Good Friday

One of the most sacred days of the year for Christians.  The day we are reminded of the cost of our behavior.  Or it should be.  So many who profess to be Christian ignore this day, treat it as just another day.  Easter becomes the sole focus, and too many churches support the "eggs and bunnies holiday."  I am not saying that we should ignore the secular traditions, but at least at church, the focus should be on the reason for the holiday.  People make mistakes.  Big ones.  They cause each other pain.  They cause their Creator pain.  In our faith tradition, our Creator decided that instead of wiping us out completely, He would offer us a chance to start over.  A sacrifice for the sorrows caused, and He provided the sacrifice of His own flesh. 

This faith should make a difference in our behavior.  Oh, yes, we are still human, we will still do things we should not, and fail to do things we should, but the fact that we know we are loved so deeply, so completely, should make a difference in our attitude toward life and the other people in it.  The knowledge that God loved us enough to provide us a way past the just consequences of our naturally awful behavior ought to make us more tolerant of others, more forgiving.  Sadly, these days, it seems to make many "Christians" smug, and INtolerant.  It makes them feel justified in their judgement on the behaviors of others that they disagree with.  Nowhere evident is the love that Jesus preached, nowhere seen the kindness that He displayed. 

A few churches DO practice what Jesus taught.  Even stuffy old staid institutions like the Episcopal Church.  They gladly serve the poor, welcome ALL into their churches, value the service and faith of all people who come in sincerity to worship.  Even in the Roman Church, these days, the new Pope is showing an astounding tendency to act more like Jesus than like the Pope.  He goes to the poor, the suffering.  He desires not to live in the posh surroundings his predecessors have enjoyed.  He reaches out in genuine love to those who need it.  Such an example is needed by all who call themselves Christian these days.  We live too much in the isolation of our modern world, too ready to judge others based on our little list of "appropriate" behaviors and beliefs. 

On this day, more than on all the others of the year, Christians, we must hear and OBEY the words our Lord said to us:  "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.  This is the first and great commandment.  And the second is like unto it:  Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.  On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets."

Before we rejoice in the victory that is Easter, let us remember the cost of our salvation and what He who paid that cost actually asked us to do.  Difficult, isn't it?  So very hard to love our neighbors, especially when they might disagree with our particular take on things.  Hard for me to love those who seem to spread hate rather than love, but how else to make them see the Truth, than to meet their ugliness with the beauty of love?  It is a difficult thing to live as we are asked, as we should live, in order to see that all are included in the prosperity and joy of this life.  May God help all of us, no matter our faith, to find the love in our hearts, and to have the courage to share it.
Peace to you, and joy in this season.

Exploring My Bookshelves

Your choice of books may say a lot about who you are.  Let's see what we find on the bookshelves in my office.

Top shelf, between doors.

On the top shelf, right inside the office door, you can see the first of my writing-related reference books.
Style manuals, Spanish and German phrase books, a grammar text, (autographed by the author, who was one of my professors at Cal Poly, by the way), and a thesaurus.

Second Shelf, between doors.

Third Shelf, between doors.

 On the second shelf, you find various sorts of dictionaries, a Portable Dorothy Parker, a book of quotations, and books about the writing process.


On the third shelf, there are more grammar books, books on writing, exercise books for writers,  and a couple of musical notation dictionaries. 

Fourth Self, Between Doors

Fifth Shelf, Between doors.

 On the fourth shelf, more dicitonaries, more exercises,  and more books on the writing process.

Bottom Shelf, Between doors.

Top Shelf, Rattan bookcase.

Second Shelf, Rattan bookcase.

Third Shelf, Rattan bookcase.

Fourth Shelf, Rattan bookcase.

Bottom Shelf, Rattan bookcase.

The fifth shelf has my favorite book on poetry appreciation and writing,  Frances Mayes' The Discovery Of Poetry.   The bottom shelf also has books on the writing process. 


The rattan bookcase, next to the settee where I read most often, has many foreign language learning aids, including my Greek New Testaments and my copy of Chase and Phillips.  The second shelf is primarily poetry, and the third shelf has Shakespeare, Bullfinch, Bartlett's and some miscellaneous books on books and reading.

The fourth shelf holds some writing references, some literature guides, and some biographies and collections of letters.  The bottom shelf of this venerable bookcase holds an assortment of travel books, nonfiction books, and collections of quotations. 

Top Shelf, next to desk, front layer.

Top Shelf, next to desk, back layer.

