briary

Because Pascal's Too Good to Keep to Myself...

2009-01-31T00:02:00.001-05:00

"There is no better proof of human vanity than to consider the causes and effects of love, because the whole universe can be changed by it. Cleopatra's nose."

Pascal...

2009-01-29T23:14:00.002-05:00

"It is not man's nature always to go in one direction; it has its ups and downs. Fever makes us both shiver and sweat. The chill is as good an indication of how high the fever will go as the heat itself."

"Nothing strengthens the case for scepticism more than the fact that there are people who are not sceptics. If they all were, they would be wrong."

"One must know oneself. Even if that does not help in finding the truth, it at least helps in running one's life, and nothing is more proper."

Unembarrassed

2009-01-28T09:26:00.005-05:00

John Updike had issues, but he did not "mock God with metaphor," which is more than can be said for many squeaky-clean writers. The world needs more men who are not "embarrassed by the miracle."

"For now we see in a mirror darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know fully even as also I was fully known."

HT: World

Reading 2008

2008-12-31T21:15:00.007-05:00

Book blogs are the enemy of reading. I discovered several fascinating blogs this year and spent hours enamored of reading, listing the books I wanted to read, and reading others' lists.Imagine my surprise when I realized that I had frittered away precious reading time staring at a computer screen. Apparently I was getting all the warm, fuzzy, readerly feelings without the commitment of turning pages. Sad. Goal for next year: Read less about reading and simply read.

Books read this year:

1. Your Home a Lighthouse, Bob and Betty Jacks
2. The Compleat Violinist, Yehudi Menuhin
3. Wives and Daughters, Elizabeth Gaskell
4. Epic, John Eldredge
5. Recapture the Wonder, Ravi Zacharias
6. Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
7. The Mysterious Mr. Quinn, Agatha Christie
8. Why Didn't They Ask Evans, Agatha Christie
9. Hind's Feet on High Places, Hannah Hurnard
10. The Mayor of Casterbridge, Thomas Hardy
11. The Careful Use of Compliments, Alexander McCall Smith
12. Normal Kingdom Business, Andree Seu
13. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
14. The Portrait of a Lady, Henry James
15. Surprised by Joy, C. S. Lewis
16. While Still We Live, Helen MacInnes
17. Gaudy Night, Dorothy Sayers
18. A Chance to Die, Elisabeth Elliot
19. Do Hard Things, Alex and Brett Harris
20. Five for Sorrow, Ten for Joy, Rumer Godden
21. Peace Like a River, Leif Enger
22. Epic of Gilgamesh
23. Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
24. Beowulf, trans. Sean Heaney
25. *Adam, Ted Dekker
26. Freedom of a Christian, Martin Luther
27. The Prince, Machiavelli
28. So Brave, Young, and Handsome, Leif Enger
29. The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, Alexander McCall Smith
30. Without Fail, Lee Child
31. The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell
32. Walking on Water, Madeleine L'Engle

*Edit--I forgot to add The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett and the Socratic Dialogues by Plato.

And, of course, the Bible. Mostly ESV this year.

Next year, dv: More Malcolm Gladwell and Madeleine L'Engle. Wendell Berry, Willa Cather, and Walker Percy. Lots of children's lit. Milton. C. S. Lewis. Watchman Nee, John Piper, and Neil T. Anderson. Maybe some college text books, if I feel like it...

Thanks to my fellow readers who have inspired and intrigued me with their reading and who have listened to me rant about books and ideas by the hour. Happy New Year.

Breadth

2008-12-11T21:53:00.000-05:00

*I wrote this awhile back and am posting this now while in the midst of finals to remind myself why I like my school and my major.

Some of you have probably heard me rave my Schaeffer inspired ravings about Christianity and culture. You've heard me rant that "Christian music" and "Christian fiction" are not confined to Janette Oke's novels or to WOW Worship music, although they have their place. You have probably accidentally started me going on this topic and have been unable to stop me....

This subject is one I am passionate about, and yet, I have had a little bit of a problem. I haven't attained a level of excellence myself in any of the fields I want to see changed. I can write, but not better than those I critique. I can play the violin, but not exceptionally well. I don't know how to draw, though I am trying to learn. I do want to excel in each of these areas, though, and that is the problem. I am hungry, so hungry, to learn more about each of these and other fields, that I hate the idea of specialization, because I want to learn EVERYTHING!!! (yes, I have a problem.)

This inconsistency--craving excellence and yet hating the focus and specialization required to attain it in any given area--- has bothered me. Or at least it did bother me until I read the following excerpt from G.K.Chesterton's book What's Wrong with the World.

Note: I was going to put a whole lot of disclaimers here, in case I make someone mad with my anti-feminism, but I'm not going to bother with any, except for this one stating that I thought of it. Oh, and this isn't a cop-out either. I still believe in working hard.

In other words, there must be in every center
of humanity one human being upon a larger plan; one who does not "give
her best," but gives her all.Our old analogy of the fire remains the most workable one.
The fire need not blaze like electricity nor boil like boiling water;
its point is that it blazes more than water and warms more than light.
The wife is like the fire, or to put things in their proper proportion,
the fire is like the wife. Like the fire, the woman is expected
to cook: not to excel in cooking, but to cook; to cook better
than her husband who is earning the coke by lecturing on botany
or breaking stones. Like the fire, the woman is expected to tell
tales to the children, not original and artistic tales, but tales--
better tales than would probably be told by a first-class cook.
Like the fire, the woman is expected to illuminate and ventilate,
not by the most startling revelations or the wildest winds of thought,
but better than a man can do it after breaking stones or lecturing.
But she cannot be expected to endure anything like this universal
duty if she is also to endure the direct cruelty of competitive or
bureaucratic toil. Woman must be a cook, but not a competitive cook;
a school mistress, but not a competitive schoolmistress;
a house-decorator but not a competitive house-decorator; a dressmaker,
but not a competitive dressmaker. She should have not one trade but
twenty hobbies; she, unlike the man, may develop all her second bests.
This is what has been really aimed at from the first in what
is called the seclusion, or even the oppression, of women.
Women were not kept at home in order to keep them narrow;
on the contrary, they were kept at home in order to keep them broad.
The world outside the home was one mass of narrowness,
a maze of cramped paths, a madhouse of monomaniacs.
It was only by partly limiting and protecting the woman that she
was enabled to play at five or six professions and so come almost
as near to God as the child when he plays at a hundred trades.
But the woman's professions, unlike the child's, were all truly
and almost terribly fruitful; so tragically real that nothing but
her universality and balance prevented them being merely morbid.

This is why I am majoring in "classical liberal arts," PHC's education major designed to train students to write curricula, teach at classical schools, or homeschool. This is why I am going to college--to learn to be a better mother. I believe my craving for a breadth of knowledge is God-given and a gift from God to help me be what He has designed me to be. Oh, and if I never have a chance to teach my own children? I can still be a librarian, a vocation that would suit me to a t...

I Will Lift My Eyes

2008-11-23T13:30:00.002-05:00

Nevada Rockies

About three weeks ago, I was feeling highly stressed from trying to balance school, work, and people. A life consisting of school, work, sleep, and a little guilt for never quite doing enough seemed to stretch out interminably. Browsing through pictures of the western states (yet another form of procrastination when I should have been working on a paper), I wished out loud that I could spend some time traveling across our country but knew there was no way I could make anything like that happen.

Within two days of this wish, my aunt called me and invited me to help her and my uncle move out to California. I would split the driving, and all of my travel costs were to be paid by them. Work was slow, and school was portable, so no obstacles presented themselves. Essentially, God knew my heart's desire and dropped this trip into my lap. Or, as a friend pointed out, perhaps He placed the desire in my heart because He wanted to speak to me on the trip in some way.

Travel is good for the soul. I hate to over-spiritualize things, but the long days of driving really did minister to my very unquiet spirit, and God really did seem to be speaking to me through the trip. As I traveled, I regained proper prospective on life--I am small, my problems are small, and the God who created the Kansas plains, the Colorado mountains, and the Wyoming wind is awfully big.

People warned me that Kansas would bore me. I was a little bit apprehensive of the open plains, because growing up in wooded New England has given me a small case of reverse claustrophobia (Is there a term for that?). However, I thoroughly enjoyed the monotony of grass, sky (so much sky! How do people stay on the ground and not float away?), and strange-looking-irrigation-robot-things. The sameness soothed my nerves and reminded me of the Unchanging One: "I am Jehovah, I change not."

As much as I enjoyed the novelty of the prairie, the open spaces did lose a bit of their charm by the time we were well into Colorado. Just as their continuity began to wear on me, the Rockies appeared. I cried. I had no idea how majestic they would be contrasted with the prairie and high desert. "I will lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved."

Wyoming was my favorite state. The combination of mountains, sky, and wind was so beautiful it hurt. I encountered power like I never have before--we drove through fifty mph winds that knocked tractor-trailers over along the highway (The helpless trucks reminded me a bit of the helplessness of tipped cows, for some reason.) and caused the shadows of passing clouds to fly past us on the highway. When we stopped at a rest area to get a break from the wind, I could just barely move against the wind and could not breathe if I faced into it. Poor Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Lori were a bit stressed, but I have rarely enjoyed anything so much in my life. I've always enjoyed wind, and the sheer exhilaration of the speed and strength of an unseen force made me giddy with joy. The truckers huddled at the rest stop amusedly watched me, the "reserved one", run and stagger and shout and laugh out loud for pure happiness as the wind pushed me around.

After we left our shelter and headed down out of the mountains, Aunt Lori reminded us of another unseen force: "The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." Should I be expecting the same degree of spontaneity, joy, freedom,and satisfaction while being directed by the Wind? Food for thought...

Remember that Shakespeare bit about sleep knitting the 'raveled sleeve of care? I could feel travel healing up my internal unravelings. Despite pressing deadlines (two term papers and an exam due the week of the trip), as we drove for hours upon end and as I flew back, I had an almost physical sensation of something in my core moving back into place. Frazzled nerve endings shrank back into their proper places, and I felt as if God were telling me, "I knew you needed a break, I heard your desire, and I knew that the trip would help you. I created this vast country. I created you, as well, and I am taking care of you. I, Jehovah, change not, am your helper, and am working even when you can't see Me. "

Now I am home again. Still facing the challenges of juggling full-time school, full-time work, and living with a full-time family that I love dearly. The stress will pile up again, but God knew exactly what I needed this last time around. He's probably able to figure out what I need next time life gets too big.

The people in the cities

2008-11-18T10:37:00.003-05:00

A man said, Why, why does travelling
in cars and in trains make him feel sad,
A beautiful sadness.
I've felt this way before.
It's the people in the cities you'll never know.
It is everything you pass by,
wondering, will you ever return?

~Innocence Mission

My mind contains quite a large gallery of faces. Strangers' faces. I recorded the earliest that I can now recall when I was about six years old. I add new ones all the time. Most of the pictures are quite vivid still, but some are so faded that I can't quite pull them into focus and just remember what it felt like to see them.

These faces are the faces of people whom I have never really met but have only seen or talked to in passing. I haven't the faintest idea who most of them are, but each one is etched in my mind as someone I wish I could know. And, yes, I do feel sad that I do not know them. Sometimes I can tell that someone is going to be added to my collection, but, more often than not, I don't "recognize" them until they're gone.

