artykins

I have a friend named Toby.  He's an interesting person.  Riotously funny, but quiet and sly about it.  He concluded the other day that the people who use Twitter should not be called 'Twitterers,' 'Twitterites' or 'Tweeters,' but should, in fact, collectively be known as 'Twats.'

I thought I'd share.

I also came across this in my daily surfing session and while I think that the swine flu borderline-endemic is something that should be taken with all manner of seriousness, I still maintain that humor is the best medicine around.

That said, I submit this for your enjoyment: http://xkcd.com/574/.

And with these tidbits of information for you to savor, I'm going to excuse myself and use my weights' worth of facial tissue to try and tame the allergy army that's taken up residence in my face.

- Arty

I have a friend named Toby.  He's an interesting person.  Riotously funny, but quiet and sly about it.  He concluded the other day that the people who use Twitter should not be called 'Twitterers,' 'Twitterites' or 'Tweeters,' but should, in fact, collectively be known as 'Twats.'

I thought I'd share.

I also came across this in my daily surfing session and while I think that the swine flu borderline-endemic is something that should be taken with all manner of seriousness, I still maintain that humor is the best medicine around.

That said, I submit this for your enjoyment: http://xkcd.com/574/.

And with these tidbits of information for you to savor, I'm going to excuse myself and use my weights' worth of facial tissue to try and tame the allergy army that's taken up residence in my face.

- Arty

At least 'Deadwood' is the name of Jeff's next camp.  

My brother has taken a keen interest in writing the curriculum for the summer camps our church produces.  Problem is camps have sucked for the last eight years or so.  In part it was due to lack of vision, but I think another part of it was a slump in service.  People just wanted to put on a camp for the sake of doing it, because it's what we'd always done.  Sadly, though, no one wanted to put in the work needed to create somthing truly spectacular.

To be fair, Jeff and I live in a world where we vividly remember what camps used to be like at church when we were growing up.  They were something definitely worth while and we looked forward to the time when we would get to go to camp.  We relished our time there.  But I think most importantly, we learned what it meant to defy mediocrity.

All three of us have risen through the ranks.  We were campers, then we were camp counselors, then we were lead counselors and now Jeff is camp intern.  We remember the good old days and we've watched as the camp has declined throughout the years and we've been saddened by it because it's nowhere near where it once was.  It's not able to hold a candle to its brilliance.

I know...perhaps I just remember it better than it really was.  Well, you never went to camps with me.  They were nothing short of amazing.

I tried about five years back to petition to be intern, but the powers that be shot me down as being 'too young' with not enough experience to equal my zealous and ambitious plans to return camp to where it was.  As such, I tipped my hat to the whole matter and exited the arena with a shadow to mark my defeat.

Well, five years have passed and now my brother has petitioned to be intern.  The difference is that he was accepted.  The powers that be are tired of using inferior camp curriculum and having to beg people to run it.  Thing is, I don't think the powers that be realize that if you start with dynamite material, you eventually have to turn people away because all needs are fulfilled.  People get excited about working camps that have good material to work with.  

So Jeff has written camp this year and he's experimenting with it all to see if it works.  If it does, he has another camp waiting to go and a third in the works.  Thing is, he wants me to help him co-write and run camp.  And after hearing him talk about it and after seeing this second camp he's written, I'm thinking about it.  Seriously thinking about it.

This is made even more feasible since I found out yesterday that I won't be going to grad school.  Yeah.  I know.  I'm disappointed too.  My application for admission was rejected by the school because there's no state funding coming through, which means no open position in the program I applied for.  I was telling Jeremy last night that although I'm disappointed, I've been praying all along that if God means for me not to go to grad school that He place a bar in my path.  And this is the bar.  I'm not meant to go this year.

Not going to school gives me some extra time that I didn't know whether or not I'd have.  I'm considering going to Gus and Esther and asking them if I can work part time during the summers so that I can work camp as well.  I'm not sure how well it'll go over, but it's worth a try.  It'll keep me away from Pat more than I was last summer.  And we all know how last summer went.

I dunno how it'll work.  I haven't really considered everything.  This is just an idea.

Anyway, Jeff and I spent a little time today putting together parts of the third camp today, which was a lot of fun.  All I'm going to say is that it involves wild west antics, heroes, outlaws and several forts that are sure to be attacked.

And now, if you'll pardon me, I have a lentil soup that needs some attention as well as some roasting eggplant.

- Arty

So I said I'd add a note about how my birthday went, and here I am to do just that.

Birthday celebrations started early.  I was able to sleep in until about 9ish when Matt kissed me good morning and wished me a happy birthday.  After that it was a shower and preparations for breakfast.  My dad had plans to come over.  He had early morning plans to get Jeff's car smogged and then meet up with us at the apartment for breakfast.  He also stopped by Arizmendi's and picked up three sweet sallies, which I wrapped up in tin foil and stuck in the oven to warm up.

