The Quest

It all started one mornin' on Kef Mason hill... the workers had gone and the air it was still. Our brood was itchin' to get on outside, when there in the distance we saw a fox stride. 'Ole Roxy was chompin' to give 'im a chase, while red tail a-flippin' he crossed the fence base. At lunch a bit later I says to my sis, that fox he was Irish 'cause red 'is hair is. Well I can't seriously write a whole blog like this because I'm done with the rhymin' and droppin' my g's. But you get the idea. This morning after the yard guys had finished up, we were preparing to let the herd loose when I spotted a fluffy red tail following after a tall, slender fox. Inside the yard. The doodles saw him too, and my two were oblivious. As Kef was about to go shoo him away, I was preparing to close the dog door so the hoard wouldn't go after this poor soul. Before we could act, he slipped his slender body through the fence and out into the...

I completely forgot to write yesterday. When I decided to try daily blogging, I knew it would be a challenge. I feel like I'm doing pretty well, but when evening comes and old routines fall into place... it becomes bedtime before you know it! Yesterday was Sunday, and since I've moved to New York I haven't settled into a church. So Sunday mornings are very relaxing... no angst about whether everything is going well in Grapevine, and no rush to get up and get going. It's interesting that Sunday mornings have historically been a source of stress for me. Although my "ought to" tells me I should be going to church, my "want to" tells me to step outside and breath deeply of the world that God has created. It was a beautiful day for that yesterday. It seems to me that we, as humans, manufacture a good bit of stress for ourselves. The old stress of Sunday morning church has been replaced with a new stress of the "ought to." And then there'...

I've been mulling over "ought-to's" today. You know... things you ought to do, ought to want, ought to be. I ought to get out of bed. I ought to take a shower. I ought to have a job by now. I ought to care about career goals (like titles, and making more money, and not "regressing"). I ought to read more. I ought to do more with my talents. I ought to be doing more things I love with every single day while I have time. I ought to have this transcription project done by now. I ought to walk the dogs. I ought to write a book. I ought to draw. I ought to pay more attention to my budget. I ought to be saving for retirement. I've used ought so many times it doesn't even look like a real word anymore. When I brought some of my job-related ought-to's to my sister's attention, she asked, "Why? Do any of the people in your life care about those things?" Well, no. But I ought to. When I think about some of the ought-to's on my list, I...

I know what you're probably thinking. Great, another genealogy post. Nope. In this case, the history I'm referring to is my browser history. But how can that be a gift? Isn't it just evidence of Google spying on you? Perhaps. But in my case it's very helpful in remembering what interesting things I learned today, and what things I might have forgotten. It is helpful because the power went out and shut my computer down, so all the tabs I was holding open for one reason or another were closed. It's helpful in remembering to order Heartguard for the dogs and apply for jobs that I've bookmarked. It's helpful in finding the link to the article I read about how spiders manage to make webs over seemingly empty space. It's helpful in keeping track of time, like when I started working on a project and when I finished. I actually can't say I learned much today because I spent most of the day doing actual work-related things.... doing a phone interview, app...

It's hard to believe that my first winter in New York is about over. I feel sure there will be another cold snap or two, but mostly I think it's over. There is no snow on the ground, today is about 70 degrees, and the trees in the yard are thinking seriously about leafing out. In some ways, I feel that life has been in a bit of a winter hibernation as well. Because I didn't find my fit in a new job before winter set in, it feels like I've been holding out, waiting to bloom too. I'm anxious - not nervous, but anticipating with great excitement - to see what will be next. There have been a few possibilities pop up, and one in particular still simmering. I feel that it's seriously thinking about leafing out too, but it's not ready quite yet. I'm trying not to rush it. You can't force a flower open, or a leaf from a branch. You just have to wait. In some ways, I think I'm very good at waiting. I have a lot of great hobbies and things to keep me b...