Faces added over the past years include a little girl in K-mart (this is the faint one from age six). Tall, bearded, French-speaking Jewish brothers, who perhaps were twins, seen at a violin recital in Jerusalem. A smiling girl with messy blonde hair who was auditioning for the part of Anne at the Palace Theater eight years ago.

The lady who looked just like Yoda. The sandy-haired kid who looked like he should be in school but sat instead in the Pizza Hut in a tiny prairie town with sturdy looking farmers who wore flannel shirts, greasy baseball caps, and lots of stubble. The frightened-looking Hispanic woman and child being yelled at by their father and husband in the hats and gloves section of Caldors twelve years ago.

The girl who toured the bell towers of Notre Dame with me. She spoke no English, and I could not figure out what her language was after ruling out German, Italian, and Spanish. Both solo travelers, we took turns taking touristy pictures of each other with the other's camera and communicated with smiles and sign language. We never took a picture together.

I'm from New England. I don't approach strangers. I feel uncomfortable down south or out west or anywhere where I have to emerge from my shell and talk to my "neighbor." And I like being the way I am, thank you.

Sometimes, though, I wonder what I'm missing.

Jealous

2007-12-15T22:25:00.000-05:00

"Outside of literary study, life has no meaning or attraction for him...he is adapted for nothing else. You may make up your mind to that."

--Written to C. S. Lewis' father by his tutor

How convenient to be adapted only for literary study! I feel especially jealous of Jack as I wade through endless college applications, barely able to read and study anything else, ironically enough. Yet, I know that at the end of this tunnel are literary studies galore, so I can't complain. Must hang on for a few more weeks and get my intellectual sustenance in the meantime by filling out financial aid forms.

Je suis fanatique des bouquinistes.

2007-08-21T15:33:00.000-05:00

I'm currently sitting in Soj's world famous reading chair, relaxing after a long tour of practically all the bookshops in Paris. (See her blog for proof that I am actually here.)Why did we spend most of one of my few days in Paris doing that? Well, in the last thirty-six hours, I had already seen for the first time all of the following:

~ Tower Bridge
~ Big Ben
~ Parliament
~ Westminster Abbey
~ Eiffel Tower
~ Notre Dame
~ the Louvre
~ Sacre Coeur

Admittedly, some of these were seen briefly and from a distance (Every time I say "from a distance," Soj bursts into a Bette Midler song.), but, still, I would say that I had already seen plenty of major sites of London and Paris in the last day and had my fill (at least for the moment) of tourists.

Yes, I do know that I currently could fall into the tourist category, but I prefer to consider myself a "traveller." If I think of it that way, I feel less guilty about turning up my nose at all the other people in front of me in lines, many of whom I will be hating tomorrow when I actually visit the Louvre and other well-known places.

Anyway, we did the "traveller" thing today and wandered through many little Parisian streets in search of the perfect used bookshop. We visited Shakespeare and Co., the Village Voice, Tea and Tattered Pages, and many of the bouquinistes along the Seine. I never actually bought anything, except overpriced postcards, but, now, having seen some of my choices, I will probably retrace my steps tomorrow and take my picks.

In the meantime, I am sleepy, as is my hostess. I need to be rested up to see Mona Lisa tomorrow, and I also need to get Soj to stop singing cheesy songs to me, so I bid you adieu. (Soj sings, "To you, and you, and you.")

The Umbrella

2007-08-18T15:19:00.000-05:00

Dear Umbrella,

I have a confession.

I used to think umbrellas were only for elderly people. When cute little old ladies hobbled by me, carefully shielding their blue perms from the rain, I would smilingly note their quaintness. When young people carried them, I would scoff at their lack of fortitude. After all, I didn't need an umbrella. I could handle whatever moisture I accumulated between the house and the car, and I was smart enough not to walk anywhere in the rain.

Only old people needed umbrellas. And maybe the Wicked Witch of the West.

Umbrella, I have seen the light. Er, maybe it would be more accurate to say that I have seen the clouds. And the rain. And I have wished dreadfully for one of your kind.

In fact, last Thursday, I wanted you so badly that I said aloud, in public, that I was ready to kill for you. Unfortunately, I didn't feel like killing the little Asian couple that appeared around the corner a minute later, so I remained damp.

The day had started off sunnily enough, so much so that I smiled at Karena's predictions of rain and turned down her offer of a rain jacket or umbrella. My little brown coat was just fine, I assured her. And so it was, for most of the afternoon.

As I exited a bookshop, looking homeward (I thought.), a few drops fell to the ground. The local Britishers promptly opend their umbrellas and tied on their waterproof hoods, to my amusement. A few unprotected souls stepped into doorways (Just like in the books!). I was amused. A little drizzle wouldn't hurt anyone.

Then it started to rain harder.

Then I got lost.

When I finally consulted the map, I couldn't find the street I was on on the silly thing. That's because I had walked so far in the wrong direction that I was not in the part of Cambridge I expected to be in. But I didn't know that yet.

Rain started running off my nose, so I put my coat over my head.

"Maybe it will stop soon, I thought," and stepped into a doorway myself. Unfortunately, no P.G. Wodehouseish fellow was on hand with an umbrella to rescue a maiden in distress.

The rain did indeed slacken. It slackened three or four times in the next hour, in between downpours.

One especially torrential downpour found me sheltering under a tree on a green as I tried to turn the pages of a rather soaked map. I felt quite happy to be on a green, because the map showed that I should cross one on my way back to Karena's.

However, I crossed the green and the Cam River, only to find nothing familiar.

"Newnham?" A kind passerby raised her eyebrows at my request. "Oh, you're totally in the wrong direction." (Imagine this in the precisest of English accents. The beauty of it almost softened the blow of the words.)

I retraced my steps.

About the time I was back in the city centre (note brit. spelling) was when I resolved to kill for the umbrella.

My coat was soaked through. My shoes were soaked through. My purse was soaked through. My hair had come down and was soaked through. My jean skirt was soaked.

I was too wet to bother about waiting for the rain to let up, so I forged ahead. I remembered Brandon's little trick of singing, "Oh, how I love Jesus," when he was feeling miserable, so I tried it. Yes, I trudged along the streets of Cambridge singing about Jesus and trying to decide if I was up to murdering someone.

Eventually things looked familiar. St. Mary's swam into my ken. Then, as I stared with wild surmise, Charlie, Lexie, and Arthur did as well. Except they weren't swimming. They were mostly dry because they were standing in the doorway of St. Mary's waiting for either the rain to stop or Karena to arrive with the car, whichever came first. I decided to stick with them and was subsequently rescured along with them by Karena.

And, so, dear umbrella, since I survived the results of my foolishness, I do repent. Henceforth, (at least while I am in England, where rain clouds pop up at the oddest moments, and where I walk everywhere) I will carry an umbrella. Or at least wear a rain coat or something. I also resolve not to secretly mock those who carry umbrellas (at least, not those who carry them on this Island).

Perhaps this repentance is not as complete as it could be. However, allowances must be made for one brought up on Little Women. After all, "Under the Umbrella" would have had to be "Under the Umbrellas" if Jo had carried one of you with her, and that would rather have ruined the story.

That aside, I do respectfully and appreciatively remain your humble admirer,
Bria

Half a Mustard Seed?

2007-07-20T21:19:00.000-05:00

After discussing a disappointing situation with a friend yesterday, the friend told me she was going to pray for a miracle in said situation.

My thoughts as I mulled over the conversation later went something like this:

"I appreciate her faith, but I'm not going to waste my faith on that. I'm saving up for a miracle for Paige."

Fortunately, the Holy Spirit stepped in at that point and reminded me that He isn't limited to one miracle at a time. He doesn't wear Himself out working on one situation and find Himself too taxed to take care of one more.

And, no, faith isn't a currency I can hoard until I have enough to purchase a miracle from my own private Max the Miracle Man.

Enough of trying to screw my faith to the sticking place. I don't get it, so I'm just going to plain believe God can do what He wants and that He wants what is good. That takes enough effort as it is. Maybe that's all He's looking for, anyway?

Because I Love and Adore Claire (and part of me really does want to do this, too.)

2007-05-23T20:56:00.000-05:00

Claire tagged me. Now, I have not blogged in months. However, since Claire is one of my absolutely favoritest people, I will sort of play the game by listing seven random things about myself. (A nice painless way of blogging for a backslidden blogger, no?) I'm just too lazy to think of seven more people.

1. I used to regularly read the encyclopedia for fun.

2. I would love to be a librarian. Most people who hear that exclaim, "Oh, you look like one!" I still am not sure how to react to that.

3. I want to walk across England someday.

4. I miss Jerry Trupiano.

5. I once pulled a muscle in my face while trying to spit into the sink.

6. Oh dear. I guess I won't feel bad for Mariano Rivera anymore this year.

7. I have never mowed a lawn in all my nineteen years.

Voila. A post.

This Is Scary

2006-12-19T20:19:00.000-05:00

What book or movie is it in which some piano virtuoso comes back to a piano after years away and is afraid to play again? I have this vivid picture in my head of him (or her, I can only picture the hands) opening and closing his hands as the pianist musters up courage to touch the keys.

That's how I feel. (Because I used to be a blogger virtuoso, of course!)

I haven't posted in a really long time.

I know you poor souls are all going to look at this because it is going to come up as a new post on Aaron's blog list.

I feel powerful.

Why is it that I feel compelled to tell you how I feel?

......

How many of you can instantly recall what you are wearing without looking to see? I frequently have a hard time remembering. "Oh, you like my skirt? Just a minute while I look to see which one it is." Perhaps this is a warning sign of Alzheimers?

Thanks

2006-10-19T17:18:00.000-05:00

I really appreciate all of you who have prayed for me during the last month or so. This year at Bible School seems to be off to quite an auspicious start and already has blown first year out of the water.

My fellow upperclassmen (woohoo!) are incredible.

Our focus on the Gospel in class has fed me richly.

God is teaching me to rest.

I can even be on meals by myself with confidence!

God is good.

I just hope that He helps me to successfully "convert" my eighty-year-old-grandfather-who-has-just-been-diagnosed-with-cancer-and-has-one-month-
to-live (played by Uncle Neil) tomorrow. Hooray for personal evangelism!

End of Summer

2006-09-03T21:34:00.000-05:00

Many times this summer I have signed into blogger and almost begun a post entitled, "Bria Comes Through in the Clutch!" This post would, of course, be about my experiences learning to drive stick shift this summer. ("Do you mind if I hide under the seat?") However, I couldn't quite bring myself to use such a terrible pun. And maybe the memories are still a bit painful...

How odd...I wonder how many times I've typed my name out in a sentence, as above. I've typed it out at the beginning of papers and at the end of emails, but I am pretty sure I've not typed it into a sentence myself. I felt strange when I typed it.

* (Report of learning incident that doesn't really fit into this post.)
Do you know what the word "amok," or "amuck," as it can be spelled, means? I had always thought it had something to do with running aground or with things generally going wrong. Last night, as Elizabeth was reading the Iliad aloud to me, while I arranged pennies in order of date, she read a sentence containing the word that made it very clear that it did not mean what I thought it meant. We looked it up and got these definitions:

(among members of certain Southeast Asian cultures) a psychic disturbance characterized by depression followed by a manic urge to murder.

3. run or go amuck,
a. to rush about in a murderous frenzy: The maniac ran amuck in the crowd, shooting at random.
b. to rush about wildly; lose self-control: When the nightclub caught fire the patrons ran amuck, blocking the exits.

