Monday, February 21, 2011

Twitter

Image Courtesy: Bicoastally
I'm trying to make sense of Twitter. Whether it is a meaningless, time-sucking medium or something of an ingenious, culturally appropriate way to communicate is hard to say.  I mean, I don't think it's the latter, but what do I know.  Seriously, what do I know?  Not a lot, especially about Twitter.  I haven't figured out all the slang, what with all the RT's and @ symbols and hashtags (is there a bank of hashtags from which to call or do you make them up as you go?).   I'm also trying to understand the relational aspects of the medium.  There's this giant, growing web of interconnectedness.  But it's not like facebook where you can comment directly on posts in a personal way.  You sort of can, but as I understand it, it becomes yet another worldwidely accessible thing that happens to be directed at a single person solely because you threw an @ symbol in.

Is Twitter a marketer's dream (see: Dogfish Head / Red Cross faux pas gone good)? Will it bring peace to the Middle East (or at least democratic governments)?  Will it eclipse Facebook?  Will I succumb to the machine and 'follow' Justin Bieber?

Because these questions are being asked (all but the last one, really), I feel I need to be in on it, at least enough to talk about it at the watercooler.  Sheesh, I think i just stumbled upon my life philosophy.  Be in on "it" enough to be able to talk about it, or enjoy it with friends, but not enough to pay for your college or land you an awesome job.  Hm, this self-illuminating moment brought to you by Blogger. And Twitter. #secrettobeingeasytotalktoatpartiesbutnevermakethecoverofTimemagazine

So, Twitter is interesting.  My lineup of....er...followees is intersting.  Not sure what it says about me, but I'm sure some marketing exec knows exactly what it says about me, and good for her because I don't care.  I just want to know what Ellen, Conan, Vanessa Hine, Stuart Holden, Carlos Bocanegra, Thomas Friedman (never posts), Johnny Wier, SportsNation, Kim Clijsters, my sister and a few others have to say about the world.  And gosh that @stuholden has a lot to say about the world.  And he posts cute pics! And lots of these: :-) !!!! (I've decided that his twitter persona is as 110mph as his onfield presence. And that's a good thing.

P.S.  Add me.  You won't be sorry. (but you may not be impressed).  @kwittgens

Friday, February 04, 2011

Cold & Rainy

When it's cold and rainy, I think of England.
I think of walking the streets of Covent Garden, listening to David Gray.  Of huddling into the British Museum along with the hundreds of others who take refuge in the historic monstrosity on London's rainy days.   The main hall echoes with children's shouts, umbrellas and squeaky boots.  Then you look up, and some Assyrian god is towering over you. There could be worse places to spend a rainy afternoon, navigating relics, curiosities and slick marble floors.

When it's gray outside my window, I imagine how differently rainy days feel in England than here.  In Georgia, where we go from garage, to car, to parking lot, to store, back to car.  We need only be prepared for brief interludes of getting wet.  We grumble about how the rain impedes our life and activity.  When I lived in London, you just went about your day same as before, just better prepared for the elements.  Knowing I'd have to walk from my hotel, or guest home, several blocks to the tube meant I was prepared for getting wet.  And every other Londoner on the tube was wet, too. And we all stood in silence (that odd European public transportation ritual), hundreds of us, with nary a sound but the clack and rattle of the tube car zipping through tunnels underneath a worldclass city.

I love the bright warmth of the meticulously organised shops contrasted with the damp chill of the streets.  I love that shops are accessible simply by walking down a sidewalk and ducking into the doorway, rather than, as we must stateside, precariously navigating through a parking lot filled with oversized cars on a mission for the best spot. And the pubs, by gosh the pubs with their rusty-colored warmth, meeting you with a rush of conviviality as soon as the double-doors open to the inside.  The chatter of people huddled together, the glow of the tele playing a match.  I even love the warm beer, because, after all, you're already cold.  England's pubs would not be famous were it not for England's cold and rain.  They go together beautifully, like, well, bangers and mash.

Walking through the parks on a rainy morning takes on a mystical quality.  Regent's colors and grandeur that are so alive on crisp, sunny fall weekends, shrink back into impressionistic swirls of faded hues.  Wide swaths of gray-green grass lie still, save for a few shadowy figures, traveling the park's sidewalks.  Nameless commuters in black overcoats walk with determination on these days, taking in little of the beauty for the sake of a quick arrival at their destination.  But the beauty is there.

St. Pauls windows have less glow on rainy days, but the cavernous cathedrals feels just as much, if not more, of a sacred retreat.  Candles burn brighter, and the golds are warm and brilliant.  Standing on Westminster bridge in drizzle just seems right.  The Thames is gray and milky, and nearly fades into the chalky tones of the historic buildings lining it's shores.  They are distinct, yet the same. 

It is London, and it's cold and rainy. And it is beautiful.  (now where is the nearest entrance to the Tube...I'm freezing!)

*photo note: the observant reader will notice this picture is NOT Westminster Bridge, or even London. It's Lyon, France. But it sure was cold and rainy.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Hand in the Cookie Jar

Sometimes kids are just one running sermon illustration after another. And I'm not even a preacher.  I just see Hadley do things and think, "Gosh, I KNOW I heard some pastor tell a story of their kid doing something like this." 

