The Ice Floe

Crush

A friend yesterday told me that her kids cannot make a commitment to a political candidate. On the one hand, Hillary Clinton is a girl, and girls are always better than boys. But then then John McCain is old, and you should be nice to old people "because they might die and not get another chance to be president." And Barack Obama has children their age.

These things are important. One must consider all the facts before voting in the elementary school mock-election.

This conversation, coupled with reverendmother's musings on how much to explain about the election to her eldest, reminded me of my own child-hood dabbling in politics.

When I was in elementary school, I became obsessed with a certain president. I wrote him letters virtually every week. In return I got cool pamphlets in the mail with 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue as the return address. I'm not sure where, but I would be surprised if I don't still have "A Young Person's Guide to the White House" somewhere.

I got an autographed photo, and several form letters.

I was convinced he read every letter himself.

I brought the photo to school for show and tell.

The White House was exotic, mysterious, enchanting. It was a palace with ladies-in-waiting at every corner. Violins played in the corridor. Visitors regularly curtsied and bowed to one another. And every night there was a ball. I was convinced that once I finally got there, my president would invite me in, and we would sit and talk about all the things I'd mentioned in my letters. And then I'd change into my ball gown, and be transformed from the mid-western Girl Scout with skinned knees and loose teeth into a gorgeous, sophisticated, graceful East Coast girl. I'd definitely be wearing gloves. I'd have all my teeth. Everyone would ask me to dance because I was so lovely. I wouldn't agree, though, because boys are gross and dancing involved touching them. Well, sometimes I'd agree, because I could earn the ball-room dancing badge that way. But the gloves would protect me. In any case, I spent most of the ball telling people about my long talks with the President, my pen-pal.

I was inconsolable when he was impeached.

Just because I care

So, I got some new shoes yesterday. I love them. They are brown flats with buttons on the sides. Very cute. They're Clark's but I bought them at Mar$halls, so I think they're from a few years ago--I can't find them on the internet, anyway.

But it is now summeryish weather, which means that one can't really wear tights and skirts unless it's a very cool day. One must wear stockings or bare legs.  Stockings were invented by the devil. Or else perverse men. Either way, I only wear them for dress up occasions. 

This, of course, leads us to the hosiery question---what socks does one wear with non-sandals?  I mean, the insides of most flats are slimey and gross and if your feet start to glow even the littlest bit you find yourself slipping around in your own shoes because of your own glowing and it's just GROSS. There are those little sockies, (which by the way, Target makes in cotton) but those only work with certain styles of flats.  What IS a fashion-forward woman of the cloth to DO????

Well, because I care, I will tell you about my find.  You can thank me later. There are these cool little thingamabobs  that come in both boys and girls sizes and lots of colors.

You put them inside your shoes (they are stick ons) and they prevent your tootsies from sliding all over. And should you happen to, uh, glow, they will absorb said glowiness.  Should they get gross and disgusting, you can unpeel them and throw them out. But mine haven't gotten gross and disgusting.  I've put them inside pretty much all of my summer shoes--including sneakers, because sometimes I like to wear sneakers without socks (no, not to work out in, of course---like I work out!).

So there you have it. My product review of the month. 

Important things to Note:

* I may have to stay here. I have, after nearly 5 years in this place, discovered the perfect mushroom and cheese omelette. A new diner. Glory be to God.
* Last night, there was loud growling and sounds of leaping and landing. Some hisses were bandied about. I was quite convinced that we had a mouse or an intruder, and that my macho 8 pounder was protecting the property. The reality, once the lights were flipped, was that baby Einstein had found some old catnip toys that he'd apparently forgotten about. He was drunk as a skunk.
* My goal for tomorrow is to not eat any candy. You know you have no self-control when not eating candy is a serious goal. We have lots of free candy where I work.
* I'm reading a new book: Loss--it's part of the Faith In the Neighborhood series. I recommend it highly. It looks at end of life and death issues from a wide variety of religions. This woman did a LOT Of homework for this book--it's loaded with quotes--from not just professionals but laypeople. I think it should be required CPE reading. I also think all doctors and nurses should know such things. I've taught world religions quite a bit so I knew a lot of this (although nowhere near this much on, say, African religions and Zoroastrianism), but it's really cool to have a book that looks at just ONE aspect of the multi-religious landscape at a time. You're able to better sink into things, I think. I'm not done yet, but I'm very pleased with it thus far.

Let this be a lesson to you

Everyone should find a spouse or partner.
There's the whole companionship thing, the tax break (that's a big one--but only if you're straight), love, support, affection, getting all those good "couples" deals.

These things are all important.

