I have been avoiding an admission: My illusions of decent potential at poker were dashed by a bunch of kids...and their mother!

A couple of Saturdays ago, I was treated to another sumptuous meal by my WS's father, one of my requests to boot. While he was slaving at the stove, I taught his three youngest children how to play Texas Hold 'Em poker. Their game playing brilliance apparently extends to poker. WS's middle sister had an embarrassing pile of chips in front of her by the time the meal was read to eat.

With the two youngest bundled off to bed, the rest of us sat down to play after a few more tutorials. I thought I would have the upper hand. After all, I have had hundreds of hours of watching those experts play on TV. I did well for a while, then I foolishly tried to be a chip bully with my WS's mother. She broke me. I had few chips left and folded three hands in a row. All three hands, I would have had trips had I stayed in the hand. It was a misery to lose. The twelve-year-old who had given everyone else a run for their money before dinner, led her father on a merry chase when it got down to heads up. Of course, the brilliant scientist won, but it was exciting to see her grasp the concept and strategies of the game in just a few hours.

I, of course, hated losing. Yet another game in which those children demonstrate their mental prowess.

Perhaps if I just played with the six-year-old and the nine-year-old I would have a chance at winning?

~~~~
NOTE: My WS's father often comes under fire during his masterful culinary exercises because we often sit down to enjoy his hard labors after 9:00. Last Sunday, the twelve-year-old and I launched into a culinary effort of our own (with a wee bit of assistance from the master chef). We prepared guacamole and chips, muli-layered (by hand) nachos, quesadillas, and chicken and steak fajitas. We used all fresh ingredients (my is she skilled with a knife) and the dinner was quite sumptuous. However, we sat down for the last course at 10:00, when the parents had work and the kids had school the next day. My co-chef and I spent hours and hours laboring under the kitchen lights. I will forever more hold my tongue with regard to ETA queries of WS's dad when he is doing his magic.

NOTE 2: It has come to my attention that all of the poetic waxings of WS's father's skill in the kitchen has not reflected well on her mother. Trust me, she can wend her way around spices as well. I am just there, primarily, when her father is showing off. And...when he is at his finest, his wife often serves as sous-chef. We all know that without a skilled team in the kitchen, no great meal is ever a success. Thus, here is my tribute to her...even if she did shame me in poker!

You know what is wonderful about Jesus Christ?

It doesn't matter who you are. It doesn't matter what you have done. Nothing matters but that you give your life to Him. The blood of Christ covers all, renews all, saves all.

Stephen Baldwin became a born again Christian some time after 9/11. His wife had found the Lord in 2000, but he talks about how his "road to Damascus" experience was not a blinding light, but a gradual awareness of the emptiness of his life. Still a bit skeptical, he began reading the bible, praying to God, and then turned his life over to Christ.

He frolicked on the grounds of the Playboy mansion, even as a married man, and Christ saved him. He drank and took drugs and was the Hollywood symbol of how to live your life in the party lane, and Christ saved him. Christ saved him.

He has written about the path he is walking with Christ now in words he knows and understands. He shares his faith, the message of Christ, and the charge to make disciples in this world. He is being obedient to that charge in a way that makes sense to him.

This article has a brief excerpt from his book and a video clip of his interview with Matt Lauer.

He is candid about the fact that his off-beat sense of humor has not changed, but that's how he can equate an Abbott and Castillo routine with a foundation of the Christian life. The "who" of "Who's on First?" is actually a "what": the bible. If you have questions, go to the bible. If you are confused, read the bible. If you need advise, study the bible. What a great outlook.

He also admits that even fellow Christians treat his conversion with skepticism.

What a shame.

Look past the prankster, and you see someone who not only gave his life to Christ, but is willing to walk the narrow way despite what obstacles might cross his path. He is free to be who he is. He is free in Christ.

He is praying. He is studying Scripture. He is sharing the Gospel. He is seeking the Truth and proclaiming it in his own brand of metaphorical and allegorical language that will bear fruit in the soil where his seeds are tossed. The bible promises the Word does not return void. He may not look or act like what mainline Christians would like him to be, but he is walking in obedience.

The Spirit is moving in the life of Stephen Baldwin. I am encouraged that, in his words, he took "the red pill," that he left the matrix of pop culture and found the reality of Jesus Christ. He has fixed his eyes on Jesus, on the Author and Perfector of his faith, and he is not looking back.

What a testimony to the power of Christ!

Selah.

Today was a day of unexpected gifts and a bit of sadness.

After a tasty meal at Ruby Tuesday's, we headed over to Wal-Mart to do the $5.50 DVD bin search. However, much to our dismay, we discovered that the Wal-Mart near me is remodeling and part of the remodel was the removal of that bin. Alas, be still my beating heart. My poor father was absolutely bereft and wandered about a bit in disbelief. What are we going to do with our visits now?

He did, much to my surprise, begin our lunch with the announcement that he wanted to spend "much money" on me today. He caught me so off guard, that I did not quite get what he was saying. I supposed my dumbfounded state was revealed in my visage, for he went on to explain that he wanted to ensure my larder was full and whatnot. He ended up refilling my bathroom cabinet of many necessities and added two gallons of milk and two boxes of protein bars.

We made our way home and managed to get in a viewing of Ocean's Eleven and Ocean's Twelve before he had to go. But he did have one more gift: he paid my car insurance (a ridiculous amount because of that blasted accident) bill for the month.

Thanks to the generosity of my father and step-mother, I believe that I will be able to finish out the month without adding more debt to my credit card. That makes this a good day that will be reflected in next month's bill.

The day is ending well because I am watching the Dallas-Cowboy game with my dear friend W thanks to the technology of SprintPCS. Dallas has kept the lead since the opening drive and is mere minutes away from squashing the Redskins again for like the 14th time in the last 17 games or something like that. My 'Boys have a bit of a problem with penalties that they need to address by the NEXT game, but I am quite proud of them. At 1-1, they will be tied with the Eagles and the Giants in their division...Woo Hoo! Washington will be 0-2...boo hoo!

A good day all around.

SMILE

While camped out on the couch today watching wretched TV, I actually remembered a game from when I was young that I have not thought of in years. After a few failed Google searches, I found it: Kings in the Corner Solitaire.

After studying the rules, I spent the evening watching stupid TV movies and trying to remember the strategy behind the game. After losing 26 games and growing quite frustrated with my brain cells, I finally won a game. Soon, I was winning at least half the time with a few multi-win runs.

I would like to think that the confusing instructions were the reason it took me so long to win, but perhaps I should not blame my poor acumen on the author. After all, at least I had the instructions and the tips on strategy. I just didn't get that section.

I also remembered, I am ashamed to admit, that I had forgotten the most wonderful gift my dear friend B gave me as a welcome-to-our-abode gift the last time I visited: clear plastic playing cards. I got them out of my games basket (at least I remembered to put them in the proper place when I came home last March) and used them in my journey down memory lane. Surprisingly, they are quite easy to shuffle.

Time to get back to exercising my brain cells...

I was playing with Kashi outside and noticed how pleasant it was with a gentle breeze blowing. Seated on the deck (when tossing the ball, I make my puppy dog climb up and down the steps on each throw to wear him out sooner), I looked at two of my bonsai plants and realized that I have woefully neglected them. I popped inside, grabbed some scissors, and started pruning. For a while, doing so was another "oneness" moment. However, soon the breeze began to slow and some very determined mosquitoes descended upon my hands. I was equally determined to finish. I will admit that, although the job was completed, it was done at the sacrifice of the surface of my hands. You know, I could definitely live in an ecosystem devoid of mosquitoes!

215 minutes and 21 seconds later, I finally hung up the phone with my dear friend W. She is quite intelligent, which makes our conversations meaty and satisfying. She is challenging and encouraging and admonishing and inspiring all at once. Of course, talking the entire night away helps.

I enjoyed being able to talk all the news stories that have piqued my interest while camping out on the couch. One I did not get around to rehashing was this satirical piece about literacy. It reminds me of Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal, and yet at the same time it strikes a bit of fear in my heart as to the future of literacy.

My friend was talking about her graduate students in social work. She teaches one class a semester in addition to serving as a counselor to distressed families in the system down south. We were discussing standards of construction and presentation. For example, if a student cannot be bothered to spell check a paper, I believe that it should be docked a grade before the cover page is even turned. Were it possible, I would hand it right back and say, "If you care not enough to spell check your paper, I care not enough to grade it."

Anyhow, she was saying how her class was not one filled with English majors and therefore well-written compositions were not her goal. Yet, given that, as she came to put it, the writing of these students would have higher stakes than an English essay, perhaps that thought process did not hold true. The reports, the documentation, her students would be writing would directly affect the lives of their subject matter, with abused children, that could actually be a life-or-death situation. So, perhaps how they write might actually be important. I coached her on my favorite three C's. Coherent (makes sense), Cohesive (the content sticks together from beginning to end), and Clean (spelling, grammar, and construction mistakes free). You need not be a Faulkner or a Angelou or a Shakepeare in my book to earn that A. You just need the three C's.

I am an absolute fanatic in my belief that it is vital that people be able to clearly convey their messages. Students need to be able to demonstrate that they have garnered knowledge, have internalized it, and can manipulate it to their purposes. If they can do this, then they have learned. This translates to the business place because employees also need to be able to clearly convey their messages...emails, letters, reports, presentations, etc.

Yet, while I fervently hope that this article is satirical in nature, a part of me fears that it is not. Why do students need to read after all? They can get what is necessary to their lives in multi-media format. Oh, how shortsighted and empty a message. Perish the thought!

I edited a letter of intent (LOI) for one of my virtual volunteering organizations. It is full of professors, yet the writing is so confusing that I have to plow through it as a reader before I can even begin to edit it. I feel like I ran a marathon while working on this four page document. I hate to run.

As with the other work, I enjoyed the challenge and reveled in actually being able to accomplish something, yet I am wondering how to point out that I have already done a year's worth of volunteering according to the original job description on www.volunteermatch.org. I liked the idea of helping several organizations rather than just one. Yet, here, the executive director is a full-time volunteer position, and I suspect they would prefer me to be full-time as well.

I also specifically have not responded to any grantwriting volunteer requests because I wanted to just edit rather than have to generate text from scratch with an organization that was virtually a stranger to me. And yet, here, I am working on grantseeking materials.

BIG SIGH...

Am I just a wimp?

BIGGER SIGH...

How can I be assertive yet kind to someone whom I have never met?

I have been spending a bit of time at my writing student's (WS) home helping with their basement room. The walls are painted and the floor has been removed. So, next will be putting in the new floor and the workspace area. I absolutely cannot wait to see the finished "product." My WS's mother let me pick some beautiful colors for the walls, a pumpkin on the bottom third and a cantaloupe on the top two thirds with a wide band of white between the two. She actually had the idea of putting multicolored tiles on the floor (the wall color matched one of the four colors we picked for the floor), so the kids should find it a bright, cheerful place in which to do their homework.

I have cherished the opportunity to labor hard on their behalf. I need the distraction. While my virtual volunteering is taking up quite a bit of time for something that was just supposed to be a couple of hours a week, I still have too much time to think.

Both organizations with which I interviewed declined to hire me. I had another interview today, but I could tell that she was not really interested in hiring me. She thought I was more of her level, not a manager. The job duties also failed to mention that I would need to travel 30-35 times a year for a day or two at a time. The commute would be about an hour and parking would be $25 a week. The job would be good experience, but even if I am completely wrong and she offered me the position, I cannot see how I could in good conscience accept. The job would be an incredible drain on me. Still, I am 98% sure that I will not be needing to give further thought on the matter.

I have been crying since I came home, because I feel so lost and have so little hope that I can find a place where I can work...at least here. I know that God is sovereign. He understands where I am and has a plan, but I also know that I cannot just sit back and wait for some job to plop in my lap. I have to keep searching. But what if I am doing everything wrong? I am intelligent. I am skilled. I have significant work experience.

What is wrong with me?

I finished re-writing the website from my first virtual volunteering experience. I am curious if they will use my much reduced, quite tightened prose. This was definitely a case of less is more being the best course of action in the editing work. The original author believed quite strongly in cramming large numbers of polysyllabic words into each sentence. I did very much enjoy the academic labor this opportunity afforded me.