The tall bookcase/cabinet next to my desk holds two double-stacked shelves of books.  The front layer of the top shelf had some dvds as well as my collection of Sorche NicLeodhas' Scottish story
 books.  All the Harry Potter books are here as well.

The back layer of that shelf holds my favorite translations of the Illiad and the Odyssey - the ones by Fagels.  Also, all the Bloom County books, some craft books, and Sew Easy To Kill, by Sarah J. Mason, who used my name for a character that does not actually appear in the story, and my nickname as the nickname for the student's of the school the story is set in.  Sarah and I were pen-friends for quite a while.  She also had Schipperke dogs, and we share a fondness for the breed in general. 

The second shelf on that cabinet, I did not separate for the photo.  The front layer has my collections of prayers, the Book of Common Prayer that I carried in our wedding.  (In it's protective blue box.  The book is white.)  The Anne Lamott books are here, as well as the Jan Karon Mitford books.  There is also a stack of various novels, some I have read, some not yet.  The majority of the back layer are herb books and gardening books. 

Second shelf, next to desk. 

 All those books on writing might lead one to believe that I actually write.  Well, I do sometimes.  I have been fascinated with the process of getting images and stories onto paper for years. I have spent a lot of time reading about how others get their ideas out, the advice they share with those who would also like to write. 
Folk stories, and tales based on them are a large part of my collection.  Sorche NicLeodhas wrote Scottish stories of the sort that are told and re-told over and over at Scottish family gatherings.  Some of these stories are very old, with versions going back for centuries, some are newer, being the inventions of more modern storytellers.  All are enchanting, filled with ghosts, and mysterious happenings.  
The language books come from the time I was a bilingual teacher, and from the need to learn German when we were PCS'ed to Rhein-Main.  I also have a French dictionary because I sometimes have to sing in French.  Italian seems to come fairly easily, so I don't have an Italian dictionary in my collection.  The Greek books are from the Elementary Ancient Greek class I took in college as a favor to the professor.  He needed enough bodies in the class to keep the section open, and I needed an upper division language elective.  He got it accepted by the Dean for me.  The Latin books are just for fun, and because we sing so many anthems in Latin at church.    If my closet were not such an awful disaster right now, I would post pictures of the books on the shelves in there.  There you find most of my children's literature, my music books (at least those not currently following me to and from lessons) and my books on dog training.  Also some text books from my grad school days on reading comprehension and computers in the schools.  There are a number of poetry collections on my rattan bookshelf (which followed Matthew home from the Philippines, by the way).  There is a collection of Burns and a copy of the Carmina Gadelica.  Both can be challenging to read.  I do have a complete works of Shakespeare, though I have not spent as much time with it as perhaps I ought.  One of my favorite books is the Letters of E.B.White.  They show his humor and his humanity and are a joy to read. 
Most of the series mysteries I read, I have on my Nook.  There are some copies of Dorothy L. Sayers and other series mysteries I like on the shelves in the living room and in my nightstand.  Both locations rather difficult to photograph. 
All in all, I guess these bookshelves tell us that I am an eclectic person.  Which is true.  Also eccentric, somewhat ego-centric, and at times erratic. 
As much as I enjoy my Nook, I find the presence of actual books necessary.  They make any room more comfortable to me.  As long as I am not responsible for checking them in and sorting them.  Then they can make me anxious. 
Look around you at the books and things you surround yourself with.  What do you think they say about you?








 

The 21st Century Addiction

These days we have so many demands on our attention.  There are so many different types of news, entertainment, and activities vying for our time.  Many of us experience extreme anxiety if we have to be without our small electronic connections to the wider world for more than an hour or two. 
Many words have been written about this addiction of 21st century Americans, and many have advocated "unplugged" days, or even weeks.  It is startling to think that as little as two years ago, I would not have thought anything of going for days without even looking at my cell phone.  (I didn't get a smart phone until about 2 years ago.)  I used my computer daily, and I had a Nook Color e-reader that I used extensively.  (But mostly OFF-line, as a reader.) 

Today, I have the three electronic devices you see in the picture.  A Nook HD+ e-reader, my Android phone, and this absolutely unbelievably fast computer that I fear may be smarter than I am. I can easily spend HOURS involved with any of these devices.  Some days, I spend hours looking for and re-reading fan fiction stories, checking my email, checking social media to see if anyone has anything to say, and just generally wasting time.  Occasionally, I sit down here and actually write, or I actually write something in one of my notebooks that I can tweak and maybe use later.  I do also use my e-reader to read books.  I have several I am currently reading.  Just finished December's Thorn by Philip DePoy.  That series of mysteries featuring Fever Devlin are very interesting reads.  The character is a folklorist, and the stories all have their familiar elements.  Also, the fact that crazy seems commonplace in the South rings true to those of us who have Southern families with stories about some of the distant relatives...

