I’m feeling listless and project-less now that Holidailies is over. Something about the accountability (slight as it was), helped me to write – and now I feel strongly that I have to write something every day, even if I’m not quite sure, right now, which direction I want to go.
But, anyway, I’ve added some new buttons, and moved stuff around on the sidebar. Tomorrow, I’ll be upgrading to MT 3.14…wish me luck on that one.
(And no, I still haven’t managed to take the tree down.)
Onesome: Fish- Do you have a favorite outdoor hobby or are you a strictly stay at home type?
I like gardening, and I like hanging around on beaches collecting shells, but we don’t live near one. As a kid I played softball, and roller skated outside a lot. And I really miss riding my bike, but I HATE bike helmets.
Twosome: Chips- Do you gamble? Lotto, weekly poker night or weekends in Vegas?
I live for poker.
Threesome: and mushy peas- What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever eaten?
IF you define ‘strange’ as ‘exotic,’ then I guess sea urchin and beef tongue are up there. If you define it as ‘odd,’ then….I don’t really know…I like peanut butter and banana sandwiches. For that matter, I like tomato sandwiches (like in Harriet the Spy).
Browsing through the folks on my blogroll, I noticed the image above, and a post announcing that today is De-Lurking Day. As I’m not too proud to indulge in a little comment whoring, I ask everyone – anyone – who reads this to delurk and say hi. (I’m evening turning off the requirement that you have a typepad registration for the day.)
Stats tell bloggers that they’re being looked at, but it’s actual feedback that is better than chocolate to most of us.
Come on, show yourselves!
I Say… And you think…?
Like this meme? Play along at LunaNina.com.
I say. . . And you think…?
Play along here
Onesome: Christmas–Hey, an easy start for you, what with the new layout and all: What is your favorite Christmas song? …and sung or played by whom? You know, the one you tend to listen for on the radio or hit ‘repeat’ on the player…
My favorites change depending on my mood. This year, I’m into Oh Holy Night, and Grown-Up Christmas List, but perennial favorites are Silent Night (I especially like the Spanish version), and I’ll Be Home for Christmas.
Twosome: Is– Is the longer “Holiday Season” this year between Thanksgiving and Christmas making it easier to get your Christmas act together? Last year’s was short; has this year flowed any better for you?
This is the first I’ve noticed that there’s any extra time, but, if you say so, I won’t argue. What I don’t like is that in retail Christmas starts in mid-October. But I’ve never liked that.
Threesome: Coming– Ready or not, here it comes! Are you ready? What do you have left to do with just over a week to go? …or are you just cruising?
I’ve done MOST of my shopping, just have to finish wrapping and sending. But I’m also having a party on 12/22, and parents descending on 12/18, so those things are foremost in my mind. Oh, and the carpets…have to clean those still!
I finished the required wordcount (and then some) for NaNoWriMo this year, but hated the story, and had to force it.
Sitting here tonight, way past my bedtime, I’ve suddenly figured out how the same concept could be restructured into a Very Cool Story. It requires reversing the chronoglogy, bringing the whole thing into an alternate NOW and killling the stuff that took place in medieval Italy, and making the male character the lead, and the narrator, but oh, I’m so psyched to re-work it.
I’m convinced that the last seven days of daily updates to my blog are responsible for this flash of insight.
Some credit goes to a friend for posting an entry in her blog, about the snowflake process information, as well. It’s not a process that would work for me, entirely, but the blurbs from the bestseller list, and the one sentence overview have totally helped me focus.
My favorite tea has suddenly become quite the commodity, at least in my immediate neighborhood.
Last week, we ordered groceries from Albertsons, not just because we’re lazy, but because we both keep getting distracted and then tired, and with Fuzzy’s toe, and my ankle, neither of us has been in the mood to go TO a store. On the list was Tazo “Refresh” tea. If you’ve never had it, it’s a mint and black tea blend, with tarragon tossed in for a bit of a kick. It’s a little smoother than a true herbal mint – for a sharp mint tea, I recommend Celestial Seasonings Peppermint, actually – and it’s great with either sugar or honey.
Albertsons didn’t have any.
When I went to Tom Thumb (think Safeway, if you’re west of the Rockies), they ALSO didn’t have any.
So, I went to the source, my local Starbucks (the one at I20 & Carrier Parkway, in case anyone really cares), and, because they’ve changed their displays for Christmas, couldn’t find any on the open shelves. “But they SERVE it,” I thought, “so they must have some.” I asked the nice baristas, whose names I haven’t yet learned because (don’t faint), I’m limiting my Starbucks visits to once or twice a WEEK instead of once or twice a DAY, and they went on a pretty intense hunt, but came up with nothing. They did mention that they usually get new orders on Tuesdays.
That was Sunday.
Today is Tuesday.
So, ever hopeful, I trotted back to Starbucks, despite the fact that we’d declared it a junk food night, and there were piping hot fries waiting in the car with an unsupervised Fuzzy, and asked if they had the tea. My tea. The stuff I drink, unsweetened, while I’m up here in my office (because it doesn’t attract ants) and sweetened in the afternoons when I sit down for an hour to cuddle the dogs and read the mail.
The lithe male baristo, who totally should be a classical guitarist or beat poet, based on his wardrobe (maybe both), and is probably neither, warned that they had NOT in fact received new tea, but that he thought there might be one place that hadn’t been searched. He went off to do that while the taller, laid back baristo with the mop of curly hair (whose name, I later learned, is Christopher (how auspicious)) came back with not one, but THREE boxes of the cheery green-label tea.