Right now, she is playing contentedly with a small babyfood jar and a plastic pacy clip.  She puts the pacy clip in the jar, reaches in with her little hand, but realizes she cannot release her hand from the jar whilst gripping the pacy clip.  She cries, first at the surprise that her hand now resembles a glass jar. Then at the frustration that she cannot extract the pacy clip.

Guess it's just like us and (insert worldly object of desire here).  We can't truly be free until we release our grip on it.  Only then can we be released from the...cookie jar?  Mmmm...if sin is cookies, then I want more sin.

Anyway, Hadley's moved on to a new game, but it was funny for a few minutes seeing her waving around her little jar-nub hand.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Snowed In = Movies!

The snow/ice amalgam that rocked Atlanta during the second week of 2011 made everyone homebound for about 4 days, and gave Jeff and I opportunity to watch some good movies, in between puzzles, making dinner from canned and frozen things and losing our minds. Fortunately, we recently got AppleTV so we can stream Netflix movies, making hundreds of films available to us, without having to check the mail (which incidentally did NOT come despite "rain, snow, sleet...").

Here are a few we watched over the holiday / in the snowdome:

The Social Network. I watched this on the big screen at our neighbor's house. Projector, surround sound, the whole deal. It was very good. I enjoyed it in the same way I enjoyed say, Good Will Hunting. Fast dialogue, quirky lead character, a fascinating band of other misfits. The added dimension of intrigue to this tale of course is that it’s real. Or well, real depending on who you ask I’m sure. It’s not only real, but it involves me, and millions of other people who have made Facebook this insanely ubiquitous thing in our culture. It had Aaron Sorkin’s fingerprints for sure: the writing was clever, the way they told the story was engaging, but was it a “best picture” type of film? Not sure about that. Not sure it deserves to beat out something akin to “The King’s Speech” or “Black Swan” which really made people agaga. Having said that, voters for such awards have tended toward lighter fare in recent years (read: Slumdog Millionaire) so who knows. It did just win a Golden Globe. Oh, did I mention Justin Timberlake is in it! He's great as the Napster founder.

Exit Through the Gift Shop. Rarely does a film I’ve never heard of get recommended by three different folks over the course of about 5 days. This having recently happened, Jeff and I gleaned that it was a movie worth watching. And our friends were right, it is worth watching. The film is clever, engaging and has a bit of a twist, which for a documentary, puts it on unique footing. The movie is about “street art” (aka graffiti), so it feels hip with its cool kids and electronica soundtrack. Yet it is very very smart. Cunningly so. And while it tells an intriguing story, it also leaves the viewer asking questions like, “what is art?”, “What makes ‘good’ art?” “Is art that is made for selling a lesser art?” To the latter, I suppose the masked creator of the film may say, “yes.”

For Your Consideration. Funny at times, overly “insider” at many times, dragging at others. While certainly not my favorite Christopher Guest film, Consideration was predictably
clever and off beat in a way that one expects a Guest film to be. The familiar cast (Fred Willard, Jane Lynch, Parker Posey...) made me chuckle at jokes that ordinarily may not be as funny, in the same way a story told by a friend is more engaging that the same tale recounted by someone you don’t know. “Home for Purim” is the Guffman-esqe “movie within a movie” that the characters are working on, looking to Oscar nominations in the same way the smalltown community theatre-ites waited for the famed “Guffman.” Consideration is an okay movie, but not recommended as an entree to the Christopher Guest collection.

An Education. I found this to be a brilliant film. While the plot unfolded rather predictably, it was still a fascinating watch. The 60’s setting was well done with neat cars, London cityscapes, glorious dresses and hairdos, and even a requisite Parisian getaway highlight reel (cue Flight of the Concords “Foux du Fa Fa.”) The premise of the film is off-putting: an older playboy (played by a simultaneously handsome and eerie Peter Sarsgaard) takes a liking to a 16 year old school girl. Jenny (portrayed marvelously by Carey Mulligan) is at once taken by this well-heeled gentleman, and soon her caution and inhibitions are brushed aside by his smooth talk, kind ways, and enjoyable lifestyle. I enjoy a movie that confuses my emotions. I was drawn into the lead characters’ exciting dynamic, despite the clear unhealthy nature of it. Yet also wished for young Jenny to not completely abandon her “boring” life for the sake of this halcyon relationship. Like other stories written by Nick Hornby, An Education was just that, both for the characters involved, and the viewer who is forced to confront questions about what really matters.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year !



Merry Christmas & Happy New Year to your and yours.


Last year, the first few Sundays of Advent gave us a truly new appreciation for the practice of "waiting for the babe to be born."  As it so happened, our sweet girl came that second Sunday, December 6th, on the Feast of St. Nicholas.  Hadley Jane has been a gift like we could not have imagined.  We celebrated her first Christmas with family from far and near.  She was oblivious to the comings and goings of the holidays, but she sure liked looking at the sparkly Christmas lights!  This year, however, she had a little more fun with toys and new clothes waiting for her under the tree.

 

Here are a few highlights and details from our year:

Hadley: I really enjoyed some good times with my grandparents, aunts and uncles this year.   This summer I had fun in the neighborhood pool and going on walks with Mom and Buckley in the stroller.  I started off this year with virtually no mobility and I'm about to be walking! 