~~~~
Another PMD mystery: How do I have four loads of laundry when I have been living in my pajamas on my couch?

~~~~
What drives you crazy? Me? A cricket in my house. Too bad Kashi doesn't view them as a tasty treat...

Today was a bad day. Really, this week was a bad week. This week, being unemployed has weighed heavily on my heart.

After getting a rejection letter from the organization with which I interviewed twice, I looked for jobs virtually the entire day yesterday (even searching during a couple of games of Scrabble), finishing with a list of twelve at about 2:00 AM. I then put off writing all the cover letters and turned to my novel.

Five pages later the clock struck (figuratively) 6:00 AM, and I turned into bed where I read for an hour before finally falling asleep. Today, I awoke earlier so that perhaps I could shift back a bit in my waking/sleeping hours, but I did not wish to be awake. I would rather have slept the entire day away.

Today was the first grand opening since I left my old job. It was hard to take knowing that world has gone on without me, but really knowing that all the work I did do has been virtually abandoned. The new website is horribly out of date, having not been updated in nearly three months. The new program direction is not updated. The staff and board changes are not current. The event calendar is not current. The new module I created before I left showing the current development work has lain fallow as well. Having a current and dynamic website was the foundation of positioning the organization for a greater public presence...and it is has been abandoned.

There are several ex-employees who are quite vocal about the intellectual dishonesty that regularly takes place at the organization, from the community development programs to the real estate development. One of whom has made a bit of career about doing so. I can understand that desire. I can understand the utter frustration at how people who regularly disregard ethics are seemingly rewarded while those who asked the hard questions were booted out. It seems harsh, but no matter how my ex-boss tries to rationalize the behavior, the behavior still exists. She would say that all companies were this way. Once a review of the programs area showed a lack of data to support the claims, she said it would be better for the future participants for that not to come to public light. Forget the past and move forward. Yet, what is the company teaching the youth in the programs if taking money from funders based on lies is at the heart of the work? I mean, would the funders who are backing the youth programs really want to see teenagers being encouraged to make a movie about boyfriend jealousy during a much hyped leadership all day workshop? Ask the majority of the kids there what they learned about leadership or who was their favorite leader from the months long study of the subject and they couldn't answer. They could answer the questions to the trivia quiz because they had been rehearsing them, the answers, not the subject matter.

I moved from passionately arguing for an organization to repeatedly trying to understand the mildew hidden beneath the paint. I believed at least my ex-boss was not a part of the cover up, but I think that really the best way to describe her is a walking Hallmark card. She can say just what you want to hear, but no real actions follow her words. In that regard, given how I've waxed poetically about her here in my blog, I feel the fool.

Yes, I am sad and hurt at being let go. Yet, it is more than an inability to walk away. I keep finding myself being confronted by the ugly reality of an organization that I thought was a step above others. The last call from my ex-boss only served to trouble the waters that I still find lapping about my ankles. I was frankly appalled that the real purpose of her call was to tell me that the ex-vp was dating one of the worst program staff persons, which is now evident as to the reason she was never fired despite the rather egregious behavior reported by several of her colleagues. I was appalled that she would just call and tell me something that gave credence to my heartache at the seedy underbelly to that which I had poured myself into building up and promoting. Even so, what bothered me more is her telling me that during her visits to funders she was discovering that the grant reports were long overdue.

Yes, the person who is not skilled at writing, who did not really bring in additional funds to the organization in the nearly two years she was there, who never performed an analysis of past resource development, who never created a strategy for addressing the financial needs of the organization, and who never collated the contact information of the funding program officers also did not effectively manage the report process. I wanted to scream in frustration when she mentioned that. I mean, why did the manager still have her job? The answer: incompetence doesn't matter. If you are willing to perpetuate the veneer of the organization, you will succeed.

So, tell me this: is it really that way everywhere? Is even the non-profit world just a game? Is there a place for a person who really does pursue intellectual honesty over career advancement? Will I ever find a place where I can belong and use my skills and contribute something to this world? And when will I learn not to be taken in by those who claim to be what they are not?

I have this new asthma prescription. The medicine that helps me most is an inhaler that I need to use four times a day. As I have firmly established here, my MS riddled brain simply does not handle remembering very well. This means I get maybe two doses a day...if it is a good day and I remember again before going to sleep. This new medicine is a once-a-day hit. Sounds perfect for me, right?

Hah!

I was a bit surprised to see the new prescription came in a box too large to be an inhaler. The size alone sent a shiver of worry along my nerves, but tried to remain positive as I opened the box.

Now, I am QUITE skilled at using an inhaler. I can get the perfect dose even without using a spacer. Quite skilled. Not so much with this thing. The instructions fill a ledger size piece of paper even using print that cannot be larger than 8 pica. Oh, already you see the problem?

Yes, instructions and I do not get along. Foolish me, I never thought to ask the doctor about demonstrating the use of this new contraption. I assumed it was another inhaler. Three days past and it still fills me with fear and trepidation to spread out the sheet of directions and try to use it once more.

First, you have to open the dust cover. Next comes the mouth piece. This must be raised to access the capsule chamber below. Once the chamber is exposed, you have to open the blister pack of capsules with the medicine. There are three capsules to a pack, and they go bad quite soon after opening. So, you have to peel back the foil wrapping carefully as to not open the next capsule down in the sheet. When the capsule is removed from the blister pack, you place the capsule into the chamber and close the mouth piece. Next, you have to push a lever on the side that will puncture the medicine capsule. After exhaling away from the contraption so as to not get any moisture into the inner chamber, you have to cover your mouth on the mouth piece and breathe in slowly and steadily enough to rattle the capsule, being careful that you do not block the air intake valves as you do so. Once you have drawn a deep breath, you have to hold the medicine in your lungs as long as possible before exhaling again, remembering to not do so back into the contraption. Then, you have to repeat the repeat the last two steps once more. When you are finished with the process, you have to remove the capsule, wipe down the mouth piece, close the dust cover, and put the box in a place where your dog won't try to investigate it.

Now, you might think that the whole process sounds easy, but believe me it is not. There are at least a dozen ways to mess up on many of those steps. And let me tell you that "rattling" that blasted capsule might actually be a skill outside of my reach.

Still, if I can master this process, breathing might just get a bit easier. That ought to be impetus enough, eh?

I hope so.

NOTE: There is an entire column for cleaning the contraption. I think it might just last the whole month before needing a cleaning, right? A new month...a new contraption...no need to clean.

The past for September 5th did have a less-than-violent mark I discovered today...

One hundred years ago, yesterday, the first legal forward pass took place in the game of football! It was actually called a "projectile pass" and the receiver did not catch it...but the game of football was changed forever as it moved from a completely ground game to one that also sailed through the air! Strategic play calling became a driving factor in the success of a team. New skills had to be developed to address this new dimension and new positions created.

It was a great day for the game of football!

Today In History is a feature on www.msnbc.com that I like to read because I just frankly like history. Reading historical fiction is really what sparked my interest. You see, both professors of the two history courses I had in college did not believe that women belonged in higher education.

I know, it sounds unbelievable for the mid 1980's, but that is really how it was. I would ace the objective portion of tests and fail the essay portion. Yes, me...the writer...would get very low scores. Having five paragraph essay answers with topic sentences, supporting details, and content from the course did not matter. Each time, I would ask for an appointment with the professor to discover what was wrong with the essay. He would rattle off facts that needed to be included, and in somewhat disbelief, I would point out that they were in my answer. He would tell me not to worry and try harder next time. No matter what I did, I could not excel in the "subjective" portion of those tests. I wasn't alone in being discriminated against. One day in class, the professor actually had the gall to say that the reason that McDonald's existed in society was so that "black" people could have jobs. I literally saw the hair raise on the back of the neck of the guy in front of me. He was African-American.

Of course, I am saddened to say that at 18 I had not the courage to confront that professor or stand against his prejudices other than to offer my friendship to that young man who was filleted in class without regard for his humanity. I had no voice then.

So, I really cared not for history after those two classes and having had coaches as history teachers in high school who were not much interested in what was being taught. That is, I was cared not for it until I read my first historical fiction book in my children's literature course. I became fascinated with learning more about what life was like in years past and read and read and read. Scott O'Dell's Sarah Bishop will absolutely change the way you look at the revolutionary war.

I have a few of my grandmothers' antiques and a few collected along the way. Someone once gave me a bible from 1836 not because he knew I was a Christian, but because it was the year Texas became a republic. I hold the bible and think of the hands it passed through before mine. What were those owners like? Was it merely a book to them or the Word of God, author of their salvation? I have some old coins and wonder how they were spent over the years. Each bit of history I own fascinates me as to the life it lived.

Years later, I see something about history on the Internet and click on it. Thus, we come back to the "Today in History" section.

Here is the one from today:


Today's Highlight in History:

On Sept. 5, 1774, the first Continental Congress assembled in Philadelphia.


On this date:

In 1793, the Reign of Terror began during the French Revolution as the National Convention instituted harsh measures to repress counterrevolutionary activities.

In 1836, Sam Houston was elected president of the Republic of Texas.

In 1905, the Treaty of Portsmouth, ending the Russo-Japanese War, was signed in New Hampshire.

In 1914, the First Battle of the Marne began during World War I.

In 1939, the United States proclaimed its neutrality in World War II.

In 1945, Japanese-American Iva Toguri DÂ?Aquino, suspected of being wartime broadcaster Â?Tokyo Rose,Â? was arrested in Yokohama. (DÂ?Aquino was later convicted of treason and served six years in prison; she was pardoned in 1977 by President Ford.)

In 1972, Arab guerrillas attacked the Israeli delegation at the Munich Olympic games; 11 Israelis, five guerrillas and a police officer were killed in the siege.

In 1975, President Ford escaped an attempt on his life by Lynette Â?SqueakyÂ? Fromme, a disciple of Charles Manson, in Sacramento, Calif.

In 1986, 21 people were killed and dozens wounded after four hijackers who had seized a Pan Am jumbo jet in Karachi, Pakistan, opened fire when the lights inside the plane failed.

In 1997, Mother Teresa died in Calcutta, India, at age 87; conductor Sir Georg Solti died in France at age 84.


Ten years ago: Russian President Boris Yeltsin acknowledged he had serious health problems, and would undergo heart surgery. Hurricane Fran slammed into the Carolinas.


Five years ago: Mexican President Vicente Fox arrived at the White House as the first state visitor of the Bush presidency. PeruÂ?s attorney general filed homicide charges against Alberto Fujimori, linking the ex-president to two massacres by paramilitary death squads in the early 1990s. (Fujimori, now in Chile, continues to fight extradition.) Sports commentator Heywood Hale Broun died in Kingston, N.Y., at age 83.


One year ago: President Bush nominated John Roberts for chief justice. President Bush and Louisiana Gov. Kathleen Blanco, during a Gulf Coast tour, consoled Hurricane Katrina victims and thanked relief workers. An Indonesian jetliner crashed, killing 143 people, including 44 on the ground; 18 passengers survived. Jerry Rice ended an NFL career that included three Super Bowls and records for most career receptions, receiving yards and receiving touchdowns.


Interesting reading, eh? September 5th has surely been marked well in time. Yet, I keep thinking about the fact that much of this history is negative, is war in fact. What good things happened this day? What scientific breakthroughs happened this day? What charities were established? What lives were saved? What outpouring of help was made this day?

Watch the news, and you will get the opinion that we are a murderous, hateful, ignorant nation. I just watched this story of a young musician who started thinking about the musicians in New Orleans. She started a non-profit, collected instruments and funds, and donated them to musicians in New Orleans. A child leading the effort to help others. A young girl, not yet a woman, who thinks first of others and demonstrates the power of one in this world.

What would our nation be like if half the news was of the positive and hopeful events taking place each day, in each state, by children and grandparents and scholars and construction workers and environmentalists? How would we treat each other and how would we feel if our steady diet of news 24/7 had a balance of light and dark, war and peace, hatred and love?

Perhaps more people would feel as if they could contribute to this world. Perhaps more people would understand that they have a voice that counts, a life that is as valuable in a small town as it is in Redmond, Washington. Perhaps the epidemic of hungry and homeless children in America will be wiped out in a wave of people acting on the power of one.

If you are not yet convinced of the power of one, consider the life of Steve Irwin. His passion for conservation vaulted him from his parents wildlife preserve to a world known advocate for nature's most feamisunderstoodderstoon animals, fighting foexistencexistance and educating adult and children along the way. His death is such a moment of sorrow, of loss...but his life still is a model for others as to what can be accomplished by being willing to speak up even when few others understand you or believe your message at the outset, as to the power of one.

Perhaps.


