Monday, August 25, 2008

An Unexpected Gift

I had no idea...
In the days before I'm scheduled to lead worship, I've got the song list rattling around in my head, rolling it around on the soundtrack of my life. I get to hear things God might be saying in my life through those songs that week, and I get a picture of how I think the songs might sound on Sunday. Might, just might. Just a picture.
And then this morniing we start 'Unchanging' with electric guitar and bass. Such instruments in the sanctuary would have sent the congregation into a shocked pout ten or even five years ago. But something wonderful happened.
Ben and Lex began a spin for me to float on the likes of which could otherwise only have come from Adam Clayton and the Edge. And I just rose. Up to God.

And I got to be Bono.

Of course the congregation came right along with us. Further up and further in. I knew they would. It was a sight and sound to behold.

I'm still giddy about it at one o'clock in the next morning.
Thanks guys.
Thanks, God.

Sunday, June 29, 2008


Mayflies. Gugh! If ever there were an insect perfectly made for a Hitchcock movie, "The Bugs," or a George Romero movie, "Night of the Mayfly," I've not yet met a more perfectly zombie-like bug.

I first encountered them by Lake St. Clair, Michigan, where my sister lives.

If it weren't that her Michigander husband is so nice and her children so adorable, I would never darken Michigan's door again because of those creepy floaty flappy things.Then, about five years ago, I found them swarming around the lights in the parking lot of our local shopping mall. EEEeeeeee, they followed me to Pittsburgh! It's more than the waving long tail-stinger looking thing they've got menacing on the hinter-end. It's the mindless stillness of the creatures as they cling to my windshield, or to my clothes, or to my arm. It's like they don't even know or care that they're about to be smeared by my windshield wiper - that's what they're here for. I would feel much better about sharing the world with them if I knew they were food for something noble or beautiful. Until that assurance is broadcast over the speakers in the plaza parking lot, I'm going to shudder every time I have to go pick up something at the store after 9 o'clock at night.

Friday, May 30, 2008

A little wisdom from Craig Ferguson and Eden Kennedy

Twelve minutes well spent. It's getting my day off to such a good start I had to post this now.
This is the first time I've linked to YouTube, so let me know if this did or didn't work.
Thanks to Mrs. Kennedy for the heads up. She's a wonderful writer and a wise soul.
So is Craig Ferguson!
one might consider this a twelfth step move on my part

Friday, May 16, 2008

Heading for the high seas

I'm going to sail away on this to see this !!

I won it, and I will tell more later!


Monday, May 05, 2008


I've thrown the cheeseball away and written a letter to my father. If not the best things, the next right things.

Friday, May 02, 2008

I'm a bad, bad person

I don't know what to do. I'm actually processing this out in the blogosphere before I do something about it...
I forgot my father.
O my glory, I don't know what to do! I can't bring myself to call him and tell him I DID listen to his message that he'd be in town in a week or two and we should get together, but then forgot to answer him back.
I'm afraid I've hurt him. I'm afraid he'll yell at me (because, after all, I AM still eight years old)
I'm afraid he won't talk to me. I'm afraid he'll be mean. I'm afraid he'll say I'm a bad daughter, even though I think I'm a bad daughter, I always want my parents to tell me it's ok, they still love me.
And if I were the one who had been slighted, I would forgive, but I'm afraid.
I can't believe I did this! What's THAT about??
Thank you, anonymous internet people who may only be in my mind, thank you for listening.
Now what?
I have to do something.
I can't call him, I'm afraid.
If I write a letter, that's so lame.
Maybe I could pretend it never happened.
Yeah, "My answering machine is on the fritz."
"Oh, was that you? The sound was so crackly I didn't know WHO that was!"
I'm such an ass.
It's been burning on my conscience for a week now, and that PROVES what an ass I am. I woke up in the middle of the night last night, telling myself what a bad person I am.
It's like the longer I let this go, the worse it is, and that's exactly what an addict does, digs the hole deeper and deeper for fear of having to face the pain of cleaning up. And the cleanup is never as painful as living in the hole, but it's hard to get out of the hole.
Blah blah blah.
I've got to do it.
Lord, help!

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Earth Day is EVERY day.

On Sunday mornings, the 'burgh can listen to "Living on Earth," a little radio show produced and hosted by the Mr. Rodgers of the airwaves, Steve Kerwin. He's got a strong, softly lilting voice, and a sensibility that seems to speak to me from my hopeful, activist time of my life, and reminds me that change is possible. I remember when we heard his message all over the place in the seventies, and now it's relegated to a back corner of public radio. ~sigh~ I need to be reminded and encouraged EVERY day that change is possible, that just beginning to make a connection to my neighbors or my city around taking care of the place in which we live. I'm thinking of getting my backyard neighbors together to do an alley clean-up! Our block could get together for a front yard clean up. Ok...what would this take?

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Madness! Madness, I say!

You be the judge, friends in the ether; disgusting madness.........or genius?!?

I would invent a substance that bonds with sebacious material, something that would sink into one's pores and grab hold of dead skin and dirt and oil in the skin. The substance would need to be gentle enough to the skin that it could be applied in a treatment. It would also need to be strongly enough attracted to sebacious material that it would penetrate the pores. Finally, it would need to solidify enough in a reasonable amount of time that it could then be peeled from the skin, bringing all pore contents with it, so it would need considerable tensile strength, perhaps after being exposed to 'blue light' or something that would allow it to come off without leaving ANYTHING behind.

