forgive and forget?

It was 1979. I was in junior high. I lived in a part of Spokane called the “South Hill,” and the most dangerous thing around was Cedar, the busy street in front of my house.

just when I’m totally absorbed in hoop jumping…life happens

 

It’s totally busy around here, what with getting everything together for my dossier and trying to juggle finances on an abridged stipend. So it’s easy enough to toddle along my little path and forget that life happens, and happens without apology or permission, to all of us. And my life is flooded with people who remind me to live.

blessed are the plunderers

In 2003, on my old blog, I posted an homage to ITLAP Day. And since that blog has gone the way of the buffalo, I decided to revive (and revise) that homage here.

Cel’brate th’ season, me hearties!

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‘Tis International “Talk Like a Pirate” Day! Th’ four’een’ annual. T’ings wot make me go arrrr.

Ye know, ye scurvy dogs, wot terrors lurk wit’in? Ye know th’ ‘oliday wot began ‘ere we knew come from e’en this, me part o’ th’ island? Arrrrr-rg.

Me beauty mind brings catcalls. For many a year, we be talkin’ like profiteers. All day, me hearties. In many a context! T’ink ye on th’ scurvy bilge rat lubber reaction! Four’een year!

• In th’ supermarket: watch it, ye scurvy dog! Yer grog has a broken bung hole, an’ yer messin’ th’ deck!

• In th’ classroom: Make sure yer #2 timbers be shivered before ye take th’ test.

• In a crowded elevator or commute as yer pressed hard again’ a stranger’s back: Arrr, watch that, swabby! Yer crushing me hornpipe!

my place

I was put into my place today. Or maybe I should write I was put into ‘my place’ today.

hang on tight, cuz here we go!

It’s September 4, and it has begun.

Today is the official beginning of my intense year of being on the job market. Now it’s stressful enough to be out looking for a job, but in my field, there is a specific yearly cycle that you have to meet deadlines for even while just applying for a job. Indeed, looking for a job is a full-time job in itself.

beyond expectations

I’ve tried to write a posting for a few days, now. It’s not coming along so well.

an update

Yes, my car was run over by an SUV. A white one, that the neighbors and I have seen parked on the block before, but none of us knew who it belonged to. I called the police the day after it happened (that’s last Saturday night), and while awaiting their arrival, did indeed wander the neighborhood looking for the culprit vehicle. Yes, I was barefoot.

I put all the detritus from the front of my car on my back seat, and got the case number from the officer. After the non-response from this winter’s house robbery and sexual threat, I wasn’t expecting anything much.

on lightning strikes, ministry opportunities, and Saturn coupes

Observations from the heart of the adventure:

my sister’s kids….

introducing Josh, Bekah, Alex, and Adryana. Goofs, all.

rightly wrong

When I was a kid, one of the things that drove me most mad was when my dad, who tended to fly off the handle pretty easily, would be proven in the wrong, yet would never admit it or apologize. In fact, it wasn’t until I was twenty-five or twenty-six that he ever admitted to me the possibility of his being wrong ever in his life.

There was this time, however, when I confronted of my parents for certain damaging things that they chose to do. Now I realize perfectly well that they did the best they could with what they had, and yet this does not erase the fact that what they chose caused monumental damage in our family relationships. I was seeking an apology, or at very least an acknowledgement that an error had been made. From dad, surprisingly, I got tears of deep repentance. From mom, equally surprisingly, I got the martyr treatment. In short, dad learned how to admit he was wrong, and mom still could not see that an apology for her decision, which she clearly regretted, would generate much healing.

I’m not trying to pound on my parents, but to illustrate a point, with which I think we as Christians have far too much difficulty.

We aren’t good at admitting we’re wrong. In fact, we’re really good at denying or deflecting it.

books, books, books!

 I don’t normally do meme-ish posts, but this will be an exception, as it appeals to that insatiable bookworm (more like a tapeworm) in me. 

I was reading Closeted Pastor this morning, and she posted this list from “The Big Read,” which is designed to get people to reading. The list is the NEA’s top 100 books, of which, despite it all, they estimate the average adult has read only six. The ones I’ve read are in red, and I’ve posted a few thoughts on those that motivated me to comment upon.

Yeah, I’ve read a lot. But I’m happy to say I now have a ready-made reading list to occupy my spare time (HA!)—you know, that time I have when I’m not reading philosophy or theology.

It would be interesting to see what you’ve read, too, if you want to put a list on your blog or a comment on mine.

if my life had a soundtrack

What do I mean by if?

Of course my life has a soundtrack. Ennio Morricone collaborated with John Williams, Thomas Newman, Harry Gregson-Williams and Vangelis. Cool soundtrack, eh?

Okay, so I listen to music all the time. And since my Yahoo LaunchCast station (that I’ve been nurturing and modifying for lo these last four years) is for some reason on strike, I’ve come to fall in love with iTunes. Especially since my brother gave me an Airport Extreme for my birthday and an Airport  Express for Christmas. I have this nice little commercial-free internet radio playing throughout my home all day. Yay me.

Stations that I write to or otherwise enjoy lately:

• Groovera’s Ambient Popsicle and Low Mercury stations
• SOMA FM’s Secret Agent and Groove Salad stations
• ETN’s Trance and Progressive stations
• Dance Radio’s Chillout Lounge
• SKY’s New Age, Mostly Classical, Piano Jazz, Trance, Ambient, and Chillout stations

Any iTunes compatible stations you listen to?

digression

I think I earned some sort of badge today.