The first week of unemployment, I spent driving. The second week of unemployment, I spent entertaining my parents before they headed back to Texas. The third week of unemployment, so far... I have returned my router. Exchanged ceiling fan rods. Shopped for greeting cards. Read a funny little book called "All My Friends Are Dead." Written thank-you notes (I promise they will be in the mail soon). Washed sheets (thanks to Meg for standing up from her nap and immediately squatting on Kef's bed). Played games on my phone. Picked up poop of all sizes. Deposited checks. Compared calendars with Kef. Changed my address on things. Applied for jobs (and read about lots of jobs I don't want). Entertained dogs while electricians worked. Spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to figure out how to turn Kef's TV on. Pondered how it's possible that I'm on week three. What I haven't done is spend much time really exploring my new-found freedom. I haven't...

How is it that a year can pass with little or no thought? My busy, busy job makes my mind swim at times. So when I'm not at work, I feel the need for blankness. Absence of thought or purpose. Time passing without fanfare. When I look at my blog, I feel a great loss. The year that's passed has been an amazing one, and yet my absence of thought is greatly apparent on my blog. Some might think my blank blog is evidence that I don't have thoughts or experiences to share. Nothing could be further from the truth. In reality, I've had a great number of experience in the past year. And I've had some time for reflection too. I spent a good bit of time after I returned from Latvia getting involved in our ministries there. Planning, communicating, meeting and sharing. I went to Tennessee for the Friends of Latvia meeting, and became the FOL Secretary. I built a website and implemented an electronic news platform. I had a great struggle in June as I turned 40 and tried to...

I've just finished reading American Gods by Neil Gaiman for the next gathering of the Novel Ideas Meetup. The first meetup and the subsequent reading of this book has made me realize some things about myself. I love to read. I read a lot. But I'm not an avid reader. I'm not a bibliophile. I pay precious little attention to the names of authors, books, genres and such. In short, I'm not a reading fanatic. But I'm a fan of reading. I had no idea who Neil Gaiman was when I started reading this book (or when I finished the book part of it). In the e-edition, the contents of his online journal are included. It shares his perspective on the editing process. It wasn't until I read the journal that I knew he  was somebody  (i.e. not a first-timer). In the journal, he refers to lots of authors who are obviously supposed to be known to the reader. The only name I recognized was Stephen King... and that not because of reading his books, but because of his pop icon status...

I was alarmed to hear one of our office volunteers talking about how her granddaughter's school does not teach the children how to write in cursive. WHAT?! How will they know how to sign their name? How will they read letters from their grandmother? Or the Declaration of Independence? Or many, many, many historic documents? I do believe that schools are doing a great disservice to our country and to family histories that are passed down through the written word. I understand that there are people who prefer to print. Fine. But what about learning the ability to READ what is written in cursive? If you don't learn to write it, you're probably not learning to read it either. This, in my opinion, is a travesty. If your child is currently in a school that does not teach cursive (either the reading or the writing of it), I implore you to teach it to them yourself. What kind of upstanding citizen can't read their nation's historic documents? Or their great-grandfather...

I was just catching up on some of the blogs I've missed... perusing AliseWrite's weekly "Stuff I've Been Reading" and lo and behold I found myself. The first one listed this week was a post called "The Body I Have" by a blogger I've never read before, Dani Kelley . As I read her post, her "About Me" and some of her other blog entries... I was amazed at how much of myself I saw in her! She's ten years younger than me. I found myself wishing I'd practiced a little introspection way back then. I might be a different person today. Who knows. But I'm glad I've stumbled upon this young lady. And I'm glad I have finally learned some of the lessons she's blogging about. Better late than never. By the way, I share her desire to write more. I've said this every year: I'm going to write more this year. I am. I really am. Seriously. Quit laughing.

This is how my morning started... I posted the following as my status update on Facebook: I tried really hard to sleep in late this morning... but my thoughts kept drifting back to that man who's living in his truck while waiting for his first paycheck from a new job (that probably pays minimum wage). My privileged mind just couldn't keep laying in my queen-sized bed, in my air-conditioned house, with my better-off-than-most-people dogs. Issues are weighing heavily on me after the the past week of blog-reading, listening/reading about political platforms, and sitting in my office trying to imagine how that homeless man is living with such a positive attitude. I feel some blogs coming on. Not that writing will change anything, but it will help me get my thoughts out of my head. Time to get started. A few things happened this week that have me pensive. Here's the list: In staff meeting we heard about a book called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. We also heard abo...