 

My favorite foods are cheese and avocados.  My favorite books are Dear Zoo and the Elmo puppet book.  My favorite toys are my stacking boxes and Dad's iPhone (though he doesn't like it when I chew it).  My favorite song is ABC's and the songs Mom and Dad make up when they change my diaper.  My favorite stuffed animals are Osito, my teddy bear, and Buckley – he lets me climb all over him, and in exchange I throw him food from my highchair and let him lick my face.

 

 

Jeff and Katie:  Needless to say it's been a year of changes.  Just a few months before Hadley was born, I (Katie) lost my job as Programs Director at a small non-profit.  I had hoped to return there part time once I was settled in with Hadley, but as it is, I've been thankful to have the time with her that I enjoy.  I am fortunate to have had some freelance writing jobs, as well as some paid singing gigs. 

 

Jeff is still at Emory University.  He works in Research Informatics, an exciting field that he really enjoys.  Despite the economy, he was able to hire someone to help with his increasing workload.

 

Jeff and I both still volunteer as musicians at our church, and like to sing and play for Hadley.  We also both enjoy playing soccer:  Jeff plays in a recreational league on Thursdays, and we both try to play pickup on the weekends. We made a number of trips to North Carolina this year to stay at my parent's cabin.  We love the cooler weather and beautiful hikes up there, and Hadley does as well!  We're hoping she'll love the outdoors as much as we do. 

 

Speaking of hiking, in August Jeff joined his brother and two good friends on an expedition to summit Mt. Rainier in Washington.  They had a wonderful trip and returned with great stories and fabulous pictures from the top.  I am so proud of Jeff.  Meanwhile, I embarked on an equally daunting task – flying by myself up to Pennsylvania with an infant so Hadley could visit her Grandma and Grandpoppy. 

 

A few things other than our infant that we enjoyed this year:

 

Stieg Larsson's Millenium book trilogy.

30 Rock, Fringe and The Sing-Off.

The Suburbs by the Arcade Fire (whom we also saw in concert)

Go by Jonsi (who awed us with his live show at The Tabernacle)

Trying our hand at a vegetable garden.

Watching the World Cup.

Making pies for the holidays.

Quality time with good friends.

 

We hope you had many things to enjoy in 2010, and wish you much more goodness in the coming year.

 

Peace & Joy.

Jeff, Katie, Hadley & Buckley

 


Monday, November 15, 2010

I Can Post from My Email!

This newfangled technology (okay, it's probably not that new) may mean I actually update this thing more than 2 times a year.

Oh, and here's a pic of Hadley in her halloween costume.

Hadley's Turning 1

Elephant Talk Birthday
Shop hundreds of birthday invitations at Shutterfly.
View the entire collection of cards.

Tuesday, October 05, 2010

Ten Months In


Our baby will be 10 months old tomorrow.
In a related note, I haven't updated this blog since November of last year. Pitiful, really, but I promise it's not for lack of writing. I've actually been keeping a nice journal of these baby days. Recording things like first sounds, crawls, what types of food the little girl eats and when, frustrations with napping schedules, etc. But really, does the world wide watching web really want to know these things? I'm assuming not, so keeping said journals to myself. UNTIL NOW!

Here's what I wrote today.
Some thoughts in no particular order:
The other day I came in to get Hadley out of her crib and she was standing up, grasping the railings smiling at me like it was the most normal thing ever. Bless her.
Today was a blissfully gorgeous day. We lay together on the trampoline in the backyard and I squeezed my baby so tight I was worried I might hurt her. She is just so beautiful and glorious I feel immensely blessed to be with her as much as I am. And incredibly fortunate that it serves only to increase my love for her. Sure, sometimes it's trying, and completely cliche (like when I'm waiting for that 5-ish hour for "the husband" to come home from work and take the baby..yea, it's a total cliche / stereotype. But what's that about stereotrypes, they only become so because they are cloaked in some truth, right? )

She gets new sounds or faces about everyday. It really makes life exciting. Yesterday she had this pursed-lip look..like she was about to whistle, her mouth that can become so gargantuan when she is smiling, becomes tiny and focused on God-knows-what. It's sickeningly cute. Today she gained a new sound. A clicking noise akin to some East African language. Can you imagine the exponential growth and development of a baby. It's astounding, really.

Jeff got a motorcycle. Were it smaller and /or did we have a King bed, he might sleep with it, like in the excited little boy sense. It's cute. I can't help but think of when my family had our red Yamaha Mo-ped. I waited for the day when I would be able to ride the mo-ped myself. When I would be grownup enough to experience the speed and wonder of the swift Yamaha. Our driveway was so bloody long, the motorized bike was the only reasonable solution for collecting mail and the paper, or going to see neighbors without jumping in the car at every turn. The Christmas before I was to be "of age" to ride the mo-ped, I got a helmet for Christmas. I'm pretty sure it was bright red (the other was metallic blue). I slept with it in my bed that Christmas night. I loved it that much. So if I mock Jeff, or disparage him in some deep place of my heart, I must always remember the moped and my red helmet. I crashed that moped a few years later. Sliced my ankle, at which point, seeing my bloody sock, I passed out from the shock and adrenaline of the moment. I still have the scar.

