Hey, we'll take our celebrations where we may. The Husband hit Godiva for 1/2 price Valentine's chocolate. He called me, asking my opinion about his selection. "We still have some left from Christmas," I told him. "A small box is enough." "Yeah," said he, "it's not that long til Mother's Day."
Mother's Day!
It seems a million years from now. I have no idea what my world will be like by Mother's Day. By then, Little Warrior will probably have had her surgery, perhaps be in post-op chemo. What will our home be like, come Mother's Day?
Right now, things are just ... unsettled. I haven't yet settled in to having a "normal life" some time, yet always ready to drop everything and go back in the hospital. And then there's the weekly chemo treatments.
But Little Warrior seems so normal. She laughs, she plays. She hasn't lost her hair yet. She has good color. So, we somewhat go about our day, stopping occasionally to take blood pressure, or hook up her iv antibiotics, or take her captropril.
I've had the weird situation of having do "de-reassure" people. Yes, I'm making up a word. Here's the situation: word somehow got out that she had "turned a corner." Whatever that means. A neighbor stopped by yesterday to check on us. When I said something about going for chemo weekly, she stopped me. "But I thought everything was all over?" No, I told her, we're actually just at the start of the process.
The whole thing is just weird, weird, weird. I occasionally tell myself "don't be overdramatic." Then I have to remind myself, "you're not being overdramatic. Your baby has cancer. It's real. It's happening."
So, in summation, we are in a period of adjustment. Explaining to the children that when we're here, we're here, and the normal rule apply. Trying to stay kept up on laundry and bills. Figuring out work-arounds to things like the fact that I can't go to the grocery store anymore.
Tomorrow is "double chemo" day. Rah-rah.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Back in the saddle ... er, hospital ... again
Well, after 5 glorious days of being at home -- I didn't know they were glorious at the time, but now I know to cherish every single day home -- we had to come back to the hospital as Little Warrior got an infection. Because the chemo kills good white blood cells, as well as the bad cancer cells, if you get an infection, you're in the hospital for iv antibiotics and "keeping an eye on."
It's not too bad. She's on the iv, but no monitors, other than the normal every 4 hours vital check. A coupla times a day, I pop her in the sling, we unplug the iv pole and take it for a walk around the pediatric oncology floor. And around. And around. And around.
So, I guess this isn't going to be a cake walk. I guess cancer rarely is.
A couple of people have told me things like, "well, when this is all over, it will help you, when you become a minister." (This has always been said in a sensitive way, after profuse preambles of "you'd never want this ...")
I guess that could be true. I don't know. It seems miles and miles, years and years away. I'm just focused on the task at hand. And I'm not entirely sure that this will better me in any way. It quite possibly will make me bitter, not better.
And it all seems weird, anyway, the idea that this torture being done to my daughter would enhance me in any aspect. I mean, how self-serving is that?
Got a reminder, in the midst of all this, of how lucky we are. REALLY lucky, not "lucky to get one kind of cancer over another." We went to the ER Sunday night. They let us go home, about 2 in the morning. We were blocked when we came upon a huge car wreck on the freeway.
Just read the newspaper. Head-on collision, someone going the wrong direction. 3 fatalities. 15 minutes earlier, and chemo might have been moot. For all three of us.
Dayum lucky.
It's not too bad. She's on the iv, but no monitors, other than the normal every 4 hours vital check. A coupla times a day, I pop her in the sling, we unplug the iv pole and take it for a walk around the pediatric oncology floor. And around. And around. And around.
So, I guess this isn't going to be a cake walk. I guess cancer rarely is.
A couple of people have told me things like, "well, when this is all over, it will help you, when you become a minister." (This has always been said in a sensitive way, after profuse preambles of "you'd never want this ...")
I guess that could be true. I don't know. It seems miles and miles, years and years away. I'm just focused on the task at hand. And I'm not entirely sure that this will better me in any way. It quite possibly will make me bitter, not better.
And it all seems weird, anyway, the idea that this torture being done to my daughter would enhance me in any aspect. I mean, how self-serving is that?
Got a reminder, in the midst of all this, of how lucky we are. REALLY lucky, not "lucky to get one kind of cancer over another." We went to the ER Sunday night. They let us go home, about 2 in the morning. We were blocked when we came upon a huge car wreck on the freeway.
Just read the newspaper. Head-on collision, someone going the wrong direction. 3 fatalities. 15 minutes earlier, and chemo might have been moot. For all three of us.
Dayum lucky.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Obladi, Life Goes On
"Obladi, oblada, life goes on, bra ..."
Even with cancer.
We are back home. Little Warrior had her second course of chemo last Thursday. She's throwing up about twice a day (and the doctors tell me that in babies, chemo doesn't cause nausea. Ha.) and her skin is a little dry, but so far, so good. Now that we're home, she has actually laughed at her siblings, done some smiling, and life is somewhat back to normal. I mean, other than the fact that we're taking her temp and blood pressure constantly, I'm wearing a watch that beeps at me every 8 hours for her blood pressure medication, the children aren't allowed to touch her, we're not allowed to go to the store or church ...
Well, other than THAT, Mrs. Lincoln ...
But life does go on. The 3 year old has a stomach bug, so we're trying to keep the two of them separate. But last night, we had a good dinner, all watched a DVD together, then karaoke in the living room.
Our living angels have been swirling around us, bringing us casseroles and Teletubbies DVDs, chocolate and company. It is amazing how important a card in the mail is -- it symbolizes a prayer, a moment in time where the person purchased it, signed it, addressed it and mailed it -- thinking of us while doing so, it's a tangible reminder of the energy being sent our way. I have never been that much of a card-sender; this has changed that.
We go to the children's hospital for chemo. There's an outpatient clinic with an entire floor devoted to pediatric oncology. You would think it would be depressing, a floor filled with children fighting cancer.
It's not! They've done such a terrific job. It's open and airy, and all about kids. There's toys, wagons, tvs, special lounges. They have a process you go through every time, so you used to what is going to happen. There's child life specialists on hand to help with distracting children or talking to siblings. Everywhere you go, there's someone saying, "what an adorable baby!" The vibe there is bright and happy.
"...la, la, la, how life goes on."
Even with cancer.