~~~~
The 8:15 doctor's appointment did not start until 8:45. The 9:15 AM fasting blood work was not done until 3:40 PM. Nearly a whole day without food because there was no one in the office who could stick a needle in my arm...no one in an office filled with four board certified physicians and six nurses?


~~~~
Kashi, Madison, and Fancy are all taking naps. I cannot decide which of them is the most adorable while curled up snoozing.

I shall not be watching the news of death, destruction, and despair. I shall be watching my companions and concentrate on the wonderful feeling consuming a meal was this afternoon, savor the win I had at Scrabble, and ponder how I can avoid the impending loss on the game B_ and I had to adjourn since her husband came home.


~~~~
Don't forget that the new season of House premieres tonight!

While I only had 400 ml of water in the jar I set out for the storm and not a single branch fell to the ground, I lost power. Only a small strip of homes were out of power when there where large outages, so we were pretty far down the list of where to send crews. I lost power for over two days just after I bought groceries for practically the entire month of September. I tried to save them by putting ice in both parts of the refrigerator after the first day, but it was too late for the milk, eggs, and a lot of other food I had purchased.

The day before, I had learned that hundreds of dollars in my medical spending account was being returned the company since the claims for them did not occur before my last day of work. I was stunned to learn that that my claims were being denied.

I specifically asked about those funds once I learned I was losing my job. I specifically asked the HR assistant if I could continue to file claims when I no longer worked for the organization. She said, yes. So, I reconfirmed the answer by saying, "So I don't have to rush out and spend the money?"

She laughed and replied, " Like you did with those contacts [I had extra money at the end of one year.]? No, you don't."

I asked her about it a third time because I wanted to know how I would get the money if I was no longer getting a paycheck. I asked her, "When I file a claim, say in October, will the money come directly from ___ [the medical account company]?"

She replied that it would still go through the payroll/paycheck company.

At the review of the termination paper work--which did not include any information on the medical spending account in the insurance section--I said that the assistant said that I could still file claims after I no longer worked for the company. She said that was right, that I had 90 days after the end of the year to file claims just as I did the years before. The plan documentation given to employees, the deduction agreement, the staff orientation, and the termination packet do not mention the fact that you lose the money in your account after you leave the organization.