“I have three,” he said, triumph evident in his voice.
“I’ll buy two,” I declared. And I did.
I also bought a venti soy no-water chai, but that’s really not the point.
The point is that I am stocked with tea once more, and as soon as I finish posting this, I’m going to set the kettle on to boil, brew a mug of it, and curl up in bed to read for a bit before sleep.
Life is good.
Edit: After checking the package, while I was waiting for my tea to steep, I’ve discovered that there is no black tea base, after all. However, I stand by my assertion that Refresh is milder than a pure peppermint tea.
When I went out to check the mail and turn on the Christmas lights, around 3:30 this afternoon, the morning storm had past, and left a balmy, somewhat sunny afternoon. Had my ankle been up to it (and were my driveway not about a 6% grade) I’d have skipped back to the front door.
About three quarters of an hour ago, I looked up to see the sky darkening once more, but not back to the pale grey that it has been for the last couple of days. Instead the sky was the blackblackblack of a serious storm.
And indeed, thick, fat raindrops burst from above, clinging to the anti-glare screens on my office window, and turning day into night, broken only by flashes of classic Dracula lightning.
I’d been writing Christmas cards, and the storm only made me smile – as any reader knows, I LOVE storms – and dig out an old Loreena McKennit cd.
I’m now listening to the live version of The Highwayman, which was one of my favorite poems even before it was ever set to music.
Somehow, Thunder and Tennyson seem to go well together.
At least today.
For the first time ever, I’m creating a category for spirituality. For the first time ever, this morning, I attended a church service, and didn’t feel like a lightning bolt was being aimed at me, or that I was a freak. I’m still nowhere near defining what I DO believe, in terms of God and Christ and all that, as the smaller things seem more important, more relevant, on a daily basis. Things like, give back to your community, and treat everyone with respect, or at least tolerance.
We visited St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church here in Grand Prairie today. In the research stages of my on-again/off-again church shopping, I’d selected the Episcopalians as the group I’d feel most comfortable with, and an email correspondence with Canon Linda, in San Jose, and with Father Young, here in GP, has affirmed that choice. While they are radically different, both struck me as being sincere, warm, smart people, and they embraced my tendency to question, well, everything.
St. Andrew’s is a cozy church. The stone floors of the parish hall and offices are covered with ancient, faded oriental rugs, the once-bright colors making the brick spaces, and comfy old leather furniture seem homey, not shabby. The sanctuary itself is warm red brick, with an inverted ship’s bow-shaped ceiling, typical of Anglican architecture. The natural wood and warm brick really made the space feel comfortable to me.
We arrived about fifteen minutes before the 10 AM service (Rite 1, with music), and Father Young met us outside, and offered a tour of the church, parish hall, and school. We were introduced to everyone, and one of the parishoners was assigned to sit with us, and guide us through the service. As someone who grew up in an Italian Catholic family, though I’ve never been a church-goer, and was actively raised by agnostic/secular humanistic parents, I knew the structure of the service, knew that there would be an Advent wreath, knew that there would be kneeling (my Baptist husband doesn’t like that part). But because I have no real religious education, beyond a couple of generic (required) philosphy classes at USF, I don’t know the words, the music. Sight-singing words you aren’t accustomed to speaking, before you’ve had morning coffee, and when you’re feeling nervous and intimidated already, is NOT easy. At least, since it’s Advent, I knew the one Christmas carol that was part of the service.
Father Young referred to John the Baptist with just a touch of humor, calling him “the hairy man out in the desert,” and urging people to learn solitude and simplicity from his story. His sermon was well written, and well delivered, and his vocabulary met my approval. He even used one of my favorite phrases, “inextricably intertwined.” Most importantly, I didn’t feel preached at.
After the service, we were invited to join Father Young and his wife, Liz (it must be a good thing if there’s a Liz involved, right?) for lunch, at the local Mongolian BBQ. It was a nice lunch, and the conversation was light, but made me more comfortable with the priest as a person. (Despite the fact that I have at least one uncle who is a Catholic priest, who is totally approachable and great fun at parties, I always feel as if members of the clergy look at me and see HEATHEN printed in fiery letters, across my forehead.)
We talked about his Inquirer’s Class – I really want to go. And we talked about our background, in which I explained how it is possible to wind up at a Jesuit university coming from an agnostic household. (USF has the St. Ignatius Institute – it’s a Great Books program, and it’s fabulous), and in which we talked about Communion.
Communion is a big issue for me. I’ve been baptized (Catholic), but I’ve made a practice of NOT taking Communion, because I feel it’s hypocritical to do so, without being certain of my beliefs. Canon Linda had said, when I asked about this, that she felt the Act sometimes helps to promote the Belief.
So, of course I had to ask Father Young, as well. His response was, “If a person doesn’t feel comfortable taking Communion because they feel unworthy, that’s wrong, because by that logic, we’re all unworthy. No one is worthy. Instead, think of it as a gift, and remember that once you feel you need to earn a gift, it’s no longer a gift. But if you’re not taking it because of discomfort with your beliefs, that’s valid, and right.” (Clay, if you’re reading this, know that I flashed on that first Jester’s class in which either Missy or Michele had mentioned that mistakes are a Gift. Yes, I make absurd connections.)
And now, hours after that, I’m sitting here hoping my ankle will continue to cooperate, because tonight’s the NaNoWriMo TGIO party at a laser tag/bowling alley and while I’ve never done EITHER, I’m in the mood to be open and try new things.
Like church. I really liked how welcome they made us feel. How not-freakish I felt. I think I’d like to go back.