Live and learn.
*

I'm off tomorrow morning to Fairwood to work. Will I be blogging from there? Probably not, but anything's possible. Perhaps I will write a nice retrospective post about the clutch-burning days of summer...

My courage for another year is quite good, but I wouldn't mind if any of you guys thought to pray for me.

Happy blogging!

Last Words

2006-09-01T08:16:00.000-05:00

"Either that wallpaper goes, or I do."
~Oscar Wilde

I heard this quote for the first time while listening to NPR with Claire a few weeks ago. We pronounced it blogworthy.

Thus this post.

I was considering letting this be my last post before I head back to Fairwood, but now that I'm faced with the looming prospect of summer work I'm becoming more and more attached to this poor neglected blog.

Such is life.

Perhaps I will yet post again.

Overachieving, anyone?

2006-08-31T20:25:00.000-05:00

I have been organizing all my papers, attempting to balance my account (it takes me awhile), organizing my "library", packing to go back to Fairwood, reading Don Quixote, berating myself for not practicing my violin, wasting time on blogs, reading In This House of Brede for the second time (It's scary how much Catholicism appeals to me), beginning a study of Latin, preparing to brush up on my French, thinking about studying Aristotle's Rhetoric, not participating in color week, doing laundry, and thinking that perhaps Lord Peter Wimsey would be just the husband for me.

And I'm happy because I don't feel obligated to finish most of the above "tasks." The illusion of business is enough to make me happy.

"Be still and know that I am God."

Okay.

Overheard in the S------d Household

2006-08-08T19:58:00.000-05:00

At the dinner table:

Mother to Offspring X: Offspring Y will probably be president someday, he's so used to ridicule.
Offspring X: Mom, I'm not nearly as bad as Nancy Pelosi!
Offspring Y: Don't worry, I'll make you the Secretary of Defense.
Offspring X: Didn't JFK make his brother something?
Offspring Z, irrelevantly: Yeah, but he died, too!

Chivalry is not dead.

2006-07-24T20:02:00.000-05:00

A wizened old man with wrinkled tattooes, lots of stubble, and a veteran's cap opened a door for me at the post office today before effortlessly got around me to open the next one for me. I'd like to see some young ATI guy do better. "They don't make'em like they used to."

Something I've Been Pondering

2006-07-16T21:35:00.000-05:00

What if you and I see the color we both call "blue" differently?

Say I see it as the color you call green.

We would never know, because we would both consistently call it the same name and identify it with the same objects.

My brain hurts.

"Old Buddha"

2006-07-15T11:43:00.000-05:00

is a song title from Mum's cd, "The Best of the Imperials," given to her by her sister in memory of their good ol' Campus Crusade days at UConn. This song amuses me so much with its unabashed unPCness that I am going to break my self-imposed rule of never blogging about song lyrics to share this one with you.

Well, old Buddha was a man
And I'm sure that he did well,
But I pray for his disciples
Lest they end up in hell,
And I'm sure that old Mohammed
Was sure he knew the way,
But it won't be Hari Krishna
We stand before on judgment day.

Chorus:
But it won't be old Buddha
That's sitting on the throne,
And it won't be old Mohammed
That's calling me home,
And it won't be Hari Krishna
That plays that trumpet tune,
And we're going to see the Son,
Not Reverend Moon!

Well, I don't hate anybody,
So please don't take me wrong,
But there really is a message
In this simple song,
See, there's only one way--Jesus,
If eternal life is your goal,
And meditation of the mind, it won't save your soul.

chorus

Well, you can call yourself a Baptist
And not be born again,
A Presbyterian or a Methodist
And still die in your sin,
You can even be Charismatic,
Shout and dance and jump a pew,
But if you hate your brother,
You won't be of the chosen few!

New Chorus:
'Cause it won't be a Baptist
That's sitting on the throne,
A Presbyterian or a Methodist
That's calling me home,
And it won't be a Charismatic
That plays that trumpet tune,
So let's all just live for Jesus,
'Cause He's coming back real soon!

That Reverend Moon bit gets me every time...

Peak

2006-07-08T21:11:00.000-05:00

Know what? God is wicked good to me. Even when I refuse to talk to Him. Even when I don't believe He knows what He's doing. Even when I'm all grumpy and whiny and depressed.

Today I'm not grumpy and whiny and depressed, and I am amazed at how much He does for me. You'd think He loves me or something!

Look at all my blessings:

~Visits with friends at the FamCon.
~True blue friends with whom to visit
~Hours in the car by myself
~Beautiful weather
~Ice cream with friends
~KATHERINE!
~Flowers and herbs and things
~Lots of work hours
~Ice cream and flowers and music in Portsmouth with my ENTIRE family!
~Lindsay
~Peace
~Joy
~The discovery that slightly cooler than boiling water makes green tea so much better
~The remembering that God wants me personally, something I often lose sight of.
~Ecclesiastes--somehow it's ministering to me this year

The clouds are breaking, and, what do you know, God has been good all along. Weird.

I love Him.

In Praise of Camellia sinensis

2006-06-16T23:15:00.000-05:00

Tea! thou soft, sober, sage and venerable liquid;-
thou female tongue-running, smile-smoothing,
heart-opening, wink-tippling cordial, to whose
glorious insipidity I owe the happiest moment of my life, let me fall prostrate.

Unfortunately, these lines are not original to myself, but they do express my sentiments quite well.

Where would I be without tea? Dead, probably. My hot pot in my room at Fairwood saved my sanity multiple times. The powers of a steaming cuppa on a frazzled girl are not to be underestimated. By said cuppa hands are warmed, sinuses are cleared, thirst is quenched, cells are antioxidized, mind is sharpened, soul is soothed.

"Thank God for tea! What would the world do without tea?-how did it exist? I am glad I was not born before tea." ~Sydney Smith (1771-1845)

Seriously, a cup of tea really does bring a lot of comfort to me. And no, caffeine isn't the reason. Herbal tisanes make me happy, too.

You, gentle reader, should also like tea. Here's why:

~Tea tastes good. Really. Especially when quality tea leaves are brewed correctly. Most varieties don't even need sugar. (George Orwell and I are united in this opinion.) I usually prefer slightly bitter or earthy tasting teas, but fruity teas, coffeeish teas, and sweet teas exist in abundance for every taste.

~Tea is beautiful. Check out some pictures of tea leaves.

~Tea is good for you. Research has shown some varieties of tea to be rich in antioxidants and lots of good stuff.

~Tea has much less caffeine than coffee, and that caffeine is much milder than coffee's. Herbals of course don't contain any caffeine.

~Tea is soothing. Steadies the nerves and warms the body and soul.

~Tea exudes romance (in the adventurous sense of the word). The very names in themselves are lessons in geography and culture:...sencha, genmai cha, gyokuro, darjeeling, assam, ceylon, jasmine, oolong. They call forth visions of clipper ships sailing to the Far East, of "plantations of ripening tea/ All from tuppence," of the British Empire at its height, and of exotic lands and peoples.

~All real teas come from the same species. The distinctly different flavors of black, oolong, white, green teas and their many varieties are results of differences in processing and location grown.

~C.S. Lewis liked tea. "You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me."

~Tea goes well with books. It just does.

Convinced yet? If not, try some white tea with blueberries. (Make sure it isn't just blueberry flavors.) If you still don't like it, consider the following statement: "If man has no tea in him, he is incapable of understanding truth and beauty." Turn from the folly of your ways while there is still time!

"My smelling salts!"

2006-05-18T20:25:00.000-05:00

This morning, for the first time ever, I blacked out.

Even before I climbed out of bed it was a rough morning. I had repeated a dream all night and early morning long. This dream consisted mainlyof a sudden remembrance that I was on dinner at Fairwood and had forgotten all about it. I would start to frantically plan one and then would realize that it was too late to talk to Mary about it. Punctuating this nightmare at regular intervals was an embarrassing incident. I would be drinking a glass of water while I worried about dinner and talked to various students. Every few sips I would somehow miss my mouth with the cup and dump water over myself, and TJ would be walking through the kitchen and would laugh at me. (Unfortunately, as some of you may know, that this has some basis in real life. Distraction is fatal to me while I am drinking...I either have a near death experience or become very damp if my mind is elsewhere. Oh, and TJ does usually seem to notice and does usually let me know that he has noticed, but usually I am amused myself and not at all bothered. In this dream, however, I was quite distressed by his teasing.)

So it was from a not so pleasant sleep that my alarm awoke me. I decided I was too tired to get up and dozed on, ignoring the music. However, after many guilty glances at the clock, I decided I should get up after all. I had no reason to be as tired as I felt, because I had had plenty of sleep.

I dragged myself out of bed and started into my five minute stretch/exercise wake-up routine. Barely had I been moving for three minutes, when I began to feel quite hot. Instead of waking up as I exercised, I was becoming more and more tired. While I was doing some tricep presses at my bed I began to feel quite dizzy, in fact. I pulled myself up onto the bed and noticed that I was having an extraordinarily bad head rush. As everything got darker and darker I decided to sit on the floor and put my head down. (As I slid off the bed I recalled Brandon had told us that this was no longer the recommended procedure for preventing fainting, but I couldn't remember anything else, so I was happy to put my head on my knees and close my eyes.)

I wish I could remember what my dreams had been when I came back to a minute or so later. All I could recall was a vague voice talking lots. I think they had something to do with whatever NPR voice was coming over my radio. I did know for certain that I felt wicked sick, really, really hot, and that my ears were ringing loudly.

After a minute or so on my bed and a few minutes on the couch under my parents' observation, I felt fine, but a bit sleepy. Got to sleep for a couple more hours, and had a normal day after that. Weird, wot?

Maybe I have a weird disease that is going to randomly knock me dead.

Hehe...I keep remembering fainting scenes from books and movies...

"I'm an uncle!" Remember the guy in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers who
faints dead away?

"Wilbur, I forbid you to faint!"-Charlotte the spider

The girl that Anne Shirley was teaching who fainted when the firecrackers
where in the stove.

I seem to be in pretty good company.

She announces in a very small voice that she has returned.

2006-05-15T21:07:00.000-05:00

To get you up to speed in my life:

My first year at FBI is done! 'Twas good, God blessed it, but I'm glad for a vacation. The last semester was very difficult, and I thought I would die of stress the last week, but I didn't. Three cheers for the Holy Spirit!

"The most practical thing about a man is still his view of the universe."
G.K.Chesterton is my new hero.

I might do kickboxing this summer. Aunt Beth would be proud of me.

Do I really want to start blogging again? we'll see.

Confession

2005-12-21T22:02:00.000-05:00

I have a new addiction to add to my list! (I accumulate these addictions semi-regularly. I am currently addicted to reading blogs and trimming split ends. I have in the past been addicted to Scrabble, minesweeper, and nyet.) This new and exciting addiction is to sudoku. No, it's not anime or anything of the sort. It's a crossword puzzle of sorts, only with numbers, very easy to learn, and very hard to get away from...Try it, one puzzle only takes ten minutes or so...

Angry Eyes

2005-12-20T23:08:00.000-05:00

@#$%^&*()_2345^&*(

Mr. Johny Damon signs with the New York for $52 million? I guess everyone has his price.

He wasn't so hot anyway.

Why would we want him?

sour grapes.

the children's teeth are set on edge.

Professor Bhaer vs. Laurie

2005-12-20T21:57:00.000-05:00

(Before I officially begin this post, let me see that it is good to be home, surprise, surprise...)

