Happy New Year! I'm so glad 2009 is gone from my sight!
So, no big resolutions, really, aside from learning how to not have regrets and to not dwell on the painful stuff in the past. Notice I said "learning how to" 'cause I know it's a process for me. Did you make any resolutions?
No big news from my end, kittens, 'cause I'm still battling a stupid cold. I finished a truly excellent book (Marisa de los Santos' Loved Walked In) and bought a cool ottoman for my craft room, and that's about it for productivity today. I may take down the Christmas tree. Maybe. The only other for-sure plan is to go get Chinese food at some point soon. Maybe even drive to M'head 'cause the hubster has a gift card for Best Buy, plus I need an adapter so I can use a keyboard with the new 'puter (yes, it's finally hooked up, and so far, Windows 7 is not the antichrist). Why didn't I order a keyboard when I ordered the new 'puter? No clue. None. I must have been distracted by something shiny while I was --- oh look! A chicken!
*wink*
Friday, January 1, 2010
Monday, August 24, 2009
Stars on the Ground
My grandmother's service was lovely. The Methodist minister---who looked young enough to be my son---struck the right balance of humor and solace. I was so glad to hear him talk about my grandmother's love of fun, her independence, her penchant for playing practical jokes. He made us laugh, and believe me, that was a fine thing to do. Years ago, my grandmother informed us that she didn't want a lot of crying and sniffling at her funeral. She didn't really want a funeral; she wanted us to throw a big party with lots of laughter and good food and conversations about all the wacky things our family has done.
At one point during the service, I made myself look away from the beige-and-ivory marble urn that held my grandmother's ashes. I was close to losing my composure for the 987th time, so I was trying to distract myself from doing something disruptive, like howling at the sky. So I focused on the strand of trees that bordered that particular corner of the cemetery, and as I watched, a puff of wind stirred the branches and sent a handful of bright gold leaves floating free. They spun and dipped and finally settled, one by one, on the blazing green grass. They looked like stars on the ground, rare and beautiful and somehow holy.
Hours later, after everyone had left and I had let myself have a good cry in the hotel room, Robby and I went back to the cemetery. The sky was restless with heavy clouds in shades of gray and lavender. Birds sang in the darkening trees. I touched the rough curve of the family headstone and brushed bits of grass from the foot marker bearing my grandmother's name and date of birth. I put my hand on the small patch of rumpled grass and turned earth that marked where her urn now rested. The wind made the white roses on the funeral spray flutter their petals.
"I can't feel her here," I told my husband.
"Because she's not here, really," he replied. "She's busy having fun."
"Places to go, people to see," I said.
We stood shoulder to shoulder, and I tried to convince myself that crying did absolutely no good. I kept hearing her voice in my memory, the way she said my name, the way she'd laugh all the way up from her toes. It began to rain, softly at first, then with real force. The only thing I could hear was the sound of the rain on the ground and the low distant murmur of thunder.
I said good-bye to my grandparents one more time, and I left them to their quiet sleep with the rain, the trees, and the leaves like stars on the ground.
At one point during the service, I made myself look away from the beige-and-ivory marble urn that held my grandmother's ashes. I was close to losing my composure for the 987th time, so I was trying to distract myself from doing something disruptive, like howling at the sky. So I focused on the strand of trees that bordered that particular corner of the cemetery, and as I watched, a puff of wind stirred the branches and sent a handful of bright gold leaves floating free. They spun and dipped and finally settled, one by one, on the blazing green grass. They looked like stars on the ground, rare and beautiful and somehow holy.
Hours later, after everyone had left and I had let myself have a good cry in the hotel room, Robby and I went back to the cemetery. The sky was restless with heavy clouds in shades of gray and lavender. Birds sang in the darkening trees. I touched the rough curve of the family headstone and brushed bits of grass from the foot marker bearing my grandmother's name and date of birth. I put my hand on the small patch of rumpled grass and turned earth that marked where her urn now rested. The wind made the white roses on the funeral spray flutter their petals.