Learning that my claims were no longer valid and the money would be returned to the organization, I asked for the organization to send me a check for the balance of my account, but my ex-boss refused, effectively keeping my money despite the fact the company failed to communicate this caveat to the plan, even when someone like me went out of the way to ensure the money in the account was still safe after leaving. I could have gone out and purchased contacts and supplies and dozens of other covered items as a stockpile to still utilize the investment I made, but I was told not to do so. I mean, really, what person would put up to $3,000 in an account that he/she could loose if terminated, something that can happen at any time without any warning? That information should have been made just a clear as the "use-it-or-lose-it" caveat of the plan. Frankly, this is just another way that this particular non-profit fails at intellectual honesty and ethical practices, effectively taking profit off its employees.

This financial blow was followed by the loss of the groceries.

I also discovered that my alarm system is no longer working after the power outage. When I called Brinks, I learned that I would have to pay for a technician's visit and the new equipment...most likely $250.

More bills right and left and no job.


I need a prescription for a stiff upper lip or stronger boot straps or something...

I wish with my whole heart for tomorrow not to come.

I feel as if I cannot bear to see the date on the calendar. Tomorrow is the beginning of month 3 of being unemployed. I wish to wallow in Dr. Pepper and french fries and Bryer's Sara Lee Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream and take to my bed permanently.

I am trying to avoid myself. I am trying to make plans for tomorrow that take me out of the house and away from my thoughts.

Why does no one wish to hire me?

~~~~
My writing student called to see if we can work together this evening. I was thankful for the opportunity to see her craft words into beautiful text and to lose myself in Megan's worries. I am hoping to get to a scene that popped into my head a short while ago, but is a bit down the road from where I am presently. At least we will be writing.

I hope and pray that my melancholy over tomorrow does not permeate our time together.

~~~~
I am watching more of the US Open.

Did you know that it is possible to ruin a pan by...uhm...well...accidentally forgetting about frozen corn heating on the stove?

I didn't.

Neither soap, 409, comet, or a combination of all three made a dent on the blackened mess stuck to the bottom of the pan. On my next grocery trip, I might check out the price of steel wool.


NOTE: Burning frozen corn will create quite a fetid, noisome miasma that will quickly permeate the home and linger for hours on end.

Okay, I feel as if I am being hit over the head with a sledgehammer!

Last night (and on into the morning), I watched Andre Agassi play the first round of the US Open. I do not watch tennis. I really find it rather boring. You whack the ball back and forth with seemingly strange rules. I, personally, would not last a single game. I cannot run for the asthma. Thus, I can admire the athleticism, but do not really see it as an interesting sport. Sort of like hockey. Who watches that?

Anyway, I was channel surfing and stumbled upon the pre-game dissection of whether or not Andre would even be able to play given his age, his failing back, and the fact that he has already announced his retirement. Gusty of him, I thought. It is one thing to announce, after a win or an early exit, to say that the time has come for you to step away from the sport. It is another to announce your retirement to the world and then let them watch, knowing a first round exit could happen, knowing the whole world would be dissecting your every move, describing in bloody detail every mistake you made and ascribing it to being old, being injured, losing an edge that at one time had the tennis world trembling.

My interest was caught, and before long, I found myself watching his opening match. I will admit, I wished that I knew more about the rules of tennis as I watched. But, really, it was not the game I was watching, it was the man.

I marveled at his courage. I marveled at his fortitude. I marveled at the fact that he was able to come back from 0-4 in the second set to win in a tiebreaker. The entire match was a wickedly brutal slug fest, each man matching an impressive physical display by his opponent with one of his own. Each man facing exhaustion and fighting to set aside fatigue to focus on the next swing of the racket.

Andre prevailed.

Whether he wins the tournament or loses in the next match, he has sent a powerful message to those seated in the stadium and those watching on television: Know yourself. Do that which you are capable of doing. Never give up. Go out in style.

I rather enjoyed watching Tiger play this weekend. I kept thinking about how he handled four bogeys in a row, something that he hasn't done in since 1998. He didn't let his anger or discouragement affect his play. Rather, he simply stepped up to the next tee and struck the ball. That was his job. There was nothing more he could do about the situation. He had to stand over his ball, set aside what happened at the last hole, remember what is true about himself, and swing his club.

At the end of his round, he was only one back. He then went on to win the tournament, his fourth in a row, in a four-hole playoff.

While watching the PGA Championship last week and the tournament at Firestone this week, I found myself near crazy about playing golf. I mean, I have all this time, I have the tips from my golf lesson in June dancing around in my head, the cast is off, those golf shoes are just aching to be out on the turf...and I am sure that doing so would improve my game. Really, I am ready. Except...except...the funds to do so are difficult to come by when you are jobless.

However, in thinking about what I witnessed this weekend watching Tiger, I got the feeling that the lesson to be learned really had nothing to do with my swing.

I definitely feel as if I am hitting bogeys in my life. Maybe I also need to just step up to the next tee, remembering what is true about me. Tiger is not a man of bogeys. Neither am I.

I would HIGHLY recommend trying Bryer's Sara Lee Strawberry Cheesecake Ice Cream.

I talked away the evening with my dear friend W_. During the conversation, I had the opportunity to flesh out a bit more my thoughts on the parable of the sower.

Over the years, I have heard this parable taught on many occasion, but taught as a beginning, not something on-going. Luke 8:4-15 speaks of seeds that fall on several types of soil: the hardened road, rocky soil, thorny soil, and rich soil. Obviously, the seed on the rich soil grows to provide a strong crop.

But...I have been thinking lately that perhaps this parable has another message. Perhaps this parable speaks to the need for Christians to tend the soil of their life. I have been thinking about this because I think my soil is in poor shape right now.

There are many rocks from my old job and many thorns from my mother's words. Both of which are impediments to the Word of God growing in my heart. The truth I know about who I am in Christ oft gets choked by the thorns of the hurtful words that flow so easily from my mother's mouth. I stumble on the rocks of dismissal and disregard for all that I poured into my old job.

I have spent so much time tending to the soil in my yard, failing to see that the greater need was the condition of the soil of my heart.

Of course, working among the thorns of my roses is MUCH easier than working in on those of my mother.

I had a phone interview with a second organization this morning.

The interview was actually with a head-hunter, but I was one of 8 out of 100 applicants. She was from Texas, so bonding occurred. I actually felt empowered by the conversation--about an hour and twenty minutes--knowing that she was impressed with the materials I sent and I was able to answer her very intriguing questions. It was quite obvious that she had studied my resume and the other materials I sent her.

The job is actually the greatest long-shot of all the resumes I sent out, yet I think that having an interview with a head-hunter was a plus, eh?

My father is coming over for a movie night. I fear we will only be able to view a piddling amount since much of the day has already passed, but I am looking forward to couch company.

The bible promises that one day every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

I find it fascinating that, even now, the name of Christ is on the tongues of even those who deny His divinity. His name is used as an expletive and as a curse word. Yet, it is His name that is repeated and heard by these actions. People don't swear by Ghandi. People don't use Mandela as an expletive. They use the name of Jesus Christ.

The very existence of Christ has colored the world from the beginning of time. Heralded as its savior, His birth, life, and death were foretold by prophets for thousands of years before he was born. Now, thousands of years later, the very name of this man permeates our language, our conversation. His name is spoke in love and in hate, in joy and in sorrow, in laughter and in anger. His name moves a multitude to prayer. His name spurs others to war. He comforts and He troubles souls. People fall before Him and are saved at the name of Jesus Christ. People scoff His name and deride Him as the son of God. Yet even the scoffers, the doubters, and those who reject His offer of salvation still speak His name.

Yes, for now, many use His name for other than paean praise. But one day, those cursing and those exclaiming will find themselves humbled to even whisper His name and will savor the taste of His name on their tongues.

None other has ever wielded this power. None other ever will. That is the power of the name of Jesus Christ.

So, while I might finish the expletive of others with the words "is Lord of Heaven and Earth," speaking the Truth they fail to see, I am ever fascinated by the fact that the One they seek to belittle is actually positioned time and time again as bearing the most powerful name on earth.

I admit it...I am really struggling with discouragement.

I tossed and turned most of the night, dwelling on the fact that I am unemployed and that I cannot seem to find a place where I can use the skills I have. I am jaded and cynical, especially learning that this manager from my old job who consistently did not complete her work or come to meetings on time, who covered over poor results, is now the executive director of a non-profit organization. How did she do it?

After a futile attempt to get to bed early, I got up and went back to the three books on Jesus that I am reading. I stumbled upon a bit of scripture that has given me pause. The parable of seed falling on different types of soil is quite familiar to me, but the thought that flittered through my mind is that perhaps this is not merely a one-time-in-a-person's-life parable. If God is constantly sowing in our lives, then we must constantly be tending to our soil. Although my faith has long been the guiding force in my life, just now, my soil is pretty rocky and weedy. Something to think about...

In any case, I prayed about my feelings and went on-line to read the news. In my search for any information that would distract me from my present mindset enough to possibly send me off to sleep, I came across an article on the organization Volunteer Match. What struck my fancy is the fact that there has been a growing movement of virtual volunteering.