But most important:

IKEA furniture is not meant to be put together by one person.

I'm just saying.

Imagine, if you will, your fearless heroine batting her eyelashes to get an IKEA dude to help her load the book-case in her cart. Imagine her shamelessly allowing a teenager to help her load it into the car. Then imagine her not being able to park near her apartment. Imagine her going inside to eat taco chips, as this is known to create parking spaces, and then eventually moving her car to kind of in front of her apartment. Imagine your heroine dragging the box, bit by bit by bit from the street to the courtyard to the foyer to the apartment. Imagine her feeling every one of her 27 years as she did this.

Imagine, then the polar bear trying to put the dang thing together using those IKEA pict-o-graphs. Imagine her dismay when, on the last page, it shows this very clever move where TWO racially ambiguous cartoons fit all the holes into the little sticks at the same time. Imagine her summoning her inner Mary-Tyler-Moore and saying "pshaw, I can do that by myself."

Imagine her cursing those blasted single-phobic Swedes.

In several languages.

Including Swedish.

Imagine her pulling out the box where it notes that you need 2 kinds of screwdrivers to put together the bookcase. Note that there is NO pictograph of a second person.

Let this be a lesson to you, boys and girls, if you want to buy cheap Swedish furniture, you MUST find yourself a cheap Swedish spouse or partner first.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Done

At long last, I finished the stupid articles. Mine are very not good. I will not be surprised to have to edit like crazy or drop out altogether. I turned in number one and number two on time, but number three was late. I have never been late before. It sucks. And it doesn't help that the other editor--not my favorite professor ever, but famous woman preacher---was in town. I ran into her and someone that I know pretty well on the street. I was talking with my acquaintance about what I was writing (generally speaking)and mentioned that right now I was stuck on these articles and then I turned 8 shades of red after realizing that famous preacher was right there. Crap. See, this is why not-smart but reasonably creative types should say NO to these invitations.

Ah, but done! I am feeling some huge energy around getting some household projects done tomorrow. I need to sort out my bookshelves and probably make a trip to Ikea to get one more. I have stacks and stacks of books sitting around. If I can give away enough of them, I might not need another bookcase, but let's be realistic here!

I also desperately need to clean the fridge.

I've been having a major reunion spree on facebook. Several really wonderful friends from seminary have popped up and we formed a group. It's just amazing to see these folks face to virtual face after all this time.

Tonight, though, is a night of NO writing, of NO sorting. I fully expect to hang out and watch junk TV.

Because I can!

As you can probably tell by all the posts lately,

I'm stressed.
I'm trying to write these stupid, STUPID articles and it's not going well. They are due in 4 hours. I have done nothing but sit at the computer for 2 days straight. I have been thinking about these little turds for 3 months.
I am not going to make the deadline.
I sent one in this morning. It was 200 words shorter than they asked for, and not very good.
I expect to finish the second one within the hour and this one is reasonably good.
I have no freaking idea what to write on the third one.

If it were not for the person who asked me to do this, I think I would have quit. I've been asked to write "homiletical essays." I write sermons. I write essays. I have never done a homiletical essay before, and I've now discovered that I'm no good at it. I really, really wanted to do well. I was really, really honored that the most brilliant wonderful preacher in the world asked me to write---and he's done so much for me, I'd do anything for him. There's the rub, though. I want to do this for him, not because I have any skill in this area. I know he's had a lot of people poop out on him. I don't want to be one more.

But, sheesh, this experience has been a nightmare of low academic self-esteem, and suspicions of adult ADHD. Wait, is that a bird?

Politics and Religion: a rant

Even though I don't currently have a call, I'm a big believer in the pastor's political beliefs being private. I know many of you disagree, but there it is. I remember my COPM chair telling me that my days of

The Music Meme (I am so procrastinating)

Here's the deal. Let your itunes (or other player) go to shuffle. Write down the first line of the first 25 songs that you hit. Let your commenters try to figure out the songs and artists. Bolded responses have been figured out.
Y'all are awfully good. Even those these are from my own ipod, I wouldn't have caught as many as you have! 

