This morning as I was in the shower, listening to public radio's Studio 360 where I caught little half paragraphs of an interview about Solomon Rushdi. Somewhere in the stream of water and words I heard Curt Anderson, I believe, say the word "shapeshifter." Sometimes a word just slams up against my forehead and hangs on for a half a day..more maybe. I hunted around on Google for a definition, typed it into GuruNet, and went into Alltheweb and came up with a few citations but no definition. I finally found what I was looking for on Yahoo.
It seems like Tony Hillerman wrote of Shapeshifters, maybe in "The Skinwalkers."
I feel a little like a Shapeshifter today, but I can't figure out why as my corporal self has an opportunity to go help with a church mailing in 15 minutes.
Thursday, December 30, 2004
Monday, December 27, 2004
Having One Wonderful Day After Another!
When a person is having such a good time there is no time for blogging.
He Who Must Be Obeyed and I have cooked since Christmas Eve Afternoon and because 'having company' is my very favorite thing, it has been good. Good food, good company, good experiences all around.
I have spent a good deal of time at church between company meals, even on Christmas Day, my altar guild partner and I spent a quiet, holy hour and a half preparing the sacristy for Sunday services.
This morning I read 'the salty vicar's' Christmas sermon. Having read his SALT over the years, I have learned a lot and respect his priestly experiences. I call them priestly because sometimes he appears to be a wild child. I hope he never quits blogging.
My own pastor started his Christmas Eve service with stopping the craziness of the holidays by breathing..in...and out...a couple of times. If you have read me very long you know how that got to me. Taking time to breathe is a good thing. And when he opened a ladder, I knew exactly where he was going. No, not up the ladder to God. God came down to us at Christmas.
And the good stuff goes on. I am cooking for a beloved son today who is helping his dad with the war wagon. I should take a pictue of it as I hope never, ever to have to see it again as it is being sold. If it doesn't sell the Salvation Army gets it. Do I have to show you how a war wagon and an an army of any type go together?
He Who Must Be Obeyed and I have cooked since Christmas Eve Afternoon and because 'having company' is my very favorite thing, it has been good. Good food, good company, good experiences all around.
I have spent a good deal of time at church between company meals, even on Christmas Day, my altar guild partner and I spent a quiet, holy hour and a half preparing the sacristy for Sunday services.
This morning I read 'the salty vicar's' Christmas sermon. Having read his SALT over the years, I have learned a lot and respect his priestly experiences. I call them priestly because sometimes he appears to be a wild child. I hope he never quits blogging.
My own pastor started his Christmas Eve service with stopping the craziness of the holidays by breathing..in...and out...a couple of times. If you have read me very long you know how that got to me. Taking time to breathe is a good thing. And when he opened a ladder, I knew exactly where he was going. No, not up the ladder to God. God came down to us at Christmas.
And the good stuff goes on. I am cooking for a beloved son today who is helping his dad with the war wagon. I should take a pictue of it as I hope never, ever to have to see it again as it is being sold. If it doesn't sell the Salvation Army gets it. Do I have to show you how a war wagon and an an army of any type go together?
Monday, December 20, 2004
Winter Solstice
One day to the shortest day of the year in our northern hemisphere. Tomorrow is truly the dark day of winter. Isn't it a little strange that on the second day of winter the days actually start getting longer? I have enjoyed the darkness this year. Why hurry the days away?
How cozy it is to snuggle under the down comforter while listening to the litany of the morning news people. I find IMUS rude and insulting, but the rest of them are like old friends, some sappy, some tolerable, some enjoyable. Do you find the Network people standing outside in the cold a little crazy. The shouting crowd annoys me so much I switch channels. The CSPAN Washington people are my favorites, no commercials, no opinion except for the guests, and reading the various morning paper headlines is the best. I miss Brian Lamb already. If Tom Brokow from my home state weren't such a blazing liberal I would have liked him better. I used to think I was a conflicted Lutheran, maybe I am a conflicted Republican. He Who Must Be Obeyed would bristle at that statement. He actually emailed our Nebraska Mr. Hagel over his comments on Rumsfield yesterday morning. But I am not going there.