What is that pray tell? Well, the idea acknowledges the fact that there is much work in an organization that does not require someone to actually be on location to accomplish the tasks. For me, the bottom line is that I can volunteer from my couch!

I perused 1,000 opportunities under editing, writing, and communications and came up with six organizations that I thought I would be willing to support with my skills. I registered with the site and contacted each organization. After feeling as if I actually accomplished something, I was able to finally fall asleep.

So, even though I am still in the same clothes from the past few days and dishes are piling up in the sink because the thought of washing them is depressing because they are only there because I am eating so many meals at home being unemployed, tonight, I edited website content for one organization and have been asked to edit a grant proposal by another.

For a few hours, at least, I was able to set aside my feelings of failure and kinship with dirt...

Bones are still crunching, but Tiger Woods came through on another decisive-leave-the-rest-of-the-field-behind-in-the-dust victory.

~~~~
I had a wonderful meal with just G_ and F_, away from the kids and filled with sublime food and good conversation. I truly cherish the time that I get to spend with the whole of my writing student's family and genuinely believe that everyone should have a P_ family in their lives, but I was craving some time with just the two of them that was not marked by interruptions by the kids or feelings that we are somehow ignoring them if we become engrossed in an "adult" conversation. I was just craving some "adult" time, especially since I find them both to be highly intelligent, engaging, and interesting folk.

I shaved my legs and washed my hair. I wore lipstick and perfume. I dressed in a skirt and a beautiful white blouse with flowing sleeves and much lace. I wore hose and nice shoes...ones I even polished before hand. I even treated myself to a new pair of contacts. After seven weeks of practically living in either my pajamas or t-shirts and cotton pants (and the same contact lenses), I enjoyed just getting ready to go out of my house. Even with all this preparation and anticipation, the meal was, in short, everything that I wanted it to be.

K_ can take a half hour to answer a simple question, educating you far beyond any professor could on all manner of things that you never knew you didn't know. G_ smiles at her husband when he does so, commiserating in the experience. And yet, when she smiles, which is a rather beautiful smile, you get a glimpse of the love between the two of them, of this couple that came together in Christ and built this amazing family.

~~~~
I also spoke with my best friend W_ this evening. She had a list a mile long of things to accomplish around the house this weekend, and I wanted to know if she did. Silly me, I didn't have to ask.

~~~~
The last conversation we had, she casually referred to the time she drove with me from Texas to North Carolina to ensconce me at grad school. Days on the road, days setting up my dorm room, countless Taco Bell meals, and I cannot remember a single moment of our trip together. I no longer knew that I had ever taken place. I was shaken when she mentioned it the other day, but did not let her know that I didn't remember until tonight.

I hate this disease. I also hate that I the few things that I remember are mostly what I would like to forget. I hate that the things that I know about my life, even though I do not remember them, are primarily negative. I hate that while I couldn't remember this wonderful gesture she made for me, I no longer at least "knew" that it had happened.

I called to hear about her victory on her list, but I also wanted to talk with her because she is the only real connection to my past that I have. The forgotten trip reminded me of this. My fathers grows sad and is generally confused when I try to get him to tell me what I was like or things that we did together. My sister and brother basically don't believe me that I do not remember. I no longer have contact with my mother. I have known W_ for 25 years...and yet, I can count on one hand the times we have shared together that I actually remember...and the ones that I "know" about measures less than a ten of that time. Still, she is my friend and accepts me for who I am. This day, this moment, I am overwhelmed by the grace that God has given to me in her with the path I must walk with this disease.

I hate that I no longer can hold an unfamiliar phone number in my mind for even the brief time it takes to read it and then turn and pick up a phone to dial the number. In order for me to make a call, I must hold the number immediately adjacent to the dialing pad, repeatedly say the numbers I have dialing, and have a phone system that does not have a short time-out period for dialing numbers. I hate MS for the battles I have dialing phones.

I hate MS for the loss of so much of the knowledge of my life. I simply hate it.

~~~~
Yet...despite this...I am thankful for this day of prime golf, food, company, and conversation.

I have been struggling with a type of pain that I have not yet described here, so I thought I would enlighten you.

Sometimes it feels as if the bones in the top of my right food are grinding together. Walking on it and even just moving it are quite painful experiences. It comes upon me suddenly, sometimes lasting several days, sometimes a week or more. I feel a twinge at first, and I know how my life will be for the next short while.

I think that the pain comes when I am tired, but I am not quite sure if that is always the case. When I am really tired, my muscles do not do a great job of holding things in place. One of the worst experiences I have is when I am doing dishes and turn to put something in the dishwasher. When I am tired, if I do not purposely pick up my foot as I pivot my leg, my foot will be facing still be facing forward when the top of my thigh is actually facing toward the dishwasher. The pain is intense, but even worse is the knowledge that I have to slowly rotate my leg back before I really hurt myself, even though doing so will be more painful than when I first turned because I always move quite slowly even though the initial twist was a quick movement.

In any case, my right knee hurts when I am tired because it loosens up somehow. Walking on stairs, sitting down, rising up, and kneeling are quite difficult.

The pain in my knee is always sharp and accompanied by the fear that I might do permanent damage during these times.

Sometimes when I am tired, the knuckle at the bottom of my left index finger hurts. It aches and feels swollen and hot when it is not. A knuckle is much easier to stare at than a knee during these times, but nothing looks different about it. The blasted thing just hurts.

These two body parts susceptible to bouts of pain are accompanied by my left shoulder and my right hip. I've written before of how my right hip has a tendency to partially slip from its socket and how I have learned to push, twist, and abruptly sit so as to remedy the situation and avoid a trip in an ambulance. My shoulder is just basically a nuisance, but the hip thing is enough to make me scream when it happens. The only real help I received from a visiting a string of ortho docs was the technique described above.

So, this right foot thing is new here, but has been a part of my life for about a year now. When it happens, I am near convinced that something is broken. That the bones really are crunching together. However, it only feels that way. Eventually the feeling (and pain) passes, and I forget about it until the next time.

It has been crunch time for most of this day.

I must say, that given how my right foot feels, I have been particularly grateful for the magnificent play of Tiger Woods to hold my attention during some of this day. I am very much looking forward to another swash-buckling victory tomorrow. I am quite sure that I will not be disappointed.

Were I completely honest I would admit that I am feeling utterly and completely lost.

I am ever so discouraged at how futile my job hunt has gone when I know I have much to offer an employer. I stayed up into 3:45 this morning searching job websites and took up the search again at 11:30 and have only now finished wading through over two thousand job listings in communications across the United States. I found little besides what I have already applied for even when broadening my geographic location. There were some new ones, but Seattle, New York, Chicago, and Boston are not places you could live on a communications manager salary.

I was in tears last night and again this morning. I also spent time searching for a small town were I could afford to buy a home based on the equity in my house where I could find a nothing job. I couldn't find a town where I could also find job listings and that wasn't in a hot climate.

I feel as if I have no home, no place where I belong...but more devastatingly so, I feel as if there is no place for me to go.

I am barging in on the P_'s home improvement project again in just a few hours. More drywall awaits hanging. More sweating up a storm and losing my fears and hurt in someone else's labor. I would camp over there and tape and float all on my own for as many days as it took if they would let me.

Of course, I could venture out in my yard and finish digging up the stepping stone if I only wished for labor. It is just that it hurts to work on my yard because I wonder how much longer it will be mine.