My poor husband is about at the end of his patience with me disappearing into one or the other of these devices for hours on end.  (Never mind that he has had his spells of doing the same thing...)  It is true that all of this "connectedness" with the wider world seems to be making relationships in the here and now more difficult.  I cannot count how many people come to my desk at work while on their cell phones, and try to have a conversation with me about their account as well as a conversation with whomever is on the phone.  People walk through public places having rather personal conversations at a rather loud volume, completely oblivious to those around them.  Manners seem to have gotten lost somewhere along the line.  I try to be conscious of my surroundings when I am out and about.  I usually leave the cell phone in my purse unless I am stuck waiting in an office somewhere for a long period of time.  Where I grew up, being unaware of your surroundings was a good way to end up severely injured, if not dead. 

Why is it SO important that we stay "in touch" at all times these days?  Can we not go out to run errands or just to stroll around on a lovely Spring day without taking the cares of the world with us?  There is no one I need to talk to so badly and so often that I must have my phone glued to my head at all times.  My husband knows where to find me if he needs me, so do my coworkers and friends, so I don't need to worry about being  "unavailable."  I really worry about the kids I see walking around, and some, indeed, driving around, with that ever present phone either in their hands or in their ears.  People my age are little better.  Perhaps some are worse, because at our age, fingers and eyesight do not cooperate as well as they once did, and multitasking becomes a bit more of a challenge. 

My body is starting to suffer from all the sitting around staring at screens.  I get aches and pains from being in the same position too long. I am not in the same shape I was in two years ago.  Time to unplug for at least awhile and start doing the workouts EVERY DAY again.  I did that today.  Did my weight workout AND took my walk.  Physical workouts should also help my voice.  Must have strong abs to sing properly, and also the stamina gained from aerobic exercise is extremely valuable to a singer.  With a concert of opera arias, duets, ensembles and choruses coming up in Master Chorale, I need to be in top shape.  (I like singing opera better than church music anyway, and I DO sing out when I sing an aria.)  I and another student of Karen's are learning a duet to sing, and I'd like to do a duet with Matt if I can.

So I have plenty to keep me busy if I "unplug" for awhile.  If I decide to try it, I'll write about how it goes. 

An Obsession?

There are far too many clocks in this house.  Especially if you count the ones on the appliances.
My affinity for timepieces seems to have come from my Pop.  He always liked clocks, too.  My friend Melodie can't stand the sound of ticking clocks.   Needless to say, she doesn't spend much time at our house!  There are at least 19 clocks in this house, if you count those on appliances.  Many of these are analog clocks that tick.  Some of them must be wound daily.  (At  least the cuckoo clock is no longer with us.  I loved it, but I did get sick of that little bird and hearing "Happy Wanderer" every hour.) 
Perhaps I am obsessed with the passing of time?  I always have a lot of calendars in the house, too.  Many of those I buy for the changing artwork as much as for their function as a calendar.  Many of my clocks are artwork of a sort, also. 
It's just that for all this attention to keeping track of the here and now, I find that time escapes me somehow.  Years have flown by, and I can't for the life of me imagine how so many of them have gone.  How can I possibly be in my 50's?  I still feel like I'm about  25 or 30, at least mentally.  Physically sometimes, I am pretty worn out.  But not always.
At any rate, here is a random tour of the timepieces in our house:

This is the bird call clock in my office.  When there is enough light to trip the sensor, it plays a different bird call each hour on the hour.  I've had this clock for more than 15 years now, I just realized. 

This is the clock in the hall between Matt's office and mine.  This one replaced the cuckoo clock.  It does not chime.

This clock is one Matt ordered with the logo of his Barbecue Competition on it.  It's in his office.

This little clock is in the main bathroom.  On the vanity, so I can see it when I am getting ready to leave for work.  I thought it was a neat little clock.  Bought it at a neighbor's garage sale.

This is one of the hand-wound alarm clocks I use mainly as decoration.  I often forget to wind it.

This clock is on the end of the pantry that separates our kitchen and dining area.  This clock has been in our household since before Matt and I were actually married.  It was beside the front door of our first house, in the dining room in the German apartment, and has been on this wall since 1993 when we moved here.  It still keeps excellent time, and I check it often when getting my breakfast to make sure I am not running late.

