The movers arrive TODAY, so I'll be losing internet connectivity for a few days at least. We won't meet up with our stuff again until late next week and I don't know where I might encounter a wi-fi hot spot en route.
In the meantime: Since we're coming on fast to Lent/Easter, let's reprise the Despised Music Meme. What is your least favorite Lent/Easter hymn of all time?? During Advent I encouraged everyone to name one sacred and one secular candidate--but that doesn't really work at this time of year. There are very few secular Easter songs and no secular Lent songs that I know of. So for the secular category here is the challenge: What secular song do you think would work as a Lent or Easter hymn--providing you could get your music director to go along with the idea, of course.
I'll share my choices later so as not to influence the process. Chat among yourselves while I drive. See you next week.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Sunrise, Sunset
Another thing about moving is that it forces upon you the reality that time is moving right along.
For example, while clearing out the attic my husband holds up a worn piece of soft-side luggage. "What do you think, toss?" he says. My immediate, gut level reaction is, "What? Why would I toss an almost brand new suitcase my grandma gave me as a college graduation present??" Then, of course, rational brain kicks in. "Um, college graduation was twenty years ago and your grandma died in 1995. That is some OLD baggage you're holding onto there."
Or, in the back of a kitchen drawer I find a plastic baggie full of plug guards. When we first moved into this house, my toddler son needed to be guarded from such dangers as electrical sockets. I hold the bag in my hand and wonder, "Where did my babies go?"
And some of our wedding gifts are beginning to show their wear: cookie pans, pot holders, towels, small appliances. And I think, "But these are nearly new. They're wedding presents!" Um, those would be twelve year old pans, cloths, and salad shooters, right?
Oh right.
For example, while clearing out the attic my husband holds up a worn piece of soft-side luggage. "What do you think, toss?" he says. My immediate, gut level reaction is, "What? Why would I toss an almost brand new suitcase my grandma gave me as a college graduation present??" Then, of course, rational brain kicks in. "Um, college graduation was twenty years ago and your grandma died in 1995. That is some OLD baggage you're holding onto there."
Or, in the back of a kitchen drawer I find a plastic baggie full of plug guards. When we first moved into this house, my toddler son needed to be guarded from such dangers as electrical sockets. I hold the bag in my hand and wonder, "Where did my babies go?"
And some of our wedding gifts are beginning to show their wear: cookie pans, pot holders, towels, small appliances. And I think, "But these are nearly new. They're wedding presents!" Um, those would be twelve year old pans, cloths, and salad shooters, right?
Oh right.
Monday, February 13, 2006
More Amazing Discoveries
This past weekend we made a major trip to the dump--known more technically hereabouts as the "waste transfer center". We had some furniture that needed to go there. Much of our furniture was starter furniture one of us had when we got married twelve years ago, (nearly). At first we were waiting to buy new stuff until we moved into a bigger place than our first apartment. Then when we did move, we decided it was dumb to buy new furniture with a toddler in the house and a baby on the way. So until Saturday we had a bunch of 15-20 year old furniture that had been spilled on, jumped on, cat scratched, playdough encrusted, etc. It was so bad even the Goodwill did not want it. Off it went.
Underneath the furniture we found amazing things. The school library book we paid for months ago because it seemed lost forever. A mini Snickers bar with its wrapper intact. My daughter reported it tasted just fine. $1.78 in various coins. A very small but crucial piece of a Star Wars Toy that my son's best friend had lost at our place during a play date a while back. One of my earrings. Several small cat toys. Many legos. A Christian Century from October 2003. And lots of stale pretzel pieces--okay we assume they are stale. We did not taste to see.
I feel a parable coming on. The kingdom of God is like a family who looked under their furniture for the first time in six years . . . .
Underneath the furniture we found amazing things. The school library book we paid for months ago because it seemed lost forever. A mini Snickers bar with its wrapper intact. My daughter reported it tasted just fine. $1.78 in various coins. A very small but crucial piece of a Star Wars Toy that my son's best friend had lost at our place during a play date a while back. One of my earrings. Several small cat toys. Many legos. A Christian Century from October 2003. And lots of stale pretzel pieces--okay we assume they are stale. We did not taste to see.
I feel a parable coming on. The kingdom of God is like a family who looked under their furniture for the first time in six years . . . .
Thursday, February 09, 2006
That meme I don't have time to do
Hi friends. Several of you have tagged me for this meme. I just haven't gotten around to doing it. I had to pick one list to work from, but that doesn't mean I'm dissing anyone else.
The way it works. Knock the top name off the list below. Add yours to the bottom.
Anastasia
Haligweorc
Topmost Apple
Lutheranchik
Rebel Without a Pew
Tag five people for this meme
My Farcical Existence
Gannet Girl
Apostle John
A Church for Starving ARtists
Clever Title Here
And anyone else who hasn't been tagged, but wants to play.