I made juevos rancheros.  I had leftovers from Friday nights' dinner of taco salad, so I just added some fried eggs to the mix and was pretty much good to go.  I also made a homemade tomatillo salsa/sauce for Friday night that I pulled out again Saturday morning.  Between the juevos rancheros and the sweet sallies, I was one very happy and well-fed girl.

After a quick clean of the kitchen, we grabbed a few things (kites, wine, blankets, etc.) before heading out the door with my dad.  We went to NAPA Auto Parts and purchased a new window motor for my front passenger side door.  It's the third or fourth time we've replaced the sucker, and what can I say, but this: I drive a piece of crap American car.  People always say I should support my own country by buying 'homemade' cars and such.  Well, once America produces a car that doesn't break down or need fixing more often than not, I'll listen.  Until then, sit down and shut up.  I'm going to drive this current car as much as I can and then buy a foreign car.

So after the auto parts store, which Matt had fun wandering around, it was off to the house where my dad and I set to work fixing the window motor.  Forty-five minutes later I had a greasy window, but one that would close all the way.  During that time I may or may not have had a good time with some pruned Birds of Paradise.  I was also kept laughing because Jeff was weeding the rose beds and was saying 'ouch' every five seconds as a new thorn bit him.

After car fixing and wound tending it was off to Bay Street for some shopping some lunch.  For me it was Chinese chicken salad and iced tea.  Matt's gift to me was a new wallet, so we wandered into the Fossil shop and I found one that I liked.  It's worn, green leather with blue card holders and eggplant purple stitching.

Then we were off to fly kites.  The green one worked just fine until Jeff crashed it into the ground and snapped the middle support rendering it un-flyable.  Matters weren't helped that Matt and I forgot to pack ALL the supports needed for my little stunt kite, so we were out our kites.  I don't mind telling you that I spent some time pouting, but after that we spent a pretty enjoyable half hour just lying in the sun (we being Jeff, Uncle Benny, Matt and myself).

After sun soaking for a while we wandered over to Trader Vic's and we got our drink on.  Uncle Benny and I started out with something called Menehune Juice.  He had just the one drink, but I moved on to something called a Potted Parrot.  Both were seriously delicious.  Matt was faithful to the standard Mai Tai, which was created and first sold at Trader Vic's.  It's pretty remarkable that the Mai Tai has gone around the world from someplace so local.

Jeff, not being of age yet, was the designated driver.  He had a 'No-Tai-Mai-Tai' and a 'Coral Reef,' which were both actually really good.  He was just really angry with the world for not being able to have the real thing.  So he spent the time being amusingly disgruntled.

There might have been some calamari and wasabi sauce involved with drinks as well.

So after drinks, we all piled into the car to come home.  I was feeling slightly buzzed because I had nothing on my stomach and two rum-based drinks in me.  I actually am learning to like the feeling I get when buzzed.  I feel all tingly and it's actually quite enjoyable.

But I digress.

We got home and Uncle Arnie and Doug were here.  Mom and grandma were in the kitchen finishing off dinner, which surprisingly I didn't get to pick this year.  I've always been able to pick my birthday dinner, but my mother denied me that this year.  Instead I'm getting what I wanted today.  Last night's dinner was a Mrs. Knott's chicken dinner.  And it was nothing short of amazing.

Well, after so much good food there wasn't room for pie right away, so we all sat around and talked until it got late.  I packed some pie in a tupperware container and took it home to eat later.  Matt had his this morning for breakfast with some ice cream.  It's a rare treat in our house that I indulge him in once in a while.  

After a quick tidy of the apartment Matt and I sank into bed and fell asleep.

All in all, not a bad day of revelry.  Not a bad one at all.

- Arty

So I'm at work right now, listening the sounds of Lee Morgan streaming to me from the interweb and the dulcet tones of our fax machine cranking out the latest fax. I've put a fresh pot of coffee on for the staff (my faithfuls will know I don't touch the stuff because it makes me sick) and I'm beginning to get over some blues I've been feeling lately.

The blues were induced Wednesday. It was 'Administrative Professionals' day here stateside, which is the politically correct term for Secretary's Day (it's what the day used to be called back in the good old days). Well, my boss let the day come and go without so much as a word to me or to Linda. And I have to admit that I'm torn over how to feel.

On the one hand, I think I shouldn't care about it so much. I know I'm effecient with my work and I know that what I do is essential and important to every single person who works here. I have good rapport with staff and students alike. I coordinate, plan and execute every single form of testing that goes on here (which is a pretty ongoing job since there's some kind of state test given at least once a month from October through May).

