I am so tired I can't think. When I returned from vacation, I hit the trail running. Wednesday was packed with catching up at the office, conversation with a friend and minister at my church about the freak-out over the upcoming interview, a date that wasn't a date, church/chapel service which could not have been more dead on to what I needed to hear, the need to blog the vacation, and a very restless night. Thursday wasn't much better: more catching up, photos to process, a fundraising dinner after work that was amazing, conversation with a friend who is moving here from former city to work at the same seminary where I work, and another restless night. Friday was much quieter at work, but the awkwardness about the upcoming interview was thick and uncomfortable. After work, I met a friend from church for dinner. Today I had breakfast with slightly scary woman (don't ask me why; and for the record I had grits with sugar), talked to my former supervisor about the upcoming interview, went to a presentation at church, and then out for coffee with a friend afterward.
The days of spending endless hours alone are over!
The interview will be all day Wednesday (and by all day, I mean 9:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m.) and most of the day on Thursday. Fortunately, Friday is a holiday and there's a lot of good stuff planned for the day.
I have some additional posts about the vacation in draft form, but none that's ready to post just yet. Some of my experience there, frankly, is hard to articulate. Yosemite inspires a deeply spiritual experience, I believe, that is often hard to articulate. Though I've been there many times, this time is no different in regards to the difficulty in putting into words what it's like to be among such amazing natural beauty. It's a privilege to see and experience and walk in the midst of such holiness. What it does to me as a person is the hard part to explain. I am, however, attempting a description and hope to post that sometime before the end of the weekend.
For now, though, I'm going to pop a movie into the computer and head to bed.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
Pictures
Pictures from the vacation can be found here. There will be more added this weekend. I missed a roll of film when I took them in to have them developed yesterday. Here's one of my favorites...
That's Bridalveil Falls on the right. Half Dome, the very long hike I took years ago is in the center of the picture and looks a little like a bird's beak sticking up behind the mountain in front of it.
That's Bridalveil Falls on the right. Half Dome, the very long hike I took years ago is in the center of the picture and looks a little like a bird's beak sticking up behind the mountain in front of it.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Things that go bump in the night
This is a story that Julie should be telling for the simple fact that for the larger part of the actual event she was actually awake, while I was not. However, at a very crucial moment at the peak of the story, I laid claim to the rights to blog it, the justification of which shall become abundantly clear soon...
This story must begin with the explanation that I sleep well. When I say that I sleep well, I mean I go to sleep quickly, and I sleep deeply, blissfully unaware of anything going on around me. It is a useful skill or gift or whatever you want to call it, and it has provided many friends with hours of entertainment when they felt the need to stay up all night at slumber parties. On night two of the Yosemite extravaganza, however, I think Julie was less than amused.
We'd hiked a good seven, eight miles (ask us next week, it'll be a good ten miles that we hiked that day) on Saturday, and I was seriously tired. Julie's school pal Jim, his wife Karen, and their bouldering pal Adrian came over to our cabin to visit and to use our civilized toilet after we all feasted at the lodge that evening. Upon my return to the cabin, I dashed to the grocery store to get some chocolate to nibble on that evening, and returned with a package of Pepperidge Farm cookies and two cups of coffee to help the two of us stay awake while we visited. I shared the cookies with the group, and after they left, closed the package up tight and left it on the desk in the room. On the desk immediately in front of the cookies was a plastic grocery bag full of a variety of granola bars that Julie brought along for us to eat on our a 15-mile-per-day hikes. There are signs all over the park alerting people to the presence of bears and their fondness for people food. Even the cabins have bear lockers in which you can store food. But I, being the experienced outdoors person, thought, "Bears, schmears. They can't open doors. How would they get in here to get our granola bars and cookies?" Julie, however, was less certain. She worried about us leaving food in the cabin. Before we left for Yosemite she had her car detailed to get every last crumb out of it so as not attract them and encourage them to break the windows or anything. She takes the bears and warnings seriously. I, however, like to live dangerously.
Julie, who regularly goes to bed at 7:00 p.m. and gets up at 3:00 a.m., was the first to go to sleep the night before, practically falling asleep in the middle of a great story I was telling about something. On Saturday night, the situation was reversed. I couldn't keep my eyes open, so I laid down shortly after the guests left, while Julie read about the next day's 20-mile hike. I vaguely remember her turning off the light, but little else.
I was out quick and into a deep sleep until Julie awakened me sometime a bit later. "Linda, wake up," she said. "There's something in the plastic bag on the desk. I saw its beaty little eyes. I think it's a mouse, and you're going to have to take care of it." She was sitting on her bed, frozen, eyes fixed on the desk, the light beside her turned on. I glanced over at the desk, and saw nothing. I watched for a few moments and still, nothing. "There's a mouse. I swear it. He was in the bag of granola bars. It's your cookies that led him in here." I failed to catch the faulty logic of my cookies being what attracted him while he was actually enjoying the granola bars, but it wouldn't be the last time I encountered such logic.
