of a church that is prayer-filled -
A church that is resourced and sustained by the Bible,
A church that can offer hope even in a credit crunch,
A church that can live well with difference and diversity.
I want to be part of a church that welcomes the wealthy, those who have power and influence -
A church that knows how to party and celebrate life,
A church that acknowledges death and speaks boldly of resurrection,
A church that doesn’t pretend to have all the answers but encourages all the questions.
I want to be part of a church that throws parties for prostitutes -
A church that welcomes those who seek asylum,
A church that longs and yearns for justice,
A church that listens to those no-one else wants to listen to.
I want to be part of a church that believes in transformation not preservation -
A church where all who are lost can be found,
A church where people can discover friendship,
A church where every person takes responsibility in sharing the good news.
I want to be part of a church whose hope is placed securely and confidently in the transforming love of God -
A church that engages faith in its communities,
A church that makes and nurtures disciples of Jesus.
A church where the story of God’s love is at the centre.
I want to be part of a church that offers outrageous grace, reckless generosity, transforming love and engaging faith.
This is God’s story Transforming Love: Engaging Faith.
My prayer is that by the power of the Spirit of God at work amongst us, it will increasingly be our story.
So, Sally asks, what kind of church do we want to be part of? What does our "dream church" do? How does it behave in the 21st century.
1. I want to worship and fellowship in a church that remembers that this is the most important thing:
But the Pharisees, when they heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, gathered themselves together. One of them, a lawyer, asked him a question, testing him. "Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the law?"Because I see all too frequently that we forget that part about loving our neighbors, being too quick to judge instead.
Jesus said to him, "'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the first and great commandment. A second likewise is this, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments."
2. I want to be part of a church in which I can say "Jesus is my Savior I choose to follow, but who am I to say that someone who doesn't agree with me is wrong?" without feeling like I've just dropped a bomb.
3. I want to be part of a church that isn't all feel-good and warm fuzzies. That does convict me, that does make me feel called to task when I really have stepped outside the appropriate boundaries--but does it with love and not condemnation.
4. I want to be in a church that recognizes that the most important ministry work I do rarely happens inside the church walls, and that I will choose to minister there (quietly, with minimal mention of my faith) because that's where the people who need ministering to are many times before I choose to make it to a worship service.
Oh, let me continue that thought....I want to be in a church that recognizes that the most important work ANY church or church member does is not inside the 4 walls. It's in the world.
5. I want to be in a church, in a world, that doesn't box God in. How do we forget so easily that He is the God of wonders beyond our galaxy?
Wander over to today's Friday Five at RevGalBlogPals for other musings on the church in the 21st century.
First, you need to know that I used one of these white ramikins. It's roughly just the right size for one person.
1/4 cup EggBeaters, Southwestern Style or an equivalent product
2 Tablespoons grated cheese (I used sharp cheddar, but whatever floats your boat)
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Use non-stick cooking spray to coat the ramikin. Stir all ingredients together and pour into the ramikin. Bake for 10-15 minutes, or until eggs are set (knife inserted in center will come out clean).
I haven't played in a long while, but I don't feel too bad about that because there's been so much going on....soooooo much. SOOOOOO much. You've noticed that, right?
But today, I'm really feeling it. Just please pardon me if my list seems a bit odd.
Today, and for many days now, I'm feeling thankful for...
1. Peace and quiet. Moving in to this new house has made that completely possible. It's wonderful. To make it even better, no one is at a pool right outside my door hollering my name every time I open it. Makes it nice to actually enjoy my porch or patio now.
Thursday mornings is one of my trash pick up days, so I always try to get the trash out after dinner the night before. Otherwise, I get caught up on this infernal computer in the morning and run late and never get the trash out. See? I'm trying to learn to be responsible!
Anyway, typically A.D.D. hour for me. Took the trash and spied the hibiscus by the back door. Previous resident never cleaned up the beds, never weeded. I tackled the front beds a couple weeks ago (I planted SHRUBS!) but never got around to the back. The poor hibiscus is suffocating with all the grass and weeds growing in the middle of it. So, I drop the bag of trash, grab a rake and start working my way through.
Snake. Damn it. Freaking thing was hanging out in all those weeds. (Knew there was a good reason to clean it out.) So I run it off, keep cleaning. An hour later, all the yard work is done. Except mowing, of course. I don't mow.
But that damn snake. Under the house. I hate snakes. I blame my father for trying to force me to pet one. Screw that.
(For the record, I finished a glass of tea last night before bed and went to the kitchen to wash the glass. Noticed then--4 hours later, mind you--that I'd never actually put the trash out. Sigh.)