Yet on the other, I find myself thinking that one day out of the year to say 'thank you for all your hard work' is more important than what I do. It at least shows Linda and me that we matter, that we're appreciated and that what we do is worthwhile. I don't think that's too much to ask.

So that fell on Wednesday and then yesterday, the boss left without so much as a word concerning my birthday tomorrow. Just left. For three days. Won't be back until Tuesday. And she didn't say one thing to me before she left. Not even goodbye. Not even, 'Hey, Arty, I'm heading out until Tuesday, have a great weekend.'

Now, you all know that cleaning is a coping mechanism of mine. I clean when I'm upset. Well, my kitchen has never been cleaner. I was in there from the time I got home from work yesterday until close to 9pm just cleaning things.

I started out with the microwave, which is set above my stove. Its placement means that it accumulates kitchen grease. You know the kind...the sticky feeling kind of grime that only lives in the kitchen where things splatter and the air gets saturated with oil over time?

So I got one of my trusty cereal bowls from the cupboard, my amazing box of Arm & Hammer baking soda and my potato sponge (which is a small yellow sponge with rough bristles on it to clean the dirt off the tubers). My method was simple enough. Add baking soda to bowl, add water to baking soda, make a paste from it and dip the sponge into it before having at it.

The first culprit was the microwave, inside it, outside it and underneath it. This was followed by my second victim: the stovetop. Now, I've always kept my stovetop clean, but I went crazy. The grills came off, the pilots scrubbed until they sparkled and the backsplash made to be so clean that I could have happily and willingly licked it, if I wanted to.

Somewhere after the pilots were made to sparkle, I had to take a break and cook some dinner. And even that was disappointing. I cooked up some halibut steaks. They were frozen and I had thawed them, but I must not have thawed them enough because after a cooked them in the pan with some butter and olive oil, I took them out of the pan and put the on a plate only to find that they hadn't cooked through properly. A steak broke in half (it being fish, this isn't hard to imagine) and it was still clear in the middle. So I put my brand spankingly new microwave to use and nuked the little fishies for a minute until they were done.

They turned out on the tough side.

I decided to make a pan sauce from all the yummies left on the bottom of the pan, so into the same pan I had cooked the fish in, went some stock, some lemon juice and some capers. After that got all happy and simmered away, butter went in.

It tasted like vomit.

I made a salad with spinach and oranges that I had lying around. So I peeled the oranges completely, spent the time getting the flesh out without the white membranes attached and made a dressing out of orange juice, olive oil, pepper and poppy seeds.

I should have added some honey. It wasn't sweet enough and just tasted like acid.

The only thing that turned out well was the rice (which I mixed with a little butter and some scallions) and the asparagus (which I just simply put in my steamer basket and let them do their thing). I pretty much subsisted off of those two items of food.

So dinner came and went. I actually cleaned the kitchen (which is normally something Matt will volunteer to do) and loaded up the dishwasher. You'd think I'd be done cleaning, but all my bad juju hadn't left me yet, so I turned my attention to the oven and broiler. Surprisingly, I didn't have the energy to tackle the inside of the oven, so the outside of the door got a massive scrubbing with the paste and tuber brush. I even got a toothpick and dug all the nasties out of the seams and crevices.

Next was the broiler, which I scrubbed inside and out, finding what looked a lot like an ancient, dried up raisin that had petrified in the heat. This didn't take much time since the broiler is small and fairly self-contained.

But wait...I wasn't done yet!

Next in the line of succesion was the light cover, which I actually don't think has seen soap or water since before the person who lived there before us was there. It's always bothered me, that light cover, with its dirt and grime, but not until last night did I actually grab a chair, take it down and clean it.

That bad boy needed a trip to the bathroom. I washed and scrubbed it in the bathtub with running water and soap, then with white vinegar and then with soap again. After that, it was just a quick dry with a couple of towels and it was good to go back up. I'm actually amazed at how much brighter it is in that kitchen with a clean light cover.

Of course, after so much action, I had to retire my tuber brush to the bin. It had lived a good life, full of usefulness and cleanliness, but there was so much kitchen grime stuck in the little fibers that I deemed it more sanitary to just get rid of the thing and buy a new one.

The last thing I did was hoover the kitchen. I hoovered the rugs I have in there (which were not surprisingly caked with baking soda stuffs that had fallen off) and then I hoovered the floor. My vacuum has a function on it that allows me to use just suction, minus the brush, to clean hardwood and other un-carpeted surfaces.

Then it was just a matter of filing off my broken nails, showering in cold water (I had used all the hot water to wet and continually rinse the rag I used to get the baking soda paste off the appliances) and sitting down to apply some nail strengthening polish before watching part of a movie with Matt and crawling, exhausted but accomplished, into bed.