Christmas. This year I love it more than ever. I like all the lights except my neighbors gaudy flashing display. Last night we talked about renting some snow thower to come and make snow for our Christmas. How fun would it be to just fill up our yard with snow, front and back so high that the driveway would have to be plowed out. I think that would be the best thing. We laughed ourselves to sleep over that idea last night. We won't have snow this year.
I am missing fruit cake. I think I would enjoy a slice of mince meat pie. Bourbon balls would be good, I haven't had them since I retired. One of my co-workers made them every year. Maybe just a little bourbon would do the trick. No, no eggnog. Irish Creme would be good. A Chia Pet would be nice. Nope, never had one.
Everyday the Christmas greetings from old friends and family come pouring in. Getting the mail is great. Our mailman took about a hundred with him this morning for every where including Canada. If I hadn't gotten some help with them, I would be doing them night and day alone. The in-law reunion is next summer so He Who Must Be Obeyed mailed about a hundred and fifty yesterday to his relatives everywhere including Norway. Thanks to the good old US Postal System. It makes life happy and handy.
How cozy it is to snuggle under the down comforter while listening to the litany of the morning news people. I find IMUS rude and insulting, but the rest of them are like old friends, some sappy, some tolerable, some enjoyable. Do you find the Network people standing outside in the cold a little crazy. The shouting crowd annoys me so much I switch channels. The CSPAN Washington people are my favorites, no commercials, no opinion except for the guests, and reading the various morning paper headlines is the best. I miss Brian Lamb already. If Tom Brokow from my home state weren't such a blazing liberal I would have liked him better. I used to think I was a conflicted Lutheran, maybe I am a conflicted Republican. He Who Must Be Obeyed would bristle at that statement. He actually emailed our Nebraska Mr. Hagel over his comments on Rumsfield yesterday morning. But I am not going there.
Christmas. This year I love it more than ever. I like all the lights except my neighbors gaudy flashing display. Last night we talked about renting some snow thower to come and make snow for our Christmas. How fun would it be to just fill up our yard with snow, front and back so high that the driveway would have to be plowed out. I think that would be the best thing. We laughed ourselves to sleep over that idea last night. We won't have snow this year.
I am missing fruit cake. I think I would enjoy a slice of mince meat pie. Bourbon balls would be good, I haven't had them since I retired. One of my co-workers made them every year. Maybe just a little bourbon would do the trick. No, no eggnog. Irish Creme would be good. A Chia Pet would be nice. Nope, never had one.
Everyday the Christmas greetings from old friends and family come pouring in. Getting the mail is great. Our mailman took about a hundred with him this morning for every where including Canada. If I hadn't gotten some help with them, I would be doing them night and day alone. The in-law reunion is next summer so He Who Must Be Obeyed mailed about a hundred and fifty yesterday to his relatives everywhere including Norway. Thanks to the good old US Postal System. It makes life happy and handy.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Honor Your Nose
Last night I was lulled to sleep with a lecture on the nose. One of our local cable channels is dedicated to SCOLA; most hours it is a direct feed to live international television in the language of each country; the other hours are dedicated to health and wellness. Often this includes medical lectures to the Nebraska University Medical Center students.
Breathing is meant to be done through the nose. It gives our brains a different experience than mouth or tracheotomy breathing does. It gives us a feeling of being right. My mother was big on breathing. Often we stopped mid-conversation to, as she put it, "breathe." I still enjoy a moment or two of breathing.
I appreciate my sense of smell and those little sensors are a treasure. Smell is all tied up with memory, as many of you know. The smell of a mother's cooking, the smell of baby chicks and little kittens, the smell of horses and tack, the smell of an old boyfriend's aftershave and the familiar scent of a husband. I once lived in a small town with no central air. In summers windows were opened and during the dark night, I could smell the after-lovemaking cigarettes of my next door neighbors. Perfume lingers in my living room days after company has gone, reminding me of that pleasant visit.