Here's how this magic treatment would go:
Without cleansing the skin beforehand, steam lightly, allowing the skin to relax and the pores to open. The substance would then be gently brushed or sprayed onto the skin evenly and generously. Time would be allowed for the penetrating action to take place, but before the first layer dries, a second layer would be applied. During the waiting time and the following bonding treatment, ethereal music could be played, and the hands and feet could be massaged. The bonding treatment would be exposure of the entire treated area to ultra-violet light, or "blue light" like the one that the dentist uses to harden the resin he puts on my teeth when he patches a cavity. (Is that little light gun fake, or does the blue light really do something? This is actually where I got the idea!) If that isn't possible, perhaps a third layer would be applied, but this one would be the bonding agent. Or maybe a temperature change would need to happen. Then, back to the steam, whether it's a whole steam room, or a localized treatment. After sufficient time for skin relaxation and for the pores to re-open and new oil to begin flowing from the oil glands, the mask would be slowly, gently, firmly peeled from the skin, starting at the lowest part and ending with the top. The tensile strength of the bonded material would make it elastic enough that it would stretch and not pop out of the pores in a way that would widen them any further, but it would pull slowly out of the pores, not breaking, but stretching out and slipping the nasty gunk out and away. Immediately upon removal, a mist or dabbing application of a gentle anti-bacterial toner would be applied to discourage new bacteria from beginning its process again, and to encourage the tightening of the pores. A calming and nourishing action would need to take place at this time, allowing the skin's own acid mantle to re-establish itself.
How tough would that be on the skin? How readily would it release from the live skin? How long would it take? Is there even such a thing? How often could or would such a treatment need to take place?
Is this just satisfying an obsessive-compulsive fantasy, or would it really be beneficial?
If this plan were analyzed, what would it reveal about my psyche? I have no idea what the result of writing this down will be, but it had been bugging me to get out for a while.
I can imagine being contacted by the Murad people or the ProActive company or some cosmetic chemist. They'd either be asking me for copyrights or patent rights or some such thing, or suing me for stealing their intellectual property. Honest, people, this is just the musings of a girl with nagging dreams of fastidiousness and overproductive oil glands.
What do you think?

Friday, March 21, 2008

Refrigerator regulars

These are some of the things that can always be found in my refrigerator(besides the box of rotting baby lettuce - a new box every week!)Liz gave me this one. Thanks AGAIN, Liz!

1. Silk Unsweetened Soy Milk. If that stuff ever gets discontinued, I'm up a crick. I can't handle anything but the stuff in the green carton, and I'm hooked! I've been a milk drinker all my life, and I'll never go back.

2. Stonyfield Farms Yogurt. Whole milk and lowfat. The whole milk stuff is incredibly sasitfying, I just need a little bit.

3. Parmigiano Reggiano. I scrape that stuff over everything.

4. Gruyere or Jarlsberg. Gotta have either to nibble or mix in the eggs or the rice or the salad, or....

5. Diet Coke. I'm really trying to cut down to one a day. Really.

6. Home made pesto. I'm just shy of dipping the spoon in and eating it straight out of the jar!

7. A three year old cheese ball. Someone brought it to a party at the house a long time ago, and it's in a blue glass bowl in the top back. I check on it every couple of months to see if there's any mold on it yet. It's not real food, surely. It's a peverse thing now, refusing to throw it away.

8. Market District Lemon Almond Chicken salad. I pick up a pound every Sunday night, and it's lunch at school until it's gone. I'm never tired of it!

9. San-J reduced salt Tamari. That and a couple of drops of sesame seed oil and we're off!

What's in your refrigerator?

Monday, January 28, 2008

Someday my computer will come...

Ok, here's what I want to be able to do or have on my computer:
Watch movies
download movies, pictures, music
copy/create video and music and text discs
Run a weblog
Read weblogs with imbedded video
Run my Promethean ActivBoard at home
Print text in black/white and color
Watch my deaf god-daughter sign to me
Let my deaf god-daughter see me sign to her
Did I forget anything?

So, now where's my computer?
Please help!

Wednesday, January 23, 2008


My new personal photo is me with The Prince as he soaks up the love. "Aaaah, yes, this is where I should be all day, every day. In the arms of the one I love, dozing, dreaming, watching the world go by."

I just had to Bogart this from
It seems Liz and I have the same basic food loves & hates!

Love/ Hate Meme

I love to eat: Meat! I regularly need to 'rend flesh'!

I hate to eat: wet eggs - no runny whites, no French-style omelettes, cook those eggs, honey!

I love to go: out on my front porch at 6 in the morning, when all is quiet.

I hate to go: to bed with a headache, or to the grocery the day before a holiday.

I love it when: the morning is cool and breezy, and I have time to walk in Homewood cemetery

I hate it when: I'm in the house, deciding to do something constructive instead of watching an 'important' show because I've already got the VCR taping it....and later discover it was on the wrong channel!

I love to see: the ocean between 6 and 10am and 4 and 9pm, and then, of course, the moon rising over the ocean is the ultimate, night OR day!

I hate to see: garbage strewn all over the back yard after an animal raid in the alley

I love to hear: mourning doves, the 6pm chimes from the neighborhood church, "I love you!"

I hate to hear: the sound of a cat stomach retching loud enough to wake me in the middle of the night!