So here I am today, still with lingering juju. But the good news is that some people have done a lot for me today to make me feel better. Firstly, Linda gave me a birthday present, which made me cry even before I opened it. Thanks to her, I have a pair of earrings that are really pretty and feminine. Next, Bren and his math class gave me a potted plant for my birthday with a card that they all signed. To make things better, that card is an Eric Carle card.

Hopefully the rest of my weekend will disperse this funky juju and I'll get back to normal. I don't know if I'll get a chance to blog tomorrow, it being my birthday and all, but I'll try and get something, even if it's a little something, posted.

- Arty

I've got the latest idea for a new sitcom.  I base it off of my experience last night at home.  The sitcom would be called Mosquito Hunters and it would be a lot like Psych in terms of how Gus and Shawn scream like little girls whenever confronted with a dead body or a mummy that's somehow gotten up and walked out of a mseum on its own.

The events of last night were somewhat thought provoking.  Wednesday nights are bible study nights at church and Matt and I regulars to that group.  Apart from the fact that the pages of my brand, spanking new bible were sticking together because they have never been broken apart before, the subject matter was a little heavy: do babies go to heaven when they die?

Of course, I've had a strong belief that they do because my mother strongly believes that they do, but I'm not sure where I stand now.  There's no overwhelming evidence in the bible that they all go to heaven or, on the other hand, all go to hell.  There's evidence that some do and some don't, but don't ask me to tell you where.  I'm still digesting all the information myself.

After bible study, we came home to an island delciously cooler than it has been the last few days.  We're talking at least ten degrees cooler.

Yet the mosquitos (those pesky warm weather blighters) were out in full force and had somehow managed to congregate inside our apartment.  So Matt and I did the only logical thing we could think of.  We went mosquito hunting.

Matt was the hunter.  I was more or less the spotter.  And I'm a good spotter.  My affection for the little buggers is such that I can spot one mid-flight against a varigated colored background and ruthlessly track it until it lands or flies in a spot long enough for Matt to kill it.  And when the deed was done we both rejoiced a little.  But such joy was short-lived because inevitably I would spot another one and the hunt would begin all over again.

We killed six last night.  And each time we revelled in some kind of minor glory.

In the bug world, mosquitos are right down there in the lower rungs of 'most unworthy to live' insects.  Joining them are ants, house flys and gnats (also affectionately known as midgies).  Ants because of their 'mass attack' mentality, house flys becaues of their stupidity (they spend their lives flying against screens and windows to get out, but as soon as you open the door/window to let them free, they're all over the inside of the house again making you crazy) and gnats because of the 'swarm' factor.  Seriously, who likes walking through a cloud of midgies to get to the mail box?

Surprisingly, spiders are quite a few rungs above these miseries despite my very strong dislike of them.  I suppose I see their purpose.  And hey, if spiders trap and eat things like mosquitos, they're alright in my book.

Of course, the other end of this ladder has all the lovely insects.  I think at the top, I place honey bees for the obvious reason that they produce honey.  And I'm all about honey.  Slightly below them (and only because of the creep factor I find in them) are butterflies and dragonflies.  All the other insects are mish-mashed together on the middle rungs.

So long story short, I hate mosquitos.  We're talking loathe and abhor.  But I had fun imagining that I was decked out in safari khakis with a pith helmet on.  You know...the one that looks like this: http://www.hatsinthebelfry.com/product/pith-helmet-britis....

Needless to say I slept well last night both because it was much cooler, but also because I slept soundly knowing that mosquitos would not be buzzing around.

**Interesting moquito factoid: mosquitos are more attracted to the color blue than to any other color.**

Well, that's a half hour for this morning.  I might write something else later to make up for not writing yesterday.  I was otherwise occupied.  And it was pretty great, if I have to be honest.

- Arty

Bloom

Just bloom

Lie in wait
The winter of your long, lonely life
Only to be coaxed from sleep
By that one ray

That one sunshine

Only it isn't sunshine
What you think is warmth

Isn't

I am not sunshine
I am not a cloudy day
I am not the one

And it's not my fault

You placed yourself in this soil
This earth

All on your own

You belong somewhere else
And I belong here
In my patch of dark, rich, fragrant earth 
Nurtured by my perfect placement
Kept by my perfect circumstance

Held by my perfect love

This sonnet is for him
The one who tends to me when I'm sick

The one who lifts up my eyes to sunshine
True sunshine

My earth is not yours

It is mine

And it is his

Not yours

My foundation is strong
And my roots go deep

My blood is not shared
Except with him
Whom I have chosen
Whom I would choose all over again
Every day of my life

You don't seem to understand this

And really, why should you

Perhaps I expect too much of you
Perhaps I expect understanding where there can be none

So I bloom
And you wither

You wither because you think me to be sunshine
When really I am only shade

You look to me for sustenance
Yet I can give you none

I will give you none

I have grown into a mature tree
And my branches are taking your sunlight
But it's not malicious