Friday, November 27, 2009

Black Friday

Yesterday, I, like millions of Americans, engaged in the once-yearly tradition of stuffing myself with all sorts of Americana-type foods. You know the ones.
This morning, I engaged in that second tradition of Thanksgiving season...no, not throwing up the starchy contents of my gorging the night before...but shopping.

I woke this morning at 5:15 to go to the bathroom, as one does when one is 39 weeks pregnant. But this time, I didn't go back to bed. I resolved instead to participate in that phenomenon that is shopping on Black Friday. Never one to be sucked in marketers' hype, I was surprised that for some reason I wanted to jump into the joviality. Further, I don't have a great many presents to buy this year (my family is getting a baby for Christmas!). So, my participation in Black Friday was more a social experiment, one that put me out abut $180 after all.

In the darkness of our room, while hubbie slept, I rustled myself together: yoga pants, t-shirt, hoodie, toboggan...(people don't dress up for Black Friday shopping right? I mean, I'm hoping to see people in PJ's). Dog was a bit confused about my early morning and hasty exit. Pulling out of the driveway into the still Black of the early morning, this potentially frantic ritual felt strangely calm. And then I heard it, the normally "adult alternative" radio station that was queued up on the car radio was playing Christmas music. Yes, now I was quite in the spirit...of shopping that is. I turned up the music, and enjoyed the peaceful drive to the mall, encountering only a few cars en route. However, when I reached the mall exit, I was surprised at the red-glow of rear lights already skirting along Ashford Dunwoody.

Now about 5:45, I glanced at the lights and carnival of the mall and saw a parking lot almost 1/2-full already. Across the street, Best Buy's lot hummed with activity, appearing nearly full. Busy patrons carried awkward-sized boxes of digital utopia, basking in the glow of the big yellow-lit sign. My fascination remained. Even though I had not planned on trips to Best Buy, or the mall, seeing the cars and vibrant activity made me feel like I was missing out. The strange electricity of the early-morning put a charge in my veins to jump into the fray, like you would if you saw a large gathering crowd on a city street. But despite not having coffee, my focus was regained and I continued to Target, imagining the melee that may await.

Upon arrival, I noticed that the lot was not jammed. Buy, yes. Chaotic, no. Not so far. This being my first early-morning Black Friday, I had visions of either angry mobs in cashier lines 4-deep, or that I and a few other brave souls may in fact be the only ones out and about, snatching up the deals we'd been brave enough to rise early to earn. The scene as I entered the bright-red, neon-light glow of my neighborhood behemoth was neither "Stille Nacht" nor "Party in the USA," though closer to the latter, I would say. Sadly, I missed out on one of the FREE, fashionable re-useable shopping bags given to the first 500 customers. So I had to settle for bargain-finding to make it worth my while.

Like a good shopper (and one who can easily lose focus), I had a list, a goal and I went for it. A highly-marked-down digital gift for my parents. Ah...HERE were the crowds I'd envisioned, all in the electronics department! Carts, families, short ladies with stacks of merchandise and tired-looking adventure-seekers jammed aisles. I zoned in, asking a friendly staff to direct me to the item I was seeking. Ah, THAT'S what that queue by the digital cameras is all about, I have to buy said item at the electronics checkout counter. I joined the line, one of the herd, wondering if this would be my last chance to capitalize on the $10 gift card with every $100 spent. I begged the help of another friendly attendant who told me yes, all purchases must be made together.

She must have seen my puffy, sleep-eyes, or my pregnant belly and had mercy, allowing me to travel around the store holding my electronic purchase without having to immediately check out. Another tactic for the easily-distracted shopper: carry no basket or cart. If you want it, you have to be able to hold it using only the leverage of your two arms and big belly. Ten minutes, and about 5 items later, I returned to the electronics department. It felt strangely less hectic than minutes before. I think they'd already run out of something. Wow, I guess my early action did in fact save me about $150 I may not have a few hours later.

I checked out, then racked my brain if there was anything else I needed. Well, of course, but anything else that was on drastic sale? No, no...just get back to the car and go home, Katie. See, the fever was catching. I was gaining wisdom into what marketers must already know. These strange shopping phenomena are tremendously worthwhile, the buzz opens minds and wallets to things people never knew they needed. "But it's on sale"..they reason, infected by the dark, chilly morning and bustling crowds.

I climbed in my car, feeling happy for the bargains, but a little empty. Was it over already? The bedlam of Black Friday had only been my companion for a few mere minutes, now I would return home on traffic-less streets, arriving back less than an hour after I left. As drove out past the mall, my hands twitched on the wheel, wanting the strange experience to continue, wanting to hunt for things I don't need amid the melee of other bargain-buyers. Or are half the folks out this time of morning just voyeurs like me? (Voyeurs who still spend about $180). I resisted the temptation and headed home, deciding to be satisfied with what I had gained, both in bargains and life experience. I just wish I would have been earlier to get the free bag, and see if there was actually a line-up at the door. Oh well, I guess my passion for free stuff and social observation isn't THAT keen.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Babies, Blueberries, 'Ballers, Oh My!

Life seems to go in fits and starts. A few months will seem to hold nothing significant at best, or at worst, a host of significance, each one of which makes you want to cry. Then those seasons come along that seem fraught with, well, good news. I'm no expert in handling, or explaining, either of those seasons, but suffice it to say that God is wise in his conception of seasons, wherein spring indeed follows winter. And as if not enough, the summer brings the bounty that spring has only hinted at.