We are back home. Little Warrior had her second course of chemo last Thursday. She's throwing up about twice a day (and the doctors tell me that in babies, chemo doesn't cause nausea. Ha.) and her skin is a little dry, but so far, so good. Now that we're home, she has actually laughed at her siblings, done some smiling, and life is somewhat back to normal. I mean, other than the fact that we're taking her temp and blood pressure constantly, I'm wearing a watch that beeps at me every 8 hours for her blood pressure medication, the children aren't allowed to touch her, we're not allowed to go to the store or church ...
Well, other than THAT, Mrs. Lincoln ...
But life does go on. The 3 year old has a stomach bug, so we're trying to keep the two of them separate. But last night, we had a good dinner, all watched a DVD together, then karaoke in the living room.
Our living angels have been swirling around us, bringing us casseroles and Teletubbies DVDs, chocolate and company. It is amazing how important a card in the mail is -- it symbolizes a prayer, a moment in time where the person purchased it, signed it, addressed it and mailed it -- thinking of us while doing so, it's a tangible reminder of the energy being sent our way. I have never been that much of a card-sender; this has changed that.
We go to the children's hospital for chemo. There's an outpatient clinic with an entire floor devoted to pediatric oncology. You would think it would be depressing, a floor filled with children fighting cancer.
It's not! They've done such a terrific job. It's open and airy, and all about kids. There's toys, wagons, tvs, special lounges. They have a process you go through every time, so you used to what is going to happen. There's child life specialists on hand to help with distracting children or talking to siblings. Everywhere you go, there's someone saying, "what an adorable baby!" The vibe there is bright and happy.
"...la, la, la, how life goes on."
Friday, January 27, 2006
Hard battles, hoping for an easy war
NOTHING is easy. She's still got the canula (thingie in the nose), still has the Foley catheter, still hooked up to all kinds of monitoring devices, ivs, etc. After she tolerated the pedialyte okay, we were given the go ahead to nurse. Now, she wouldn't take the pedialyte in a bottle because she's been exclusively breastfed. Sorry, I didn't train her to a bottle anticipating that she would get cancer!
"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition."
Anyway, with a syringe, we got it down her. At midnight, we were free to nurse. Well, nursing a baby with a canula in her nose just AIN'T gonna happen, or at least, not this baby. Took it out. Tried for an hour to nurse. Not gonna happen, not after the whole canula incident. Okay, so bundle up all the wires, hoses and tubes and get her back in bed.
This morning, we were able to nurse (again, each time we have to go through a 3 person ordeal of moving wires, hoses and tubes and HER) ... but she threw it up. Probably because that's what she does at least once a day, having nothing to do with the nursing per se.
Tried again later. Did fine, except we had to give her blood pressure medication, which meant she threw up again. Not an easy one for taking any medicine by mouth, even before all of this. Oh! And mixed in all of this, The Husband is trying to hold an oxygen mask close enough to her that she'll breathe some of it, but not so close that she fights like a wildcat to get it away. Hmmm. Back when we were in college, I don't think that that is quite the way he envisioned getting close to my bosom.
And we're going to start the chemotherapy today. Cross fingers and toes that it goes well. Ideally, they'd wait til she was somewhat back to normal ... but we can't. The tumors are shoving everything up into her chest, making it harder for her heart to work, which in turn affects her kidneys, which already have problems their ownselves since that's where the tumors are residing.
But you know, I can take every battle being a sunovabeech if it means that the overall war is "easy." Do the chemo, get the surgery, be cancer free.
Sounds good to me.
"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition."
Anyway, with a syringe, we got it down her. At midnight, we were free to nurse. Well, nursing a baby with a canula in her nose just AIN'T gonna happen, or at least, not this baby. Took it out. Tried for an hour to nurse. Not gonna happen, not after the whole canula incident. Okay, so bundle up all the wires, hoses and tubes and get her back in bed.
This morning, we were able to nurse (again, each time we have to go through a 3 person ordeal of moving wires, hoses and tubes and HER) ... but she threw it up. Probably because that's what she does at least once a day, having nothing to do with the nursing per se.
Tried again later. Did fine, except we had to give her blood pressure medication, which meant she threw up again. Not an easy one for taking any medicine by mouth, even before all of this. Oh! And mixed in all of this, The Husband is trying to hold an oxygen mask close enough to her that she'll breathe some of it, but not so close that she fights like a wildcat to get it away. Hmmm. Back when we were in college, I don't think that that is quite the way he envisioned getting close to my bosom.
And we're going to start the chemotherapy today. Cross fingers and toes that it goes well. Ideally, they'd wait til she was somewhat back to normal ... but we can't. The tumors are shoving everything up into her chest, making it harder for her heart to work, which in turn affects her kidneys, which already have problems their ownselves since that's where the tumors are residing.
But you know, I can take every battle being a sunovabeech if it means that the overall war is "easy." Do the chemo, get the surgery, be cancer free.
Sounds good to me.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Tell me again how lucky I am
Okay, I understand the mission behind it, but I'm getting tired of people telling me how "lucky" I am. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know ... I'm lucky to live in a country where I can get good healthcare. I'm lucky to have a good, close family. I'm lucky that it's Wilm's tumors and not some worse type.
But it's one thing to know this yourself and comment on it, and quite another for someone who is not going through this to lecture you on it. My dear daddy, bless his pointed head, actually said, "If you'd been born when I was, you'd have two dead babies right now." (My first child had emergency surgery for a blockage when he was an infant.)
It has been ONE WEEK since we found out that the happiest baby in the world has cancer in not one, but both kidneys. Yes, the cancer is curable, but guess what? That's only one part of the equation. Killing the cancer has to be balanced with saving the kidneys, saving the heart. I always thought it was a quip when people would say "the thing with chemo is, you hope it will kill your cancer before it kills you." Guess what. It ain't a joke. It is literally true.
Let ME decide how lucky I am, please. And unless you have had a child fight cancer ... do not tell me I'm "lucky."
Lizard Eater
p.s. If another person tells me "this is a good cancer to have," they're going to get ... well, they'll get a mean look. Aw heck, probably not. Okay, then, then ... THEY'LL GET A TOTAL POKER FACE!!! Ha. That'll teach 'em.
But it's one thing to know this yourself and comment on it, and quite another for someone who is not going through this to lecture you on it. My dear daddy, bless his pointed head, actually said, "If you'd been born when I was, you'd have two dead babies right now." (My first child had emergency surgery for a blockage when he was an infant.)