From the tone of her voice, I knew it wouldn't help to just tell her to go back to sleep and forget about it, so I walked over to the desk to investigate. I carefully peered around the stacks of clothes and other things piled on the desk. I couldn't see a thing. I wouldn't have admited it from my heroic position as mouse hunter, but I was secretly concerned that the little thing might just jump out at me while I looked for him and that my own fear would be revealed. So, I lightly picked up one piece of Julie's clothing at a time, carefully shaking it or shifting it on the desk to see if I could expose the critter.
Nothing. I didn't see a thing and began to assume there was no such critter, that her vivid imagination had just gone wild or something, but her insistence continued. Convinced that the critter was well hidden and sufficiently intimidated by my hulking presence and obvious hunting skill, I went back to bed. I'd barely gotten my eyes closed when Julie asked, "Do you hear that?" I didn't. "It's back," she said.
I got up again, and looked quickly toward the desk. Indeed a little brown mouse appeared from the piles of clothes on the desk. As I walked toward him, prepared to bravely catch him and return him to the outdoors, he jumped to the floor and raced under the closet door and the chase ensued. I opened the door and madly started searching around my suitcase and dirty clothes on the floor. I couldn't find him anywhere. Convinced he must have gotten out of the closet, I turned around and started looking under the beds, and in the trash can, hoping he'd found the empty beer bottles and was drinking himself into a drunken stupor. I looked behind the curtains, and while I laughed about the situation, Julie nervously sat on her bed and prayed I'd find him. It was at this point that I laid claim to my rights to the story saying, "I'm totally blogging this."
He was nowhere to be found. Nowhere. I really didn't care. It doesn't bother me to share space with the critters, but Julie seemed much more concerned. I searched as long as I could and finally gave up. We put the granola bars and cookies in a desk drawer, and I went back to bed. In a bit I was fast asleep again. Julie laid awake for awhile, the light still on, and apparently slept very little the whole night. At some point during the night, the wind picked up and there was a srcatching noise on the roof of the cabin, the tree branches scraping it as they swayed in the wind.
Julie, however, was convinced it was a bear and started worrying about bears, because, you know, if a mouse could get in the cabin, a bear most certainly could too!
On the drive home, after our 42-mile hike through Mariposa Grove, I reached into the bag to retrieve a cookie for Julie. When I looked in, this is what I saw....
This story must begin with the explanation that I sleep well. When I say that I sleep well, I mean I go to sleep quickly, and I sleep deeply, blissfully unaware of anything going on around me. It is a useful skill or gift or whatever you want to call it, and it has provided many friends with hours of entertainment when they felt the need to stay up all night at slumber parties. On night two of the Yosemite extravaganza, however, I think Julie was less than amused.
We'd hiked a good seven, eight miles (ask us next week, it'll be a good ten miles that we hiked that day) on Saturday, and I was seriously tired. Julie's school pal Jim, his wife Karen, and their bouldering pal Adrian came over to our cabin to visit and to use our civilized toilet after we all feasted at the lodge that evening. Upon my return to the cabin, I dashed to the grocery store to get some chocolate to nibble on that evening, and returned with a package of Pepperidge Farm cookies and two cups of coffee to help the two of us stay awake while we visited. I shared the cookies with the group, and after they left, closed the package up tight and left it on the desk in the room. On the desk immediately in front of the cookies was a plastic grocery bag full of a variety of granola bars that Julie brought along for us to eat on our a 15-mile-per-day hikes. There are signs all over the park alerting people to the presence of bears and their fondness for people food. Even the cabins have bear lockers in which you can store food. But I, being the experienced outdoors person, thought, "Bears, schmears. They can't open doors. How would they get in here to get our granola bars and cookies?" Julie, however, was less certain. She worried about us leaving food in the cabin. Before we left for Yosemite she had her car detailed to get every last crumb out of it so as not attract them and encourage them to break the windows or anything. She takes the bears and warnings seriously. I, however, like to live dangerously.
Julie, who regularly goes to bed at 7:00 p.m. and gets up at 3:00 a.m., was the first to go to sleep the night before, practically falling asleep in the middle of a great story I was telling about something. On Saturday night, the situation was reversed. I couldn't keep my eyes open, so I laid down shortly after the guests left, while Julie read about the next day's 20-mile hike. I vaguely remember her turning off the light, but little else.
I was out quick and into a deep sleep until Julie awakened me sometime a bit later. "Linda, wake up," she said. "There's something in the plastic bag on the desk. I saw its beaty little eyes. I think it's a mouse, and you're going to have to take care of it." She was sitting on her bed, frozen, eyes fixed on the desk, the light beside her turned on. I glanced over at the desk, and saw nothing. I watched for a few moments and still, nothing. "There's a mouse. I swear it. He was in the bag of granola bars. It's your cookies that led him in here." I failed to catch the faulty logic of my cookies being what attracted him while he was actually enjoying the granola bars, but it wouldn't be the last time I encountered such logic.
From the tone of her voice, I knew it wouldn't help to just tell her to go back to sleep and forget about it, so I walked over to the desk to investigate. I carefully peered around the stacks of clothes and other things piled on the desk. I couldn't see a thing. I wouldn't have admited it from my heroic position as mouse hunter, but I was secretly concerned that the little thing might just jump out at me while I looked for him and that my own fear would be revealed. So, I lightly picked up one piece of Julie's clothing at a time, carefully shaking it or shifting it on the desk to see if I could expose the critter.