I can't shake the feeling that my last post about Chick-Fil-A was naive and largely missing the point. I feel guilty for eating at CFA, and it's not because of the calorie count in their food (I don't count calories anymore and I couldn't be happier about it). It's because my conscience is telling me that social justice trumps happy tastebuds. Ugh. I just hate that little cricket in my ear that tries to be my guide. This morning I was reading my blog feed. Alise of Alise Write  wrote a compelling item about why she does not patronize CFA. It didn't have anything to do with the beliefs of the CEO, but rather with the monetary support that the company has given to an organization that participates in anti-gay hate speech. Read the post here. I have no first-hand knowledge of the causes CFA supports, nor do I know what most of the companies I frequent support. But IF it is true that CFA supports hate speech, I don't see how I can - in good conscience - cont...

I've been reading a lot of rants lately about boycotting Chick-Fil-A because their CEO upholds a belief in "traditional marriage" and thinks that gay marriage is likely to be the beginning of the end of America. Or about supporting Chick-Fil-A because their CEO was "brave" enough to tell everyone. I have to disagree with everyone. Don't ban Chick-Fil-A. Don't ban gay marriage. Eat chicken. Love people. I don't think Chick-Fil-A should be banned in any city. Not if their only vice is having owners who are vocal conservative Christians. They have the right to be what they want and tell others about it. Now, if they were refusing service to gay people that would be a different story altogether. But they're not. So... let them do business with whoever wants to do business with them. If Boston and Chicago and whoever else really don't want them there, the stores will fail. Problem solved. They should be allowed to fail. Or succeed. I don...

I don't think I've met anyone who would readily admit that they love themselves. Everyone I know has somethin g   about themselves that they wish were different. I suppose we all do. But I discovered some time back that I really do love myself. At the time, I thought I could love myself except  for how I look. I assumed there was something inherently wrong with being overweight. I should feel bad. Unhealthy. Ugly. But deep down inside, I didn't. I felt healthy (except for my allergies and a once-a-month hormone imbalance). I couldn't run a marathon or hike to the top of a mountain (and have zero interest in doing those things), but I could do the things I love... play in the flower beds, lop limbs off trees and bushes, walk quickly in and out of the grocery store, wander cemeteries for hours. I like my smile, my eyes, my hair. I like being a little bit messy. I like that dogs love me and I love them. I like being able to create things and research things and learn thi...

I follow several blogs. It took me a while to get into the world of reading others' instead of just writing my own and leaving them out there with no audience. I still have no audience, but I'm doing better at becoming a part of someone else's. I've just come across a new blogger to follow... Stacy Bias. One of her recent posts relates indirectly to my last post on Keeping Quiet . It's entitled "Insecurity: Imperfect & Unforgiven." Well-written and oh-so-how-I-feel sometimes. Insecurity: Imperfect & Unforgiven I want to talk about insecurity. Actually, I want to openly claim insecurity. I want to wear it like a badge instead of an anchor. I want to acknowledge that it has made me paranoid at times. At others, self-absorbed. I want to erase the shame in it. keep reading...

There have been many times lately that I have found myself keeping my mouth shut, my opinion to myself. I have a particular set of beliefs and opinions, just as we all do. But I am surrounded by people who don't agree - or at least my perception is that they don't. I have begun to wonder... do I do a dis-service by keeping quiet? Or is it okay to just maintain peace and not disagree with anyone? Does it matter if people know my opinion? Is it okay to just let them assume that I agree with them, when I don't? Case in point: I had lunch with someone the other day who was upset about their pastor's sermon that morning. I asked what it was about and she said, "Helping the poor." And went on to assert that this is further proof that her pastor "is a Democrat." In my head, I thought, "And that's bad because.... why?" Why is it bad to talk about helping the poor? Jesus did it all the time, and last time I checked this person claimed they are...

I used to be so good at having thoughts. What happened to that? Seems like I just work, work, work... then veg when I get home and don't ever think critically enough to write a blog with substance. I have a sore throat. Squirrel! Starting a new e-zine at work... and I'm not even going to have time to write content! Farming it out to other people. What happened to the writer within? I think someone's holding her hostage.