This clock is a reproduction of the face of an antique grandfather clock.  I bought it to put in the entry hall of our German apartment, and now it is in the entry hall here.  Again, since 1993 when we arrived here.  Still keeps pretty good time.

This one was a kit that I stitched and assembled.  I bought it in Germany, but made it up after we got here. (It's the one I forgot to set last night.)  Matt uses it to keep himself on schedule when assembling himself for work in the morning.

This anniversary clock is one we bought on sale at the BX at Rhein-Main Air Base in Frankfurt, Germany.  It used to live on our dresser, but since the Westminster Chimes that it plays are a little much what with the train noise around here, we put it in the living room.  It only chimes on the hour, and strangely enough, is not terribly noticeable when watching TV. 

This one is now in the hall on the other end of the house.  Purely decorative at this point, but it does still keep good time.

This is the clock that now lives in the laundry room.  I chose it because it is easier to read when you stick your head in the garage door to check the time while working out there.

Of course, this is the alarm clock that wakes us up every morning. 

And here is the clock that recently died.  It is in the dressing area of our master suite.  I liked it, but had to get a very plain replacement for it.  Will have to find something more suitable eventually.

And finally, here are all of my watches.  I don't wear them any more, mostly because every last one of them needs a new battery.  I really like my watches, but I seldom NEED a watch anymore. 






So, you see, in our house there is no excuse for not knowing what time it is.  (And this doesn't even include the appliances with clocks, or the little extra clocks scattered around that are often used as timers.)  Perhaps I am just paranoid about being late.  My Pop was ALWAYS early, everywhere he went.  (He even died early, if you ask me, but perhaps there was a reason for that, and God didn't ask me, in any case.)  I picked up on his sense of urgency about making appointments in good time.  Hence, I, too, am often early to places I am supposed to be. 
At any rate, twice a year, I hate myself and my clock obsession.  It is worse in the Fall, since it takes longer to set clocks back than to set them forward, but there is the added bonus of getting that hour"back" that helps ease the inconvenience.
Since the clocks around me are now telling me it is Midnight, I guess I had better call it a night. Ugh.  Monday.  Oh, well.

Making Pictures With Words

I follow someone on Twitter who is an artist.  Sometimes, he shares images of his art.  He uses color, and shape, and texture to communicate emotions.  He is pretty good at it. 
I am a bit of an artist myself when I set my mind to it.  I paint pictures with words.  Sometimes I share the word pictures here or on Facebook.  I don't know how good I am at it, really.  I get some positive feedback, but I am one that tends to doubt myself, and so I attribute that to people "being nice."  Musical expression can also be a way of "painting."  One uses dynamics and in opera, anyway, the addition of little ornaments to make a piece more dramatic, or more comical.  Usually, the composer sets these out for you, but over the years, many great singers have made certain arias their own, and their ornamentation tends to become "standard".
  Back to painting with words.  I have done many poetry exercises that ask you to use words to literally describe a scene.  In this first one, you are given a word and then asked to list things that the word brings to mind that describe the sensation, feeling, or object.

Speed:  swallows racing, air rushing past my ears, Michael Schumacher driving.

Orange:  Tangerines in a green glass bowl, Autumn leaves, Oklahoma clay baked in Summer sun, a traffic cone.

Fear:  Ice water poured on your head, The air being sucked away from you, falling and falling with nothing to catch hold of.

Greed:  The kid who won;t share his toys and takes yours, too.  SUV drivers who use 2 lanes at once, the dog who tried to keep more tennis balls than his mouth will hold.

Yellow:  Morning sun, an oriole, mustard.

These associations mean something to me because of experiences I have had.  Others will have different images, but they should mean enough to all of us to transmit the feeling desired.  I particularly like my ice water poured on your head image for fear, because that is exactly how it feels to me when something REALLY scares me.  Cold dread starts at the crown of my head and flows over my whole body.  Like ice water.  My whole being experiences the fear.

Here are a few other images gleaned from exercises:

The moon, broken off like a discarded dinner plate.
A red flower, brilliant as the sequins on a diva's gown.
Her fingers, delicate as hummingbird wings.
The island stretches out from the coast like a yogi embracing dawn.
Your backbone, ridged like an old washboard.
Soft as a baby's kisses.
The bicyclist, careening down the hill like an avalanche.
Crazy bird!  It's song like the grate of a rusted roof turbine.
His monotonous voice, like the drone of a thousand computer (cpu) cooling fans.
She spun off like a new series from an old sitcom.
Days pass like the freight trains speeding through town.