It has been ONE WEEK since we found out that the happiest baby in the world has cancer in not one, but both kidneys. Yes, the cancer is curable, but guess what? That's only one part of the equation. Killing the cancer has to be balanced with saving the kidneys, saving the heart. I always thought it was a quip when people would say "the thing with chemo is, you hope it will kill your cancer before it kills you." Guess what. It ain't a joke. It is literally true.
Let ME decide how lucky I am, please. And unless you have had a child fight cancer ... do not tell me I'm "lucky."
Lizard Eater
p.s. If another person tells me "this is a good cancer to have," they're going to get ... well, they'll get a mean look. Aw heck, probably not. Okay, then, then ... THEY'LL GET A TOTAL POKER FACE!!! Ha. That'll teach 'em.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
The Journey Changes
SCREEEEEEEEECH.
That was the sound, not unlike a record player needle scratching across an LP, of one life screeching to a halt, in order to violently change directions.
Last week, I took the baby in to the doctor. She'd been vomiting some yellow stuff, and one side of her abdomen was swollen and hard. I hoped it was gas/indigestion, worried that it might be a blockage of some kind.
The pedi immediately sent us to get an xray. 15 minutes later, in the car on the way home, she caught me on my cell. Instructed me to instantly turn around. And head for the ER at the children's hospital.
Well, it's a week later. After an ultrasound, echocardiograms, xrays, CT scans and slicing her open to do a biopsy, we know that Little Warrior has bilateral Wilm's tumors in both of her kidneys.
Amazing how fast your perspective changes. You become grateful for such crumbs: we're grateful that it's Wilm's; they have a good rate for cure. We're grateful that they both have "favorable" histologies. We're grateful that the lymph nodes biopsied were clear.
We're profoundly grateful for our friends and family who are enabling us to just concentrate on LW right now, while they take care of the older 3.
And we're learning that just because something is a cliche, just because you know about it, doesn't mean it won't happen to you. 5 levels of grief? Yup. Have been experiencing them all. Incredulity -- a baby with cancer??? That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of. Rage at the situation, at the tumors themselves. Especially once I learned that the reason she's never been as roly poly as my others were was because the tumors were gobbling up her nutrition. MY wonderful, homemade breastmilk was being consumed by these tumors? That's like a criminal breaking into your home, stealing your goods, beating up your sister, then eating the birthday cake you made for her birthday. WTF???
Right now, she's recovering from the surgery. Surgery that hasn't actually done anything in the cure, it only provided us with information. Next step is chemo -- hoping to start it either day after tomorrow or the day after that.
Do I sound calm? I guess I am, at the moment. First you cry. And in my case, then you cry more. Then more. Then more. Then more. And then, it's time for the journey to begin.
Journey to ministerial life. It just became much simpler.
Journey to life.
That was the sound, not unlike a record player needle scratching across an LP, of one life screeching to a halt, in order to violently change directions.
Last week, I took the baby in to the doctor. She'd been vomiting some yellow stuff, and one side of her abdomen was swollen and hard. I hoped it was gas/indigestion, worried that it might be a blockage of some kind.
The pedi immediately sent us to get an xray. 15 minutes later, in the car on the way home, she caught me on my cell. Instructed me to instantly turn around. And head for the ER at the children's hospital.
Well, it's a week later. After an ultrasound, echocardiograms, xrays, CT scans and slicing her open to do a biopsy, we know that Little Warrior has bilateral Wilm's tumors in both of her kidneys.
Amazing how fast your perspective changes. You become grateful for such crumbs: we're grateful that it's Wilm's; they have a good rate for cure. We're grateful that they both have "favorable" histologies. We're grateful that the lymph nodes biopsied were clear.
We're profoundly grateful for our friends and family who are enabling us to just concentrate on LW right now, while they take care of the older 3.
And we're learning that just because something is a cliche, just because you know about it, doesn't mean it won't happen to you. 5 levels of grief? Yup. Have been experiencing them all. Incredulity -- a baby with cancer??? That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of. Rage at the situation, at the tumors themselves. Especially once I learned that the reason she's never been as roly poly as my others were was because the tumors were gobbling up her nutrition. MY wonderful, homemade breastmilk was being consumed by these tumors? That's like a criminal breaking into your home, stealing your goods, beating up your sister, then eating the birthday cake you made for her birthday. WTF???
Right now, she's recovering from the surgery. Surgery that hasn't actually done anything in the cure, it only provided us with information. Next step is chemo -- hoping to start it either day after tomorrow or the day after that.
Do I sound calm? I guess I am, at the moment. First you cry. And in my case, then you cry more. Then more. Then more. Then more. And then, it's time for the journey to begin.
Journey to ministerial life. It just became much simpler.
Journey to life.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
To the Christians in this time of Christmas ...
What kind of Christian are you?
So, what kind of Christian are you? Are you a Matthew 25:35 Christian or a John 14:6 Christian?
These seem to be the two camps. Those who place all of the weight upon John, when he reported Christ saying “"I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me,” and those who put their attentions on Christ’s words: “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me… I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' '”
So, which are you?
If you call yourself a Christian, when faced with tolerance and inclusiveness, which path do you choose? When a salesclerk at Target greets you with a merry, “Happy Holidays!” do you choose to turn to the verse of decisiveness that declares no tolerance for those of a different religion or do you turn to the verse that says that whatever you do for the least person, the person of the lowest class, you have done that for Him?
What Would Jesus Do?
So, what kind of Christian are you? Are you a Matthew 25:35 Christian or a John 14:6 Christian?
These seem to be the two camps. Those who place all of the weight upon John, when he reported Christ saying “"I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me,” and those who put their attentions on Christ’s words: “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me… I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' '”
So, which are you?
If you call yourself a Christian, when faced with tolerance and inclusiveness, which path do you choose? When a salesclerk at Target greets you with a merry, “Happy Holidays!” do you choose to turn to the verse of decisiveness that declares no tolerance for those of a different religion or do you turn to the verse that says that whatever you do for the least person, the person of the lowest class, you have done that for Him?
What Would Jesus Do?
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Walking the ministering walk
Our congregation doesn't currently have a minister, so I've been asked to do some ministerial type things this year. Most, I felt to be a stretch for me, but stretching is good. Most recently I did my first memorial service and my second baby dedication.
The memorial service, which, for obvious reasons, stressed me out -- this sounds like a weird thing to say about a memorial, but it went really well. I was very surprised that while I was in the pulpit, I had no urge to cry. Of course, the lady whom I was memorializing was highly strong, very dignified -- I could almost hear her saying, "No, of COURSE you aren't going to cry. Strong women don't cry! And you have a job to do. Buck up!"