So there is my weak attempt at Sunday morning philosophizing as a preamble to what season we, Weavers, are amidst. We are seeing the lights of spring, and the bounty of summer after a cold, dry fall and winter where bad news seemed to lurk around most corners, where even in the good, we waited cynically for the proverbial "other shoe" to drop. An unsold house lurked next door, sapping up our monetary and emotional resources throughout the winter. It's 4-walls lurked in our periphery, a reminder of happier days past when our prior tenants, some of our best friends, lived in community with us. But last summer and fall saw the end of that dream, as their lives took one dramatic turn after another ultimately leading them out of our humble rental home, and leaving us with the whiplash of all those fits and starts we'd endured with them. The most traumatic perhaps being their seperation and divorce. How had our perceived communal bliss turned so wintry dead in just a few short months? And to that backdrop of sadness and confusion, we endured death within our walls. I had a miscarriage in the fall, dampening our hopes that things may be turning around, firming our growing hardness toward life and God, and God-knows-what-else.

But life ebbs and flows, we didn't see it then, perhaps only had dim hope that it would turn around. And by-God, it has. All is not perfect in 2009, fallout from the pain of 08's harsh seasons still lingers, and new disappointments arise, but we have renewed hope...a baby girl in my belly for one. At 21 weeks, my tummy is growing, as is our confidence that maybe this one is for real. We love her already and are immensely thankful for life, after so much dying last year.

Perhaps very soon (as in...not in another 3 months as my blogging cycle tends to be), I will touch on the bluberries and ballers alluded to in this post heading. For now, I'll just leave some pics of our baby. The first is a profile...the 2nd, she's looking at you.

Sunday, May 03, 2009

A Music Poem

I read this poem today while catching up on a weekend's worth of emails. It arrived in a newsletter from Friday, May Day. Reading it tonight, in the quiet dark of my living room, lit only by the glow from my laptop, made me re-long for the connection that I have always had with music, for the very reasons this poet espouses. But I have lacked such connection of late. I just haven't been listening to music as much. I have no commute, so no consistent car time to soak in music. I like tunes while I work, but as background, not as distractions that may transfix me. So, here is, in print, my renewed committment to music, my goal to spend those unspent iTunes giftcards this next week, and maybe find something transcendent.


Music

by Anne Porter

When I was a child
I once sat sobbing on the floor
Beside my mother's piano
As she played and sang
For there was in her singing
A shy yet solemn glory
My smallness could not hold

And when I was asked
Why I was crying
I had no words for it
I only shook my head
And went on crying

Why is it that music
At its most beautiful
Opens a wound in us
An ache a desolation
Deep as a homesickness
For some far-off
And half-forgotten country

I've never understood
Why this is so

Bur there's an ancient legend
From the other side of the world
That gives away the secret
Of this mysterious sorrow

For centuries on centuries
We have been wandering
But we were made for Paradise
As deer for the forest

And when music comes to us
With its heavenly beauty
It brings us desolation
For when we hear it
We half remember
That lost native country

We dimly remember the fields
Their fragrant windswept clover
The birdsongs in the orchards
The wild white violets in the moss
By the transparent streams

And shining at the heart of it
Is the longed-for beauty
Of the One who waits for us
Who will always wait for us
In those radiant meadows

Yet also came to live with us
And wanders where we wander.

"Music" by Anne Porter from Living Things: Collected Poems. © Steerforth Press, 2006.
Reprinted from "The Writer's Almanac" produced by Prairie Home Productions and presented by American Public Media.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

Holy Week


It's hard to believe that the Lenten season is almost over. We gave up some food-related stuff for the season, and for this Holy Week, the days as we journey toward Easter, I raised the stakes and signed off Facebook. Now, lest you think this was purely as ascetical exercise, it also had to to with knowing my week was rather full with work, church and some social obligations. To not have the temptation of putzing around on FB when instead I should be clocking paid hours, is a good thing.

But there are "holy" reasons too. On this Maundy Thursday, I've reflected on much, now here are a few of my observations from being Facebook free:
  • My propensity to meddle in everybody else's news is quelled and that's probably a good thing.

  • I'm glad to not have to consolidate my life into 150 character snippets. The pressure to somehow say something humorous, clever, profound or provocative every 13 or so hours can be a mounting burden.

  • My imagined connectedness with people has been cut off for a few days, whereby to find out how they are doing, and what is going on, I must CALL them. I've made many more phone calls and e-mails this week.

  • I wrote a letter today. A real-live letter. In part inspired because I received one a few days ago, and in part ABLE because I'm not frittering away precious minutes that turn to hours in an imagined community of 350 or so of my closest friends.

Lest you readers feel the heavy-handed weight of judgment if you're an avid FB-er. Because let's face it, after all this illumination, I'll likely be back in the game once Christ has risen.

Oh, and did I mention that my laying aside of the Facebook burden ALSO happens to coincide with Jeff's and my purchase of a brand new HDTV! :-) So, those hours that would have been wasted on Facebook have been instead spent watching anything and everything I can in High Definition. woohoo!

Peace to you this Holy Week. Joy to you this Easter morning.