Nothing. I didn't see a thing and began to assume there was no such critter, that her vivid imagination had just gone wild or something, but her insistence continued. Convinced that the critter was well hidden and sufficiently intimidated by my hulking presence and obvious hunting skill, I went back to bed. I'd barely gotten my eyes closed when Julie asked, "Do you hear that?" I didn't. "It's back," she said.
I got up again, and looked quickly toward the desk. Indeed a little brown mouse appeared from the piles of clothes on the desk. As I walked toward him, prepared to bravely catch him and return him to the outdoors, he jumped to the floor and raced under the closet door and the chase ensued. I opened the door and madly started searching around my suitcase and dirty clothes on the floor. I couldn't find him anywhere. Convinced he must have gotten out of the closet, I turned around and started looking under the beds, and in the trash can, hoping he'd found the empty beer bottles and was drinking himself into a drunken stupor. I looked behind the curtains, and while I laughed about the situation, Julie nervously sat on her bed and prayed I'd find him. It was at this point that I laid claim to my rights to the story saying, "I'm totally blogging this."
He was nowhere to be found. Nowhere. I really didn't care. It doesn't bother me to share space with the critters, but Julie seemed much more concerned. I searched as long as I could and finally gave up. We put the granola bars and cookies in a desk drawer, and I went back to bed. In a bit I was fast asleep again. Julie laid awake for awhile, the light still on, and apparently slept very little the whole night. At some point during the night, the wind picked up and there was a srcatching noise on the roof of the cabin, the tree branches scraping it as they swayed in the wind.
Julie, however, was convinced it was a bear and started worrying about bears, because, you know, if a mouse could get in the cabin, a bear most certainly could too!
On the drive home, after our 42-mile hike through Mariposa Grove, I reached into the bag to retrieve a cookie for Julie. When I looked in, this is what I saw....
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Remembering
A friend sent me a poem last year that meant a lot to me. On this day one year ago, I read it over and over and over again until I knew I wouldn't let the night end before I'd done what I needed to do. The next morning, I moved out and on my own. It seems important to remember it tonight....
The Journey
by Mary Oliver
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kepy you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
The Journey
by Mary Oliver
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kepy you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Arriving in California
Just got home and I sure would like one of these right now... Mmmm... Key Lime pie...martini. Yes, that's pie crust around the edge of the glass.
It was a fantastic trip. The flight out was uneventful. Julie greeted me at the airport and wisked me away for the traditional coming out pie. The West Coast version comes in martini form. We drank our martinis and moved on to the next event: sushi. Sushi eating with Julie is not just a meal; it's an event. There's no dainty nibbling on a roll or two and a few pieces of fish. The table is filled and everyone feasts. Now, that's the way to eat sushi! And, by golly, it was good. Sushi in my new city sucks. It was good to have it in a place where folks know how it's done.
After we feasted, we headed to Julie's place where I got to meet the cats. Max, the 14-year-old boy kitty, welcomed me warmly. Deuce hid. In fact, she hid the entire time I was there. I suspect Julie got an earful after I left today, because Deuce seemed to have an opinion about the strange woman in her house. I'd gladly tell you what she looks like, but frankly, I never got much opportunity to see her and when I did, all I saw were eyes...big, scared, nervous eyes. I hope she's recovering.
Max, on the other hand, is really an old black man in a cat's body. His soulful face leaves you with the expectation that he'll break into the blues at any moment. He loves to drink water from a bottle cap, and he seemed to develop an abiding affection for my Birkenstocks. This morning, he helped me pack.
The morning after I arrived, I got up and took a run through Julie's neighborhood. There's a Buddhist temple on the street I ran, so on the way back I stopped and walked around for a bit. On the run, I was reminded of all the things I love most about California...the rich cultural and religious diversity, the green (or golden, depending on the time of year) rolling hills that run in and out of the Bay Area, and the fantastic food of all varieties imaginable. I was also reminded of the things I hate most...traffic, houses so close together they practically share walls, and high prices ($3.16 per gallon for gas nearly made me pass out).
After I took a shower, Julie made breakfast for me. My plate was full of eggs with Irish cheese, hash browns, toast....and....grits. For a moment I thought it was a set-up, a test to see if I would honor her picky, provincial rules about grits. But then in a true gesture of friendship, she handed me a big carton of sugar and graciously accepted my way of eating them, in her own home no less. Now that's a true friend! And, boy can she cook. It was good. I ate every bite, and just an hour or so later went out for lunch with her, and had a salad. This would set a pattern for the rest of the trip. I truly ate well.
I'll post more later about Yosemite. Right now, I've got laundry to do and a cat to enjoy!
It was a fantastic trip. The flight out was uneventful. Julie greeted me at the airport and wisked me away for the traditional coming out pie. The West Coast version comes in martini form. We drank our martinis and moved on to the next event: sushi. Sushi eating with Julie is not just a meal; it's an event. There's no dainty nibbling on a roll or two and a few pieces of fish. The table is filled and everyone feasts. Now, that's the way to eat sushi! And, by golly, it was good. Sushi in my new city sucks. It was good to have it in a place where folks know how it's done.