I am a bit worried that I will not be able to paint a cheerful face on in time to head over to the P_'s house. Even though my help has made the project move along at a faster pace, I am sure that neither G_ nor K_ would want my sorrows dripping all over the drywall.

~~~~
My only bright spot of this day thus far has been reading my writing student K_'s college application essay. It was stunningly beautiful, oh so creative. In just over 500 words, she paints a portrait of herself as a musician, as a writer, and as a young woman. Once she tightens it up a few words to get back to the maximum 500, those professors will have the chance to glimpse the talent she wields and the scholar she will become.

I learned today that my very good friend D_'s husband lost his job today, on the anniversary of the day she lost her job last year. Heavily pregnant and no real household income is not what I wish for her and hers. My heart aches for her and I pray that they find provider soon.

You know, her husband B_ is one of the hardest workers I know. The reasons for firing were specious. I must admit that my cynicism was renewed upon hearing her news. Why is it that people who genuinely work hard and work in an ethical manner do not seem to prospers in our society?

Case in point: My sister IS the hardest worker I know. She continually gives of herself, going above and beyond the call of duty for her company. For years, she has taken quite seriously
the responsibility of representing her company and looking out for its best interests, often over hers. However, her work ethic has set her up as a target for those whose own work ethic pale in comparison. She does not look out for "number one." She never really has. So, several times she has been the scapegoat of bosses who were trying to cover up their own mistakes. Career wise, she should be earning twice what she does and be well on up the corporate ladder. But...hard work and great performance doesn't really pay.

I saw a press release from my old employer that was written by an admin person. It was unbelievably bad. Riddled with grammatical mistakes, including an incomplete sentence, the release is just a few paragraphs that repeated the same information three times, has incorrect information about the project and the program structure of the organization, and has passages that would fit better on a sappy Hallmark card. My heart broke when I read it. This is what they chose? I offered so much better. I strategically and systematically worked to build something that is now lying fallow. I could write circles around even the rest of senior management. I produce a prodigious amount of successful work. And yet... And yet, they chose crap such as that press release and people who cannot message for the organization, do not work much, and who blatantly take advantage of the organization...

I find myself struggling all over again with being unemployed. I find myself, again, wondering why. I find myself heartsore at seeing the majority of my work set aside. I find myself feeling helpless when all I want is to be able to step into D_'s life and help her out as she has so often helped me out.

I also am losing hope in the interview last week. I sent off the requested samples of my writing, design, and strategic visioning...and received back a "thank you for the materials" email.


I am trying to throw myself back into finishing my novel...but I have struggled with that as well...


Perhaps I just need a Dr. Pepper? I have not yet had one this day...

I have only had dial-up speed on my Internet connection for four days now. Boy, do I miss my speed. I finally called Verizon because the problem did not seem to be resolving on its own (like when there are disruptions to service elsewhere that affects my area). The rep confirmed that my speed was 54K. ARGH!

If you ever want to run a speed test on your dsl connection, try this one.

Here's hoping Verizon gets to the bottom of my lag time soon!

I cleaned out my refrigerator today. Wiping down the glass shelves found me regretting that it has been so long since the last time I ventured into the coldbox. I did manage to re-establish organization into both parts so that the food I acquired today from Costco would fit.

Fancy and Madison were quite jealous of my labors, so I turned my attention to their cage. I found some new food that has dried bits of fruits and vegetables in it, so perhaps a clean new environment will help the tasty aroma from this treat waft more easily to their tiny nostrils. Madison has just not put the weight back on after his most recent molting. I am worried about his skinny self. I keep telling him that he is welcome to some of my spare heft, but he remains a bit peckish about consuming more than a wee bit each day.

Kashi has added to my worry by exhibiting increased hind quarter weakness. Quite frequently, when on smooth surfaces, he goes splat instead of gracefully navigating the terrain. His ever so kind vet is not quite worried, speaking mostly of his advanced age (11). Slow walking will help his muscle development...so, I need to rapidly cool down so that we can wander the streets of our neighborhood without sweating and fainting in the swelter of summer.

I got to hang drywall today. It just doesn't get any better than weilding a saw on the outlet holes and using the power drill. URGGG! Mr. P_'s (F_) has MUCH more power than mine! We managed do complete about 45 % of the computer room in their basement. I have already picked out the paint colors for the walls, but I fear I have much more persuading to do of G_ before she agrees to the application of brush!

The P_ children have definitely been the fragrance of Christ in my life lately. Saturday, they presented me with my very own version of Up For Grabs, lovingly made by their hands. Each time I look at my beautiful purple floral bag sitting on my current makeshift desk, I want to weep with the kindness God shows to me through them.


~~~~
Three of them came over yesterday for games and a movie. I did manage to win Up For Grabs since the nearest competitor to my age was not yet twelve. However, I DID NOT win the rounds of Quorridor. Six year old G_ actually won the four way game. She is definitely showing signs of that wickedly awesome P_ intelligence. In the first game, she rather sneakily blocked several of my moves.


~~~~
The interview was...I would say...a B+ on my part. I did managed to demonstrate my abilities and what I could offer the organization even if I cannot check off all the of skills listed on the position with depth of experience. The VP was someone I could quickly come to admire, frank and talented and dedicated.


~~~~
I moved around Bird Central in an attempt to thwart those most determined squirrels in the back yard. The birds practically swirled around my head trying to understand what I was doing. They did not partake of my offerings after I was done, so perhaps they time to get used to the new arrangement.

The golden finches came back to the thistle feeder once I rehung it in the tree and a cardinal kept a sharp eye one the goings on from a safe distance. The mourning doves and three robins still enjoyed their baths in my fountain despite the hubba baloo in the back yard.

While I will never quite achieve the level of expertise my step-mother has in attracting birds to her yard, I have most definitely enjoyed all my avian companions this summer.

There are no more white pieces of salt water taffy. In fact, the box is half empty.

I threw myself into the rest of the mulching at G_'s house this evening, convincing her that it was exactly how she wanted to spend the evening. Two of her kids actually helped me, so the 20 bags I brought over were spread in a jiffy. I couldn't believe that I actually did not have enough to finish, but I did have enough to get the majority of the front bed done...the curb appeal is nearly done.

~~~~
I had a phone interview today for a position that has a description that is not quite to my skills, yet I believe that the discription should be different! The interviewer was in the process of telling me that he thought it just wasn't a good fit, when I asked if I could share the observations I had made after researching the organization on-line and through their collateral. When he asked for me to proceed, I rattled off four points, all the while hoping that he would not interrupt. When I was finished, he paused and then said it was an impressive display of analytical skills. He then gave me an appointment time for an in-person interview. I actually talked myself into an interview!

I very, very much would like this job...it is an admirable organization addressing the problem of dropouts on a national level...

I have been battling nausea all day today, so of course I worked in the yard a bit.

When I purchased stepping stones to lead from the sidewalk by the side of the house to the decks in the backyard, my step-mother suggested that I set them into the ground so that I could mow over them. However, three years later, all of them have sunk too far into the ground and are nearly covered by grass. I spent two hours digging up nine of them, (sadly) tearing out the overgrown grass (wishing it would have grown elsewhere in those bare spots of mine), putting sand down in the "hole," and resetting the stones.

I am only half way done, but I was shaking so much after the ninth one I thought it prudent to cease my labors for the day.

My water spigot is leaking and needs repair. Both the sprinkler and the hand sprayer do not stop the leaking water from spilling out even when the water is turned off. I asked my step-mother at dinner last night if I needed to call a plumber. She seemed quite confident I could repair the problem myself by either replacing a gasket (huh?) or the spigot itself (yeah, right!).

As I labored over the stepping stones, I couldn't help but watch the dripping water, thinking how my normally infinitesimal water bill that was growing drop by drop. In the very recesses of my mind, I remembered an old metal sprayer that I found while working in the yard one day. It is one of those short, cylindrical types that you twist open and shut. I rooted around the bottom of my shed until I found it. After breaking of the dried soil still clinging to the rather ancient device, I put it on the hose, but the leaking did not abate. After thinking that the rubber ring inside might be hardened from age, I took off the sprayer and poked at the orange ring. A piece broke off immediately. Having a package of those rubber rings in my took kit, I used a screw driver to pry out the rest of it and replaced it with a soft, new green one. Alas, my repair was effected. With the sprayer twisted closed, the water leak was resolved.

I was quite grateful that I would, at least for the time being, not have to learn about spigot repairs and returned, with renewed vigor, to my stepping stone project.

Aren't work-arounds great?

My friend G_ finally returned home. Her wonderful husband spurred the family on in arriving before dark so that she could see "my present." She loved it!

Even though it was quite late and they were exhausted, I popped by their house on the way home from my father's house to revel in her enjoyment. I felt like a kid in a candy store. I wanted so very much to find something that would let her know how special she is to me and how much I appreciate her staunch support to this rather beleaguered, unemployed person. Mulching her yard definitely sent the message home.

My writing student, K_, also enjoyed her graduation present. It is really insane to have bought it now, when I have no job and she has another year of school to go, but I have been searching for the past two years for the perfect gift and didn't want to lose the opportunity of a recent discovery. I had left it in her bedroom to find when she came home.

So, there I sat in their kitchen, after making G_ tour the yard with me and listen to me wax poetically on how much I enjoyed doing this for her, listening to their vacation tales. They gave me some gifts for watering their yard during their absence, and I confessed that I only used the excuse of watering to get their key because, at the time, I was still trying to figure out how I was going to surprise G_.

They brought me salt water taffy, without even knowing that I am quite greedy about the stuff. Before going to bed tonight, I have already tried each flavor in the box...twice! I prefer the white ones best and the peppermint ones second best...in case anyone is wondering.

She also supported my Dr. Pepper habit and threw in a bottle of wine that I had enjoyed at their house and looked for unsuccessfully while at the store twice. The wine was almost an embarrassment of riches, but I accepted it readily enough. I rarely drink, but this wine was most satisfying and something I would actually open for just myself.

I thought I would just about die...waiting all day for them to return...but the wait was definitely worth it. The whole P_ family is worth its weight in gold and one of the richest blessings that God has ever showered upon me. Five years of love, laughter, encouragement, admiration, and wisdom given from the least to the eldest of this family of seven is a precious gift...not to mention the five children who continually honor me and humble me with their willingness to play games with me!

Now...if they would only let me win more...

My friend is returning tomorrow and her "surprise" is not quite done. However, I am not sure I have it in me to finish. Ten hours of labor in the stinking heat, 30 bags of mulch, two bags of pulled weeds.

Her curb appeal has greatly increased, but I have fallen short of appropriately mulching her fern garden. It needs about 10 more bags. I have been toying with the idea of trying to take care of it tomorrow, but working in the evenings is really the only way I can accomplish my goal. Working in the front yard was ever so much easier than in the back yard. Perhaps I could get the Lowe's guy to fill up my car again and have her children haul the mulch back to her fern garden. After four trips there, Boris and I are good friends.

Still, I would give most anything to be there when she pulls up to her house. Will she understand the gift I was trying to give her? Or will she harangue me about working in the heat? I certainly have sweated on this project more than I have in decades. The funny thing is that all I was so focused on what I was doing I didn't really notice the heat other than as a reminder to keep swilling down more Orange Gatorade.

I did mow today. Really, who would believe that I would find 94 degrees cool enough to mow? My, I just cannot explain the utter satisfaction that washes over me as I gaze upon a freshly clipped and edged yard. With the back beds properly mulched, the birds swarming over the feeders, the fountain trickling, the Rose of Sharon trees blooming, being in the back yard is so soothing. Now that the heat wave is dissipating, perhaps I will be able to enjoy it more...

Case in Point: Century Old Battle over the Indian Trust Fund

Reading this article is quite frustrating and illuminates the utter greed of our government. Not lost in all the arguing is the offer of an $8 Billion dollar settlement on a $50 Billion case. The Native Americans should be grateful for the mismanagement of their monies netting them only 16% of what they should be granted?

Senator McCain claims that he wasn't happy with the settlement offer, but if that was the case, why was it made in the first place?

Of course, the ludicrousness of this whole piece is the fact that there has never been a comprehensive audit, nor any believable accountability, in the entire management of the Indian Trust Fund.

The judge in the case was removed because he had "lost his perspective." Holding the government accountable for over a century of injustice, injustice still perpetrated again and again by the Department of the Interior in the present day, apparently did not sit right with the Feds. The poor judge was mired in swill and commented on the stench. Sadly, doing his job got him "fired," so to speak.

I know that there are horrors going on in Darfur, the Middle East, Thialand, and the like. Aids, genocide, and child trafficking are a blight upon humanity. The systematic degrading and plundering of a people is as well. Suffering is still suffering.

Haven't Native Americans suffered enough at the hands of our government?

I am trying to surprise a friend. Doing so has included copious amounts of manual labor in the faux cool of the evening while she has been out of town. I wanted to let her know how much she means to me by doing something for her that would provide aesthetic pleasure and satisfaction.

While I have been in my unemployed funk, she has gone out of her way and her comfort zone to be a source of encouragement and support to me. I know that you cannot put a price on friendship, but perhaps my labors will demonstrate how much I value all that she has shared with me.

Of course, I am the WORST person at keeping secrets, so I have already talked with her husband just to make sure that the choices I am making in the labor department will have the greatest return on my investment in this surprise.

I cannot wait for Saturday night to get here!