Wednesday, December 03, 2008

My Blog Personality

While you may think I'm shy or introverted due to the infrequency with which I update this dang thing, Typealizer thinks otherwise. In a mere few nanoseconds, this nifty little program scanned the contents of my blog and labeled me ESFP - The Performers.

(my favorite part of this exercise is the saucy little cartoon character the Typealizer used to emulate me. Mini-skirt, sexy boots, plunging neckline and drink in hand. Woohoo. Never knew my musings were such a party.) Anyway, here's what this analysis said of me.

ESFP - The Performers

The entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don´t like to plan ahead - they are always in risk of exhausting themselves.

The enjoy work that makes them able to help other people in a concrete and visible way. They tend to avoid conflicts and rarely initiate confrontation - qualities that can make it hard for them in management positions.


So, in past personality tests, this isn't far from where I've landed (ENFP is the only one I remember, from ages ago.). Yay for soft fabrics! And here's the handy graph that represents my thought patters when writing.



Tip of the hat to Andrew H

Monday, November 03, 2008

Small and Big Mercies

I feel it necessary to not let time languish too long following my last few posts which were, well, downers. True, we still have frustrations, sadness...2 mortgages...but mercies abound as well.

Like Virginia in the fall. We took a trip up to the Shenandoah area last week for about 5 days. Jeff's mom and her husband have a time-share at the Massanutten ski resort. So, Jeff's brother and sister both came down and the group of us had a wonderful time together amidst the brilliant colors of fall. Those same reds and yellows that thus-far have reminded me more of death became a salve. The mountains surrounding the resort area were bursting with color and Skyline drive was an absolutely treat to drive along. We laughed a lot, wrestled, joked, played games, hiked ate great home-cooked meals, lounged around and of course, watched the Phillies together. So yes, mercy = Wilbur buds, fall leaves, laughter, snow flurries in October, a Phillies world series win (which, sadly, we had to see the conclusion of once we were home in Atl., would've been nice to be with the fam). Everything is not all gone bad with the world, eh?


-->Ridge Trail view at Massanutten


-->Jeff's Mom turns 60 this week. We got her an early (Phillies) Birthday cake :-)

We returned to the "real world" refreshed and more thankful that we have been in a while. Time is a healer, so is quality time with people you love. Upon our return, I found another way find laughter and mindless fun: Halloween! We dressed up, ate candy, and partied with friends at Sara's house. Pictures abound of the revelry, here are a few. (I was a pig in a blanket, Jeff was Dr McCreepy. )

So, in just a few weeks, a vacation and a halloween party have dulled the pain of the last few months, even if just temporarily. It's nice, and I'm thankful for fall leaves, family, costumes, sweet-tea flavored vodka (i know, sounds gross, but is really good w/ Sprite) ;-), good friends AND that these blasted political ads and circulars will find a welcome end come tomorrow. (I'll end here and spare any further political musing...I couldn't possibly express well all the dialog in my head). I can only say that I WILL vote tomorrow, I will NOT succumb to fear, I WILL hope in bigger things than the results of an election, and try my darndest to avoid finger-pointing, back-biting, judging and any other yuck that elections tend to incite in people. And maybe I'll even wear my pig w/ cigar mask to the polling place tomorrow ;-).


--> Delivery System for said Tea-vodka. Sara the Bier-frau helps set me up.


-->McCreepy in full effect

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

I So Love the Fall...Just Not This One

I can't lie...the last 5 months have been pretty crappy for us. (hence the seldom-blogging...we've been mostly exhausted or out of town when possible). Anyway, its just seemed that around every corner some unwanted emotion or event lies in wait. I struggle to hope amidst all of it, but I do, in some small part. But before I get to that, here's a poem I penned while working this afternoon at Starbucks, listening to Elliott Smith (that was probably my first problem...) ;-)

Torrent of bad news.
One more thing taken
A hailstorm of negative.
A maelstrom.

Where have they gone
The memories of such good?
The bliss of sweet May
It was all okay

Now we face the torrent
The unrelenting
Death seems to loom
Who weaves on this loom?

What story is wrought
From such hurt?
Such a downpour of rain
I want spring again.

Things die in fall
With nary a chance to wave
They start to fall
The leaves in droves.


I really do love the fall. I've found momentary solace, lying on my back in our backyard watching the yellowing trees sway against the bright blue backdrop. And we have found solace in fresh cookies from friends, kind words, invites for dinner, mindless television - yes, sport has been even more my friend, especially these last few weeks. When I think God may be absent, I get a call from a friend, or a kind email, and I realize every once in a while that He is more present than ever.

So, I'll hope in that. I'll hope that our vacant house sells, despite the horrid market. I'll hope for peace for loved ones, who seem at war with others, or with themselves. I'll hope that the Phillies win the World Series. :-)*

*I am still a loyal Braves fan.... I have not forgotten those NLCS losses... It's just my husband is from PA, so we pull for the Phillies in the absence of my Bravos. It makes us happy when they win.

Friday, September 19, 2008

To Autumn


The light is starting to change. A few more gray days have crept into the daily routine. I sat outside the other night and wish'd for another layer. The tips of tree leaves are starting their beautiful dying process. In this season where death and disintegration is a rainbow of beautiful, I also watch things disintegrate in my life, big and small. I do not see the beauty yet, but perhaps it is apt that fall should join me in this journey and teach me how to glory in slow, beautiful death. Because, after all, the sacrifice these leaves are making is only so the glory of spring's life will be that much greater. I don't want to rush past fall and winter for that glory just yet, I will sit in the sad, crisp reality of the 'ber months. I will heed the dying process, but also heed the life that sneaks between, like apples, firepits, soup and the yellow light. Here's Keat's Ode to this beloved season.