After we feasted, we headed to Julie's place where I got to meet the cats. Max, the 14-year-old boy kitty, welcomed me warmly. Deuce hid. In fact, she hid the entire time I was there. I suspect Julie got an earful after I left today, because Deuce seemed to have an opinion about the strange woman in her house. I'd gladly tell you what she looks like, but frankly, I never got much opportunity to see her and when I did, all I saw were eyes...big, scared, nervous eyes. I hope she's recovering.
Max, on the other hand, is really an old black man in a cat's body. His soulful face leaves you with the expectation that he'll break into the blues at any moment. He loves to drink water from a bottle cap, and he seemed to develop an abiding affection for my Birkenstocks. This morning, he helped me pack.
The morning after I arrived, I got up and took a run through Julie's neighborhood. There's a Buddhist temple on the street I ran, so on the way back I stopped and walked around for a bit. On the run, I was reminded of all the things I love most about California...the rich cultural and religious diversity, the green (or golden, depending on the time of year) rolling hills that run in and out of the Bay Area, and the fantastic food of all varieties imaginable. I was also reminded of the things I hate most...traffic, houses so close together they practically share walls, and high prices ($3.16 per gallon for gas nearly made me pass out).
After I took a shower, Julie made breakfast for me. My plate was full of eggs with Irish cheese, hash browns, toast....and....grits. For a moment I thought it was a set-up, a test to see if I would honor her picky, provincial rules about grits. But then in a true gesture of friendship, she handed me a big carton of sugar and graciously accepted my way of eating them, in her own home no less. Now that's a true friend! And, boy can she cook. It was good. I ate every bite, and just an hour or so later went out for lunch with her, and had a salad. This would set a pattern for the rest of the trip. I truly ate well.
I'll post more later about Yosemite. Right now, I've got laundry to do and a cat to enjoy!
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Key Lime Pie
I really like Key Lime pie in California. Everything's better on the west coast, you know. You get to drink it here. I'll share a picture when I get back, no cable to transfer the photo here. It comes in a martini glass.
JM is way cool. We've had a lot of sushi. I got to see KU beat SIU and she accepted the defeat graciously.
Just thought I'd let you know I'm here safely. Tomorrow we head to Yosemite where there will be no computers. I'll give you an update when I get home.
Bye!
JM is way cool. We've had a lot of sushi. I got to see KU beat SIU and she accepted the defeat graciously.
Just thought I'd let you know I'm here safely. Tomorrow we head to Yosemite where there will be no computers. I'll give you an update when I get home.
Bye!
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Goin' West
I'm headin' west. I'll see you sometime after I get back. I'm not taking the computer, so no blogging from the road. Have a great week!
Polite conversation
I would like to point out that my rather newsy post below, only two lines of which actually drew any attention at all, has devolved into a discussion about the proper way to eat grits. I, being from Missouri, was under the impression that it is right and good to put sugar on grits. I would add that I learned this from my southern mom, though I can't honestly say that she is a grits purist herself. It's entirely possible that she learned this from my step-dad, a Missourian to the core, who corrupted her with his conviction that no cornbread is worth eating unless it has sugar in it. Blech!
The comments below are not dispassionate on the subject and that raises an interesting point for me. I've reached the conclusion that, in addition to religion and politics, grits should probably be added to the list of things never to be brought up in polite conversation. I have been accused of heresy for eating my grits with sugar. You know what they do to heretics. They stone them, burn them at the stake, banish them to dungeons of torture. People need to be warned.
I'm a little nervous now. I'll be spending a few days on vacation with JM who is rather sure of herself about the proper way to eat grits. I unwittingly stumbled into this new awareness that I was not properly raised. Wow! Grits, not safe! Who knew? I'm now wondering what other shortcomings I have that have yet to be revealed, which I will clumsily introduce in the course of conversation while we're driving to and from Yosemite. Politics will probably be a safe subject. I don't get the impression that JM is into religion that much, but anyone as steeped in Emerson and Thoreau and Muir as she is really very likely a Unitarian Universalist at heart, so we're probably okay there too.
So I need a little help knowing safe topics of conversation for that long car ride. I do need this help, because she thinks it will be fun to quiz me on all these dating scenarios that leave me baffled. This is vacation. I don't need to be a nervous wreck on vacation! Or, maybe you all can give me some ideas of things I can quiz her on. Yeah. That's a good idea....
The comments below are not dispassionate on the subject and that raises an interesting point for me. I've reached the conclusion that, in addition to religion and politics, grits should probably be added to the list of things never to be brought up in polite conversation. I have been accused of heresy for eating my grits with sugar. You know what they do to heretics. They stone them, burn them at the stake, banish them to dungeons of torture. People need to be warned.
I'm a little nervous now. I'll be spending a few days on vacation with JM who is rather sure of herself about the proper way to eat grits. I unwittingly stumbled into this new awareness that I was not properly raised. Wow! Grits, not safe! Who knew? I'm now wondering what other shortcomings I have that have yet to be revealed, which I will clumsily introduce in the course of conversation while we're driving to and from Yosemite. Politics will probably be a safe subject. I don't get the impression that JM is into religion that much, but anyone as steeped in Emerson and Thoreau and Muir as she is really very likely a Unitarian Universalist at heart, so we're probably okay there too.