"I can't feel her here," I told my husband.
"Because she's not here, really," he replied. "She's busy having fun."
"Places to go, people to see," I said.
We stood shoulder to shoulder, and I tried to convince myself that crying did absolutely no good. I kept hearing her voice in my memory, the way she said my name, the way she'd laugh all the way up from her toes. It began to rain, softly at first, then with real force. The only thing I could hear was the sound of the rain on the ground and the low distant murmur of thunder.
I said good-bye to my grandparents one more time, and I left them to their quiet sleep with the rain, the trees, and the leaves like stars on the ground.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
*clutches heart*
I just saw a pic of a bebeh pygmy goat. *clutches heart* I think I'm having palpitations. The cuteness factor is overwhelming!
Life has been of the suck lately, what with family melodramas, very sick friends & coworkers, bad news on an almost daily basis. Bebeh pygmy goat pictures are good therapy for hard times. I'm just sayin'...
The hubster and I ran away from home last night. We drove to G'vegas after work just because we could. Supper at K&W, productive wallows at Kohl's, Wal-Mart (for Cricut supplies), Barnes & Noble (eeeee!), and Michael's, and then back home to a very miffed diva who let me know she was most unhappy with our extended absence by presenting her tail to me all night long. I'm learning to sleep with my head under the covers.
After taking care of altar guild duties at church, I spent some time on the front porch with my laptop (a little writing) and knitting (lap blanket). I somehow managed to purl when I should have been knitting, so I have a couple of rows of boo-boos in the blanket. My OCD tendencies voted for ripping out the blunders, but I bravely left 'em in because if I keep ripping out the blunders in all of my knitting projects, I will get NOTHING finished. So unless someone can prove that knitting blunders can cause planets to fall out of orbit, I'm leavin' 'em in.
I think we're going to watch some movies tonight, or maybe just *a* movie since we're both kind of tired. Still haven't watched Appaloosa, Becoming Jane, or Hancock (all of which we own). I bought Moonlight this weekend after getting hooked on the random re-runs on Sci-Fi; I do love me a good vampire show. So a quiet night at home, plus bebeh pygmy goat pictures: life doesn't get much better than this, eh? ;)
Life has been of the suck lately, what with family melodramas, very sick friends & coworkers, bad news on an almost daily basis. Bebeh pygmy goat pictures are good therapy for hard times. I'm just sayin'...
The hubster and I ran away from home last night. We drove to G'vegas after work just because we could. Supper at K&W, productive wallows at Kohl's, Wal-Mart (for Cricut supplies), Barnes & Noble (eeeee!), and Michael's, and then back home to a very miffed diva who let me know she was most unhappy with our extended absence by presenting her tail to me all night long. I'm learning to sleep with my head under the covers.
After taking care of altar guild duties at church, I spent some time on the front porch with my laptop (a little writing) and knitting (lap blanket). I somehow managed to purl when I should have been knitting, so I have a couple of rows of boo-boos in the blanket. My OCD tendencies voted for ripping out the blunders, but I bravely left 'em in because if I keep ripping out the blunders in all of my knitting projects, I will get NOTHING finished. So unless someone can prove that knitting blunders can cause planets to fall out of orbit, I'm leavin' 'em in.
I think we're going to watch some movies tonight, or maybe just *a* movie since we're both kind of tired. Still haven't watched Appaloosa, Becoming Jane, or Hancock (all of which we own). I bought Moonlight this weekend after getting hooked on the random re-runs on Sci-Fi; I do love me a good vampire show. So a quiet night at home, plus bebeh pygmy goat pictures: life doesn't get much better than this, eh? ;)
Thursday, March 26, 2009
The Gospel of Luke + U2
While at the haidresser's today, I caught up on some magazine reading, including a recent issue of Rolling Stone. The cover story was on U2 and their new album, No Line on the Horizon. Hie thee off to iTunes and download it; you won't be sorry.