To Autumn - by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skie

Monday, September 08, 2008

No Umbrellas Needed (except once)

I read this poem tonight, and I liked it because it's about Seattle. We just went to Seattle, Jeff and me. The only difference between this poem and our trip is that we didn't really seep too long in the gray rainy-ness. But before I say some words about our adventure, soak in these words for a few...

Black Umbrellas
by Rick Agran

On a rainy day in Seattle stumble into any coffee shop
and look wounded by the rain.

Say Last time I was in I left my black umbrella here.
A waitress in a blue beret will pull a black umbrella

from behind the counter and surrender it to you
like a sword at your knighting.

Unlike New Englanders, she'll never ask you
to describe it, never ask what day you came in,

she's intimate with rain and its appointments.
Look positively reunited with this black umbrella

and proceed to Belltown and Pike Place.
Sip cappuccino at the Cowgirl Luncheonette on First Ave.

Visit Buster selling tin salmon silhouettes
undulant in the wind, nosing ever into the oncoming,

meandering watery worlds, like you and the black umbrella,
the one you will lose on purpose at the day's end

so you can go the way you came
into the world, wet looking.

"Black Umbrellas" by Rick Agran from Crow Milk. © Oyster River Press, 1997. Reprinted from the Writer's Almanac

Our Seattle was a little less dreary, though not entirely shiny, but just as friendly. Coffeeshops felt warm and communal, restaurants seemed full of folks who enjoy good food. I loved the local ethic there, where practically every menu from the corner sandwich shop to Tom Douglas' latest joint was choc-full of local produce, meats and cheeses. If I were a restauranteur in the summer in Washington, I wouldn't know where to start with all the tasty gifts of the earth!

We tasted some wonderful things that came from a variety of sources: Blueberries from my uncle's yard were perfectly ripe, deep blue and delicious. Hundreds of blackberries weighed the boughs of some wild bush in a local park. We past it once on a sunny-day stroll, then I returned (for the lovely park sits right across the street from my uncle and aunt's house!) to grab for myself some of those midnight purple berries, gently loosening them from their stems, picking, then eating, picking then eating.

While wandering through Pike Place market in the heart of Seattle, we passed a vendor selling peaches. He sliced us a sample, selling his wares, doing well to convince me that being a Georgian doesn't give me the lock on fine, juicy peaches. I couldn't stop thinking about that peach, so the next morning, after a surprisingly authentic Pain au Chocolat at a local french bakery (a delight in of itself), I found the purveyor of peaches and $2 (yep...a pricey peach) later I had big sticky orange drops running down my chin. The price was steep, but that peach was bigger than any I've seen from Georgia or South Carolina, and of course it was organic and hand-picked and all that jazz.

Then there were those local wines we found in a small tasting parlour right off the ferry stop on San Juan Island. In truth, the grapes for the San Juan Cellars wines are taken from all over the state so they have a wide variety. I'm not sure if it was the kind sommeliers or the gorgeous afternoon, but we rightly enjoyed all those tastings and walked off with a few bottles (after all, you can't watch someone pour you tastes of 7 varietals and walk out empty-handed.)

If travel is a narrative, food memories always seem to be underlined for me.
In the meantime, feast your eyes on this basket of wonder from Ivar's on the waterfront.



Click here to see more pictures

Thursday, August 07, 2008

Guatemala Reflections 2


(stories..continued)

2. Thursday morning, we loaded about 35 youth into a school bus and went to the Guatemala City zoo. We had done the same routine the previous morning with another group of younger children. As we waited for the okay to enter, we waited in the parking lot outside the zoo, I with at least 4 girls crowded around me, requisite hugs, smiles and giggles. Excitement was in the air, and a strange attraction to me from these girls. Soon, I had a bangled bracelet being attached to my wrist...it belonged to Genesis, a slight of frame, long-haired, beautiful girl. I had complimented her on the bracelet earlier, now, in sweet yet awkward exchange, it was mine. I kindly said "no" and "you don't have to do that" but it was not to be heard. She held my wrist with sincerity and said she wanted me to have it. As I weighed that interaction, a few of the older girls that I'd befriended on the bus ran up to me holding a necklace they had just purchased from one of the roaming tchachke vendors in the parking lot. A simple black rope held a small, white rubber dog. I had shown them pictures of my dog on the trip over, they saw that and thought of me. Still reeling from the generosity of these impoverished zone 18 kids, another few girls approached me with a necklace: okay, now this was getting awkward...it was like kissing another guy with your boyfriend watching or something. Wide-eyed, I accepted this new gift, another simple black rope with a shiny, red "E" charm. They excitedly explained that "E" was for Elizabeth, my middle name. I had perhaps mentioned my "nombre secundario" to them in passing once, maybe twice, and they remembered? I have so much to learn from their kindness. But, the truth is, my newly gifted "bling" adorned my neck and wrist, I wondered if there was subtext to this loving display. Were they trying to win me so I would become their "Patrona" (sponsor) like their friends or siblings have. Did they just want to charm a gringa to make a lasting impression, a "connection."? Again, I cannot answer to their motives, and I want desperately to have simply accepted those gifts as love. Christ's love is without condition, no matter how much I want to disbelieve that, too.