What were you doing 10 years ago?
I was majorly burned out after 6 years as an Associate Pastor for Youth Ministry and trying to find a new call. My husband's job was not mobile at that point, so I was looking locally. I was in the middle of being rejected by twelve churches in a row in my Presbytery-- and about six months away from finally being offered an interim position at a great church.
What were you doing a year ago?
Helping my little church consider their options in the face of not enough money, falling apart building, radically changed neighborhood, and high anxiety about the future.
5 snacks you enjoy
home made cookies
Cheetos
pita with huumus
guacamole with tortilla chips
popcorn shirmp
5 Songs to which you know all the word
About 3/4 of the Presbyterian Hymnal. And zillions of others. If there is an auditory version of photgraphic memory, I have it. Or at least I did. This power seems to be waning with age.
5 things I'd do if I were a millionare
Pay off debts
Buy a house
Set up college fund for kids
Get retirement savings restarted
Give the rest away.
5 bad habits
Hair Twirling
Leaving Cabinets Opened
Leaving wet towels on the bed
Losing my keys
Creating "stacks" of stuff
UPDATE: My husband would like me to add: Leaving my watch in my jeans' pocket so that it accidently goes through the laundry and gets ruined. He just rescued my current watch at the last moment before it followed several previous watches to a watery grave.
5 things you enjoy doing
Reading
Blogging
Being with my kids
Cooking
Crocheting
5 things you would not wear again
platform shoes
micro-minis
skin tight jeans
mascara
a bikini
5 favorite toys
My laptop
My husbands picture taking cell phone
The dishwasher that the house I'm moving into has (YEAH!)
not sure what else to say. I'd like an MP3player and a new coffee maker
The way it works. Knock the top name off the list below. Add yours to the bottom.
Anastasia
Haligweorc
Topmost Apple
Lutheranchik
Rebel Without a Pew
Tag five people for this meme
My Farcical Existence
Gannet Girl
Apostle John
A Church for Starving ARtists
Clever Title Here
And anyone else who hasn't been tagged, but wants to play.
What were you doing 10 years ago?
I was majorly burned out after 6 years as an Associate Pastor for Youth Ministry and trying to find a new call. My husband's job was not mobile at that point, so I was looking locally. I was in the middle of being rejected by twelve churches in a row in my Presbytery-- and about six months away from finally being offered an interim position at a great church.
What were you doing a year ago?
Helping my little church consider their options in the face of not enough money, falling apart building, radically changed neighborhood, and high anxiety about the future.
5 snacks you enjoy
home made cookies
Cheetos
pita with huumus
guacamole with tortilla chips
popcorn shirmp
5 Songs to which you know all the word
About 3/4 of the Presbyterian Hymnal. And zillions of others. If there is an auditory version of photgraphic memory, I have it. Or at least I did. This power seems to be waning with age.
5 things I'd do if I were a millionare
Pay off debts
Buy a house
Set up college fund for kids
Get retirement savings restarted
Give the rest away.
5 bad habits
Hair Twirling
Leaving Cabinets Opened
Leaving wet towels on the bed
Losing my keys
Creating "stacks" of stuff
UPDATE: My husband would like me to add: Leaving my watch in my jeans' pocket so that it accidently goes through the laundry and gets ruined. He just rescued my current watch at the last moment before it followed several previous watches to a watery grave.
5 things you enjoy doing
Reading
Blogging
Being with my kids
Cooking
Crocheting
5 things you would not wear again
platform shoes
micro-minis
skin tight jeans
mascara
a bikini
5 favorite toys
My laptop
My husbands picture taking cell phone
The dishwasher that the house I'm moving into has (YEAH!)
not sure what else to say. I'd like an MP3player and a new coffee maker
Monday, February 06, 2006
Amazing discoveries
Today while the kids were at school, I attacked. Their bedroom. My kindergartener was home most of last week with a virus, so I hadn't had my chance to nefariously cut through their insane collection of toys and books and winnow it down to stuff they really play with in anticipation of this move. (Doing this while they are present is not possible--see blog entry below).
I had noticed recently that there was an oddish smell coming from their room--not bad really. Not an I-peed- in -my -clothes- and -have -hidden- them -in- shame kind of smell. Not an I-left-an-open-container-of yogurt- under- my- bed-two-weeks-ago smell. Those smells I would have been able to readily identify. This was sort of a sweet, nutty kind of smell. As if a house gnome were drinking Frangelica in the walls somewhere.
I was halfway to the bottom of the dress-up box when I came across a white plastic garbage bag. It was full of something heavy and the smell had grown especially strong. Dreading what I might find, I pulled the bag open. . . . . and discovered at least two hundred moldering buckeyes. The kids had collected these last fall when the buckeye trees in the park up the street were dropping their autumn load. I had allowed them to play with them for a week or so and then told them it was time to throw them away. They protested. I insisted. They agreed to pick them all up and put them in the trash. I saw them pick them up, but I did not actually watch them put the bag in the trash. My mistake.