Anyway, the RS article talked about the inspiration behind "Magnificent," one of those songs that can make you break out in wild goosebumps. "Magnificent" was influenced by the Gospel of Luke, specifically, the Magnificat, a joyous prayer told in Mary's voice. Here it is in English, followed by the Latin:
My soul magnifies the Lord,
And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.
For He has regarded the low estate of His handmaiden,
For behold, henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name. And His mercy is on those who fear Him from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with His arm:
He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He has put down the mighty from their thrones,
and exalted those of low degree.
He has filled the hungry with good things;
and the rich He has sent empty away.
He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of His mercy;
As He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to His posterity forever.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.
As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen
-*-
Magníficat ánima mea Dóminum,
et exsultávit spíritus meus
in Deo salvatóre meo,
quia respéxit humilitátem
ancíllæ suæ.
Ecce enim ex hoc beátam
me dicent omnes generatiónes,
quia fecit mihi magna,
qui potens est,
et sanctum nomen eius,
et misericórdia eius in progénies
et progénies timéntibus eum.
Fecit poténtiam in bráchio suo,
dispérsit supérbos mente cordis sui;
depósuit poténtes de sede
et exaltávit húmiles.
Esuriéntes implévit bonis
et dívites dimísit inánes.
Suscépit Ísrael púerum suum,
recordátus misericórdiæ,
sicut locútus est ad patres nostros,
Ábraham et sémini eius in sæcula.
Glória Patri et Fílio
et Spirítui Sancto.
Sicut erat in princípio,
et nunc et semper,
et in sæcula sæculórum.
Amen.
-*-
Goosebumps, I tell you.
The RS article also talked about the process of making music and how the group recorded songs all over the world, how they immersed themselves in the beauty of whatever moment moved them to song, how they sometimes took the piss out of each other when necessary. ;) U2 the group is nothing more than four men who are a welter of contradictions in themselves, from the lofty to the earthy, from the spiritual to the profane.
I just love 'em.
Anyway, the RS article talked about the inspiration behind "Magnificent," one of those songs that can make you break out in wild goosebumps. "Magnificent" was influenced by the Gospel of Luke, specifically, the Magnificat, a joyous prayer told in Mary's voice. Here it is in English, followed by the Latin:
My soul magnifies the Lord,
And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.
For He has regarded the low estate of His handmaiden,
For behold, henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name. And His mercy is on those who fear Him from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with His arm:
He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He has put down the mighty from their thrones,
and exalted those of low degree.
He has filled the hungry with good things;
and the rich He has sent empty away.
He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of His mercy;
As He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to His posterity forever.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.
As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen
-*-
Magníficat ánima mea Dóminum,
et exsultávit spíritus meus
in Deo salvatóre meo,
quia respéxit humilitátem
ancíllæ suæ.
Ecce enim ex hoc beátam
me dicent omnes generatiónes,
quia fecit mihi magna,
qui potens est,
et sanctum nomen eius,
et misericórdia eius in progénies
et progénies timéntibus eum.
Fecit poténtiam in bráchio suo,
dispérsit supérbos mente cordis sui;
depósuit poténtes de sede
et exaltávit húmiles.
Esuriéntes implévit bonis
et dívites dimísit inánes.
Suscépit Ísrael púerum suum,
recordátus misericórdiæ,
sicut locútus est ad patres nostros,
Ábraham et sémini eius in sæcula.
Glória Patri et Fílio
et Spirítui Sancto.
Sicut erat in princípio,
et nunc et semper,
et in sæcula sæculórum.
Amen.
-*-
Goosebumps, I tell you.
The RS article also talked about the process of making music and how the group recorded songs all over the world, how they immersed themselves in the beauty of whatever moment moved them to song, how they sometimes took the piss out of each other when necessary. ;) U2 the group is nothing more than four men who are a welter of contradictions in themselves, from the lofty to the earthy, from the spiritual to the profane.