Sometimes the sense of smell goes haywire and some unfortunate people smell very bad odors continually. Sometimes they have to have the nerves that connect their noses to the brain severed. Occasionally this gets wired with schizophrenic tendencies. The learned doctor stated last night that those unfortunate folks never continually smell a pleasant odor, it is always very disgusting ones.
I never knew that the ingredient that oils our digestive system is the quart of snot that we swallow each day, not exactly the trivia one might relate at a Christmas party.
Breathing is meant to be done through the nose. It gives our brains a different experience than mouth or tracheotomy breathing does. It gives us a feeling of being right. My mother was big on breathing. Often we stopped mid-conversation to, as she put it, "breathe." I still enjoy a moment or two of breathing.
I appreciate my sense of smell and those little sensors are a treasure. Smell is all tied up with memory, as many of you know. The smell of a mother's cooking, the smell of baby chicks and little kittens, the smell of horses and tack, the smell of an old boyfriend's aftershave and the familiar scent of a husband. I once lived in a small town with no central air. In summers windows were opened and during the dark night, I could smell the after-lovemaking cigarettes of my next door neighbors. Perfume lingers in my living room days after company has gone, reminding me of that pleasant visit.
Sometimes the sense of smell goes haywire and some unfortunate people smell very bad odors continually. Sometimes they have to have the nerves that connect their noses to the brain severed. Occasionally this gets wired with schizophrenic tendencies. The learned doctor stated last night that those unfortunate folks never continually smell a pleasant odor, it is always very disgusting ones.
I never knew that the ingredient that oils our digestive system is the quart of snot that we swallow each day, not exactly the trivia one might relate at a Christmas party.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Saturday Morning Miracle
There are only five of us in Miriam Circle. I think of us as unencumbered by convention. When we started meeting to do the Lutheran Woman Today Bible Study, we agreed that we are not messing with food, we meet at church so we do not have to clean house, we try to be finished in an hour. I thank God for each one of these women and our second Saturday of the month meeting.
This morning we observed Advent with prayers, candles, and singing by the light of one candle. I have come to love our study together and the intimacy we have. Our study centered on the Five Wise and Five Foolish Virgins. Advent is my favorite month of the church year. It has gone beyond my childish waiting, my hurried mother preparations, to this, my more purposeful expectation of Peace on Earth.
When we concluded, my altar guild partner and I prepared communion for two services tomorrow. It was a quiet, reverent way to prepare for the Third Advent Sunday. I am so blessed to have had parents, friends, and congregations keeping me grounded over the years. I could never have done it alone.
This morning we observed Advent with prayers, candles, and singing by the light of one candle. I have come to love our study together and the intimacy we have. Our study centered on the Five Wise and Five Foolish Virgins. Advent is my favorite month of the church year. It has gone beyond my childish waiting, my hurried mother preparations, to this, my more purposeful expectation of Peace on Earth.
When we concluded, my altar guild partner and I prepared communion for two services tomorrow. It was a quiet, reverent way to prepare for the Third Advent Sunday. I am so blessed to have had parents, friends, and congregations keeping me grounded over the years. I could never have done it alone.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
A Cheap Goose
A while back I listed the things that make Finns happy. A clean upstairs could do it. He Who Must Be Obeyed told me I had to go upstairs and look at it. I haven't been up there for two or three years,but with some coersion, hints at compromise, and half promises, I was pursuaded to give it a look. it was worse than I had envisioned.
I could keep busy for weeks up there, but maybe with his muscles and my brilliance for organizing we could do it in two days. I am not kidding about my organizing. I think I am an organizing genius, but I don't have the muscles to go with it. Next to being organized my second quality surely is stubbornness. Without that hint of compromise, I wouldn't have got two steps in that direction in this lifetime.