I agree, sometimes you've got leave home to appreciate what's there, sometimes in order to find yourself. But there's 2 songs out on the radio right now that are very much speaking to me. The first is Miranda Lambert's "The House That Built Me."
I mentioned in the post for Sunday Scribblings, that I'm feeling a birth of newness in myself. As I laid in bed last night, radio going softly, I realized that it's so much more than that. I'm coming back to myself. I'm not pushing myself away from who I am anymore. Trying to be bigger and better, when I really just need to be little ol' me. Lady Antebellum's "American Honey" reminds me of that.
I'm digging Zac Brown Band's "Free" right now, too. The feel of the video is just one take on the song. For me, it's an affirmation of where I am right now--on the verge, but ever so free.
In honour of a brand new wee one, the prompt this week is: birth. You can go as literal or as metaphoric as you wish. What do you need to/want to give birth to? What has been born through you? What new beginning are you responsible for?Since I'm back to writing and blogging more frequently, I felt it was a good start to get back to the Sunday Scribblings I participated in with my "Jayne Says" blog (which, by the way, will slowly be incorporated here, as I take a few minutes now and again to move the posts over.)
And the prompt this week is timely for me. I'm, in a very real way, giving birth to some new things in my life. (A baby is not one of them.) I'm finally creating a home and space that I love and feel relaxed in. I'm finally feeling as if I'm coming into my own at work, at home, and in my very soul. I'm beginning things internally and externally that feel beautiful. My thesaurus suggested "actualizing" as a synonym for "beginning." I like it. Doesn't that sound MUCH more deliberate and focused and just plain intentional?
I've moved into this wonderful 1940s home, with wood floors and all the original hardware. My little world of the apartment felt so damn temporary. This feels established; it feels real. But I guess houses are supposed to feel this way.
Just moving into this house birthed a new beginning for me. I breathe easier, I sleep easier, and I feel empowered here. I'm feeling the need to write again, and feeling the need to revel in my completeness. Does that make sense? The completeness bit?
See, forever ago it seems, R and I talked about how God doesn't put us here on earth incomplete. Therefore no one but ourselves and God is responsible for completing us. I firmly believe that, but just now finally feel it. I finally believe in and feel my own completeness. It's fabulous. It's unbelievably wonderful.
And it wasn't nearly as messy as actually giving birth, though the moving truly, truly sucked. *grin*
For more thoughts about birth, visit Sunday Scribblings.
Love and Trash
Read the Printed Word
As I find neat things, I'll bump this up. Feel free to comment and share other places I might find interesting.
As I opened up my computer this morning, I directly went to my blog and RevGals to see what the newest Friday Five would be! Nothing was here, which seemed odd. Then I went to look at the calendar and counted the Fridays, and it is the THIRD Friday! How did that happen so quickly? It's my turn, so here's a quickie:
1. Do you tend to be a late person or one who is timely, arriving on time or earlier?
Depends on the situation and what's going on. I despise tardiness, but often find myself running at least a couple minutes behind. I do much prefer to be early.
2. Have you forgotten anything of importance lately?
Promising to call a friend who needed a little extra love. I know it hurt her, and it wasn't my usual behavior.
3. Is procrastination your inclination? Why or why not?
Yes, it is. Sigh. I'll put off anything to take a nap or to read a book or do ANYTHING else sometimes. I like to think it's because at work I absolutely refuse to procrastinate. I just want to get everything done. But at home....kitchens are self-cleaning, right?
4. Do you like schedules or spontaneity? Which works best for you?
Again, depends on the situation. If it's something that must be done or gotten to, schedules work for me. If all the responsibilities are met, then I like spontaneity.
5. How do you stay on track with the various things you need to, people you must meet, etc., etc.?
"On the 42 millionth day, God created the iPhone." My precious phone, Phoebe, is always in my hand or on my hip. Always. I found a great app that syncs with my Google calendar and I can create an alarm in. Plus, the Google calendar is set up to send me a daily agenda. The only thing I do not schedule is worship and prayer. Those just happen.
BONUS: Whatever comes to mind about forgetfulness or lateness.
I had a teacher with an adage that seems to have taken on a life of its own with his former students and co-workers.
To be early is to be on time.Granted he was proving a point about getting to rehearsal on time, but who ever wants to be wrong on a regular basis? Every time I'm running behind or I'm waiting on someone who is, I can hear him saying that to us. Every time.
To be on time is to be late.
To be late is to be wrong.
For more musings about running late, check out today's Friday Five at RevGalBlogPals.
Then the person will clarify--"I just love leaving the alarm clock off and getting extra sleep." OOOOOH, gotcha.