It just is

You just put yourself in the darkest corner of earth
Where it's damp
Where nothing can grow
Where your roots will wither and die

And you stay there
Stupidly thinking tomorrow will be better
That tomorrow with be different

And each day you die a little more

Any semblance of hope for your future dies a little more

And I urge you to move
To uproot yourself and forget the damp darkness
The hostile earth you've chosen

Unlike you, I understand
I realize that it's better to look towards the unknown future
Than to linger in the past

I will never be more beautiful than I was
At least not to you

That part of me isn't for you
That beauty unfolds in time that isn't yours

So it is that I look to the future
Forget the past
Forgive the weakness of considered choices

Bad choices

Continuing bad choices

Remember only when I look at the knots in my life
The ones that have made me stronger and taller now 

Attend to no more 

I have entered into my springtime

In accordance with last night's brainstorming, this is going to be my half hour writing fest for the day.  Of course I'll probably give myself ten minutes extra, just to get used to timing myself.

It's been a busy day.  STAR testing is coming up, which means that the state has once again mandated that every student be given a standardized test despite possible inabilities or learning disabilities.  This test will be given, taken, sent back to the state, scored and ranked.  And then we all get to hear how badly we're doing as a state to teach our children.  We'll be told that knowing full well that the people whom numbers matter to will not be taking into consideration that children with learning disabilities or physical barriers are being given the same stupid test as able-bodied children and those that have no disabilities.  Of course the scores will be skewed!  Ugh!  #$(#))!)*#*!

Anyway, my morning was spent returning a weeks' worth of emails.  I also had a phone call from a district contact that shall remain un-named because I have tact (despite his glorious ineptitude) making an excuse as to why a letter was sent out on April 7th for a portion of a state mandated physical fitness test.  This letter states that all students need to be tested between 'February 2, 2009 and April 31st, 2009' and that result should be sent back to district headquarters no later than May 2nd.  

*huge sigh*

Well, apart from the fact that THERE IS NO APRIL 31ST (!...!!!!), it was dated April 7th and received Friday the 10th.  That gives us...two weeks to do this stupid test.  Not even that.  Our school runs on block scheduling, so really that two weeks gets cut right down to four days, one of which was today...so three.  

And I got some lame, pansy-ass excuse that with district cuts, things are getting backed up.

Well, !*@($&! you, district employee who shall remain un-named!!  Get off your high-horse and volunteer to mail materials yourself a little sooner.  Do something to actually earn that big fatty paycheck you get...you know, the one that seven other people lost their jobs for so that you could stay put with your cushy salary while the lower-downs get sacked?

I detest you and I think someone should punch you in the wiener as punishment for your level of gross ineptitude.  

UGH!

*breathes*

My afternoon was much more enjoyable.  Despite my morning spent dealing with douchebag anonymous, my afternoon was spent organizing and categorizing the materials from all the districts that have, thus far, sent me STAR testing materials.  I deal with up to 15 different districts on a weekly basis and this week and the coming ones will be no different.  Talk about superhuman efforts, well this is definitely one of them.

I find the repetition of organizational work soothing.  I also find cleaning and cooking to be therapeutic.  When I get upset with something/someone, I can almost always be found in the kitchen doing this or that.  Luckily, my afternoon therapy saved my kitchen from seeing a lot of action when I got home.

It's another warm one today.  It's a little hotter than yesterday, so one of the first things I did when I got home was shower.  I've had the blinds and curtains drawn all day, so it's deliciously cool inside the apartment.  I'm not even using the oven or burners for dinner.  The only heat that will be anywhere will be the heat from my George Forman grill when I use it to make quesadillas for dinner.  Dinner, by the way, is something I'm looking forward to.  I'm really hungry this evening.

Dinner will be a combination of quesadillas with corn and black beans (there's sour cream and guacamole for the outside of the yummy beasties) and Mediterranean wraps with loads of veggies, hummus, peppered turkey and feta cheese.

Mondays are also my days to plan the weeks' dinner schedule.  I also find lists therapeutic.  There's just something about crossing something off a list that you've made...

Anyway, dinners are set and I've got a list of groceries to get from the market.  Monday nights are shopping nights.  After dinner, Matt and I clean up and head to the shops to get stuff for the week.  This weeks' list includes things like scallops, filet of sole, chicken, scallions, beans, tomato paste and shallots.  I'm making scallop piccata tomorrow night, followed by black bean soup, filet of sole with lemon peppercorn pan sauce and taco salad (yum to this last one!).  There's also some staple items on the list like eggs, Greek yogurt, apples, peppers and frozen green beans.  I'm also gonna see if I can manage to sneak some edamame into the trolley this evening so I have something to munch on mid-morning this week.