No, I am not going to chip away at anyone's faults. I recognize my own and probably have enough Lutheran guilt to cover them. I am not going to have everything my own way here. It doesn't matter. I actually said out loud, "I will get rid of all the old Christmas decorations, if we can work together on the rest of it." He grabbed that bait and I am not letting him off the hook. Cleanliness is happiness.
The Master of the Garage, He Who Must Be Obeyed, has a little compulsive/obsessive problem with garage sales. Did I call it a fault? He had a cloth, stuffed goose up there, some of the cotton coming out of a seam. I picked it up and looked it over; he told me he told the lady at the garage sale "that $2 goose is the cheapest goose I ever got."
I could keep busy for weeks up there, but maybe with his muscles and my brilliance for organizing we could do it in two days. I am not kidding about my organizing. I think I am an organizing genius, but I don't have the muscles to go with it. Next to being organized my second quality surely is stubbornness. Without that hint of compromise, I wouldn't have got two steps in that direction in this lifetime.
No, I am not going to chip away at anyone's faults. I recognize my own and probably have enough Lutheran guilt to cover them. I am not going to have everything my own way here. It doesn't matter. I actually said out loud, "I will get rid of all the old Christmas decorations, if we can work together on the rest of it." He grabbed that bait and I am not letting him off the hook. Cleanliness is happiness.
The Master of the Garage, He Who Must Be Obeyed, has a little compulsive/obsessive problem with garage sales. Did I call it a fault? He had a cloth, stuffed goose up there, some of the cotton coming out of a seam. I picked it up and looked it over; he told me he told the lady at the garage sale "that $2 goose is the cheapest goose I ever got."
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
When The Cat's Away the Mouse...well you know
The slippery slope to Christmas has become a bit steeper. One would think I would increase my sliding speed. It doesn't happen. I have known for years that I need a 'to do' list. Without one, I think there is nothing to do. That isn't all that bad either.
I did go to Hobby Lobby last Friday and bought a pre-lit, flocked, fake tree. When I saw the trouble the help guy had loading it in my Wrangler, I knew I was in for more than I had bargained. It was heavier and bulkier than I thought it might be, but I got it into the house and actually got it together. It was my 2004 Christmas adventure; not one to rival cutting a tree in the Black Hills and getting it upright in a pail of water with rocks to keep it straight. But it was o.k. given that I did it alone. Enjoying the satisfaction of completing a challenging task is one of life's pleasures. I am surprised at how much I like my fake tree. It is... well, it is simply beautiful.
He Who Must Be Obeyed is still gone building the greenhouse with a brother. I have come to think of this time as practice for widow-hood. I can do it. I might even be able to clean the garage, given a dumpster and a minimum wage person of height and muscle. But that won't happen while the master of the garage is around. I spent three hours in one corner of it and found some amazing things, three huge trash bags full of junk, and a lot of good stuff. That was a good experience in a way.
I think a lot about my mortality. I suppose most everyone does. I am preparing for a good death; not that I think it is particularly immediate. But I am not going to waste time in meaningless endeavor. I don't think that listening to classical Christmas carols, or reading, or simply thinking are meaningless. The Lectio Divina practice is a gift, and I have learned it. That is something a disciplined mind can manage, but it takes practice. It would be a good goal for me, a good New Years resolution. It is offered and open to anyone at an Mt. Michael abbey not very far from here on Friday mornings, but I can certainly do it on my own.
Do you ask why, my dear reader, why I think on my coming death? Because it is Advent and Lutherans take Advent very much to heart. We are in the dark of December, the days are short, the mentally ill get worse, melancholy Finns get more and more melancholic; and the Henri Nouwen Devotion hitting my inbox every morning have been on that very matter. We must prepare for our death, like our parents prepared for our birth, he states. So I am preparing...for my death, and for the Christ Mass to come. Do I sound a little Catholic? I am, reformed, however, as in Martin Luther.