Teeth of a comb, feet of a chair, head of cabbage, hand of bananas, hair up in a "bun", Rabbit Ears on old TVs, Heel of bread, eyes on a potato, hands on a clock.

Some of those are fun, some I could probably come up with better images if I sat and thought about it long enough.

Here is a little composition I wrote almost ten years ago about a typical morning for me.

Alarm blare
of radio news
A chattering background
As I shuffle to the bathroom
Where light stabs my eyes
And I struggle awake
With water, soap and toothpaste.
With whiny impatience
The dog awaits release from
His kennel so he
May complete his morning
Requirements
Of excretion and exercise.
The cat stares her displeasure
Upon us all
For her dish is bereft of food.
I set about, once dressed,
As a great fixer of
Domestic calamities
Such as these
Restoring order to bedclothes
and tabletops
Feeding the starving
And waking the house for a new day.

These days, there is no dog, and the radio is usually blasting classical music from KCSC.  The morning routine now also includes turning on the cell phone so I won't have to wait for it to boot up when I am ready to go walk.  It's pretty fast, but still , once I'm ready to go, I'm ready to GO, not fool with my phone.
At any rate, I am now weary and achy and feeling almost all of my 53 years.  Time to go try and sleep. 
Try some word pictures of your own.  It's fun.

Too Many Distractions

Writing every day is a discipline  that eludes me quite often.  There are simply too many other bright and shiny things going on that do not involve staring at the blank screen and trying to find something worthwhile to write.
There are also worries to distract.  The cat is not behaving normally, and is not eating as she should.  This is troubling, not only because it could be the sign of a very serious problem, but because that cat has always been the routine, the one demanding that household order MUST continue no matter what the silly humans involved believe.  She has always been a motivating force, our Madame.  The vet wants to see her again, and we are to call if anything new is going on before then, but my husband does not want to wait.  He thinks we should get the x-rays now, so we know what we're up against.  Poor kitty Skye is napping and pestering, but not as much pestering or playing as usual. 
The economy in general going to you know where in a handbasket because of our demented Congress isn't helping. 
My husband has been bitten by a spider of some sort, and has an infection from it.  This involves antibiotics and also a small bit of wound care.  (Which he can't do himself, so I get to do it.  He's a very brave man to let my squeamish self take care of him.  I can handle it, usually,quite calmly and efficiently, but on the inside, I am cringing and saying "Eeeek!")

There is a vague sense of doom overlying a lot of life these days. Or maybe we just feel that way because we've been rehearsing two Requiems since January.  The music is beautiful, but the subject is a bit depressing.  Tomorrow is the concert, and we can bid farewell to Mr. Rutter's Requiem, and the arrangement he did of the Faure Requiem.   Next on the concert agenda for Master Chorale is Opera choruses and arias.  Matt and I are pretty good at a few arias and duets.  My voice seems to like Mozart.  Opera at least should be fun and diverting in a good way. 
Also, it IS Lent, after all.  A somber season for those of us in the more Liturgical Christian denominations.  That is why the two Requiems are very appropriate to sing right now.  Rest eternal grant them.   Light eternal shine upon them, and give them peace.  We have lost many in this country lately to disaster and tragic acts.  For me, tomorrows concert will be a chance to ask for peace for those who were lost in hurricane Sandy, in Sandy Hook, and others we have lost in more common ways. 

I also have a newer version of the Nook reader to play with.  It is more of a tablet than the Nook Color ever was, and I have been having fun getting to know it.  The latest of the Psalm 23 Mysteries is out, and I devoured that on my new Nook in a couple of hours.  I do that to find out what's going to happen, and then I go back and really enjoy it, soaking in more detail.   I am now hoping the next one comes out on time, because I really, really want to know what happens now.  
I have worked a little with the Bodhran, trying to find a way to get it tuned right so it isn't so strident.  (It involves figuring out just how much to dampen the drum head with a moist paper towel to get the desired mellower tone.  It has been very dry lately, and the skin on the drum head is very taut. Too much so.) Figuring out how to strike the drum correctly with the tipper is also proving a challenge.  Going to have to spend a lot more time with the dvd going over that.
So, as the birthday vacation draws to a close, I have had the chance to have at least a little fun, and I have learned a little something.  All in all, it's been a pretty good week, on balance.