Louisa May Alcott's book Little Women has popped up in my reading and viewing pretty much ever since I can remember. GranBeth confiscated a copy of it once while she was babysitting me, because she said it was "too old for me." (I was four and had pulled it out from its position of propping up one corner of Cara's playpen. Of course I couldn't read the whole thing, but I could pick out words and such.) To my relief, Mum restored the book to me, and I read at least a portion of it every year for years afterwards, actually only reading straight through it when I was twelve or so. I remember watching the old movie once, and the new one several times when it came out....

Anyway, Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy made deep impressions on me. The male characters, however, never interested me much. Laurie was all right when he was little, dumb when he was older. Prof. Bhaer was way too old for me to consider him a person much.

Then last week at Fairwood, Shannon and I pulled out the library's copy to read aloud. (We'd just finished Oedipus Rex and were in sore need of something warm and cheery.) Shannon said something about liking the ending, and I promptly agreed with her. Prof. Bhaer was right for Jo. He was older, yes, but he was a good kind gruff scholarly sort, and not too old to be romantic by any means. How could anyone think differently? How could anyone not love that chapter, "Under the Umbrella"? To our surprise, Nate H., who was passing through at the moment, thought quite differently. He thought that their marriage was a terrible ending, that Jo threw herself away on an old geezer. (!)

The discussion then turned to Laurie. I hold him in a sort of friendly contempt. He was a good kid, but basically wasted a whole lot of his life being stupid. Shannon liked him, "He's just like all boys"....hmm. Nate fortunately was right on this one and said to look for better things than poor Laurie!

Today, Cara brought up the subject. She asserts that Jo was ridiculous to not marry "Teddy," and that the only reason he turned bad was that Jo rejected him. Mum also had way more sympathy for him than I. (We had a veritable fight at the dinner table over this.) I maintain that Jo was too good for him and never even loved him in the first place, and that even if she had, they would not have been a very happy couple. Laurie didn't mature as fast as she did, or he stopped, or something. The Bhaer was a man, someone she could look up to (yes, dangling prep.). Plus, Christian Bale plays Laurie, and who would want to marry him?

What say you? I don't believe it had ever occurred to me that anyone would actually see the story any other way, so I'm interested to hear what others think. (And I'm honored if you actually read my blog after all this time!)

A Vacation Post

2005-11-26T22:49:00.000-05:00

This evening Aaron took me to the NH Philharmonic's Christmas concert at the Palace Theater in Manchester as a birthday present. 'Twas great fun to sing with some good old fashioned carols, watch Gov. Lynch conduct (His conducting was comparable to his governing, but more amusing to watch.), and catch up with my old violin teacher and friends from orchestra. (It took my teacher a minute to recognize me with my glasses on. he gave me a few blank looks before it connected, to my vast amusement.)

Aaron and I were in the very tiered seats in the balcony, the ones with very little leg room, even for me. During the intermission, while the man sitting in front of me was gone, I got up and moved around before sitting down again, somehow managing to drape a whole bunch of my full skirt over his seat. I didn't notice this until it was too late. The man returned and promptly sat on my wayward clothing.

The problem of how to extricate my skirt kept Aaron and me amused for some time. We decided that I could a)yank it out really fast and just sort of look off in a different direction in case our neighbor turned around to see what I was doing, b)pull it out inch by inch and hope he wouldn't feel it, c)"accidentally" throw my program on the floor in front of him and hope he'd be kind enough to bend over and pick it up for me, leaving my skirt unoccupied, or d) just tap him on the shoulder and explain the whole thing.

I opted for b. Once the music started I started pulling. Inch by inch it slid out. The poor man twitched once or twice and shifted position, causing me worry that he would turn around causing some awkwardness, but he never did, and eventually I retrieved my hem and enjoyed the rest of the concert.

Boy, the whole thing made me miss my violin lessons so bad. Did you know that violin playing builds the triceps? I played for an hour and a half in the cold earlier today (another story for another day) and got so sore, almost as sore as I was when i started playing. Guess that means some poor room at Fairwood will soon be subjected to the scritchings of my practice.

Hallelujah! God is good.

Surprise

2005-11-11T22:03:00.000-05:00

Well....

I'm currently sitting in Diane's apartment, trying to get used to the idea of blogging again. I definitely broke the addiction in the last couple of months, but I've no doubt it could easily get its hooks into me, so I've got to be careful.

Bible School is Good. God is meeting me in new ways, and I'm glad I'm here. The class is coming together nicely, the girls have bonded pretty well, so life is good.

Wow...it's been a long time since I last heard the soundtrack of Man from Snowy River...Diane, Katie, and some of the girls are currently watching it. Brings back memories.

A few things I've learned here:

~Most recently, it's not a good plan to push over dead birch trees in the dark. Amy and I did the other night, and we learned the meaning of "widowmaker." After she came to and I realized that she wasn't dead, we had a good laugh, but I still think I won't be doing that again. Shannon and I went back a day or so later to find the tree and found a twenty foot piece, a ten foot piece, a fifteen foot piece, and several five foot pieces of that "little" dead tree. Made me awfully glad that God looks out for us dumb teenagers.

~Small snakes can be hid in many different places.

~I can't spit worth beans. (I learned this while trying to moisten the soles of my shoes while playing volleyball.)

~Swimming in Dublin Lake in November is fun.

~It's a good idea to check mysterious socks on one's floor for dead mice if you have friends whose initials are BFJ.

~When sparring with said BFJ it's a good idea to keep one's hands up, or she will whack one's head good and hard.

~On a more serious note, it's amazing what God will do when you decide to believe Him.

~I'm out of practice for blogging, but it's good to get my feet wet again. Hooray for all you faithful bloggers.

Well, folks....

2005-09-10T13:58:00.000-05:00

It's been real, as they say. Tomorrow I'm off to Bible School. (at Fairwood Bible Institute for those of you who don't know.) In case you haven't noticed, I've been gently weaning you all off your addiction to my blog by not posting. I hope you appreciate my great efforts. :-) I am not yet sure what will happen to my blog. I may email posts to it, and I have it set so that comments will be emailed to me, so I may keep it up. On the other hand, it may go the way of all the earth...we'll see. I'm definitely not planning on spending much time on it.

Anyway, tomorrow after church I'll be off. I've been somewhat anxious at times about transitions and such, but right now I'm feeling really good about it. I know I'm ready to be off to new and different things, that God wants me to be there, and that the teaching I will get there will be incomparable. My closest friends are going, I'll be in a place I love, and I have my own little room to retreat to when necessary. The year is going to be good.

The funny thing is that at the back of my mind I have this funny little feeling that I won't get there; I've been talking about being in Bible School for so long it has almost turned into an abstract concept! However, several trips over to move boxes and boxes of stuff in and a pile of stuff still to go have convinced me that I really am going.

(oh, and just to stem the tide of questions that I sometimes get, I am not training to be a pastor or a nun. Yes, I have been asked if I was going to be a nun. I'm going to learn more about God and to focus time on letting my relationship with Him grow before the rest of life comes along.)

Before I leave you now, I must formally announce that I have driven in Boston. Not through Boston on 93. By Faneuil Hall and off through Somerville. By myself. Am I grown up or what. In case you can't tell, I'm feeling very proud. (I drove my dad's car back home for him while he sailed his boat to Porstmouth. Originally the plan was for me to hop right back on the highway, which wasn't too far from where I dropped him off, although far enough to be an adventure considering all the construction and one way streets. However, the on ramp was out of order or something so I followed a long detour. 'Twas great fun if rather stressful.) Just had to let you all know how amazing I am!

Oh, and feel free to pray for me and the year. It never hurts.

Cowboy Pie

2005-09-01T22:17:00.000-05:00

I made a "mystery pie" the other day. Only it wasn't a mystery because members of my family kept walking by and asking what on earth I was making. I tried to avoid detailed answers, but replying, "Oh, a pie. Just some sort of pie," to their queries didn't cut it.

As they each scanned my recipe I was delighted with different reactions.

"Don't you dare make that!" was the reaction of one brother. I think he felt I was wasting a chance to make a perfectly good dessert.

"hmmmm," accompanied by raised eyebrows was a common response.

I also heard some incredulous laughter.

Buoyed up by this encouragement I pureed the pinto beans I had been soaking, mixed them with sugar, nutmeg, milk, and egg yolks, and poured them into a pie crust. Once the pie had set (it took about twice as long as it should have for some reason and made me very nervous it wouldn't work at all!) I topped it with a meringue and served it for dessert.

Much to my own surprise, I must admit, it was quite delicious! Tasted something like pumpkin pie, a little like mincemeat, and a little like custard. It definitely didn't taste like beans. My brothers even ate it!

*Feels proud of herself and oh, so courageous and oh, so economical. After all, gas has topped three bucks here, and one must do something to conserve. What's cheaper than beans?*

The Life of the Flesh

2005-08-31T21:08:00.000-05:00

Well, at long last I've made it to a blood drive!!!!....some of you may know that I have had an almost morbid fascination with giving blood for the last year plus. Now, after a saga of waiting to turn seventeen and to get a good opportunity, the time had arrived.

On Monday I learned via the internet that SNHU was hosting an all day blood drive the following day. Since I was going to be in that neck of the woods anyway, I gleefully made plans to go and convinced Mum to come too.

All Tuesday I pumped iron (ate green leafy vegetables, chicken giblets, and fortified LIfe cereal) and drank gallons of water. After all this waiting, I wasnt about to be turned back for some stupid reason like dehydration.

Anyway, around 5:30 Mum and I made it into the Penmen's gym. It was mobbed! I guess the hurricane really made people aware of the Red Cross or something. Nervously eyeing the long lines we asked the sign up lady how long it would take. She told us to expect to be there for at least an hour and a half. sigh. We decided to stay anyway, lured on by the free monarchs tickets, t shirts, and Red Sox raffle tickets. (and I thought it was illegal to pay for organ and blood donations!!)

After signing in we were shuffled along to the next station where we received numbers (49 and 50) and several sheets of info to read. As we read and waited for our numbers to be called, sinister things began to happen.

"I don't think I can, do this, Bria." Mum became nauseous and saw white flashes, etc. as she read the pamphlet. Eventually, at my urging, she decided to leave, let me give blood by myself, and send Aaron to pick me up. She's had multiple terrible hospital experiences and hadn't eaten much that day, so it seemed best that way.

Once on my own, I sat and waited for numbers to slowly advance. (they were at seventeen or so when we got there, and moved verrrrry slowwly.)

At long last, my number was called, and I got a donation form. I was told to go sit with another group and wait for my number to be called again. If I got through that hurdle I would go sit in another group and wait some more.

On my way to the chairs, I spotted a familiar green and gold shirt with Hebrew writing. Hooray for the IDF! I almost congratulated the wearer on his choice of apparell but chickened out at the last minute. He was kinda scary looking.

Anyway, I sat down next to number forty-eight and tried to read the lips of the tiny old lady who called out numbers. After minimal strain, I caught a weak "six!". argh. I settled down to people watch. Twas interesting.

Had time to imagine all sorts of reasons to say no to the question, "was I feeling healthy and well?". Maybe I was tired...maybe I was achy...maybe I was coming down with something. Ah, the power of suggestion.

The girl next to me told me exciting stories of needles the size of juicebox straws and blood clots and stuff. She was quite nice. (really, she was, despite her scary tales.)