1.Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup...
2.Ah.....well it's been building up inside for oh, I don't know how long
3. Be on my side, I'll be on your side, baby, there is no reason for you to hide.
4. Let's write a story of a tidal wave, we run out of luck, we run out of days,
5. don't the hours go shorter as the days go by?
6. Frail hinges pivot on a case's door, commemorative souvenirs from places...
7. Consumer Report don't tell me how to fix my heart...
8. It's an unfinished life that I find lies before me.
9. Say goodbye to the old street, I never cared much for you anyway.
10. Any minute now, my ship is coming in....
11. lights go down, it's dark, the jungle is your head, can't rule your heart.
12. so you call it a moment of weakness, I call it a moment of truth over someone that you don't understand.
13. Some will strut and some will fret, see this an hour on the stage....
14. You were spoken for, I spent twenty lifetimes at your door,
15. Oooh yeah, wash away my trouble, wash away my pain with the rain of shambala
16. This shirt is old and faded, all the colors washed away, I've had it now for more damn years than I can count anyway.
17. Many's the time I've been mistaken, and many times confused.
18. Perhaps I am a miscreation, no one knows the truth, there is no future here.
19. Out of the blue, you say to me, it's time to decide.
20. I saw it  come, like summer rain, incoming ocean, oncoming train.
21.  It was a last minute invitation, I did not have a thing to wear....
22. Just moved in to 14G, so cozy, calm and peaceful.
23.  I am sitting her wanting memories to teach me to see the beauty of the world through my own eyes.
24. There are things I will do for a hatchet job too.
25. She said she needed a break, a little time to think, but then she went to cleveland with some guy named Leland that she met at the bank.

Any thoughts?

Psalm 145:1-5,17-21.

???

yeah, I didn't think so. But I paid for the wireless and wanted to use it.

Stereotype

I'm writing in a starbuck$ today. Acoustic music, rain, people flirting over fancy coffees, women wearing ugly boots with skirts. I'm wearing my little tiny glasses and an old sweatshirt from college. I'm such a stereotype.

It's too bad I hate coffee. I love the smell of it.

But here I am, taking up the good chair, in the rain, writing.

How is it so easy to toss off a blog post, and so hard to come up with 3000 words on a deadline?

I have 60.
Back to work.

Ann Tayl0rrr Sale Racks

I can't really afford clothes by Ann Tayl0rrr. Not full price, anyway. But when I see an Ann Tayl0rrr sale rack, I simply have to look. I check everything: pants, skirts, sweaters, jackets. Because you see, when Ann Tayl0rr has a sale, she's serious about it. And I would hate to miss the perfect swingy red jacket just because I didn't look.

Trawling through the racks is also a useful way to sharpen my discernment skills. Some things are cute, but not quite Ann Tayl0rrr worthy. Some things are nice, and I would buy them if I absolutely had to have a whatever that day (pair of black pants, white blouse), but I don't, so I don't get it. Sometimes I run across something that is pretty nice, but I realize I have something similar in my own closet that I actually like better than AT's version. But every once in a while, you find that gem of an item, and $19.99 buys you a happy dance to your car. As you swing along with that bag, you think, "and I almost didn't walk in the store today!"

Quite frankly, I have often looked for new jobs and well, new anything in the same way. I like my apartment pretty well, but the neighborhood is problemmatic. So I peruse craig's list during my lunch hour, holding up new apartments against my shoulders....trying to see which are on the sale rack because they belong there, and which are true bargains....$300 suits cut down to $39.99 plus applicable taxes.

Earlier today, I found myself likening a casual job search to Ann Tayl0rrr sale rack shopping. Should I be marketing my AT Sale Rack Discernment method? Is this my key to an early retirement?

Stuck

in the Orlando airport.
Waiting for a very late flight, which is sold-out and where I have the dreaded middle seat.
There are lots of sugar-hyped, Disney-embalmed, misbehaving children here.
There are lots of people that are begging for skin cancer.
One mother just told her child that they were not going to go back to see Mickey again until everyone was old enough to drink.
The child asked, "when is that?"
There are also a lot, lot, lot, of cheerleaders present. There is always some sort of sports festival/competition whatever going on in the Disney cult. This week, it appears to be cheerleaders. There have been a few spontaneous jumps and cheers. So far, no spontaneous pyramids.
But I'll keep you posted.

People are funny.

On an impulse, I got my hair cut over lunch yesterday. I went from the longest hair I've ever had (not all that long, actually--a couple inches past shoulder length) to a chin-length bob. I've had a chin-length bob before. And since I often wear my hair up, it's really not that big of a change.

But people at work can't figure out what's different.

Today, three people asked if I'd lost weight , and two asked me if I had recently gotten contacts (20 years ago). One asked if my 6 year old shirt was new.

People are funny.