Today Matt ordered me a study bible from Amazon.  He was reading over my shoulder at intervals last night as I was blogging and I think this is his way of helping me get on with something.  I deeply appreciate it.  I'm actually kind of excited about getting it.  I've already warned Matt to not be appalled when I write in it.  It's something I do.  I like writing in books.  It makes for a great memory technique.  My college books that I kept are completely scribbled over.  My copy of The Sound and the Fury alone has enough writing in it to become a book of commentary.

Still, I'm going to try and keep my writing to a minimum in my bible.  It seems wrong, somehow, to add anything to something so perfectly written, even if it is just for the sake of my remembering.  Perhaps I'll invest in a Moleskin diary to tote along with my bible.  I have no reservations about writing in one of them!

Along with my bible, Matt also ordered me a Bento lunch box.  It's not box-like in any way, but it's inspired by the lunch boxes Japanese people carry around with them.  My dad had one when he was growing up in Malaysia.  It's like a Thermos, at least in its shape.  It has stackable compartments that you put different things in and you carry it to go.  There's a container for soup, one for rice, one for meat and one for veggies, but I doubt I'll adhere strictly to the traditional lunch items for such a box.  I see yogurt and hard boiled eggs in this compartmental future.  I, like Jed, seem to have a special place in my heart for hard boiled eggs.  And let's face it, they make a great nutritional snack in addition to being darn tasty!

I love rice.  I'm dad's girl that way, so it's a safe bet to make that I'll be keeping rice for lunches.  I also love a ginger tofu soup that I make with bok choy.  That's a safe bet for future eats as well.

Well, it's been half an hour (plus ten minutes) since I started writing and I seem to be ending on a very good note.  Food is delightful.

Oh, one more thing before I go.  I wonder, more at certain times than at others, what people would think if they knew what someone was saying to me.  Secrets aren't good for you if you plan on keeping them forever.  

- Arty 

Well, it was a beautiful day back home. A bit on the warm side, but I took refuge downstairs at the house (since it is, after all, partially underground) and pretty much passed out in spectacular nap-form. It was pretty bad. I didn't even care where I slept. I got two blankets, one folded up as a pillow and the other just loosely over me and I kind of sprawled out all over the floor. Uncle Benny was there as well and it was him that got me up.

Of course, getting me to wake up is a feat in and of itself, but I was more inclined to wake up because ass-kicking was about to commence. And by that, I really mean that since Matt and I were away last weekend, my parents decided to postpone Easter activities with their kids until we got back. That meant dyeing eggs last night and going on a massive hunt for them today. My dad, for as long as I can remember, has spent a portion of the afternoon (come Easter time) alone, hiding the eggs and then laughing at all of us as we fight over finding them.

Today it was the Js versus the Ms. Jeff, Jeremy and Jeremy's best friend, Jed, were on one team and Matt and I were on the other. My dad hid the eggs at church (which is huge and sprawling with lots of vegetation). After all, the church is in the hills, so lots of greenery and wildlife abound. I really think it's something my dad really enjoys every year. And heck, we have fun shoving each other around too.

Given that the tournament was unevenly matched, Matt and I did pretty well. We lost by two eggs, including the one Jed ate halfway through the search and rescue operation to sustain himself. His defense was that he has a special place in his heart for hard boiled eggs, which I believe. The boy comes from Italian stock and appreciates food in a manner that I find fun to be around.

Anyway, I've been thinking lately. About lots of things, all of varying degrees. Some of my thoughts recently:

- I should discipline myself and make myself sit down and write for at least half an hour every day. I've lost my spark since I left college. Well, 'lost' perhaps isn't the right word. The fire has just died down some. Of course, the discipline part also comes into play on the opposite end as well in this way: what starts out as a half hour session of writing rarely stays one. Usually, I sit down to write for half an hour and it inevitably turns into a three hour session, which usually puts me awake late at night and regretting it all the following day. So I've been thinking I should discipline myself on both ends of the spectrum and see what it produces. Something is better than nothing.

- Life has forever been changed with my cousin's death nearly a month ago. It took a much bigger toll on me than I thought it would. I don't know if it's because Jeremy is the same age as Connor was or what, but it affected me tremendously and it took (and is taking) time to heal. I was talking to Uncle Benny about that last night, how blogging just hasn't been a desire since all that happened. Even Uncle Benny, who's faithful in blogging every day when he's home, has found it hard to sit down and write.

I know he reads my blog faithfully, so I'll say this: I encourage you to make yourself sit down and blog. It's therapeutic on so many levels. Even if you don't post the blog, even if you just write it and archive it in a personal file, it'll act as a balm.

- I've been thinking a lot about my boss lately. Don't ask me why. I couldn't tell you. She's still the same person, rough edges and all, but it's been a little easier to work with her the last couple months. Perhaps it's to do with the conversation I had with her concerning her behavior and lack of predictability as a person and with her moods. Dunno. But it's been a thought.