~~~~
Another mystery in my life...how is it that each evening I go to sleep with the bottom of the duvet at my feet and awake the next day with it at my head?

Yesterday, I played the guitar for a few hours, singing praise songs and hymns. I haven't played in a while because one of the symptoms of MS is that you lose control of your hands. You think you have a grip on something only to discover that object falling to the floor. Playing is much harder for me now, so I just haven't been all that eager to play. I am a pretty lousy player and I get so discouraged when my hands will not do as I would like. Still, I have been reading three different books about Jesus and felt moved to spend some time in praise of Him.

Today, I about near killed myself in the yard to put out the mulch that should have been put out last April. We are in triple digit figures here, and the contents of my beds in the yard are really taking a beating. I did, however, remember that I could just purchase the mulch and let the Lowe's guys load it up in my vehicle.

In two trips, I purchased 35 bags and spread them out about my yard. I threw up four times, but did not faint. I actually remembered to use my inhaler before and during, so I think that helped with my oxygen sats. In case you are thinking that I am quite foolish, I would offer that I did not start out for the store until 6:30 PM, so I was not working in the heat of the day.

I also managed to effect a repair on the pump in my fountain. The birds have been expressing their disappointment in the fountain lately. The pump was clogged, so a bare trickle of water spilled down the side of the rock. So, while the birds could still frolic in the water below, they could not drink from the water spilling out the top. I have been reluctant to try to remedy the situation because of the heat. However, I was already sweaty and quite grubby from the mulching that I decided to take a stab at it. After careful application of a bent paper clip and much use of the sprayer in my sink, I was able to restore full function to the pump. The local birds have already expressed their gratitude.

I very much need to mow, but it has been so stinking hot that I keep putting off the deed. Dumping mulch is one thing, but I fear pushing around a mower might be a bit too much. I practically need a sickle out there!

One week from tomorrow, the heat wave is supposed to break. I will be most thankful for that day!

I am weary of the heat. I keep trying to think of something good about sweltering each time I step foot outdoors, but I cannot come up with anything. I continue to be quite grateful for air-conditioning, though. I cannot even begin to fathom what it would be like to live without it.

A friend of my mine refers to people by their first initials on her blog, and I have decided that really makes for less confusion. So, I will henceforth be doing the same. She is D_, the one friend that I made through my old job. While she lives quite far from me, she has become quite dear to me. I admire her fortitude, her writing ability, how much she loves her children, her honesty, and how much I have learned about friendship from her.

Last night, I was treated to a rather long conversation with my friend W_. She and I have known each other for 22 years. It has been a long and winding path, the journey we have traveled together. What is lovely is that D_ has helped me understand how precious my relationship with W_ is and helped me understand that I need to be a better friend to W_. And yet, D_ doesn't know W_. I find it interesting how the Lord illuminates our paths and the vessels He uses for His Truths.

Anyhow, W_ and I talked about her vacation in Cheyenne this past week, savoring the memories of cool nights. Walking outside the airport was a rude awakening for her when she returned.

We talked about faith, what it means to be a Christian these days, and the impact the media plays in the current view towards morality. I find it frightening how much society has shifted in recent years. Lying, stealing, and cheating have always been a part of human nature, and thus our society. But it used to be that those were not character traits to be admired or pursued. Now, there seems to be no consequence to engaging in those activities and people hardly bat an eyelash when someone does.

On a lighter note, I share my new-found discovery of how to cook bacon with her and my immense satisfaction with a new type of bacon I purchased at the grocery store. I have always cooked bacon on medium heat, ending up with pieces that are more crunchy than crispy, with parts that are half cooked. By cooking it on low heat, resigned to the fact that cooking the bacon will take a while, it cooks evenly, and I end up with the perfect crispness for my consumption preference. W_ prefers crunchy bacon, so my method is really no use to her.

Funny, how you can be friends with someone who is polar opposites on so many different levels. Of course, with her, our relationship with Christ is the mucilage that binds us.

In case you are interested, Gwaltney Hardwood Smoked bacon is altogether satisfying in taste, a mighty wonderful addition to any meal.

It is one thing when I forget to take my own medicine, but it is another when I forget Kashi's.

I came home from a visit at my writing student's home. The visit was filled with games, chores, and honest conversation. I didn't win. But I was treated to a wonderful dinner. Her mother made this basil pesto from scratch that was quite sumptuous. I even managed to bring a bit of leftovers back home so that tomorrow I will have an easy time remembering the good meal.

I was feeling pretty pleased with myself because I had rummaged around in my closet and made a new outfit. The top I wore was a crocheted sweater that I had bought three years ago determined to fit into it. The strong melon color just did something for me that I cannot really explain, so I bought it without knowing if I would ever be able to wear it.

I was feeling good because her mother and I had a good conversation and spent some time in prayer together. There is nothing that beats praying with another Christian, enjoying the fellowship of Christ's salvation, the grace of God, and the Spirit's presence.

Alas, when I arrived home and started unpacking the groceries, I suddenly realized that I had rolled out of bed, achieved my wardrobe victory, played with my babies, and raced out the door to see my friends. I was so hasty that I forgot to give Kashi his pain pill and prepare his dish of prescription dog food, Cheerios, and the Chinese herbs to help with his Cushing's disease. I quickly prepared his evening meal and medicine and whispered remorse and sweet nothings in his ear as he gobbled down his meal.

As irascible and intractable a dog he has become in his old age, Kashi is a great companion who has walked my own path with me for eleven years. For that, I am truly thankful...

I spent much of the day today researching pregnancy symptoms during each of the trimesters and matching up those dates on a calendar from 1891 so that I could better know how Megan will be feeling and what will be happening to her body as this pregnancy progresses.

You know, given all the aches, pains, bloating, leaks, dizziness, fatigue, sleeping problems, clumsiness, heart burn, wacky emotions, congestion, nose bleeds, irritability, drool, enlarged veins, itchy skin, nausea, and vomiting, it is a wonder that women repeat the experience!