After an age, I was called up. I sat in a little booth and let a nurse prick my finger to test my blood. Boy am I glad I don't have diabetes or whatever it is that requires pricking your fingers every day. Mine's still sore, for some reason, and violin would be tricky.

The dreaded iron test as first.

I failed it.

After two hours of waiting, I was informed that I needed to have a minimum of 36% red blood cells, and I was at 34%. (Iron is used for making red blood cells, I think.) I was told to eat lots of meat and stuff and come back in a few weeks.

I was actually relieved, because at that point I was feeling pretty drained without losing an extra pint!

Daddy was waiting for me and took me home.

Next time, I think I will make an appointment at the blood center.

(oh, and they let both Mum and me keep our Monarchs tickets!)

I Guess Pooh Bear Wasn't Vegan

2005-08-24T21:54:00.000-05:00

While at the checkout line today at the A Market (the local health food store) I suddenly realized I was very hungry. I guess the owners of A Market had anticipated this hunger in their customers, for they had placed a rack of cookies conveniently next to the counter. I succumbed to my impulse buying and snatched one up. To my initial horror, I discovered that it was a vegan cookie and did not contain lots of ingredients that I've come to expect in my cookies. It did have wheat in it, so I bought it, deciding i could tolerate the nondairy bit. Oh, and it did have sugar, too.

Anyway, I noticed that the wrapper proudly stated that it contained no honey. This struck me as odd. A shred of knowledge from my beekeeping days asserted itself in my brain. I remembered reading that vegans disapproved of beekeeping because the bees were "in captivity." ARgh. I expressed to Aaron my annoyance with vegans not eating honey and wondered out loud why they wouldn't, seeing the premise I had heard was ridiculous.

"It's because it's an animal product," came a voice from behind me. The speaker was a blonde Californiaish (not a compliment)fellow who works at A Market. he went on to explain to me a bunch of stuff that I already knew, like the fact that vegans won't wear wool. I opened my mouth to explain to him that honey isn't a product from the bee's body like wool, and that bees can no longer live in the wild because of parasites that have developed over the years. But before I could explain that he had walked off leaving me seething at his rather arrogant tone. sigh. I'll just have to tell him next time...

I can understand, no, not understand, respect people's decisions to be vegan for ethical decisions, but until I either feel that adopting a vegan diet will improve my health or that animals have more rights than people, I will continue to put honey on my pancakes, drink milk, wear sweaters, and eat hamburgers!

Saturated or Unsaturated?

2005-08-16T21:37:00.000-05:00

I have a simple way to guage the temperature in my attic room. My thermometer is a little jar of coconut oil. This oil is solid at room temperature and is very similar to the natural oils that the scalp produces. Because I have long hair the ends of my hair don't get any oil, so sometimes I massage a bit into them.

Anyway, my room temperature has kept my coconut oil in it's liquid state for much of the summer.

Today, it was fully solid!!!! This, along with a certain smell in the air, indicates to me that the heat of summer will soon be gone and the cool of fall will be here. Rejoice all you who live in attics!

(S--I am not griping about my room. I love it, despite the heat, and sometimes I even have AC, which takes care of that problem.)

A Case of Mistaken Identity

2005-08-14T21:33:00.000-05:00

While swinging on the porch swing yesterday afternoon, I animatedly told Aaron a story of some sort. I forget now if it was some trivial anecdote or a fragment of a dream or what. Suffice it to say that I talked a good piece. :-)

Suddenly, an interruption floated around the corner of the house.

"What are you reading?" Cara called from the pool.

"Nothing," I replied. We all laughed.

Then I thought for awhile. Is it a compliment to have someone mistake my talking for reading? Do I talk in a dull monotone, or do I put my words together so well that it sounds like I'm reading them? Or is my reading voice stumbling and scattered, sounding like I am groping for words as I talk? Or maybe I was just going on and on and on........

Yet another topic for me to ponder.

Stylin'

2005-08-11T23:04:00.000-05:00

"Culottes are Cool"?

Why Hath the Common Opinion Afforded Women Soules?

2005-08-11T21:08:00.000-05:00

Today I passed a used bookstore while doing an errand. I struggled with myself for some time, but the memory of Craig's tribute to the smell of old books won me over. I'm glad I did..I left quite happy with seven books and a not yet empty purse.

One of my finds was The Complete Poetry and Selected Prose of John Donne. (btw, not all of his poetry is so great.) For those of you who don't know, John Donne coined the phrases "No man is an island," "for whom the bell tolls," and "catch a falling star." He wrote some sonnets I admire (Katie admires some, too!) along with some excellent meditations and sermons.

Some of his works that I was not familiar with are his "Paradoxes and Problemes." These are essays on different topics, many of which made me laugh. Among the more amusing titles are the following:

"A Defence of Womens Inconstancy"
"That Women Ought to Paint"
"That A Wise Man Is Known by Much Laughing"
"Why Puritans Make Long Sermons?"
"Why Hath the Common Opinion Afforded Women Soules?"
"Why Doth the Poxe soe much Affect to Undermine the Nose?"
"Why are Courtiers Sooner Atheists than Men of Other Conditions?"

Good old John was definitely a thinking man.

Grateful

2005-08-02T21:33:00.000-05:00

Thank God I'm not grown up yet.

'Raveling the Knitted Sleeve of Care

2005-07-30T21:45:00.000-05:00

Earlier this summer I bought a gigantic XL J. Crew wool sweater for three bucks at Salvation Army. Today I began the process of unraveling it.

Wool is wicked expensive these days, so when this spring I read about recycling old sweaters I got pretty excited. (I'm figuring there is at least fifty bucks worth of yarn in this particular sweater.)

I wasn't sure how to go about the task until Liane told me there was a website with directions. Last night I found it, and this morning, scissors in hand, I began the process.

Unfortunately for me, the sweater is made of big squares crocheted together, so I can't just rip the whole thing out. However, the yarn is big and bulky, so I can see what I'm doing and build up a big pile of unravelledness.

Anyway, I spent several hours mindlessly pulling, snipping, and untangling yarn and enjoyed it immensely. (All that time and I only finished one sleeve! It is a very big sweater.) It was just the sort of Sabbath pastime I needed.

Now all I have to do is decide what to make with my wealth of wool...

(Oh, and if you caught my inverted Shakespeare illusion maybe I'll make something for you!! Or maybe that's more of a deterrent?)

Musings

2005-07-29T21:58:00.000-05:00

It's been awhile...

~New York was good. Spent the time playing hide'n'seek in cornfields, tubing down rivers, watching fireworks, milking goats, and fellowshipping with most excellent friends.

~Cherry chocolate chip ice cream isn't nearly as bad as I had remembered. I learned this because my family ate up all the Fudge Tracks ice cream for Sabbath treat when I wasn't looking. To get my ice cream fix I was forced to try the nauseatingly pink maraschino stuff and found that the chocolate chips actually made it palatable. Live and learn.

~Speaking of learning, I've learned that it doesn't pay to look to closely at voice teachers while they demonstrate tongue stretches. It is difficult to keep from laughing hysterically and swallowing one's tongue that is stretching uvula-ward.

~I hate painting closets, especially when the color of the paint does not meet expectations (and in fact is bright red) and when one runs out of paint halfway through the job.

~I have a loverly cousin, who shall remain nameless, save that his middle name is William, who bought me a cd out of the blue, making my day.

I'm rather tired and am at the point of blogging merely for the sake of having a post, so I will be off.

A Sentimental Post, not to be quoted at me at a later time

2005-07-17T21:02:00.000-05:00

I like Aaron. (I like all my siblings, but for certain reasons I'm focusing on him today.) He's a little hard to like when he quotes proverbs about the contentious woman at me and when he won't stop singing Gilbert and Sullivan, but generally he's a pretty nice guy, as the following anecdote illustrates.

After dinner he and I went out to the basketball hoop to play a game of Pig. It went quite quickly although I was hobbling everywhere because the gravel hurt my bare feet. As we walked back to the house I threw the ball to Aaron, but because of my poor aim it hit an obstacle and ricocheted off, ending up rather far down the driveway. I sort of hoped Aaron would get it for me, but he didn't offer, so I tiptoed after it, grumpily complaining all the way. As I retrieved the ball a shoe suddenly hit the ground next to me and was followed quickly by its twin. Did he want me to carry them for him?! I looked up irritably.

"WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!"

"So you won't hurt your feet."

oh.

"Thanks!"

I slipped my feet into the shoes, which by the way were miles too big and hot and sweaty to boot (Aaron jokingly offered me his socks, too, but I figured I was better off without them.) and painlessly tromped across all the nasty gravel to the house.

A little thing you say? Yes, but it represents a willingness Aaron has to do things for others that really blesses me.

Hooray for brothers.

(Aaron, now that I've been so nice to you, how about giving me a couple extra quarters of an hour next time its your turn for the pc? )

THE Beetle

2005-07-15T12:49:00.000-05:00

The bug is about one inch long.

Night of Horror (or Blood-sucking Beetles Blunderingly Burrow into Bria's Brain)

2005-07-14T20:54:00.000-05:00

I suppose that I should keep standard protocol and warn Claire to beware if the title hasn't already warned her off.

Now to begin the tale:

On Sunday evening Elizabeth, Katherine, and I went for a dip in our pool. We swam awhile and had great fun. So far so good.

Around nine thirty I decided it was time to rinse off in the pool shower. I happily began to wash my hair in the warm water. Suddenly, I noticed A Strange Feeling in my ear. It felt as if there were a lot of water clogging my ear. Not liking this feeling, I shook my head on one side and gingerly poked my finger in. It met something hard and crunchy with legs. The crunchy thing Wiggled and Disappeared into my Ear.

Naturally I did not take this turn of events calmly. I frantically shook my head and banged my ear, but to no avail. At this point I knew that it was time to scream.
And laugh. The whole situation seemed so ludicrous.

So screaming and laughing in a frantic way I raced out onto the pool deck, leaving the shower running. I could feel the Thing working it's way up my ear canal. My ear felt tight and hurt a little and there were odd scratchy noises. I started to panic a little. Actually a lot. What if it never came out? It seemed like such a stupid thing, to let a bug crawl up your ear. How grotesque!

Elizabeth and Katherine weren't sure of what to do, so while they deliberated I did a strange running dance up to the house. I would run a few steps and then dance on one foot, shaking my head on my side, boxing my ear. It occurred to me that maybe the bug, or whatever it was, was trying to crawl up, so I tried tipping my head the other way, but that was scary.

I could see Daddy through the kitchen window, so I frantically banged on the window and clearly signalled that there was a giant bug (or something) in my ear. He didn't seem to understand, so I raced around to the door. By this time I was crying in a strange sort of way. My ear was hurting, and I was really starting to panic. Every time I would calm down I would visualize a bug tunneling in my ear and would go off into hysterics again.

Once I was inside the family gathered around to assist. The Thing was not in sight, as every member of the fam pointed out after peering down my ear canal. Through my uncontrolled shrieks and and all the uproar I had created I dimly heard suggestions. Aaron helpfully pointed out that the Bug couldn't go past my ear drum. Daddy suggested getting a q-tip and honey to stick in my ear to get it out. I reasonably suggested calling 911 and wondered how on earth they would get a bug out and how on earth I was going to make it through my ordeal. Mama stood still and prayed out loud and subsequently had a brilliant idea.