So I need a little help knowing safe topics of conversation for that long car ride. I do need this help, because she thinks it will be fun to quiz me on all these dating scenarios that leave me baffled. This is vacation. I don't need to be a nervous wreck on vacation! Or, maybe you all can give me some ideas of things I can quiz her on. Yeah. That's a good idea....
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Full of news
I'm just full of news today....
- I will be interviewing for a new position at the seminary sometime after I return from vacation. I am told I'm the top candidate. Having been told a position was mine to lose and then losing it, I don't believe it when people say things like that. Nevertheless, I'm thrilled to still be in the running for the job. If I get it, I will have a substantial increase in responsibility. I hope it comes with a substantial increase in pay.
- My morning runs are now officially morning runs and not run/walks. The redbuds are blooming, along with the bartlett pears and the daffodils. The path in the park is electric with color and new life. As I felt the cool morning air fill my lungs, I thought, "I'm so glad to be alive." To go from living caught between a subtle desire for death to come and take me away and a fear that it would come before I ever had a chance to truly live to really being alive is the greatest gift. I pray I never forget that.
- I got a hair cut on Saturday. Because of a miscommunication with the stylist, it ended up shorter than it's ever been. It's _short_. Today, the contract computer guy who is here nearly everyday said to me, "You've got a new hair cut, don't you?" I said yes and explained that it was a lot shorter than I expected it to be. He rushed in to reassure me, "I don't really like short, but yours is good. It's not like it's butch or anything. That wouldn't be good. But yours is good." I'm thinking, now, that it's butch. Not that there's anything wrong with that....
- I met with the president of the local PFLAG chapter today. She did a marvelous job of helping me sift through all of the possible next steps I could take with my mom until I knew in my gut what to focus on. As hard as it was to talk about it, I feel much better. I am so deeply aware of how the relationships and acquaintances I've been given here have made living freely and openly a possibility for me. It's overwhelming when I think of all I've been given in the last year. Amazing....
- I got an email in response to the one I sent last night. We're going to have coffee when I get back from California. :-)
Monday, March 19, 2007
Taking a poll
Okay, I’m going to take a poll. I tortured myself most of the day yesterday trying to decide what to do about a certain situation, and rather than playing the back and forth debate in my head over and over again, never reaching any resolution, I’m going to take it to the wisdom of the internets.
There is this woman. Ah, you knew that’s where I was headed, didn’t you? We’ve had several occasions to meet, but never much opportunity to talk. The first time we met, she blew me off. The second time, she was cordial, but the occasion offered no real opportunity to talk. The third time was her birthday party, a big open house kind of deal that I went to with some other friends. We actually had more opportunity to talk there, but still not much. She was friendly. She’d finally made the connection that I was the new woman in town that a mutual acquaintance (a guy I met at the boy party my neighbor had awhile back) had told her about. She led a workshop at church yesterday and I got myself out of bed early to go to it. I shyly sat down at a table a safe distance from the front. She was talking to several people when I walked in, but she saw me and waved. I waved back and sat down.
Now, any normal, thinking person would have seen that as a clue to walk up and say hi. Not me. I couldn’t think of anything to say. You who are of the shy people know what I’m talking about. Small talk is terrifying to us shy people. So, I thought to myself, I’ll wait until the presentation is over and then I can go up and ask her a question. Trouble is, I worried about asking her a question through the whole presentation, so I didn’t pay very close attention to it. And, when it was over, I had nervously drank so much coffee that I was very uncomfortable and had to make my way to the restroom post haste. When I got back, some friends caught me in the hallway outside the room where the workshop was held, and while I was visiting with them, she left, waving to me as she walked out.
I admit it. I’ve googled her. She is an academic who teaches at a state university in another city. Her publication list is a mile long. She’s also a leader in the local community, and frankly, all of that intimidates the life out of me, while at the same time fascinating me. While she was presenting yesterday, I had a new thought about the whole thing and asked God or the universe or whoever it is I pray to these days, “Help me see the person, not the image.” Yeah, it didn’t work. I’m still intimidated, but it did at least give me a glimpse into what might be a good thing for me to concentrate on.
So here’s the question. What do I do next? A. Email her and tell her I liked the presentation and see how she responds. B. Call her and tell her I’m curious about some things she’s doing in the community and was wondering if we could get together sometime to talk about it. C. Wait to see if our paths cross again. D. Something else.
There is this woman. Ah, you knew that’s where I was headed, didn’t you? We’ve had several occasions to meet, but never much opportunity to talk. The first time we met, she blew me off. The second time, she was cordial, but the occasion offered no real opportunity to talk. The third time was her birthday party, a big open house kind of deal that I went to with some other friends. We actually had more opportunity to talk there, but still not much. She was friendly. She’d finally made the connection that I was the new woman in town that a mutual acquaintance (a guy I met at the boy party my neighbor had awhile back) had told her about. She led a workshop at church yesterday and I got myself out of bed early to go to it. I shyly sat down at a table a safe distance from the front. She was talking to several people when I walked in, but she saw me and waved. I waved back and sat down.