I need to read more about what was going on around her so that I can better intertwine the outside world with her own circumstances.


~~~~
Someone criticized Megan, recently, for being too angry all the time, but at the point in the book that this person has been reading, it has only been six and a half weeks since she was brutally attacked and her husband brutally murdered. She is grieving the loss of her spouse and what she perceives to be a betrayal by her Savior. She is also facing the added turmoil of finding herself pregnant.

Something I set out to do was to show grief in a more realistic manner. So often, in Christian Historical Fiction novels, someone dies, and the loved one remaining sheds some tears and moves on quite easily. But this is not often how people grieve.

In a moment of spontaneity, Megan opens up her shuttered heart and flings some rather desperate questions at her neighbor. Not being a Christian, he asks her if she should really be directing her questions to her pastor or at least another Christian. Megan replies that they would just tell her to trust God. Her final question was to ask what is she to do if she doesn't know how to trust God?

How do you trust a God who allows you to be raped? How do you trust a God who allows that rapist to murder your husband? How do you trust a God who allows you to become pregnant from that rape? While the child is actually her husband's, she does not know that. She only knows her pain, her grief, and her fear.

For all she is hurting and angry at God for what He has allowed to happen to her and her husband, I find it an act of faith on her part that she still talks with God. While it is oft via questions flung out from her heart without expecting any answer or comfort, it is still a sign that run as she might, she cannot escape the faith deep within her. As a child of Christ, she gave her life to Him, and Jesus does not let go of His sheep. She might avoid reading the bible and loath going to church, but she does secretly savor each of the scraps of paper the woman who has come to stay with her leaves for her to find. On each is written a verse or passage of Scripture that oft troubles her soul even as it serves as a balm to her wound. Sometimes she clings to them as if they were a lifeboat in the turbulent seas surrounding her. Sometimes she crumples them up and tosses them aside...only to retrieve them later.

She is hurting. She is confused. She sees no hope for her future. Yet, even as she claims to have no need of a God who would choose this for her life, she cannot escape her relationship with His Son.

The ultimate answer to the question of how someone trusts God when he/she does know how to do so is deceptively simple: you just do. One day at a time. One choice at a time. Minute by minute, hour by hour, or day by day, you choose truth even when you do not believe it yourself and you walk in obedience even when you see no reason to do so.

We really do walk in blindness at times in this journey of the Christian life. Although we feel lonely, we are never alone. Although we feel hopeless, God is at work in our lives for His glory and our spiritual wellbeing.

Megan is stumbling along her path. She has yet to understand how this shaping of the clay of her life will have perfect form and substance in His perfect will. She doesn't see how brave and courageous she is in merely getting up each day and taking another step along her journey.


~~~~
You know, hers is such a harsh story that I doubt any editor will ever give it a second look, but it is the story that I have to tell. I happen to believe that it is a beautiful story. And I do know that there are a whole lot of women out there who would find comfort in seeing themselves in Megan, in recognizing her struggles and seeing that there can be glory even in the path that Megan is walking.

I have been spending a lot of time lately thinking about the choices people make.

I truly believe one of the biggest lies people tell themselves that they are just too busy to do that which they would rather do or would like to do. The reason I believe it is a convenient lie is because each and everything that you do each and every day is a choice that you make. You choose how your day is filled. You choose what is most important to you and then make time for it.

For example, people say that they like to read, but don't have time for it. That is a lie. They do not make time for reading. They choose to do other than reading. Therefore, reading is not really important to them.

You spend your time in such a way that it reflects what you value most. To that end, the adage that says actions speak louder than words is absolutely true.

If you want to memorize scripture, then you memorize it. If you do not, then memorizing scripture is just not that important to you.

If you want to be friends, then you spent time sharing your life, caring for another person and allowing that person to care for you. If you do not, then you simply are not interested in the relationship.

If you believe in excellence, then you pursue it and hold your staff accountable. If you do not, then excellence is not really important to you. Expediency is.

If you want to write, then make time to do so. Otherwise, writing is truly not important to you.

The time for what is important is not always hours, it can be moments. There is this time management guru out there whose biggest mantra is take care of the minutes and the hours will take care of themselves.

No matter how busy you are, no matter what you have been juggling, no matter what is on your plate, you make time for the things that are important to you.


What is important to you?


~~~~
You know what other adage is true? It is at times like these that you learn who your friends really are.

The best laid plans of mice and men...

I had gotten a new book before I learned that I was losing my job, so I set it aside for a dark day. Yesterday was such, where the battle to rest in God' sovereignty was particularly difficult. I opened the book and started reading. It was a harsh tale that took me to an unexpected place. I read and thought and read some more. Before I knew it, morning had come and the last page was turned.

So much for trying to reestablish a better schedule.

I was watching the news a while ago and saw that 7,000 acres of forest are now burning in California. In Siberia, Canada, and Australia, forest fires are also raging and men and women are putting their lives in danger trying to battle them. I learned that the people of New York City and St. Louis are still suffering the heat, with people dying from heat exhaustion from California to New York. Hundreds of thousands are still without power. Sweltering.

While it may be extremely difficult for me to be outside right now, I do have the luxury of the highly efficient air conditioner that was put in this spring. I am safe and secure inside my home and can sleep in comfort with cool air blowing across my room.

After praying for these people, I spent time thanking God for the blessings I do have in my life...

I had gotten into the habit of sleeping late, channel surfing, and then writing into the wee hours of the morning. And believe me, I do mean wee hours. I was writing until 4:00 or 5:00 AM, sleeping until 2:00 or 3:00 PM, only to do the same thing again the next evening.

Well, while I enjoy the time to write when my creativity flows best, I do recognize that this lifestyle is not the best for my health and to switch back on a dime should a call for an interview come would be difficult.

So, I have been slowing easing back, writing until 3:00, then 2:00, then 1:00 AM and getting up earlier each day. Today, however, the choice of rising early was not mine to make. The owner of the duplex attached to mine decided to hack away at his bushes. And I do mean hack! Below is a photo of what is left. The other side of the stoop is just as bad...

Now, you tell me what was the point of leaving them like this? If you take away probably 80% of the bush, shouldn't you just rip it out? I fear they will not survive this hack job. I am also curious as to why he did this. Strange, too, is the fact that the owner's son moved in a few weeks ago after the place standing empty for three years. It is not strange that he moved in, but the fact that his parents are still cleaning the house and doing the yard work for their grown son is. He is forty-five if he is a day, yet his stooped and grey haired parents are slaving away at the maintenance of the property. Weird, eh?

I feel sorry for those poor bushes...

On sci-fi movies, aliens that are found on earth are usually hunted, killed, and then autopsied. The Powers-That-Be make harsh decisions that are blinded by their own hate and fears. I have been wondering that if reality proved there were aliens if it would be as movies depict or if mankind could actually take a kinder path.

Somehow, I believe it would be difficult to put aside hate and fear. America's history is laced with such situations and we just don't seem to learn from them.

I have been doing all this research for the Christian historical fiction novel based in 1891. I realized a short while ago, that in the novel the Fourth of July was about to take place and wondered if and how Americans celebrated the holiday back then. Previously, I have written some about that, especially the anvil firing, which is just plain strange. The silly things that people do for excitement, eh?

But much of my research has also been delving into the crimes committed against the Native Americans at the time. My heart breaks each time I read of what was happening, the callousness with which the original inhabitants of this land were treated. Yes, there was vile cruelty on both sides, but the newcomers were the aggressors, greedy ones at that. To be true to history, the main characters all are ignorant to the injustices committed against the Native Americans on the very land where they were immersed in celebrating their freedom even while the freedom of others was being destroyed. To be true to history, that ugly truth plays no part in the story which I am writing. Still, my heart aches.

For years, it has bothered me at that as a nation we have driven Native Americans to near extinction. Yes, some tribes have built an affluent life in casinos, but for the most part, few full-blooded Native Americans still live. Some tribes no longer exist. Their culture and history and way of life have been destroyed by the indifference of their fellow Americans. Some of the poorest sections of our country are on the few reservations left where joblessness and illiteracy reign.

Americans reach into their pockets time and time again for victims of terror and disaster. Why do they then turn a blind eye toward their past and the terrible legacy living still ravaging today? Are we only responsive to the suffering that is politically correct? Give where the giving will gain mileage with friends, fans, industry?

I write this not to say that Native Americans are a pitiful people. No, they should be admired for their endurance and strength, supported and encouraged to achieve their dreams, and lifted in prayer each and every day.


Do you want to challenge yourself? Read Ignatia Broker's Night Flying Woman...

The wind blew all day today, but nary a rain drop fell. I believe that I will be forced to water in this heat. When I watered on Tuesday, I ended up with 48 mosquito bites on my legs and still more on my arms. Really, between whatever I was allergic (which has been spreading, by the way, despite my best homeopathic efforts) and these mosquito bites I look like something that belongs in a leper colony. And itch is most definitely a four letter word.

For this day, I had set a goal of finally connecting the two portions of my novel. Over the past three weeks, I have managed to write four chapters to get that accomplished. I know the writing is rough, but it fits.

Much of it is sad, much of it strangely mirrors my own heart even though Megan and I are in much different places in our lives, walking paths that are far apart.

Each of us are waiting for the time when...

"Behold, days are coming," declares the Lord, "When the plowman will overtake the reaper and the treader of grapes him who sows seed; When the mountains will drip sweet wine and all the hills will be dissolved."

~Amos 9:13

Even so, I am grateful for this time to write...