3. A few hours after the "zoo bling" incident, we landed back at the ministry center to drop off the youth and say our final goodbyes to them. I accompanied David and Laura upstairs where we had planned to present a gift to one of the youth, Ericka, from her Patrona, Patty G. Earlier in the day, her dark eyes glittered as she asked me questions about "hermana Patty." "Did she cut her hair?....why didn't she come this year?...Are her eyes still blue?" Now, we presented Ericka with a small gift from Patty, and the sparkle I had seen earlier exploded into unabashed joy. As she tore through the red tissue paper to reveal a small blue purse, she was already squealing with glee "Oh...hermana Patty!!! Its so beautiful!" Her fingers moved quickly to unzip the bag and reveal more goodies inside, meant just for her. I was so moved by her uncontained smile and appreciation. A letter was enclosed from Patty, so I tried my best to translate it for Ericka, and when I was finished, I was surrogate Patty, recipient of Ericka's joyous hugs and kisses. "Oh thank you, thank you. I love you!" I hugged her back, held back tears and promised her I would pass along a message to Patty: "Tell her I love her and that I think of her all the time."

Child sponsorship at its most beautiful..no denoument needed.

Guatemala Reflections 1

I had a handful of trailmix yesterday and thought of Guatemala.

I had a banana this morning with breakfast that wasn't nearly as sweet and fresh-tasting. It'd probably been picked 5 days before I bought it, ripening to some moderate sweetness on my kitchen counter.

I had a few thoughts and frustrations this week and wished I had my wonderful teammates to process with.


Not even 2 days after my arrival in Atlanta from a week in Guatemala, I was whisked away to steamy Athens, GA for a work project, given hardly any minutes, hours or space to think and reflect on what I had experienced in Central America. Only those late hours when my boss had finally found rest on her pillow was I able to sit at the computer in the dark silence of our hotel room. But then it was too late, I was too tired, and the lure of keeping up with emails, facebook and news was too great to give pause for reflection.

Now one week past our first day of VBS at the Hope for Guatemala ministry center, memories and impressions sweep through my head, streaks of gladness in what has already become the ho-hum of everyday here in Atlanta/Athens/Savannah. I memory through pictures posted, souvenirs unpacked (yes, I just unloaded the last vestiges of Guate from my big black suitcase), dirty clothes now clean, folded in my closet that once bore the smells, sweat and sticky hugs of dozens of adorable children.

As I cleaned the kitchen this morning, I discovered the crumbled brochure about Hope 4 Guatemala's child sponsorship program. '...help bring HOPE to a child today..." This wonderful program works like other sponsorship programs such as Compassion International - with $32 a month you pay for their meals at the ministry center, school supplies, clothes, special activities, tutoring, etc. I've never done one of those programs, and even now I wonder why, and I speculate as to why I hesitate with the HOPE version. The brochure shows smiling faces, many of which are familiar, maybe that's what makes this one harder.

As a team we would discuss this opportunity on occasion when we'd landed back at Tina's during the evening. Tired feet and grease-streaked faces, we would lounge in her living room and ask each other, "Have you picked a child to sponsor?" or "got any thoughts about whether you'll sponsor someone?". Maybe that's why I'm ambivalent, it seems a tad like an oddball marketplace where I'm to be looking for the "cutest" or the "neediest" or just that right "connection." Yet, as I look at this brochure and these faces, I know how great the need is, and I reason that I must put aside my skepticism and hesitation, for the sake of one of these little ones having school supplies. Bearing in mind this struggle, I will share 3 stories in this, and perhaps a subsequent post that relate to this matter. Two of which feed my tendency toward cynicism (which I'm not proud of), and one makes me smile...really big. Here's hoping the muscle memory of my joyous smile outweighs that of my crinkled brow.

1. I have some friends stateside who sponsor a child through Hope. I asked Tina about this girl and how she was doing because I had not seen her at any of our activities. "She doesn't really come around the ministry center much lately." This gave me pause, after all, my friends are faithfully sending their $32 and gifting her with nice things above and beyond the "basic need" stipend. Are there repercussions for her absence from the ministry activities? Should my friends be alerted? ....Should I be the rule-keeper and arbiter of whether she should receive this gift of love? ...Is it not filled with so much more grace then if she is a prodigal? I don't know the right answers, but here is one reality of sponsorship - our gift may not have strings attached.


Check out some more of my pictures from our first few days in Guatemala

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

My Band is Famous for a Second


Hi friends.
I am queen of multi-tasking at the moment, well, actually at many moments. I'm concurrently working on an article assignment, watching the Euro 2008 semi-final (Germany v Turkey), flipping back to Wimbledon on ESPN2, and now, shamelessly promoting, by way of blogger, an event that my band, The Ming Dynasty, is very lucky to be a part of.

Find out more about what we're doing on Friday night by checking out PASTE Magazine's homepage (yep, that's right, Paste Mag...), or going right to the article about Building HOPE.

If this event or organization sounds interesting to you, let me know and I'll send you the evite with details.

und....Deutschland, Deutschland!!