Now, as soon as I left the sanctuary and a crying parishioner came up to me, the tears flowed. But that's okay. I have it on good authority that seminarians are allowed to be human. Of course, once I'm ordained, that's revoked. Ha.
The dedication was quite enjoyable. All baby dedications are, but in a way, this was my first. The actual first one was when I had to step in for a minister who couldn't attend as planned, so I was using her words and script. For this one, it was crafted between myself and the family. And the baby and her brother were adorable. Hmm. I need to get a minister or seminary student to come by our church so *my* baby can be dedicated.
Got our holiday cards out the Friday after Thanksgiving, which is insane. But, we just moved, and figured ours better be the first, if we wanted to get our new address on everyone's list. "Everyone's going to hate us," said The Husband. "No," sez I, "they'll realize it's because we moved." "Nope. They'll just hate us," responded Hub.
So, my best friend calls me up. "You suck," she informs me.
Score one for the cynic.
The memorial service, which, for obvious reasons, stressed me out -- this sounds like a weird thing to say about a memorial, but it went really well. I was very surprised that while I was in the pulpit, I had no urge to cry. Of course, the lady whom I was memorializing was highly strong, very dignified -- I could almost hear her saying, "No, of COURSE you aren't going to cry. Strong women don't cry! And you have a job to do. Buck up!"
Now, as soon as I left the sanctuary and a crying parishioner came up to me, the tears flowed. But that's okay. I have it on good authority that seminarians are allowed to be human. Of course, once I'm ordained, that's revoked. Ha.
The dedication was quite enjoyable. All baby dedications are, but in a way, this was my first. The actual first one was when I had to step in for a minister who couldn't attend as planned, so I was using her words and script. For this one, it was crafted between myself and the family. And the baby and her brother were adorable. Hmm. I need to get a minister or seminary student to come by our church so *my* baby can be dedicated.
Got our holiday cards out the Friday after Thanksgiving, which is insane. But, we just moved, and figured ours better be the first, if we wanted to get our new address on everyone's list. "Everyone's going to hate us," said The Husband. "No," sez I, "they'll realize it's because we moved." "Nope. They'll just hate us," responded Hub.
So, my best friend calls me up. "You suck," she informs me.
Score one for the cynic.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
A little surreal, this ministerial stuff
To Do List for Today:
* Watch weepy movies like Beaches and Steel Magnolias, in an effort to find my emotional Kegel muscle. Ain't that a great term? See, I'll be doing a memorial service in a couple of weeks for someone I cared about. I am a crier, and am afraid that I'll be weeping the whole time. So a learned friend of mine recommended that I cue up sad movies to the cry scene, then practice stopping the flow of tears. Exactly like when they tell you to practice stopping your pee to find your Kegel muscle.
*Pore over "The X-rated Bible, an Irreverent Survey of Sex in the Scriptures" to find a good reading for my sermon about sex (and canvass) for Sunday.
*Work on plans for the annual Halloween party.
*Deal with a baby that is fussy from innoculations.
Just your average ordinary day for a seminarian/mother of 4.
* Watch weepy movies like Beaches and Steel Magnolias, in an effort to find my emotional Kegel muscle. Ain't that a great term? See, I'll be doing a memorial service in a couple of weeks for someone I cared about. I am a crier, and am afraid that I'll be weeping the whole time. So a learned friend of mine recommended that I cue up sad movies to the cry scene, then practice stopping the flow of tears. Exactly like when they tell you to practice stopping your pee to find your Kegel muscle.
*Pore over "The X-rated Bible, an Irreverent Survey of Sex in the Scriptures" to find a good reading for my sermon about sex (and canvass) for Sunday.
*Work on plans for the annual Halloween party.
*Deal with a baby that is fussy from innoculations.
Just your average ordinary day for a seminarian/mother of 4.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Fleeing a hurricane
Left home 9:45 am.
Hour 5: was 20 minutes from our house.
DVD player not working.
3 kids, plus one 4 month old baby.
1 German Shepard
1 cat
101 degrees outside. We were alternately turning off the a/c or just keeping it low, to conserve gas. Already, we are passing cars that have either overheated or run out of gas. People are just sitting by the side of the road. All the businesses we pass are closed up. You can’t even go in anywhere to use the bathroom. We have plenty of food and water in the car, but I’m rationing it out, because I don’t want to have to stop for potty breaks. Which would be, “peeing in the weeds” breaks. About every 20 minutes, The Husband and I question ourselves – is it more risky to stay at home, perhaps facing a Category 5 Hurricane, or take this trip, and perhaps be stranded by the side of the road when the hurricane hits?
They interrupt the weather/traffic broadcast because Bush is giving a speech:
“We now got another hurricane coming, Hurricane Rita … As we meet our responsibilities in dealing with these two significant storms, Katrina and Rita, our focus on defending our country remains undiminished.”
He then proceeds to give a speech defending the Iraq war.
Can you imagine how comforted I felt?
Hour 5: was 20 minutes from our house.
DVD player not working.
3 kids, plus one 4 month old baby.
1 German Shepard
1 cat
101 degrees outside. We were alternately turning off the a/c or just keeping it low, to conserve gas. Already, we are passing cars that have either overheated or run out of gas. People are just sitting by the side of the road. All the businesses we pass are closed up. You can’t even go in anywhere to use the bathroom. We have plenty of food and water in the car, but I’m rationing it out, because I don’t want to have to stop for potty breaks. Which would be, “peeing in the weeds” breaks. About every 20 minutes, The Husband and I question ourselves – is it more risky to stay at home, perhaps facing a Category 5 Hurricane, or take this trip, and perhaps be stranded by the side of the road when the hurricane hits?
They interrupt the weather/traffic broadcast because Bush is giving a speech:
“We now got another hurricane coming, Hurricane Rita … As we meet our responsibilities in dealing with these two significant storms, Katrina and Rita, our focus on defending our country remains undiminished.”
He then proceeds to give a speech defending the Iraq war.
Can you imagine how comforted I felt?
Monday, September 05, 2005
Toilet Paper and Bra Straps
Okay, I forgot to add a great moment from yesterday.