- School. I've applied to go back to school for a graduate degree. I'm still waiting to hear about acceptance, etc. but I'm beginning to wonder if it's a good idea. On the one hand, getting it over and done with now will only benefit me in many respects. I don't have kids to contend with. I have my youth and my eagerness to learn and my ability to do well.

Yet, it's a huge financial responsibility. I haven't even finished paying off my students loans for my Bachelor's degree. I'd have to go down to part time work where I am (something I've already cleared as a possibility with everyone who would have a say in anything), which would mean less income. As it is, I'm putting away half my salary every pay period into savings, paying bills and other expenses out of the rest, which leaves me with not much to speak of. Sure, I could put less into savings, but I figure I might as well put in what I can now because I don't know what the future holds and I like the idea of having a nest egg for something if we need it.

It's also a lot of time. The time I wouldn't spend working, I'd spend studying and I'm not sure how that will all fit into to being married. If I was still single, it wouldn't matter so much. I'd just hunker down and do what needed to be done, but with a husband, I need to be attentive to him as well as other aspects of sharing a life with someone. I'd certainly have to set boundaries for my time, even though I might not get all my school work done when I'd like to.

- Brothers. Since Connor died I find myself praying more and more earnestly for my brothers, for their friends and for their choices to be guided by something bigger than any of us. It seems that even Jeff's age group has more problems than mine did. When I was in high school, not a lot was serious. I mean, tests, projects, whether or not so-and-so liked whose-its-blossom were the big things. But even Jeff's group of friends seem to have dealt with more than I did. Teenage pregnancy scares, drugs, drinking addictions, a lack of knowing how to cope with pressure, let alone comprehending the idea that it doesn't matter at all what 'he' thinks of you or what 'she' does.

Maybe it's my own personality that's different. Maybe those things were happening when I was in school. I just tended to not associate myself with those kinds of people. I didn't see the point in it. I'm just hoping my brothers will have the same common sense buried somewhere in them to make good choices.

- Spirituality. This is a huge one. I've been going to this little reformed Baptist church for a year now with Matt. I can't say I went willingly. Originally I only went because Matt went and I strongly believe that as his wife, where he goes, I will follow. Sometimes I can't help but go, I love him that much, even though it goes against my better judgment or own desires.

Well, in the last year, church has been a challenge, to say the least. I came from a fairly liberal church with no clear declaration of what it believed. I mean, it's there, written down somewhere and you can look at it if you'd like, but as a whole it's not clearly known or defined what my church believed. As a result, I have found that I'm not really sure where I stand. I have real trouble giving up my own idea that salvation is based entirely on free will and that I had the choice to either choose or not choose.

This Baptist church we've been attending disagrees entirely. They believe that God has chosen certain people to receive salvation and that despite our ability to choose, eventually those chosen can't help but believe. It has something to do with the idea that if one half is true and the other not true, then the whole thing becomes untrue. In other words, if a person is chosen from the beginning to be saved, yet actively chooses to NOT believe, then God ceases to be sovereign.

That said, my big question is this: how can a person who believes in God know for sure that they're saved?

I guess the long and short answer to that is that you can't. This calls into question the issue of trust. If I haven't been chosen by God to be saved, then according to the doctrine this Baptist church believes, there's nothing I can do about it. The thing for me, though, is how do I know one way or the other?

I just don't bother to read the Bible. I don't really bother (apart from Sunday and Wednesday night Bible studies) to think a great deal about spiritual matters. I find myself wanting to know answers and to be well-acquainted with Scripture, but I don't want to do the work. And I acknowledge this is a backwards way of thinking. Nothing in my life worth attaining has come easily. The road to marriage was long and incredibly testing with all of Matt's visa issues. My degree took what, in retrospect, seems superhuman efforts to attain. I know that fundamentally, this is no different, but I lack the desire to do the work needed to obtain a desired outcome. And I'm kind of at a loss for ideas as to what to try.

I've thought about just making myself read the Bible, but then I wouldn't know what I'd be looking for. I identify the stories clearly, but the deeper stuff that I know is there is usually lost to me. Perhaps it's just been so long since I've done it that things might have changed. I might be able to identify other stuff in there. I mean, I know I'm good at finding things hidden in text. I did really well in all my literature classes where I did nothing but read and identify 'hidden' meaning in my essays and my writing.

I think the difference there is that with texts that aren't the Bible, I see no problem in using what's there to create and argument that I can make and convince someone else of. With the Bible, it's different. You see, I believe the Bible to be a work fully inspired by God and as such, ineffably and undeniably truth, completely. I can't take it and make an argument to suit myself and what I think. What's there is there. And what's there is truth whether I like it or not, agree with it or not, believe it fully or not. It's a tough pill to take. And I can't make heads or tails of it.