"Light!" She said. I wondered if this was part of her prayer, but it wasn't. Get me a lamp, she said, and got one herself. She tipped the lamp standing by the doorway and held it to my ear and commanded someone to get a flashlight. Daddy obliged with an absolutely gargantuan one. Once this was held to my ear the wiggling and pain increased, but it was moving out.

Daddy and Aaron gasped. My whole family was peering into my ear. I was grossed out myself and couldn't stand still, so Mama held me and made me. I tried not to look at the horrified faces around me. "It's coming...coming...ewwww....almost there...hang on....disgusting..."

And then it was out. Aaron ran for his camera and documented the size of the lovely little, or not so little beetle. He hopes to publish a picture of it shortly.

Well, that's enough for now. I'm startig to feel sick thinking about it again. It seemed like a good story, but now that I'm rehashing it...The moral of the story is that mothers are great and that prayer works and the strength of the human spirit will prevail. (just kidding about the last one)

Fair Warning

2005-07-12T21:46:00.000-05:00

Since my last post I have done the following:

(ahem)

~graduated from highschool
~gone to my last Girls' Week
~riden a dirt bike for the first time
~been to the Family Convention
~taken my first real voice lesson
~laughed a lot
~cried a lot

and....

~HAD THE MOST DISGUSTING EVENT OF MY LIFE HAPPEN!!!!!! I will share the details at some future time when I'm less tired.

Wonder how he fits it under his bike helmet...

2005-06-19T21:58:00.000-05:00

Maybe the reason people didn't like my deceased profile pic is that they thought I was copying Derrick.

To Please Kate

2005-06-15T20:32:00.000-05:00

Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust;
And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things;
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust;
Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.
Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might
To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be,
Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light,
That doth both shine and give us light to see.
O take fast hold; let that light be thy guide
In this small course which birth draws out to death,
And think how evil becometh him to slide
Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.
Then farewell, world; thy uttermost I see:
Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.

Sir Philip Sidney

A Word's a Word for A' That?

2005-06-13T21:20:00.000-05:00

Aaron and I had a discussion awhile ago about what a "word" actually is. I said that a word must have some certain consistent definition understood by more than the person. Aaron said that any combination of syllables put together could be said to be a word. As proof he pointed out "The Jabberwocky." However, I would say that gyre and gimble and mimsy and brillig all now have meanings, or at least have concrete definitions set down by Lewis Carroll. I was going to dig out the dictionary to type the definition which is actually rather ambiguous, but I'm too lazy. So take this rambling for what it's worth....(not much =) )

Joys of Vacation

2005-06-11T20:39:00.000-05:00

"Do not stare at me because I am swarthy, for the sun has burned me." ~Song of Solomon 1:6. Elizabeth pointed out that verse to me early in the week. It could be said to be the theme of our vacation. Tans, sun poisoning, peeling skin, aloe vera, vitamin e gel, and sunblock were frequent topics of conversation. Hooray for sunny days!

"There's a tick on the speedometer!" Thus cried Aaron as we set out to drive home. (Aaron was driving the Safari and towed the boat home,without incident, by the way. Not too bad for his third month of having a license.) Needless to say, I had never expected to hear those words. However, I should not have been surprised. Cape Cod seemed especially inundated by ticks this year. The path from our house to the beach teemed with them. When walking slowly through the grass, one could see the little critters sitting on the tips of the grass just waiting for food. I wonder if they knew we would walk along the path or if they were spread throughout the beach grass. What happens to ticks who never find food? Ticks were discovered on the walls, on towels, on my skirt, on my neck.... I'm just thankful none of us were bitten...although I did wake up with a stiff neck this morning, a symptom of LYME's (or just a bad night's sleep.)!

Despite ticks and burns, and in some ways because of them (Ticks and sunburns are interesting conversation pieces), vacation was an extremely enjoyable time. We were blessed with sunny weather, warm water, and good friends. Now it's back to the daily grind, i.e. finishing up school, graduating, helping out with Vacation Bible School, the Girls' Week, the Family Convention, and work....

Summer Reading....

2005-05-31T20:57:00.000-05:00

Today I decided to ride my bike to the Eastham Library to augment my vacation reading list. I happened to be wearing a skirt at the time of this decision (surprise, surprise) and decided not to bother changing. I've riden in a skirt before, last time when our car broke down on Saturday (see Aaron's or Cara's post), so I figured I'd be fine. Wrong...this skirt got stuck in my chain three plus times, finally jamming it somehow when I was about halfway there. This obviously wasn't working, so I turned around and started walking the bike back, calling my dad on a handy dandy cell phone and feeling stupid. Daddy rode out to save me, but by the time he got there I was all unjammed. All the same, I rode home with him and changed before setting off again. I think I want to get one of those old fashioned bikes with wheel covers to prevent such misfortunes.

My perseverance in getting to the library paid off. I got a bunch of good books that the Bedford Library lacks to add to my queue. So, these are on my list right now:

84, Charing Cross Road. Thanks, Lindsay, for letting me borrow it again. I will buy it someday. :-) To everyone who hasn't read this, that is your pleasant assignment for the summer.

A knitting handbook with a stupid name but the best instructions and ideas ever. Unfortunately, I didn't realize how inspired I'd be while on vacation and only have some stupid pink acrylic yarn and size ten needles.

A Man of Property from the Forsyte Saga by John Galsworthy. Sort of a nineteenth century soap opera, rather depressing.

Various Brother Cadfaels.

A P.G.Wodehouse.

The New Joy of Photography. I'm trying to learn how to use my dad's camera.

The Scent of Water by Elizabeth Goudge. Hoping I'll like it as well as some of her others.

and so forth.. The list keeps growing, so we'll see how far I get. The weeks before vacation were so busy that I was starved for nonschool reading. I'm indeed enjoying the time now.

WHO ARE YOU TO HAVE AN OPINION?!?!? :-p

2005-05-31T20:52:00.000-05:00

Ahem. I WILL HAVE WHATEVER PROFILE PICTURE I LIKE, NO MATTER HOW UGLY YOU THINK IT IS. I DO NOT ESPECIALLY CARE WHAT YOU THINK, JUST FOR THE RECORD, SO YOU MAY CONTINUE TO SAY WHATEVER YOU FEEL LIKE. JUST DON'T EXPECT ME TO CHANGE SOMETHING BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU SAY, AND DON'T FLATTER YOURSELF THAT I DID IT TO PLEASE YOU IF I HAPPEN TO CHANGE SOMETHING THAT YOU DON'T LIKE. IS THAT CLEAR? end rant. and thank you for your interest. :-)

Elementary, My Dear Watson

2005-05-24T21:56:00.000-05:00

The saddest thing in the world is a book jacket that gives away the entire plot of a book. The Brother Cadfael mystery I just read had just such a ridiculous dust jacket. After reading it, I correctly put my finger on the gist of the whole mystery. I don't think I would have guessed if I hadn't read the little blurb on it. It put two ideas in close juxtaposition, thus enabling my brain trained by no others than Sherlock Holmes/Father Brown/Poirot/Lord Peter Wimsey/Nancy Drew to make a correct deduction. The book was interesting even without the who-dunnit factor, BUT STILL!!!

Conspiracy Theory du Jour

2005-05-19T20:19:00.000-05:00

I'm a big fan of conspiracy theories. (Some conspiracy theories anyway.) I don't really believe any, but there's a gullible part of me that can only be satisfied by believing in something that's probably fictional....but just might might be true. (I believed that "Out of the Silent Planet" was a true story.) Maybe all my willful credulity is due to the fact that I never believed in Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy or fairies at all for that matter....Anyway...most conspiracy theories just make me laugh and thereby provide me with enjoyment.

This theory,however, I've always wanted to believe.

Does this work?

2005-05-12T20:25:00.000-05:00

Aaron informed me that I can email posts to my blog...testing to see if this works.

Viola Jokes

A good repertoire of viola jokes is nearly as important to a violinist as a good repertoire of music. My teacher makes sure he tells me a new one every now and then just to keep me sharp. He tells me that it isn't really fair for me to tell them because I don't play the viola, but they are good to know anyway. :) (For those of you who don't know, drummers, violists, and sopranos are at the receiving end of orchestra jokes. The viola is very difficult to play in tune, and for some reason, the viola sections of orchestras are often very small and weak, thereby lending themselves to ridicule.)

What's the difference between an onion and a viola?
A. When you chop a viola no one cries.

What do you do with a violist after he dies?
A. Move him back a stand.

Why does the violist put his instrument on the dashboard of his car when he parks?
A. So he can park in a handicapped spot.

How are a thunderstorm and a viola similar?
A. Neither lightning nor a violist's fingers hit the same spot twice.

Now that I've had my fun, in order to be fair, I'm off to go listen to the second movement of Beethoven's Seventh. The violists on my recording aren't so bad...

"When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall..."

2005-05-09T20:29:00.000-05:00

The other day, I started thinking about some children's stories and songs that actually are quite disturbing. Now, I'm not one who says children should only be spoonfed sweetness and light and joy and cheer. Where would we be without Huck Finn and Treasure Island and Hansel and Gretel and Captain Hook? (Understand that I'm speaking from the point of view of a kid who used to be terrified of Snow White's witch and the villains in Nancy Drew. I'm not saying kids shouldn't be kept from frightening things until they can handle them.) Outright danger and adventure are great. What weirds me out is thinking of how some things that aren't considered scary are actually not as sweet as they sound:

~Never-Never-Land. I loved the story when I was little, but now the idea of the place creeps me out. Sounds ominous.

~Do you know the line from Les Mis's "Castle on a Cloud"?
"...Nobody shouts or talks to loud....Crying at all is not allowed...Not in my castle on a cloud."
What kind of place is that for children? Children are supposed to shout. I guess they might not want to cry, but to me now, a place where crying was not allowed would not be nice. (I suppose that since every tear will be wiped from our eyes in Heaven that in a sense crying will not be a part of Heaven, yet I don't remember readint the Scripture as a mandate against crying.) A good cry can fix a lot, as I'm sure many of my public can attest. :-)

Hmm..so much for my piles of examples. I seem to have run out quite suddenly. I guess that's all that are on my mind for the moment. Apologize for the incoherentness. :-)

Speaking of Ditzes....

2005-05-02T20:22:00.000-05:00

I can read and write, tie my shoes, remember to breathe in and out, tell right from left, and have even taken a course in logic. On the basis of these accomplishments, I have always considered myself slightly superior to other blondes. Unfortunately, this illusion was shattered today. I can no longer escape the curses of my hair color. I am a Class-A dumb blonde.

On my way to a violin lesson today, I went through the drivethrough window at the bank. Having noticed a sign requesting that customers turn of their engines to prevent fumes entering the building, I obligingly did so and absentmindedly removed the keys from the ignition.

Once my transaction was completed, I reached for the ignition and was startled to remember that I had moved the keys and could not remember where I had put them. I glanced guiltily up at the girl inside the bank who was watching me with a puzzled look.

"I can't...umm...find my...umm..keys. They're around here somewhere.."

They weren't in the cupholder.

They weren't on the floor.

They weren't in my purse.

They weren't on the ground.

People were waiting behind me.

My future life flashed before my eyes. I would have to call home on my cell phone for someone to bring a spare key. Someone would have to explain to the cars behind me that the girl in the green van had been stupid enough to lose her keys. I'd have to sit there and wait under the amused/annoyed glances of the tellers. My family would never let me live it down. Maybe the bank would even suspect me of some deep dyed plot to cause trouble.