After "Bridge Over Troubled Water" was sung, I had to do a reading. Well, the tears were streaming, no way I could hide it. So, I took a second, then explained to the congregation that I had requested the song weeks earlier and that when, on Friday, I realized what song would be played, I told my friends, who began taking bets as to whether I would burst into tears or hysterical laughter. "So you see, I opted for the tears." Good, sympathetic laugh.
Made my way through the reading -- not easy, because I had no tissue, so was having to sniff every line or so. After that, a hymn, during which a little old lady brought me some toilet paper and whispered that my bra strap was showing.
Tee-hee-hee! She was so like my mother, as women "of a certain generation" take very seriously the faux-pas of visible undergarments whilst my generation could not care less. For some reason, this cheered me immensely and helped me to continue on with the service with new energy.
Thanks to "the little old lady whispering" ... well, not "hush."
After "Bridge Over Troubled Water" was sung, I had to do a reading. Well, the tears were streaming, no way I could hide it. So, I took a second, then explained to the congregation that I had requested the song weeks earlier and that when, on Friday, I realized what song would be played, I told my friends, who began taking bets as to whether I would burst into tears or hysterical laughter. "So you see, I opted for the tears." Good, sympathetic laugh.
Made my way through the reading -- not easy, because I had no tissue, so was having to sniff every line or so. After that, a hymn, during which a little old lady brought me some toilet paper and whispered that my bra strap was showing.
Tee-hee-hee! She was so like my mother, as women "of a certain generation" take very seriously the faux-pas of visible undergarments whilst my generation could not care less. For some reason, this cheered me immensely and helped me to continue on with the service with new energy.
Thanks to "the little old lady whispering" ... well, not "hush."
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Lizard Eater returns
I'm back.
Well, after months of selling one house, buying another, having a baby ... I have returned. Months that included serious questioning of myself about going back to seminary, do I really think I can be the kind of parent I want to be AND be a student/minister ... well, the call goes on.
Had already been scheduled to give a talk out of town this weekend ... then Katrina hits. Radically changed my sermon, of course. How could you not address it?
Irony/irony/irony ... about 4 weeks ago, I had asked this church if they could get someone to do a particular song. They had an incredible singer today. The song? Bridge Over Troubled Water.
By "weary," I was completely melted down. Oh well. I had always worried about what would happen if I cried in the pulpit. Now I know. If you're crying in the pulpit, it probably means that at least half the congregation is crying already anyway.
Had something said to me after the service ... that touched me profoundly, and made me feel like, "oh, yeah, I really have been called ..."
So, good Lord willin' and the creek don't rise ... eww. Scratch that saying for a while.
Um ... good Lord willin' ... I'll start back in January. Hopefully The Wren will take a bottle by then.
Glad to be back.
Well, after months of selling one house, buying another, having a baby ... I have returned. Months that included serious questioning of myself about going back to seminary, do I really think I can be the kind of parent I want to be AND be a student/minister ... well, the call goes on.
Had already been scheduled to give a talk out of town this weekend ... then Katrina hits. Radically changed my sermon, of course. How could you not address it?
Irony/irony/irony ... about 4 weeks ago, I had asked this church if they could get someone to do a particular song. They had an incredible singer today. The song? Bridge Over Troubled Water.
By "weary," I was completely melted down. Oh well. I had always worried about what would happen if I cried in the pulpit. Now I know. If you're crying in the pulpit, it probably means that at least half the congregation is crying already anyway.
Had something said to me after the service ... that touched me profoundly, and made me feel like, "oh, yeah, I really have been called ..."
So, good Lord willin' and the creek don't rise ... eww. Scratch that saying for a while.
Um ... good Lord willin' ... I'll start back in January. Hopefully The Wren will take a bottle by then.
Glad to be back.
Friday, March 04, 2005
busybusybusy and triumphs not our own
Am trying to do everything I can right now, since I'm having to "sit out" the semester, due to Baby Sparkle's impending birth. Including selling our house and buying a new house, after we realized that my difficulty in balancing family and school was due largely in part to the necessity of me being mother AND father AND a student. Hence, we will be moving closer to The Husband's work. House should go on the market April 1. Being the prankster I am, my friends have repeatedly asked me if this is merely an extremely elaborate April Fool's Joke. Not on my end, I tell them. Week after next, we move into a motel while our house is re-roofed, re-carpeted, and re-painted.
Triumphs not our own ... after experiencing the futility of potty training with my first two children (I agree with Vicki Iovine who penned that there is a particular date, circled on a calendar, of when your child will be potty trained. You can buy all the books and do all the work, but the date remains the same.), other than putting a potty chair in a bathroom and making books and videos available, I haven't done much with my toddler about it. Yesterday, out of the blue, she comes up to me and says, "I did it!"
What did you do? (Always a dangerous question.)
"I went potty!"
Being an experienced parent without the stars in my eyes, I asked the logical question: Where?
"In the potty!"
Uh-huh. Riiiiight. Okay, let's see.
Blow me down. Yellow liquid filling the potty.
Parade was thrown, grandparents and dad were called, lollipops were given. This was repeated later last night. And again this morning.
An independent kid, who jumps ahead and does something I'm not prepared for. Huh. Pretty cool, right now. We'll see when she's 13.
Triumphs not our own ... after experiencing the futility of potty training with my first two children (I agree with Vicki Iovine who penned that there is a particular date, circled on a calendar, of when your child will be potty trained. You can buy all the books and do all the work, but the date remains the same.), other than putting a potty chair in a bathroom and making books and videos available, I haven't done much with my toddler about it. Yesterday, out of the blue, she comes up to me and says, "I did it!"
What did you do? (Always a dangerous question.)
"I went potty!"
Being an experienced parent without the stars in my eyes, I asked the logical question: Where?
"In the potty!"
Uh-huh. Riiiiight. Okay, let's see.
Blow me down. Yellow liquid filling the potty.
Parade was thrown, grandparents and dad were called, lollipops were given. This was repeated later last night. And again this morning.
An independent kid, who jumps ahead and does something I'm not prepared for. Huh. Pretty cool, right now. We'll see when she's 13.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Sculpting Margot Adler
Went to a Women's Conference this past weekend with three of my chums. That was the most important component of the weekend -- driving up and staying in one room with three women, all of us spiritually and otherwise greatly compatible. So much talking, eating and having fun ... staying up til 4 am Saturday night, having philosophical and spiritual revelations. Am sick now, having run my motor at too high a gear all weekend!