RBO April

• going to camp this weekend, which would be really exciting except that I'm bringing 2 students with me and they are making me NUTS with the travel arrangements. It'll be good to be there, though, and the weekend is supposed to be fabulous weather wise. It's a family weekend for a disease I've never heard of. I guess I'll be learning stuff.
• Don't forget to sign the petition to boycott stupid Burger King.
• People are talking about Kalamazoo, the conference where medievalists get together and do medieval stuff. . . and I keep thinking about Lana. She was supposed to present this year. She was all excited about a paper that she was working on right before leaving on her trip.  I hope that people remember her there, and realize that she died. I don't know--are medievalists a tight community? She didn't usually get to go to this conference, I know, so maybe nobody would notice.
• I got an extension on those little articles that I was procrastinating.  I have until the 30th. Phew!
• I bought 6 pairs of shows this weekend. 6! at a super-fantastic sale which was buy one, get one half off---and all the shoes were 19.99. Which was how I justified a pair of hot pink and orange flats. How can you argue with 10 bucks (In my mind, the practical shoes were the 20 buck ones and the ridiculous pairs were each 10 bucks. And yes, there were 3 pairs of ridiculous.)
• It's reference writing time. Holy cow, could just one of my students choose not to attend medical school? 
• Another one of my students missed class last week. Because her sister married a member of the New York Giants.  She sort of sheepishly mentioned that it was kind of a big wedding. Ya think?
• In case you're wondering, if you skip grocery shopping for well over a month because you're traveling and just grabbing stuff in between travels, you can end up spending 80 bucks. When you're single. And don't cook.
• I still need to write up my thoughts on the big JC.

Blogger Meetup Photo

From this photo, you might ascertain that we were wearing some sort of black pants, black shoes uniforms, but not really. 

Meet  Stacey ,
Saint Casserole
and, well, me.

Death, Taxes and Stress

I finally got around to doing the taxes today. It took forever. Turbo Tax kept telling me there was an error but I couldn't figure out how to fix it so I just printed without fixing it. (I didn't understand the error at all--the time value of the section 179--what the heck). I hope and pray that the worst thing to happen in that circumstance is that they just make you do it over again.  I'm owed a fairly hefty refund, but I'm not counting on it.

You know, I'm reasonably smart. I have 2 Master's degrees. I manage budgets and grants and all sorts of stuff. What is it about taxes that makes me feel like a complete and total blubbering idiot?

Quiet and Contemplative

Well, I'm back from Hogwarts meets Jesus, to borrow from St. Casserole's otherwise inimitable vocabulary. I took the train there and back.  I do my best thinking on the train. Yesterday, I spent my ride home thinking about contemplation, Jesus, liturgy and silence. And yes, it's particularly navel-gazey to contemplate contemplation.  I'm good that way. 

Jesus deserves his own post (and he will get it--later), but the others are related, I think. Well, Jesus is related too but again, he gets his own post because, well, he's Jesus.

Days at HMJ are marked by a peculiar rhythm.  The Cathedral in our backyard holds worship services at various times during the day. We hold a few services at the HMJ, and sometimes go as a group to the services at the Cathedral. 

Bishop's Garden

Mid-April nearly, and finally spring. The tulips are everywhere, crimson and magenta, exuberant yellows, lilac.  The cherry blossoms are about a week past their prime, lacy dresses just a little ratty at the hem, but still lovely, all told.  They are all here, neatly arrayed by unseen volunteers, propped up amidst the stone walkways and the baptismal font, now empty.  Everything is so old, and so new.

A father and his young daughter walk hand in hand, looking for frogs.

"Hi, froggie, hi froggie, Daddy it's a froggie, look it's a froggie."

He grabs her around her tummy and propels her forward, to see closer, see the froggie.

"It IS a froggie," he says. "Ribit."

Her laughter flies forth like shiny ribbons. He beams in her delight.

"Ribit," he says,"ribit."

Goldfish, impossibly large, swim in the little pond that plays home to the frog.  A boy with neat corn-rows tries to catch them in his fist. His father grabs his shirt to pull him back and the goldfish parade, unscathed.  

In the center of it all, the prodigal son, his stone head swallowed in his father's embrace. I take a picture. Behind me, the little girl giggles at her father, still saying "ribit," still coveting his daughter's delighted laugh. 

By the empty fountain, another pair walk arm in arm on the rough stone path.  She is maybe 40, maybe 50. I'm terrible at ages, but I know faces, and I know they are mother and daughter. Mother clings to daughter's sure and steady walk; identical eyes look this way and that. 

I turn to leave, and behind me the daughter speaks,"Look mother, there are tulips."

"Oh!" says the mother, paper thin skin stretching to a smile.

"Oh!"

I just made

a presentation for our spring break trip report back thingymabob. I have always done it in powerpoint. This time I did a slide show in iphoto that I exported to IDVD. I cannot believe how much faster and easier this is. I feel like I've seen the light and just needed to share.