No, actually, I don't. I would love to sleep late. Hell, most nights I'd just love to sleep. But sleeping in would be good too. My plans to sleep in are always thwarted though. Sometimes my internal clock just says "get up." Sometimes there's just too much on my plate to sleep in. Other times, wakefulness comes in the form of a still, small....nose in my neck from a little dog who needs to potty NOW. The WonderDog's internal alarm is more finely tuned than mine. Maybe I need to replace the battery in mine. Oh wait, that's why I drink coffee. *grin*
Anyway, was up and moving at 6 this morning. I've given The WonderDog his morning constitutional, made coffee, watched the weather, and watered all my new plants. (Does anyone have any idea why my firebush is looking so peak-ed? Seriously..comment. I've been watering like the guide said to and it's just not happy.) Thought I'd get online and be the first commenter for the Friday Five at RevGalBlogPals, but I'm apparently up before that crew this morning. They, obviously, can sleep in when they want to.
As I sit here at my desk in my still new office (two weeks new), I'm watching the morning pilgrimage to the coffee house. My house is conveniently located at the other end of the shared alley. This is dangerous for me, but so far I've limited myself to two visits since moving in. Though I did borrow their patio for a little quiet Sunday afternoon. I've gotten to where I recognize the cars coming by, the regulars. It's nice to feel like there's a routine out there, even if it's not mine.
The WonderDog is nestled in my lap, I'm on cup of coffee number 2, and a glance at the clock tells me that I'm already behind schedule for my shower, seeing as how I have to drive into the Big City today to visit my doctors. Ah, well, there will be a break in there to do a little musing and grab a cup of coffee. I'm already trying to scope out a park in my brain, or a bookstore with a quiet corner for my in between times today.
Enjoy your Friday--when you finally get up this morning. *wink*
As I "blog-shopped" on RevGals this morning while enjoying my coffee and waiting on the Friday Five prompt, I found Aaron's blog, Lord if I Know. His most recent post, linked above, moved me this morning and will certainly be the fodder for my thoughts today.
Thank you, Aaron.
Well, I was going to get all into this summer project of mine and cook something today. Bu I’m not feeling quite up to par, so I’m thinking the extent of my cooking today may be a grilled cheese. Or a run through the Jack in the Box on the way home. We’ll see.
I have, however, after telling M about my little project, started dreaming big. I’m gonna take this show on the road. No, seriously, I’m going to do this up, right. Check for the new tag “eating single” and be prepared for me to work hard at what I’m doing with this project.
This week, I’m going to mess with my lasagna recipe, see how to easily cut it down, and still make it healthy. I’ve taken to not buying meat much at home, preferring instead the soy varieties in the freezer section. I’m thinking I can easily make that work for me, so as to not have to buy ground meet or Italian sausage in bulk. Granted, for me, “in bulk” means that I’ve had to buy a whole pound of it. *grin* I’m also going to try my breakfast casserole baked in a ramikin.
I’m kind of excited. Ok, really excited. I’ve got a plan, and some ideas to get me started. YAY ME!
I’ve moved into this new place, have lots more space, a bigger kitchen. And no microwave.
I expect gasps here, but really it’s okay. I’ve decided to try not using one here at home. Granted, the work one is available to me, but I really want to see if I can manage without it. Goodness knows I don’t need the sodium-filled foods that I find in the freezer section of my local grocery store. Really, who does need those?
I made a comment to a friend last night—not the first time I’ve made this comment in the last couple weeks—that I don’t believe in leftovers. Seriously, they’re against everything in me. Can’t imagine why you’d want to eat the same foods days in a row when you can make each day special with it’s own meal. Who cares if that “own meal” is occasionally a bowl of cereal or a scrambled egg?
Not believing in leftovers makes cooking for a single girl a bit of a challenge. I have plenty of “for two” recipes, but that still leaves leftovers. Granted, sometimes those make it to work with me for lunch the next day, but more often than not they don’t. And some of my best recipes, like my lasagna or breakfast casseroles, I’ve never figured out how to make for just one.
So, my random thought today went something like this (bear with me, it was a little groggy, I got to sleep late for the first time in weeks and haven’t had coffee yet.) …..
I’m going to learn how to adapt recipes for single people. It’s a trial and error. It’s gonna be a mess. BUT, it solves not only my dilemma with leftovers (because, forgive me, even if I don’t believe in leftovers, I can still hear that classic 1980s parental line “there are starving children in Ethiopia), it also provides me with a challenge this summer.
And fodder for all you darlings to read here. Or maybe it’s an excuse to get me writing again. Whatever!
By the way…did anyone else ever want to respond to the Ethiopia line with “it really doesn’t matter if I eat all my peas or not.”