I just love 'em.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Missing
Our white cat, Noelle, has been missing since Tuesday night. I was the one who let her out for her once-in-a-while front porch forays. She doesn't usually like to stay out there a long time; she prefers the security of the screened in back porch. But she had gone to the front door, mewing over her shoulder for me to follow her, and I let her out.
I forgot her. I went to bed, and Noelle stayed out all night. It was bitter cold that night. When we got up the next morning, a hard frost made the yard sparkle. When I realized what I'd done, I ran outside without my coat to call for her. It didn't take long for my hands to start to ache from the cold, and all I could think about was how her paw pads were so pink.
Robby and I spent most of the afternoons and nights that have followed calling for her---in the woods behind the house, in the overgrown tangle of Mimosa trees across the street, up and down our road. We've driven over to our old house several times in the hope that she got confused and headed for the old homestead. We've looked for a limp bundle of fur along the highway and have been grateful for its absence.
But she's still missing.
Well meaning friends have told me stories about cats who normally don't stray taking off for extended walkabouts and coming home just fine. They tell me not to give up. I'd settle for not tearing up at the sight of her litter box in the laundry room or her food and water dishes in the kitchen. I'd settle for not automatically glancing over into the spare room as I walk by with the expectation of seeing her belly-up on the bed. I'd settle for not going to the front door and peering through the kaleidoscope jumble of the leaded glass panes somewhere between five and twelve times a night.
I probably don't have to tell you how much I blame myself for what happened. I probably don't have to tell you about the what-ifs on constant playback loop in my head. I probably don't have to tell you that every time I walk past the Saint Francis statue in the flower bed, I whisper 'help' in his direction.
Maybe I should ask for Saint Anthony's help too; he's good with lost things.
Prayer for the Animals
by Albert Schweitzer
Hear our humble prayer, O God, for our friends, the animals.
Especially for animals who are suffering; for any that are
hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry;
for all that must be put to death.
We entreat for them all Thy mercy and pity,
and for those who deal with them, we ask a
a heart of compassion and gentle hands and kindly words.
Make us, ourselves, to be true friends to animals,
and so to share the blessings of the merciful.
I forgot her. I went to bed, and Noelle stayed out all night. It was bitter cold that night. When we got up the next morning, a hard frost made the yard sparkle. When I realized what I'd done, I ran outside without my coat to call for her. It didn't take long for my hands to start to ache from the cold, and all I could think about was how her paw pads were so pink.
Robby and I spent most of the afternoons and nights that have followed calling for her---in the woods behind the house, in the overgrown tangle of Mimosa trees across the street, up and down our road. We've driven over to our old house several times in the hope that she got confused and headed for the old homestead. We've looked for a limp bundle of fur along the highway and have been grateful for its absence.
But she's still missing.
Well meaning friends have told me stories about cats who normally don't stray taking off for extended walkabouts and coming home just fine. They tell me not to give up. I'd settle for not tearing up at the sight of her litter box in the laundry room or her food and water dishes in the kitchen. I'd settle for not automatically glancing over into the spare room as I walk by with the expectation of seeing her belly-up on the bed. I'd settle for not going to the front door and peering through the kaleidoscope jumble of the leaded glass panes somewhere between five and twelve times a night.
I probably don't have to tell you how much I blame myself for what happened. I probably don't have to tell you about the what-ifs on constant playback loop in my head. I probably don't have to tell you that every time I walk past the Saint Francis statue in the flower bed, I whisper 'help' in his direction.
Maybe I should ask for Saint Anthony's help too; he's good with lost things.
Prayer for the Animals
by Albert Schweitzer
Hear our humble prayer, O God, for our friends, the animals.
Especially for animals who are suffering; for any that are
hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry;
for all that must be put to death.
We entreat for them all Thy mercy and pity,
and for those who deal with them, we ask a
a heart of compassion and gentle hands and kindly words.
Make us, ourselves, to be true friends to animals,
and so to share the blessings of the merciful.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
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