Margot Adler, author of Drawing Down the Moon and NPR correspondent, was the theme speaker and led some marvelous ritual, including an opening spiral dance. That gave me the opportunity to come face to face with 4 members of my old Circle, which was exciting. Coincidences were abounding.
So, back to Margot. Like most folks exploring paganism, I read "Drawing Down the Moon" as one of my introductory pieces. So, I'm pretty star-struck about her.
At my second workshop -- on Theatre for the Oppressed -- she shows up to participate. With absolutely no manuevering on my part, she and I wound up partners for an exercise where we "sculpted" each other into various emotions. Very down to earth, she was, and fun. We also wound up doing a little skit together with two other women. Cool!
Our little group decided that on the years when Women's Conference is too far away, we're going to have a church women's retreat ... no roughing it allowed. Nice hotel, go out to a great dinner, etc. As I wrote above, that was the biggest part of the conference -- communing with other like-minded women. Partners and children left at home -- well, except for nursing babies, which I will be attached to next year. I keep forgetting that. I'm so busy, I literally forget I'm pregnant until I bump the huge belly into a doorway or the refrigerator door. Trying to sell our house and look for one closer to T's work.
Margot Adler, author of Drawing Down the Moon and NPR correspondent, was the theme speaker and led some marvelous ritual, including an opening spiral dance. That gave me the opportunity to come face to face with 4 members of my old Circle, which was exciting. Coincidences were abounding.
So, back to Margot. Like most folks exploring paganism, I read "Drawing Down the Moon" as one of my introductory pieces. So, I'm pretty star-struck about her.
At my second workshop -- on Theatre for the Oppressed -- she shows up to participate. With absolutely no manuevering on my part, she and I wound up partners for an exercise where we "sculpted" each other into various emotions. Very down to earth, she was, and fun. We also wound up doing a little skit together with two other women. Cool!
Our little group decided that on the years when Women's Conference is too far away, we're going to have a church women's retreat ... no roughing it allowed. Nice hotel, go out to a great dinner, etc. As I wrote above, that was the biggest part of the conference -- communing with other like-minded women. Partners and children left at home -- well, except for nursing babies, which I will be attached to next year. I keep forgetting that. I'm so busy, I literally forget I'm pregnant until I bump the huge belly into a doorway or the refrigerator door. Trying to sell our house and look for one closer to T's work.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Catch Up Time
Time to ketchup.
Okay, so first of all, I got an A in my Systematic Theology class. Of course, as I explained to a friend, I had to sell my soul to Jesus to do so. Ha. AND my professor requested a copy of my midterm to share with another student as an example of full complete answers.
This, perhaps, sounds like bragging. The truth of the matter is that the A, while it does show a willingness to work hard, mostly shows an ability to take really good notes and repeat them back to the professor. Which is, I guess, okay. This was a class for me to learn, not think. I would also add, to learn, not to accept.
Baby news: Baby does NOT have down's syndrome, nor any other chromosomal abnormalities, nor neural tube defects. And I have become much more sensitive to the fact that you can't just have a slash and burn "it's a fetus, not a baby" attitude. AND, I have become even more appreciative about the choices we still have, hard as they might be to make. The only thing that would have made this more difficult would have been if I were waiting to find out what the rest of my life would be like, as opposed to waiting to see if I had to make a very difficult choice.
Other news is that my due date is still under debate and it's too close to the end of the semester (might be some overlap), so no classes this semester. Was disappointed at first, but now am convinced with the old "everything happens for a reason." I plunged into school without first making a place for it in my life. Now, I have the time to figure out how to do it all ... how to have routines for the family, what I need to cut, etc. One thing we're hoping to cut -- me doing Mom AND Dad work. Husband drives 3 hours a day, which means I do the main parenting M-F. Had a wild idea ... gee, how about if we move closer to Husband's job, so he can be the dad, and I can be the Mom? Wow! Might even make me closer to school. So, we're looking at selling the house we've been in for 7 years and moving this summer. After our newborn comes into the world. Sometime between GA and the summer program. Have I mentioned that we suffer from insanity? Well, pregnant with my 4th, starting theological school, you may have picked up on that.
Cold day today, so we're making tons of chili to freeze. Love our vacuum sealer. These little joys in life.
Okay, so first of all, I got an A in my Systematic Theology class. Of course, as I explained to a friend, I had to sell my soul to Jesus to do so. Ha. AND my professor requested a copy of my midterm to share with another student as an example of full complete answers.
This, perhaps, sounds like bragging. The truth of the matter is that the A, while it does show a willingness to work hard, mostly shows an ability to take really good notes and repeat them back to the professor. Which is, I guess, okay. This was a class for me to learn, not think. I would also add, to learn, not to accept.
Baby news: Baby does NOT have down's syndrome, nor any other chromosomal abnormalities, nor neural tube defects. And I have become much more sensitive to the fact that you can't just have a slash and burn "it's a fetus, not a baby" attitude. AND, I have become even more appreciative about the choices we still have, hard as they might be to make. The only thing that would have made this more difficult would have been if I were waiting to find out what the rest of my life would be like, as opposed to waiting to see if I had to make a very difficult choice.
Other news is that my due date is still under debate and it's too close to the end of the semester (might be some overlap), so no classes this semester. Was disappointed at first, but now am convinced with the old "everything happens for a reason." I plunged into school without first making a place for it in my life. Now, I have the time to figure out how to do it all ... how to have routines for the family, what I need to cut, etc. One thing we're hoping to cut -- me doing Mom AND Dad work. Husband drives 3 hours a day, which means I do the main parenting M-F. Had a wild idea ... gee, how about if we move closer to Husband's job, so he can be the dad, and I can be the Mom? Wow! Might even make me closer to school. So, we're looking at selling the house we've been in for 7 years and moving this summer. After our newborn comes into the world. Sometime between GA and the summer program. Have I mentioned that we suffer from insanity? Well, pregnant with my 4th, starting theological school, you may have picked up on that.
Cold day today, so we're making tons of chili to freeze. Love our vacuum sealer. These little joys in life.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
"Historical" Jesus
Also from last night ...
Other: went off on a vent last night to Husband about the utter lack of logic that some of these students are willing to interject into their theology. I'm not talking Unitarian-type logic. I'm talking within the bounds of the Bible. To whit: I was in a group last night with two guys (incl the one who wanted my notes) and we were to write up our beliefs on the historical Jesus. The characters in this were The Pastor, The Islander (I don't know where he's from) and me, The Heretic.