Now, any normal, thinking person would have seen that as a clue to walk up and say hi. Not me. I couldn’t think of anything to say. You who are of the shy people know what I’m talking about. Small talk is terrifying to us shy people. So, I thought to myself, I’ll wait until the presentation is over and then I can go up and ask her a question. Trouble is, I worried about asking her a question through the whole presentation, so I didn’t pay very close attention to it. And, when it was over, I had nervously drank so much coffee that I was very uncomfortable and had to make my way to the restroom post haste. When I got back, some friends caught me in the hallway outside the room where the workshop was held, and while I was visiting with them, she left, waving to me as she walked out.
I admit it. I’ve googled her. She is an academic who teaches at a state university in another city. Her publication list is a mile long. She’s also a leader in the local community, and frankly, all of that intimidates the life out of me, while at the same time fascinating me. While she was presenting yesterday, I had a new thought about the whole thing and asked God or the universe or whoever it is I pray to these days, “Help me see the person, not the image.” Yeah, it didn’t work. I’m still intimidated, but it did at least give me a glimpse into what might be a good thing for me to concentrate on.
So here’s the question. What do I do next? A. Email her and tell her I liked the presentation and see how she responds. B. Call her and tell her I’m curious about some things she’s doing in the community and was wondering if we could get together sometime to talk about it. C. Wait to see if our paths cross again. D. Something else.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Getting excited
In less than a week, I will be looking at views like this.
Since the link is for a webcam picture, you will likely want to wait until it's daylight on the west coast to get a good look. It's a little black there right now.
Since the link is for a webcam picture, you will likely want to wait until it's daylight on the west coast to get a good look. It's a little black there right now.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Random thoughts from the past few days
I've spent a good bit of time mulling things over today. It's good to mull things over from time to time I find. I've got a lot rolling around in my head, but nothing fully formed enough to get it into words. Here are some of the ideas that I'll likely expound on later. Maybe if I make a list here, I'll actually get around to writing about them....
- I've been thinking about the idea I was working on in my dissertation. No, I'm not thinking about writing the blasted thing again. But, the idea is something that's never really left me, and in fact, much has happened in the past few months that's left me wrestling with it in some new ways. The basic thesis is that human freedom is more fully realized when we live into our existence as embodied beings in relationship to the world around us. I'm very mindful of the fact that the option of coming out to my mom was never really an option for me until I experienced myself more fully as an embodied being in relationship with others.
- I have a better understanding, I think, of what the sense of lostness this week has been about for me. I think I'd decided that coming out to my mom was an end for me, that doing it meant I was healthy at last and that the hard work I've done the past year or so would slowly begin to dwindle as I embraced my healthy, whole self. Instead, coming out to my mom was like stepping out of the shadows where things were hidden. I've become aware of new things to work on; other issues are now much more apparent, and I see that the work continues. Call me crazy, but for a time, that really made me sad and discouraged this week. I'll write more about this later. Conversation with a friend over breakfast today really helped me be okay with it.
- I'm on the verge of believing in God again. I suppose most of you didn't really know I'd become skeptical, and truthfully, I'd never really given up on the idea of God, but I had become very aware that my experience had long outgrown my understanding of God. Nothing made that more clear to me than an invitation to pray outloud a few weeks ago. I didn't think twice about saying yes. I've done it forever, but as I opened my mouth and caught myself in a situation in which the words I was about to utter in no way fit what I understand about God, and because I knew the people around me knew they didn't fit, I was caught between a desire to sound good and a desire to be authentic. The result was a very awkward prayer, but a good experience for me. My prayers for months have been wordless and unformed. When I pray that way in private, it's hard to pray outloud in public, but that's alright. The experience brought home to me just how nebulous my understanding of God is right now. The interesting thing, though, is that I believe my faith in God is much stronger than it's ever been. More on this too...but be warned. I'm pretty sure when I get to putting it into words, I will clearly reveal my newfound status as heretic.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Television
Okay, it's taken me a year to reach a point at which I actually wished I had a TV. I hit that point today. KU plays Niagra this evening. I'll have to watch the scores on the internet and hope for the best. It's probably a good thing. After the week I've had, I might not be able to handle the anxiety of a typical KU first round game.
May the gods of March Madness show favor on them and let them advance past the first round this year!
Nevermind. I just discovered I can watch games online!
NO!!!! I just clicked on to watch it and got a message saying it's blacked out in my area. ARGH!
May the gods of March Madness show favor on them and let them advance past the first round this year!
Nevermind. I just discovered I can watch games online!
NO!!!! I just clicked on to watch it and got a message saying it's blacked out in my area. ARGH!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Lost
I called in sick today. I'm completely exhausted from all that's happened this past week. I got up at the usual time and when I got back from the morning run, I sat down on the bed and just stared into space. I called my boss and told him I'd be in tomorrow, went out for breakfast, soaked in a hot bath, and went back to bed where I've stayed most of the day. The NCAA tournament has been a nice distraction.