I opened the door to stand up and really search. And there they were, just hiding on the seat under a fold of my skirt.

"Found 'em," I informed the teller, who was watching with raised eyebrows. "I'm such a ditz today," I added sheepishly, and got out of that place as fast as I could.

A mile down the road, I realized I had stolen the bank's pen.

After my lesson I returned it at another branch, to the amusement of the tellers there.

It's been quite a day.

Ditz Golf

2005-04-23T10:46:00.000-05:00

"Next on Day-to-Day, we'll be talking with people who love ditz golf," droned Laura Connoy or some such person.

"What?" I said to myself. I'd turned on NPR to keep me entertained while cleaning bathroom. Seeing that NPR was not being entertaining, I'd mostly resorted to blocking it out, but had my ears pricked for something interesting.

"Many people like to use a ditz when they play golf. There's something so impersonal about hitting a ball..."

My mouth hung open. This sounded highly unPC and unNPRlike. Now usually I delight in anythin unPC or unNPRlike, but this seemed a bit much.

"...You can see where the disc is going as soon as it leaves your hand."

Aha...the lovely Laura was referring to DISC golf, much beloved by....thinks*...the Demmes!

My mind was set at rest.

Yankee talk?

2005-04-22T20:57:00.000-05:00

A few months ago, Aaron read an article about "New Hampshire speak." This article included a list of terms in the local vernacular, such as wicked (as an adjective, of course), Massachusetts drivers, ice out, some very, very strange terms I'd never heard in my life, and finally, "flatlanders." Now, DO YOU KNOW WHAT A FLATLANDER IS? Half the members of my family did and said it was quite a common term, and the other half insisted that no New Hampshirite that they knew had ever used it or knew what it meant. This debate has continued for months. I now turn it over to you, dear reader. Have you heard the term, do you know what it means, and would you consider it common?

Strangeness

2005-04-21T21:18:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, as Cara and I drove into the Nashua TJMaxx/Target parking lot, we saw several fire engines already there and another peeling in with its lights flashing. In a moment we spotted their emergency. Four or five firemen were standing around one of the little barkmulch islands in the lot, spraying chemicals on a tiny little sapling. The hoses they were using were coming from a trailer-like apparatus that bore the urgent motto, "PREVENT FOREST FIRES!" We shrugged and entered Panera.

Just did a quick spellcheck. It suggested that I replace "barkmulch" with "fearsomely."

"Sheer plod makes plow down sillion shine"

2005-04-20T21:15:00.000-05:00

Somehow I've a feeling that these poem posts are a tad boring. But this one's been stuck in my mind so long, I have to share it.

The Windhover
Gerard Manley Hopkins

I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,--the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.

Herodotian Update

2005-04-15T22:21:00.000-05:00

Chad kindly informed me that his name is herOdotus, not HERoDOtus. I had sort of wondered and had been alternating pronunciations. Good to know, I guess. :P

I read about an Egyptian guy who had a cow-shaped tomb built for his young daughter who died. ONce a year, the cow tomb was brought outside so that her bones could see the sun. (!)

For those of you who think you go through a lot of shoes: "The former of these cities, which is a place of note, is assigned expressly to the wife of the ruler of Egypt for the time being, to keep her in shoes."

Herodotus makes me laugh, because he's always making these statements such as "he, for his part, does not credit this," "the Greeks think this, but that is ridiculous." Usually he follows that sort of statement with a report of one of his exciting new discoveries (that the sun is what pulls the Nile out of its banks) or an important historical fact about the Oracle at Delphi.

I've also learned a lot about embalming.

Little Susie Homemaker

2005-04-15T22:09:00.000-05:00

I love making lasagna. Makes me feel so domestic and homey and stuff... chopping up onions and carrots really small, making a sauce with a little bit of this and that, trying to figure out how to stretch seven noodles into the nine or so needed. Friday is a good lasagna day, in case you're unaware of that. Life is good.

Another thing about Fridays...cleaning. Today I was in a major cleaning mood (actually, I would have had to do the cleaning I did whether or not I was in a mood, so that was lucky for me.), scrubbing bathrooms (yeah!), deep cleaning stuff, finally vacuuming my room, picking up random clutter, vacuuming other people's rooms. Has anyone else ever noticed that the more you clean, the more stuff you notice needs cleaning? It's a bit discouraging. However, our house is now beeautiful, to my joy. (Oh, and no, I am not a slave. The rest of ma famille worked hard also. :-) )

Fairness, Family, and Flip-Flops

2005-04-14T21:07:00.000-05:00

Did you know the common definition of "fair" has changed over the years while retaining a its old connotation? Yes, it has, and I just finished a paper about it, so now I don't have to think about it anymore!! Happiness.

Alicia and I went out for ice cream Tuesday to celebrate a great accomplishment. She'd been dry for an entire week, no small feat for a two year old. (And no, she hasn't had problems with alcohol; this was a matter of potty training.) This outing was in continuation of a long standing tradition of aunts and older cousins taking me out to ice cream in commemoration of such great events. We had great fun. She chatted away about "her brother Andrew," Baby Luke and his new sister, my family's Rialta, Uncle Earl and Aunt Ali, and many other interesting topics. Two year old have extraordinary minds! They also eat there ice cream exceedingly slowly and sometimes decide they want a treat as soon as they finish it...despite which, I happen to love this particular two year old very much.

I broke one of my flip-flops this week. "Exciting!" you say in a sarcastic tone. But really, it was rather, because it broke while I was walking in Manchester. The part that goes between the toes pulled right out. I dragged my foot along for a bit before surreptitiously taking it off and shoving it back together as best I could. It lasted about ten steps before coming apart again. This process was repeated multiple times. Believe me, there's nothing like a broken shoe to make one feel silly. I hobbled around the grocery store feeling like a homeless person who couldn't afford a decent pair of $1.69 flip-flops from WalMart. sigh. Once home, I taped them all together and went back out again. (Praise the Lord for duct tape.) Yes, I know, a bit unwise and rather cheap, but I was low on time and extra flip-flops. How was I rewarded for my frugality? By suddenly being shoeless on Elm Street the next day. grr. Managed to make it to a store and buy some shockingly bright blue and green plastic things that don't go with anything I have. Ah well, such is life.

The Obedient Sister

2005-04-10T13:41:00.000-05:00

Aaron tells me that I should post more. To hear is to obey.

Observations

2005-04-08T22:11:00.000-05:00

~The ancients certainly knew how to write history texts. Herodotus blows A Beka out of the water. Every time he introduces a new character, he tells interesting stories about him, not to mention the fact that there are no "comprehension checks" at the end of each page.

~It is entirely possible for homeschoolers to get senioritis.

~Today I lost several games of "horse" and a bet. Our pond insisted on melting nearly a month earlier than my guess, dooming me to last place in our little family competition. How sad.

~There is no nicer thing in the world than a secondhand compliment. (I've heard some nice things about you.)

~I saw one of the greatest tabloid headlines ever today, not that I make a habit of reading the Enquirer. I just happened to notice one at WalMart this afternoon. It read, "Army develops Invisible Soldier!!" To prove the point, there was a picture of a soldier standing next to a tank next to a picture of the same tank without a soldier, sort of before and after pictures. Cara and I had a good laugh.

~It is well past my bedtime, but I can sleep in, so who cares.

Still Alive

2005-03-29T22:29:00.000-05:00

I actually am alive and kicking. I also am actually extremely lazy.

Some highlights of the last unblogged month or so (make that the last week or so. As I said, I'm lazy.):

~Driving out to NY for Easter weekend. The family left about noon Friday, and Aaron and I followed later. I really enjoyed the five hours with him, even if his driving did occasionally make me nervous. (For those of you who don't know, he got his license a few weeks ago, and he really is an excellent driver.) During the times when he was driving, I entertained myself by reading old journals, an entertaining experience. "I always carry my diary with me. One must have something sensational to read on the train." (Rough paraphrase from "The Importance of being Earnest."

~Chatting with chicken-pocked Becca. She's quite an interesting conversationalist when she can sit still long enough!

~Playing Cranium with Ben, Katherine, Klara, Cara, and Aaron. Katherine wowing us all by unscrambling some random phrase into Oprah Winfrey at the last minute.

~Conspiring with Ben and Aaron to scare Cara and Klara while they were out tending to goats. (Fire crackers are quite effective.)

~Listening to Joe and Allouette Anderson's stories.

~Just visiting with close friends.

~Coming home. It's good to visit, but better to be home.

Only in New Hampshire

2005-03-08T19:40:00.000-05:00

This evening over dinner my family was talking about the half a million protesters in Syria. Daddy mentioned how tempting it must be for Israel to send over a missile to wipe out all those terrorists in one fell swoop. Mama wanted to know how close Lebanon was and what it's relationship was to Israel.

"Would that be like Canada to us?"

"Nah, much more hostile. Sort of like Vermont." or something like that.

Earlier this evening we were trying to think of a way to stop Massachusetts drivers and liberals from moving up here.

As Stephen Vincent Benet wrote in "The Devil and Daniel Webster," "And he [the devil]hasn't been seen in the state of New Hampshire from that day to this. I'm not talking about Massachusetts or Vermont."

New Hampshirites sound a bit hostile, but we're really quite friendly.

Live free or die!

Oh yeah, and I'm back. Jet lag's almost gone, and England seems far away. :-(
But I made risotto today, and that made me think of making it with Karena. My pictures come tomorrow!!! (exclamatin points)

Last Post from England

2005-03-01T18:11:00.000-05:00

Karena told Lexie today that I'm going home tomorrow. In the saddest of tones, Lexie replied, "I'm sorry."
I'm not! (I"m allowing myself one exclamation point per posting) I'm going to miss the Weisses, and I have truly enjoyed staying with them and seeing England, but it will be good to be home. I hear that I'm flying into a very snowy New England, so I'll know I'm home right away.

I definitely have enjoyed England. Some of the highlights were:
~Chatting with Karena
~Talking and playing Lexie
~Seeing Arthur smile
~Long walks around town
~Standing at the bottom of King's Chapel and looking up
~Trinity's courtyard and chapel
~Lunches out with Karena and Lexie
~Bumping into two people I knew (or at least had been introduced to by karena) while in town, made me
feel like a native Brit.
~Tea with John, Laura, Xanthe, Otis, and Ianthe.
~Driving on the wrong side of the road
~People watching while in town
~Walking through Clare and St. John
~Watching "24" with Charlie and Karena, listening to Charlie's excited commentary

This is getting long....I think that as the taxi is coming at six tomorrow and my bags are all packed, I will retire. Signing off from this side of the pond...

Joys of Adventuring

2005-02-28T17:50:00.000-05:00

Hard to believe that two weeks is just about up. I only have one more day here.

Lexie and I went to her play group again today. I talked for quite awhile with one of the girls who was running it, a most interesting person. Asked me some interesting questions about homeschooling and informed me that she's apprenticing to be an Anglican priest.

Part of today's plan was that I would go to a lunchtime viola recital at Clare College where Charlie teaches and afterward do some shopping and site-seeing. Promptly at quarter of one, I set off with map (drawn by Karena), money, and camera. I tripped lightly down the road, feeling like a native cuz I knew how to get to teh college, found the college, was impressed by its beauty, and asked the porter wehre the chapel was. There I waited with some other music hungry souls for the violist. He didn't come...someone came and told us he'd canceled. Sad.