The Heretic: Okay, so we need to write up our beliefs [I'm playing good Christian girl, of course] about the historical Jesus. Let's start pre-birth.
The Pastor: Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit.
Heretic: Well, this is supposed to be on the *historical* Jesus.
blank look
Heretic: You know, the "historical" Jesus we've been reading about. That which we have some sort of record for.
The Pastor: But we have a record. We have the Bible. That gives us our historical Jesus.
Heretic sighs and moves on: Okay, do we want to put that Mary was a virgin? We read last week that "virgin" was perhaps mistranslated from the original text.
The Pastor: Of course she was a virgin. It's in the Bible.
Heretic again sighs.
The Islander, looking in his bible: And he grew up in Nazareth.
Heretic: Okay, remember that. We're going through chronologically. Anything else before he was born?
The Islander: See, right here, he grew up in Nazareth.
Heretic: Yes, yes, but right now, in our chronology, he isn't born yet. Okay, now his birth. What are we going to say about that?
The Pastor: What it says in the Bible.
Heretic: Yes, but it's only described in Luke and Matthew, and they have contradictions. For instance, in one, there's the shepherds, in the other, there's the wise men. So which are we going to choose?
Islander: Both of them. They happened at different times.
Heretic: Okay, well, where are we going to say he was born? In Nazareth or Bethlehem?
blank look
Heretic: Okay, I'm going to say Bethlehem, even though some historians doubt it, because in order to fulfill the Old Testament prophesy, Christ has to be born in Bethlehem.
Islander: Herod called to kill him.
Heretic: Okay. Now, Herod was only mentioned in one book. Do we choose to include that in our belief?
The Pastor: It's in the Bible.
Heretic: Ohhhhkay. So then where did Christ grow up?
Islander: Nazareth
Heretic: Okay, when did he move to Nazareth?
blank look
Heretic: We've said that we believe in the Herod story. If we accept that, then we have to accept that Jesus and his parents fled to Egypt.
blank look
Ugh.
Other: went off on a vent last night to Husband about the utter lack of logic that some of these students are willing to interject into their theology. I'm not talking Unitarian-type logic. I'm talking within the bounds of the Bible. To whit: I was in a group last night with two guys (incl the one who wanted my notes) and we were to write up our beliefs on the historical Jesus. The characters in this were The Pastor, The Islander (I don't know where he's from) and me, The Heretic.
The Heretic: Okay, so we need to write up our beliefs [I'm playing good Christian girl, of course] about the historical Jesus. Let's start pre-birth.
The Pastor: Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit.
Heretic: Well, this is supposed to be on the *historical* Jesus.
blank look
Heretic: You know, the "historical" Jesus we've been reading about. That which we have some sort of record for.
The Pastor: But we have a record. We have the Bible. That gives us our historical Jesus.
Heretic sighs and moves on: Okay, do we want to put that Mary was a virgin? We read last week that "virgin" was perhaps mistranslated from the original text.
The Pastor: Of course she was a virgin. It's in the Bible.
Heretic again sighs.
The Islander, looking in his bible: And he grew up in Nazareth.
Heretic: Okay, remember that. We're going through chronologically. Anything else before he was born?
The Islander: See, right here, he grew up in Nazareth.
Heretic: Yes, yes, but right now, in our chronology, he isn't born yet. Okay, now his birth. What are we going to say about that?
The Pastor: What it says in the Bible.
Heretic: Yes, but it's only described in Luke and Matthew, and they have contradictions. For instance, in one, there's the shepherds, in the other, there's the wise men. So which are we going to choose?
Islander: Both of them. They happened at different times.
Heretic: Okay, well, where are we going to say he was born? In Nazareth or Bethlehem?
blank look
Heretic: Okay, I'm going to say Bethlehem, even though some historians doubt it, because in order to fulfill the Old Testament prophesy, Christ has to be born in Bethlehem.
Islander: Herod called to kill him.
Heretic: Okay. Now, Herod was only mentioned in one book. Do we choose to include that in our belief?
The Pastor: It's in the Bible.
Heretic: Ohhhhkay. So then where did Christ grow up?
Islander: Nazareth
Heretic: Okay, when did he move to Nazareth?
blank look
Heretic: We've said that we believe in the Herod story. If we accept that, then we have to accept that Jesus and his parents fled to Egypt.
blank look
Ugh.
Monday, December 13, 2004
Jaw dropping
Um, am I a grade prude?
Had two "interesting" things happen tonight at class. First: had a substitute and learned what my theological limits are. Taking notes and parroting back something I don't believe -- sure, for the sake of education, can do. Have a "socratic method" prof (who is fundamentalist Christian) who wants to delve into our personal theologies (and then argue with them)? No. Just ... can't ... do ... it.
Then, after class, we students were chatting about how our regular prof is going to email us the questions for our final (take home) exam. A person in the class who I've fairly well respected, who happens to already be the 50ish pastor of his church, comes up to me with that casual air of "of course you will" expectation and says, "hey, email me your notes."
I'm sure my jaw dropped.
"ALL of MY notes?"
"Yeah, sure."
Note: I do not mind sharing notes with someone who has missed class. In fact, I copied a month's worth of notes for someone who had foot surgery AND her dad died.
But he hadn't missed any classes.
On top of that ... there were two other gentlemen hovering over us, ready to add their names to my little distribution list.
"Uh, no," I laughed it off, like SURELY he couldn't be serious. "If you have any holes in your notes, email me." Went on to say something about how I can't trust that I have my notes accurate, would hate to pass on errors, etc.
"Oh, go on," he says. "You take the best notes in the class."
Did not say what I wanted to which was: "Um, maybe you should rethink copying my notes, since I'm not what you would classify as a 'believer' and am in fact, a heretic and a heathen to boot."
Just busied myself and left.
He's a preacher, I mentioned that already, right?
Had two "interesting" things happen tonight at class. First: had a substitute and learned what my theological limits are. Taking notes and parroting back something I don't believe -- sure, for the sake of education, can do. Have a "socratic method" prof (who is fundamentalist Christian) who wants to delve into our personal theologies (and then argue with them)? No. Just ... can't ... do ... it.
Then, after class, we students were chatting about how our regular prof is going to email us the questions for our final (take home) exam. A person in the class who I've fairly well respected, who happens to already be the 50ish pastor of his church, comes up to me with that casual air of "of course you will" expectation and says, "hey, email me your notes."
I'm sure my jaw dropped.