I feel lost right now. I don't know what I expected to happen after I told my mom, but this isn't it. I'm sad, but I can't name the sadness. I have moments of doubt and fear, which confuse the hell out of me. I guess I thought that once I told her, the reality that it was done would give me a sense of closure and hopefulness about the future, particularly since her response was more positive than I'd expected. But I don't feel any of those things right now. I just feel weird.
Is this normal?
I just called my mom. We normally talk a couple of times a week, never very long, but today's call was less than two minutes. She had nothing to say except to give short answers to my questions. She was anxious and distant, annoyed that I called. I'm not surprised, but it still worries me.
I feel lost right now. I don't know what I expected to happen after I told my mom, but this isn't it. I'm sad, but I can't name the sadness. I have moments of doubt and fear, which confuse the hell out of me. I guess I thought that once I told her, the reality that it was done would give me a sense of closure and hopefulness about the future, particularly since her response was more positive than I'd expected. But I don't feel any of those things right now. I just feel weird.
Is this normal?
I just called my mom. We normally talk a couple of times a week, never very long, but today's call was less than two minutes. She had nothing to say except to give short answers to my questions. She was anxious and distant, annoyed that I called. I'm not surprised, but it still worries me.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Disaster averted
If you have been reading my blog for very long, you know that I am prone to wardrobe crises at the most inopportune times. It's not uncommon for me to choose navy blue socks to wear with a black suit or accidentally leave my fly open before preaching. You get the picture.
The most common issue, however, is spillage. Today is a case in point. I was standing at the reception desk enjoying my mocha while waiting for a bunch of prospective students to arrive for a day-long campus visit. I was visiting with a colleague and while keeping eye contact with her, raised my cup to my lips without looking to be sure the hole in the lid was properly aligned with my mouth. You guessed it. Cafe Mocha all down the front of my crisp, clean shirt.
My colleague urged me to the bathroom to wash it out, while she cleaned up the coffee from the floor. As I was wisked away I cried out, "Does anyone have a Tide Stick?" Three women reached for their purses and proudly shoved their detergent pens into my hands. After about 5 minutes of rubbing the Tide into the round stain measuring about 5-in in diameter, and about 15 or 20 minutes for it to dry, you cannot tell that I spilled coffee on myself.
I have, however, had to smell coffee all day long. I like the smell of coffee a lot. It doesn't make a good cologne though.
The most common issue, however, is spillage. Today is a case in point. I was standing at the reception desk enjoying my mocha while waiting for a bunch of prospective students to arrive for a day-long campus visit. I was visiting with a colleague and while keeping eye contact with her, raised my cup to my lips without looking to be sure the hole in the lid was properly aligned with my mouth. You guessed it. Cafe Mocha all down the front of my crisp, clean shirt.
My colleague urged me to the bathroom to wash it out, while she cleaned up the coffee from the floor. As I was wisked away I cried out, "Does anyone have a Tide Stick?" Three women reached for their purses and proudly shoved their detergent pens into my hands. After about 5 minutes of rubbing the Tide into the round stain measuring about 5-in in diameter, and about 15 or 20 minutes for it to dry, you cannot tell that I spilled coffee on myself.
I have, however, had to smell coffee all day long. I like the smell of coffee a lot. It doesn't make a good cologne though.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Toasting my normal organs
JM suggested a toast to my normal organs. I think the idea is brilliant, so today in celebration of my normal organs, I got up when the alarm went off...well, when it went off for the third time, made coffee, fed the cat, got dressed, sat down with my journal, went out for a run in the crisp, cool morning air, and watched the sun come up.
It's a normal day for a woman whose organs are normal. ;-) I'm glad I'm alive to see it.
And J., I just want you to know that I did see your comment about the chocolate lava cake. I'm just sayin'.... Seeker, that does not exempt you from sharing the traditional pie. Key Lime, French Silk...it doesn't matter to me. JM, I'm counting on having that toast in person next week, over sushi.
Thanks to all of you for helping hold me up.
It's a normal day for a woman whose organs are normal. ;-) I'm glad I'm alive to see it.
And J., I just want you to know that I did see your comment about the chocolate lava cake. I'm just sayin'.... Seeker, that does not exempt you from sharing the traditional pie. Key Lime, French Silk...it doesn't matter to me. JM, I'm counting on having that toast in person next week, over sushi.
Thanks to all of you for helping hold me up.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Home
I left early enough to get to church for the late service. The ride home is a blur. I really have little memory of what I saw. It's kind of scary, actually, to think how unfocused I was on driving. Yet, I don't really know where my mind was entirely. I feel raw, and numb. Is that shock? Awareness that you're raw, but you can't feel it?
When I got to church, the tears came as soon as I sat down in the sanctuary. My friend T came and sat with me, and the tears continued as worship began. It was youth Sunday, and they led us in an amazing service. There really are no words to describe what it was like to hear them talk about challenges and hopes. It is a beautiful thing to see youth speak without the shame we were taught in the church I grew up in. Truly beautiful.
Last night was okay, much better than I expected, actually. My mom seemed receptive and open. She was clearly struggling, but she acknowledged not really understanding homosexuality. There were some light moments, hilarious moments even....like the point at which she asked me, seriously, if all of my "organs" were normal, or her suggestion that I go buy a bottle of wine to help settle our nerves.