Can you make liqueure out of fermented buckeyes??
I had noticed recently that there was an oddish smell coming from their room--not bad really. Not an I-peed- in -my -clothes- and -have -hidden- them -in- shame kind of smell. Not an I-left-an-open-container-of yogurt- under- my- bed-two-weeks-ago smell. Those smells I would have been able to readily identify. This was sort of a sweet, nutty kind of smell. As if a house gnome were drinking Frangelica in the walls somewhere.
I was halfway to the bottom of the dress-up box when I came across a white plastic garbage bag. It was full of something heavy and the smell had grown especially strong. Dreading what I might find, I pulled the bag open. . . . . and discovered at least two hundred moldering buckeyes. The kids had collected these last fall when the buckeye trees in the park up the street were dropping their autumn load. I had allowed them to play with them for a week or so and then told them it was time to throw them away. They protested. I insisted. They agreed to pick them all up and put them in the trash. I saw them pick them up, but I did not actually watch them put the bag in the trash. My mistake.
Can you make liqueure out of fermented buckeyes??
Friday, February 03, 2006
Moving Experiences
Preparing our household for our upcoming (two weeks from today) move has brought up tons of memories of moves from my own childhood. We moved when I was 1, 2, 5, 9, 12 and 16. Each move had its own set of circumstances, practically its own personality. However, there were some things each had in common.
Culture Shock: The biggest culture shock move was our move overseas when I was 16. But each relocation comes with its own culture shock. When I was five we moved from Balitimore to the Western Carolina mountains. We arrived in town a few days before our stuff, so we stayed in a motel. At the motel pool I met a girl, a bit older than I was, who warned me solmenly not to go into the deep end of the pool "cause it'd be over yer hay-id." I had no notion what part of my body my hay-id was, but I stayed away from the deep end all the same. In the morning, we went to breakfast at the local diner. My scrambled eggs came with a side dish of cream of wheat that I did not remember asking for. I put a spoonful into my mouth and discovered that this cream of wheat had a horrible, salty, soapy taste. I spit it into my napkin and tried to drown the awful taste with gulps of orange juice.
When we moved over the mountains to Tennessee four years later, it was fashion that was the problem. The girls in NC wore regular socks. Normal socks. White, cotton, cuffed above your ankle socks. In Tennessee, all the girls wore knee socks. The power girls on the playground pointed at my socks and giggled. I went home and told my mom I needed new socks. She did not see the urgency that I did. Unless your old socks were falling apart, you did not need to rush out and buy new ones. So I suffered the giggles and raised eyebrows until I got a respectible collection of knee socks and the weather got cold enough that we all wore long pants mostly anyway.
Tipping Point: The other thing I remember about moving was that there came a tipping point. A moment in time when you realized that you were living more in the new place than in the old. That your new friends became your real friends and your old friends became your old friends. When your new school became your real school and your old school became a memory, a place in your head instead of the place you wished you were. The older I was, the longer it took to get to the tipping point.
How long does it take when you are 41??
Culture Shock: The biggest culture shock move was our move overseas when I was 16. But each relocation comes with its own culture shock. When I was five we moved from Balitimore to the Western Carolina mountains. We arrived in town a few days before our stuff, so we stayed in a motel. At the motel pool I met a girl, a bit older than I was, who warned me solmenly not to go into the deep end of the pool "cause it'd be over yer hay-id." I had no notion what part of my body my hay-id was, but I stayed away from the deep end all the same. In the morning, we went to breakfast at the local diner. My scrambled eggs came with a side dish of cream of wheat that I did not remember asking for. I put a spoonful into my mouth and discovered that this cream of wheat had a horrible, salty, soapy taste. I spit it into my napkin and tried to drown the awful taste with gulps of orange juice.
When we moved over the mountains to Tennessee four years later, it was fashion that was the problem. The girls in NC wore regular socks. Normal socks. White, cotton, cuffed above your ankle socks. In Tennessee, all the girls wore knee socks. The power girls on the playground pointed at my socks and giggled. I went home and told my mom I needed new socks. She did not see the urgency that I did. Unless your old socks were falling apart, you did not need to rush out and buy new ones. So I suffered the giggles and raised eyebrows until I got a respectible collection of knee socks and the weather got cold enough that we all wore long pants mostly anyway.
Tipping Point: The other thing I remember about moving was that there came a tipping point. A moment in time when you realized that you were living more in the new place than in the old. That your new friends became your real friends and your old friends became your old friends. When your new school became your real school and your old school became a memory, a place in your head instead of the place you wished you were. The older I was, the longer it took to get to the tipping point.
How long does it take when you are 41??
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