"ALL of MY notes?"
"Yeah, sure."
Note: I do not mind sharing notes with someone who has missed class. In fact, I copied a month's worth of notes for someone who had foot surgery AND her dad died.
But he hadn't missed any classes.
On top of that ... there were two other gentlemen hovering over us, ready to add their names to my little distribution list.
"Uh, no," I laughed it off, like SURELY he couldn't be serious. "If you have any holes in your notes, email me." Went on to say something about how I can't trust that I have my notes accurate, would hate to pass on errors, etc.
"Oh, go on," he says. "You take the best notes in the class."
Did not say what I wanted to which was: "Um, maybe you should rethink copying my notes, since I'm not what you would classify as a 'believer' and am in fact, a heretic and a heathen to boot."
Just busied myself and left.
He's a preacher, I mentioned that already, right?
Monday, December 06, 2004
.4 to .9
I always think of myself as a "glass half full" kind of person, but there are things where I certainly go the other way. To whit: I need to see a perionatalogist. My early blood tests came back showing that this pregnancy has an increased risk of Down's syndrome.
How much? Well, it's still less than 1%. I went from about a .4% chance to a .9% chance. Went from 1/233 to 1/129.
So, next week, I have an appointment; first for a level 2 ultrasound, then a possible amnio ... although, the way I'm feeling now, I want to go ahead and get the amnio. Be done with *that* particular stress for the rest of the pregnancy. Husband has to go with me, in case I get an amnio, since I won't be able to drive after. Not sure why, I guess because there's a risk of leaking from the injection site and pressing the gas pedal would disturb that or something.
Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln ...
How much? Well, it's still less than 1%. I went from about a .4% chance to a .9% chance. Went from 1/233 to 1/129.
So, next week, I have an appointment; first for a level 2 ultrasound, then a possible amnio ... although, the way I'm feeling now, I want to go ahead and get the amnio. Be done with *that* particular stress for the rest of the pregnancy. Husband has to go with me, in case I get an amnio, since I won't be able to drive after. Not sure why, I guess because there's a risk of leaking from the injection site and pressing the gas pedal would disturb that or something.
Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln ...
Friday, November 19, 2004
Cool tshirt
A friend of mine, feeling the same as many of us after the election, created a cool tshirt and some other merchandise:
http://www.cafepress.com/realvalues
Looks like it might be a hot item.
http://www.cafepress.com/realvalues
Looks like it might be a hot item.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Blah, bleaugh, blues
Okay, so today isn't my best day. It's not a bad day, just a bleaugh day. Literally, as I'm gagging with morning sickness. Not throwing up, just gagging. Ick. No relief in gagging.
And of course, this is the day after the election, and it looks like Bush is going to walk off with the election. AND major Republican control of Congress. What all will be done in the next four years? It scares me, so I tell myself, look, that just means that we'll have a huge backlash in 2008. Hillary for President! But that seems like a long four years. And a four years that we will be paying for, for generations to come.
And this isn't even a partisan fear for me ... it is particular to this administration. They seem to have absolutely no compunction about doing things with or without the support of the smart people within their own party. Last night, they said something about McCain running for president in 2008. Right. You really think the neo-cons and ultra-conservatives will go for that?
I should have known this was going to happen. I have been an observer of Bush's journey from the first governor's race. "Surely, he can't beat Ann Richards."
Ugh. I need to eat something, but can't find anything that appeals. Ready for the first trimester to be over.
Okay, happy things ... had our annual Halloween party this past weekend. Much good food, good friends. Introduced several folks to chocolate cake shots, though I abstained, of course. The Husband made up three pitchers of apple margaritas that all disappeared. Note for future: disposable Solo cups will not hold a cinnamon/sugar rim. We wound up using my non-disposable hard plastic cups from the Girls Parties. Big hit of the party was "Bacon and Beagle Dicks" which I renamed "Heart Attack Bites" as this was an intergenerational party. Wrap little smokies in a bit of bacon, pack into a baking dish, then cover with brown sugar and bake. Egad!
And I went to Rice U last week to use their library for my term paper for Systematic Theology. I am blessed to have the best friends in the world (certified by non-partisan pollsters) and one of them, K, drove me over and dropped me off (parking is a b*), then took my toddler to the zoo while I worked. Then picked me up to go to our favorite grocery/lunch spot. There needs to be a word beyond "mensch."
Term paper is about the intersection of philosophy and theology from an Augustinian perspective. Need to think of some modern day philosophers. Maslow is good, but stuck after that. Oprah? Dr. Phil?
And of course, this is the day after the election, and it looks like Bush is going to walk off with the election. AND major Republican control of Congress. What all will be done in the next four years? It scares me, so I tell myself, look, that just means that we'll have a huge backlash in 2008. Hillary for President! But that seems like a long four years. And a four years that we will be paying for, for generations to come.
And this isn't even a partisan fear for me ... it is particular to this administration. They seem to have absolutely no compunction about doing things with or without the support of the smart people within their own party. Last night, they said something about McCain running for president in 2008. Right. You really think the neo-cons and ultra-conservatives will go for that?
I should have known this was going to happen. I have been an observer of Bush's journey from the first governor's race. "Surely, he can't beat Ann Richards."
Ugh. I need to eat something, but can't find anything that appeals. Ready for the first trimester to be over.
Okay, happy things ... had our annual Halloween party this past weekend. Much good food, good friends. Introduced several folks to chocolate cake shots, though I abstained, of course. The Husband made up three pitchers of apple margaritas that all disappeared. Note for future: disposable Solo cups will not hold a cinnamon/sugar rim. We wound up using my non-disposable hard plastic cups from the Girls Parties. Big hit of the party was "Bacon and Beagle Dicks" which I renamed "Heart Attack Bites" as this was an intergenerational party. Wrap little smokies in a bit of bacon, pack into a baking dish, then cover with brown sugar and bake. Egad!
And I went to Rice U last week to use their library for my term paper for Systematic Theology. I am blessed to have the best friends in the world (certified by non-partisan pollsters) and one of them, K, drove me over and dropped me off (parking is a b*), then took my toddler to the zoo while I worked. Then picked me up to go to our favorite grocery/lunch spot. There needs to be a word beyond "mensch."
Term paper is about the intersection of philosophy and theology from an Augustinian perspective. Need to think of some modern day philosophers. Maslow is good, but stuck after that. Oprah? Dr. Phil?
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