This morning, things were different, more the way I expected them to be. The reality set in over night and she had time to let anxiety take hold. I got up, went to the bathroom, poured myself a cup of coffee and as soon as my butt was in the chair, she started interrogating me. She made it clear that she is convinced for me to keep living this life is sinful, and that it will be hard on her. She begged me not tell my siblings, because I'd already brought enough heartache to her by telling her. She didn't want in her lifetime to see my brothers and sister reject me.
I know its hard on her. I know not to reify this moment and assume this is how it will always be. I know much of what I heard this morning is anxiety, and that what she said last night, before she could hear what anxiety had to say, was her honest gut response, and if I never see it again, at least I caught a glimpse of it.
I'm very conscious today of how I've opened myself up, again, to internalizing the fear and hatred. That's confusing to me, but I do have some idea of what's going on. In the days ahead, I think I'll be able to articulate it better and deal with it.
Right now, I just want to hide....
When I got to church, the tears came as soon as I sat down in the sanctuary. My friend T came and sat with me, and the tears continued as worship began. It was youth Sunday, and they led us in an amazing service. There really are no words to describe what it was like to hear them talk about challenges and hopes. It is a beautiful thing to see youth speak without the shame we were taught in the church I grew up in. Truly beautiful.
Last night was okay, much better than I expected, actually. My mom seemed receptive and open. She was clearly struggling, but she acknowledged not really understanding homosexuality. There were some light moments, hilarious moments even....like the point at which she asked me, seriously, if all of my "organs" were normal, or her suggestion that I go buy a bottle of wine to help settle our nerves.
This morning, things were different, more the way I expected them to be. The reality set in over night and she had time to let anxiety take hold. I got up, went to the bathroom, poured myself a cup of coffee and as soon as my butt was in the chair, she started interrogating me. She made it clear that she is convinced for me to keep living this life is sinful, and that it will be hard on her. She begged me not tell my siblings, because I'd already brought enough heartache to her by telling her. She didn't want in her lifetime to see my brothers and sister reject me.
I know its hard on her. I know not to reify this moment and assume this is how it will always be. I know much of what I heard this morning is anxiety, and that what she said last night, before she could hear what anxiety had to say, was her honest gut response, and if I never see it again, at least I caught a glimpse of it.
I'm very conscious today of how I've opened myself up, again, to internalizing the fear and hatred. That's confusing to me, but I do have some idea of what's going on. In the days ahead, I think I'll be able to articulate it better and deal with it.
Right now, I just want to hide....
Saturday, March 10, 2007
The cat's out of the bag
...and it's okay. Bring out the pie!
I'm exhausted. She's exhausted. But it went much better than I expected. More tomorrow after I get home....
I'm exhausted. She's exhausted. But it went much better than I expected. More tomorrow after I get home....
Thursday, March 08, 2007
The thing I have to do
Okay, here's the deal. It's time. It's time for me to take the one last really big step for me to keep my life on the path it's headed. I am going to my mom's with plans to come out to her tomorrow. I'll be there until Sunday morning, at which point I will get in my car, breathe a heavy, heavy sigh of relief, probably cry a lot, and get home in time for church, where I will likely cry some more. Then I'll have lunch with my small group co-facilitator and get my mind off of it, and later in the evening on Sunday I'll go to a concert with a friend and keep my mind off of it.
This has been a long time coming. I'm convinced it's time to do it now. I'm ready for the relief having it done will provide, but I am very nervous about the next two days. How nervous am I? I'm eating a lot of junk food. I can't concentrate. I have a crazy rash on my neck. And, I've barely slept for the past four nights.
I just want it over with!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ETA: You can bet I won't be taking this article (via LutheranChik) with me when I go. To think, leaders in the denomination of my youth would have encouraged my mom to have me genetically altered so that I would be heterosexual! I'm speechless....
This has been a long time coming. I'm convinced it's time to do it now. I'm ready for the relief having it done will provide, but I am very nervous about the next two days. How nervous am I? I'm eating a lot of junk food. I can't concentrate. I have a crazy rash on my neck. And, I've barely slept for the past four nights.
I just want it over with!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ETA: You can bet I won't be taking this article (via LutheranChik) with me when I go. To think, leaders in the denomination of my youth would have encouraged my mom to have me genetically altered so that I would be heterosexual! I'm speechless....
Nervous
I have this thing I'm going to do this weekend that's making me nervous, so I thought I'd poke my head in over here and say "hi."
Monday, March 05, 2007
Break taking
I know I just moved and all, but I got a thing I need to do that deserves more attention in preparation for it than I'm giving it, so I'm going to drop off blog for a week or two to concentrate on it.
I'll be back soon....
I'll be back soon....
Back to Blogger
I'm up and running over here now. My old blog on TypePad will be coming down in a week. In the meantime, I'll be posting some of my favorite posts from the past couple of years. Since I can't import all of them from the TypePad blog, I'll have to pick the top 10 or 20 to move over here. If you have requests, let me know.
I'll be playing with the template some too, so don't be alarmed if colors and fonts and such change some over the next few days.
Welcome to the new space...
I'll be playing with the template some too, so don't be alarmed if colors and fonts and such change some over the next few days.
Welcome to the new space...
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