Life, however, is good and I suspect that will continue for a time. "There is no "after" after death. Words like after and before belong to our mortal life, our life in time and space. Death frees us from the boundaries of chronology and brings us into God's "time," which is timeless." Henri Nouwen
I did go to Hobby Lobby last Friday and bought a pre-lit, flocked, fake tree. When I saw the trouble the help guy had loading it in my Wrangler, I knew I was in for more than I had bargained. It was heavier and bulkier than I thought it might be, but I got it into the house and actually got it together. It was my 2004 Christmas adventure; not one to rival cutting a tree in the Black Hills and getting it upright in a pail of water with rocks to keep it straight. But it was o.k. given that I did it alone. Enjoying the satisfaction of completing a challenging task is one of life's pleasures. I am surprised at how much I like my fake tree. It is... well, it is simply beautiful.
He Who Must Be Obeyed is still gone building the greenhouse with a brother. I have come to think of this time as practice for widow-hood. I can do it. I might even be able to clean the garage, given a dumpster and a minimum wage person of height and muscle. But that won't happen while the master of the garage is around. I spent three hours in one corner of it and found some amazing things, three huge trash bags full of junk, and a lot of good stuff. That was a good experience in a way.
I think a lot about my mortality. I suppose most everyone does. I am preparing for a good death; not that I think it is particularly immediate. But I am not going to waste time in meaningless endeavor. I don't think that listening to classical Christmas carols, or reading, or simply thinking are meaningless. The Lectio Divina practice is a gift, and I have learned it. That is something a disciplined mind can manage, but it takes practice. It would be a good goal for me, a good New Years resolution. It is offered and open to anyone at an Mt. Michael abbey not very far from here on Friday mornings, but I can certainly do it on my own.
Do you ask why, my dear reader, why I think on my coming death? Because it is Advent and Lutherans take Advent very much to heart. We are in the dark of December, the days are short, the mentally ill get worse, melancholy Finns get more and more melancholic; and the Henri Nouwen Devotion hitting my inbox every morning have been on that very matter. We must prepare for our death, like our parents prepared for our birth, he states. So I am preparing...for my death, and for the Christ Mass to come. Do I sound a little Catholic? I am, reformed, however, as in Martin Luther.
Life, however, is good and I suspect that will continue for a time. "There is no "after" after death. Words like after and before belong to our mortal life, our life in time and space. Death frees us from the boundaries of chronology and brings us into God's "time," which is timeless." Henri Nouwen
Thursday, December 02, 2004
On Wanting a Dog
How dumb is it to want a dog? I can't find a Standard Poodle in Omaha. That is exactly what I want. The Nebraska Agricultural Department placed a whole bunch of Chihuahuas into our local Humane Society a couple days ago. They had closed down a puppy mill somewhere in the state and were placing dogs and cats with ringworm where ever there was room. Maybe I should go to see if there might be a poodle in the bunch.
I need a beating heart in the house that I can boss around. A cat would be nice, but I have a son that is alergic to them. It would be rude to get one.
He Who Must Be Obeyed helped me prepare the church worship center this morning. I didn't quite know what to make of that. I will be on my own Sunday, communion at 8:00 and in the afternoon when we have the ordination service of our Music Director who has gone on to become more. I will set up the intinction for that and clear after. It will be nice to hear the Bishop. I am glad for Jennifer.
I will be alone again. This is why I am getting serious about a dog.
I need a beating heart in the house that I can boss around. A cat would be nice, but I have a son that is alergic to them. It would be rude to get one.
He Who Must Be Obeyed helped me prepare the church worship center this morning. I didn't quite know what to make of that. I will be on my own Sunday, communion at 8:00 and in the afternoon when we have the ordination service of our Music Director who has gone on to become more. I will set up the intinction for that and clear after. It will be nice to hear the Bishop. I am glad for Jennifer.
I will be alone again. This is why I am getting serious about a dog.
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