I've made sense of very little of it. For instance, I had trouble swallowing the idea that God chooses certain people, not everyone. I grew up believing that Jesus died for the sins of the whole world and that it was up to us to believe and choose salvation. The doctrine I've been exposed to states that God chose a few of us for salvation and that nothing can be done about who has been chosen and who hasn't. This idea was backwards to me, but then one day I realized that it makes sense God would choose some people and not others. After all, the Old Testament is full of stories about God actively choosing Israel has His people and crushing the other nations that lived. I mean, come on...the story of Moses alone is a great example. God chose Israel, not Egypt, as His people and despite the oppression, it was Israel that saw promises fulfilled.

So how does that apply to a person? Well, I haven't been able to crack that code yet, but I think about it. After all, if I'm to believe that only some are saved, I would like to know if I'm counted in that number. And of course, for a person like me, suddenly not being sure of my own salvation is making me crazy. It's been a long road and I'm no closer to seeing an end to it than I was when I first started rolling this notion around in my head.

- Marriage. Lots of people I know have been getting married lately. The last year alone saw the marriages of several friends of mine, both here in California and abroad. Upcoming marriages are planned as well. While I'm happy for people, I find myself questioning some of them. I wonder whether or not they're doing it for the right reasons or if they're just doing it for the sake of doing it and not being alone or, better put, feeling along. I won't mention names because I have a little more tact than that, but I think those couple friends of mine in this position know who they are. I apologize if I seem harsh in saying these things, but it's been on my mind and I know that you understand how I have to have these 'purging' blogs to get things out of me.

My own marriage has been something I've been thinking of lately too. A year went by so fast. I'll be 25 years old this coming weekend, which doesn't seem possible when I really sit down and think about it. Marriage has been wonderful to and for me. Matt's incredibly good to me in so many ways, the least of which not being that he puts up with my bouts of selfishness.

I'm telling you, if you want to realize just how selfish you are, I recommend marriage hands down.

- Bed. Well, it's not something I've been thinking about lately. I go to bed every day, sometimes more than once (if I'm lucky!), but at the moment, it's something I'm thinking about because I'm tired. And despite my wishes to have more time to myself and with Matt, both of us have to go back to big, bad work tomorrow. After all, we need to earn a crust to live on.

Goodnight, loves! Sleep well!

- Arty

So, this is really just a quick note to say that I'm back from a much-needed, much-enjoyed holiday.  Matt and I went north and spent the entire time within spitting distance of the Pacific Ocean.  It made for some wonderful scenery, even though it was on the chilly side.

Some highlights:

- Getting an early birthday present from Matt.  He gave me a new kite.  My old one is waiting on a new wooden dowel so that it can fly again, but in the meantime I tried to get the hang of this new one.  It's a stunt kite, so it had double lines and it took a while to get used to.  Of course, the one time I finally felt like I was getting the hang of it, I found myself within substantial distance of some serious power lines.  Needless to say, as soon as I realized the potential for danger, I somehow made the kite do crazy twists all the way to the ground.  That part was cool.

- Driving up Highway 1 all the way to Leggit and driving through the Chandelier redwood tree (the tree is huge and you can fit a car through it).  Whilst there, we stopped in at the little shop...only it took some thinking to get inside.  You see, a goose of some kind had taken up residence in front of the door and was staring in as if it wanted something.  Luckily I figured out that our car horn agitated the goose enough to go away long enough for us to sneak inside.

- Discovering raspberry bark.

- Seeing deer just outside our cottage windows.

- Seeing a jack rabbit, for what I think is the first time in my life.

- Glass Fire Gallery.

- Harvest Market.  This is hands down the BEST market I've ever had the pleasure of going to.  And that decision includes the Berkeley Bowl.

- Wandering along a beach (you can take your pick of them up north!) and happily spending the better part of two hours searching for and collecting sea glass.

- Seeing the ocean actually be several shades of blue.  I forget living on a bay that the water is so blue beyond what I normally see.

- Stopping in old town Petaluma on the way home for what I'm convinced is the world's BEST hot dog.  Personally, I think the owner of this little deli has magic.  He's possibly the nicest man I've ever bought food from.

- Having a kitchen in the cottage.  It meant I could cook!

- Making Matt and traditional spinach salad with bacon drippings, Dijon mustard and some red wine vinegar.

- Getting a necklace to commemorate our first anniversary.  It's been over a year now that we've been happily hitched.

- Coming home to FABULOUS water.  Up north we were actually on a well water system, so we didn't want to drink it and it was very hard on my skin.  Not a fan of the water.

- Coming home to family.

- Coming home to my own bed.  One that isn't all squishy and soft, but one that's firm and covered in familiar, soft sheets.