Skivvies

Okay, so a couple years back I went to France with the sister. I bought some of those "wash in the sink and dry in one hour" skivvies. (BTW, they really do dry in an hour, in case you're wondering.) So, today said unmentionables came up in rotation.  As I pulled them from the drawer, I noticed that the tag indicated that not only are these "air dry in one hour" miracles, they also have an SPF of 50. 

Now here's my question. If you're running around outside without any pants on, don't you have bigger problems than the potential of a sunburn through your undies?

I'm just saying.

Deciding

I am supposed to go to a con ed event next week. Here's the upside:
cool instructor
some cool people going
I love preaching and talking about preaching.

Here's the downside:
I still haven't paid and I'm broke
I'm tired of traveling

Then here's the middle ground: I have to write these three articles and do my taxes. Am I more likely to do these things away from the distractions of work---or less?

I'm so ambivalent about this whole thing....to stay or to go?

RBO Overwhelmed.

I'm overwhelmed. For no really good reason, but I'm just feeling like crawling back in bed. I've done such different back to back travel, and my mind is spinning. I have so much stuff to put away from all three trips, as well as various details from the two work-related ones that need to be attended to.  Yikes. I also agreed to write 3 short articles for a commentary, and I haven't begun it yet. It's due on April 15. And then there are the taxes. And I'm supposed to be leaving town again a week from tomorrow. Ack!Ack! Ack! So, in lieu of a real post, here are my somewhat blathery thoughts today.

• I didn't get any jelly beans or hard boiled eggs for easter, and I'm surprised at how much I miss that. Maybe I'll make a hard-boiled egg batch soon.
• If you are a lean cuisine/smart ones/healthy choice eater (like me), just a head's up that these items are always much cheaper at Target than even the sale grocery store prices. Just so you know.
• I really get turned off by Disney World. I stayed at one of the resorts, because that's where the conference was, and by the end I was ready to claw my eyes out.
• Y'all better be boycotting Burger King!
• I managed to lose 3 pounds in Scotland, but I suspect I gained it back at Disney. 
• girlkitty is really clingy today.  She missed me.
• I waited over an hour and a half in line at security yesterday.
• I decided not to renew my lifeguarding.
• I really, REALLY do not want to go to work tomorrow.
• Adventures in Iona: a mama sheep chased me, I got mud up to my knees on the pilgrimage, I wasn't allowed a spot on the return bus, so the 7 of us that were kicked off called a cab who managed to get us to the ferry on time by driving roughly 90 million miles an hour on a one-lane road. My roommate woke me up in the middle of the night to yell at me. My accent was mocked.  I met someone from Montana that talks in a fake Scottish accent. Always. My prawn sandwich was stolen by seagulls. I got to sing in a choir that was conducted by John Bell, and we sang some of his newest unpublished pieces. As we left Maundy Thursday service, it began to hail sideways--big quarter sized hunks of ice. It only lasted about 5 minutes. Guess who was out walking during the 5 minutes? I don't know why but my response was to laugh really hard. When the non-intense people finally found each other, we had a good time.  I made a new volunteer cry--she was homesick, it wasn't my fault. I never at haggis, but I did have some scottish whiskey. I love sheep.
• Adventures on Mission Trip: I still have bruises. I can't think about migrant workers without crying. I will never again eat a tomato the same way.  Imagine supporting a family of 7 on 11,000 a year, with no food stamps, health insurance or anything.  I got frustrated with the other driver who sped too often. I liked the kids. They liked each other. I was the only white person on the trip. They thought it was hilarious to try to tell people that we were an organization for disadvantaged youth.  Our weekend with kids with the evil disease was good, but  a bit surreal. I led a parent support group.  I missed having my lifeguarding, but not enough to have driven 2.5 hours each way to get it today. I have many pictures. I went to a worship service that was in Spanish, and the folks there called our group up to be prayed over and anointed.
• I am glad to be home. I really ought to do some laundry now. But I don't want to.

Unpacking

from here, here, and here (for a wear your big girl clothes conference).

Laundry frightens me.
I think I'll go buy groceries instead.

Gettin' All Privileged and Stuff

So I'm here in Rodent-land Resort for a conference. Rodent-land bugs me.
Since I have nothing bloggable to report, here's a meme about privilege. You're supposed to bold those that are true for you.

Book Report

Books read over the trip:

11.Three Cups of Tea: my review: eh. The work this man is doing is amazing. The book needed an editor.
12. Nineteen Minutes:my review: couldn't put it down. great character development.
13.  Oops. Can't remember the name of the third, which is sad because it was my favorite. I'll have to unpack my suitcase and write  it up. The Double Bind. This book was awesome. I love a book that surprises me.