However, the extra time was a great advantage. It's an awesome feeling to know where one is, roughly have an idea of where one wants to go, have an even rougher idea of how to get there, and have plenty of time to get there and back. Oh yes, and having a warm house to return to when the exploring is done doubles the awesomeness. And if one has a little money to spend, has a very faint chance of getting lost (just enought for adventure), and speaks the same language as the natives in case of getting lost, one has a perfect afternoon. Add to this a camera with plenty of film, and absolutely amazing architecture (appreciate the alliteration?) to shoot, and one cannot ask for more.

Enough of hypotheticals. I had an incredible afternoon. Went to the outdoor market and bought souvenirs, b-day presents.
Explored Clare, St. John's colleges. Struck on blindly past them, turned down a few promising streets, explored Jesus College, found a pedestrian street that looked promising and returned to my known territory. Along the way shot several rolls of film.

I cannot believe how beautiful some of the buildings here are. some of them I had seen pictures of, but their grandeur can only be appreciated by standing next to them. They are all incredibly tall, and although massive, don't seem ponderous. I can only pray that my pictures turn out well.

All the walking made me sleepy, so good night.

happy

2005-02-27T14:51:00.000-05:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AARON

ok...No exclamation points. (see below post) Cara just brought me up to date with the youth weekend I missed. there was a baptism planned, and at the end, when, as usual, they ask if anyone else would like to be baptized, four people came forward. Some of these people have been through really tough times, and it's really exciting to see how God's taken care of them and worked in their hearts. God is good.

Quiet day here. Had a slight sore throat (better now), Karena and the kids were also under the weather, so didn't go to church. Figured out what's wrong with my camera...I was slightly to close to some objects, and it wouldn't focus. Good to know. Can't believe that the two weeks here are almost over. they've gone quickly.

Katie, here is my sonnet, or Elizabeth Barrett Browning's as it were. Did you know that her sonnets are considered the finest after Shakespeare's?

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
"I love her for her smile....her look...her way
Of speaking gently,...for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day"--
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,--
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.

Nice, huh?

ugh

2005-02-27T09:35:00.000-05:00

i hereby decide to abstain from exclamation points and smiley faces on my blog from this point forward.

until i change my mind.

Trinity College, Chapel Cafes, and the Sonnet du Jour

2005-02-26T15:06:00.000-05:00

Hooray! My camera decided to work again! I shot a whole lot of film on a trip to town today with Karena and Lexie. (We decided to make it a girls day out, so Charlie stayed with Arthur and fed him a bottle. =) ) Much to Karena's and my surprise, Lexie fell asleep in her stroller soon after we set out, so we were able to walk in relative peace at a goodish pace.

Anyway, I love Trinity College! We went in through a huge gate with statues of Henry VIII and some of his wives (I think) over it. Inside there is a beautiful grassy courtyard. Remember the race in Chariots of Fire? It actually happened there, as Lisa reminded me, although it was filmed at Eton. What's his name surely was pretty speedy to make it around that courtyard in forty-five seconds!

Trinity has a lovely chapel. In the vestibule there are plaques and statues in memory of some of its greatest scholars, including Tennyson, Newton, and Macaulay. the whole place is full of stained glass and chandaliers and was a truly awesome sight.

Karena treated me to lunch again! =) We went to MichealHouse, which strangely enough is a chapel with a cafe for a vestibule! Kinda weird. I'm guessing that it was going to be torn down, so somebody bought it and turned it into a restaurant. the chapel itself is still intact and is used for "a contemporary worship service Wednesdays and Thursdays." (!) Talk about a truly beautiful place to eat, though! (No, we didn't actually eat in the chapel) And the food wasn't so bad...brie cheese and cranberry wraps, mmmm.

Now for the sonnet as promised. I was going to give you a Browning, but another Wordsworth seems more appropriate, seeing I'm in England. Hmm..maybe I'll give you both. And if you actually read them, read them at least twice, and you should really read them more than that. And to those of you who wonder why I'm writing sonnets here and think it's dreadfully boring, IT'S MY BLOG!!! =)

It is not to be thought of that the Flood
Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity
Hath flowed, "with pomp of waters unwithstood,"
Roused though it be full often to a mood
Which spurns the check of salutary bands,
That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands
Should perish; and to evil and to good
Be lost forever. IN OUR HALLS IS HUNG
ARMORY OF THE INVINCIBLE KNIGHTS OF OLD:
WE MUST BE FREE OR DIE, WHO SPEAK THE TONGUE
THAT SHAKESPEAR SPAKE; THE FAITH AND MORALS HOLD
WHICH MILTON HELD--In everything we are sprung
Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.

Wordsworth wrote this when they thought Napoleon was going to invade. Yeah for Shakespeare and Milton!

Sorry folks, but poor Elizabeth's sonnet would take too much space for now. Hate to break your hearts! Until tomorrow!

A Sonnet a Day

2005-02-25T05:15:00.000-05:00

I've been reading Elizabeth Barrett Browning's sonnets in British Lit, and they've renewed in me a love for sonnets. I think it's so cool that something as expressive as poetry can fit into such a strict mold (fourteen lines in iambic pentameter, with one of two different rhyme schemes, Shakespearean or Petrarchan.). Wordsworth wrote the following sonnet on the subject of sonnets:

Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room;
And hermits are contented with their cells;
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at this loom,
Sit blithe and happy;bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
In truth the prison, unto which we doom
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.

Just got back from going out to lunch with Karena and the kids. We went to the Burwash Tea Room. It's on a farmish sort of place and was very nice. Very clean, very homey, and very good food. Lexie ate her chicken and french fries while Karena and I ate the best quiche I've ever had and Arthur slept.

On the way home, we passed a street sign that said "Beware of Cyclists." Hahahaha.... :-)

So much to say...

2005-02-24T16:05:00.000-05:00

Between being in England and having a lot of time for reading and surfing the Internet, I have a lot to say...

It's cold here. Even though the temperature is in the forties, it feels colder than home. I think the reason is that everything is damp here. Every day, it seems, it snows or rains. (The snow doesn't stick.) Somehow the wet cold just sinks into the bones....oh for some dry sub-zero Farenheit weather!

Lexie and I went to St. Mark's, the local Anglican church, today. The church runs a play group for young mothers and their children in the area. Karena and Arthur stayed home to catch up on sleep....poor Arthur has a cold, too. Lexie played play-do, and I talked to English mothers for about an hour. For the last half hour, everyone sits in a circle and sings songs like "Old MacDonald," "If You're Happy and You Know It." Lexie was a doll, and we had great fun. :-)

I've been skimming "The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat" by Oliver Sacks. It's amazingly interesting and sometimes disturbing. Sacks is a neurologist and writes about all sorts of different cases of mental disorders. One poor woman involuntarily mimicked everyone she saw. One man would, as you see from the title, grab his wife's head and try to lift it up to place it on its head! An old man would walk on a twenty degree tilt and think he was upright! And so on. Makes one appreciate the complexity of the brain...you don't appreciate what you have until it's gone!!

When we went for a walk yesterday, we walked by all the colleges. They are really amazing. Huge, old, and beautiful. If only my stupid camera starts working again, I can get some more pics. I might walk into town by myself. It'll be easier to get pictures that way than trying to frame King's Chapel and keep up with Alexandra Lois at the same time!

Ma Armastan Sind!

2005-02-24T15:20:00.000-05:00

Happy Estonian Independence Day!

I used to be, like all you poor uneducated souls, unaware of this great holiday. My dear friend Kerlin kindly enlightened me with an email yesterday. (Kerlin, if you read this, I hope my Estonian grammar was ok!) Estonia declared its independence in 1918, and although it has since been subject to the USSR, it has been free again for some years.

I've grown up learning a few Estonian phrases from Mum and Grandma. "Ilus" means beautiful. Something sounding like "vagg-i-ee-uh" means "very good". (I don't really know how to spell some of these phrases.) "Ma armastan sind" means "I love you."

I get my blonde hair from Estonia, I think.

Seebergs forever!! :-)

Sorry..third post today

2005-02-23T15:20:00.000-05:00

hahahah....English people call lima beans "broad beans"!

Attack of the Mad Swan

2005-02-23T14:05:00.000-05:00

Today, toward the end of our walk, Lexie was disintegrating. She didn't want to ride in her stroller or walk, didn't really want to do anything. It was snowy and damp and getting cold, so I didn't really blame her. However, I was anxious to distract her. We were walking along the Cam (the river Cambridge is on. Cam-Bridge, get it?) and there were some ducks swimming in it. Sure I had found a lucky diversion, I pointed out a big brown swan to her. As we walked by it, the thing got up and started quickly for us at a rather hasty pace. My heart leaped into my mouth, or something like that. Swans do attack, you know, and they aren't really pleasant. And this was a very tall swan, and it seemed to be getting into an attackish sort of position. Karena, who was kneeling down replacing Lexie's mitten, looked up. "Uh-oh." I began figuring out how to posture the stroller between the swan and myself so that both Arthur and I would be safe. Then the swan suddenly changed its mind and ran off, much to our relief. Very exciting, huh?

2005-02-23T09:35:00.000-05:00

I guess one of the reasons I have for starting this post is to keep "my people" informed as to my doings while I'm in England. It's going to take way too much time and patience to give a full report, so here are just some random observations. :-)

The bathroom sinks here all have two faucets, one for hot and one for cold. You would enjoy watching me trying to wash my face. To prevent alternately freezing and scalding myself, I try to mix hot in cold in my hand and to splash my lukewarm concoction in my face before it drains out. It's great fun!

Lexie has a lovely British accent! Not every word sounds English, but certain phrases and intonations do. I'm trying my best to pick it up.

Some time this last week I saw a weather forecast for subzero weather. I was pretty impressed, because so far the temperature hadn't sunk much below freezing and mostly stayed in the forties. This would be a pretty big jump!! Then i remembered that they use Celsius here, the cheaters, and they were merely talking about weather below the freezing point. The funny thing is, the forecasters sounded as excited as if they were expecting a deep freeze. They aren't used to cold weather here.

Everybody around here rides a bicycle. Today when I walked into town with Karena and the kids, bike after bike passed us. Old ladies carrying umbrellas rode by, plaid wool skirts bunch around them. A student rode by in her mini skirt (!) and tights. Karena said that she sees girls riding in heels! Because bikes are THE transportation, i guess one just has to do what one has to do.....

I need to sit down and learn all the coins sometime. I've bought a few things, and each time I have to turn each coin over and read it to figure out which ones I needed. At the post office (yes, some of you will be receiving post cards!), the Indian postmaster wearing a huge white turban pointed out which coins to use. Rather embarrassing. Shouldn't take me long to learn though. The currency system here isn't nearly as confusing as I expected it to be, fortunately. The pound (which right now is worth about two dollars) is the basic unit and is divided into one hundred pence. Quite simple, really.

Anyway, I'm having a marvelous time here. Lexie is great fun to play with, Arthur is an incredibly smiley baby, and Charlie and Karena have made me feel quite at home. I can hardly believe my time here is already half gone!!

By popular demand...

2005-02-23T09:15:00.000-05:00

Here at long last is my blog....

Took me forever to come up with a name. Everything I might possibly want was taken. Eventually I came up with the bright idea of looking for words containing "bria." "Briary" (adj. having or covered with protective barbs or quills or spines or thorns or setae, etc.) seemed appropriate; I can certainly be prickly, and briary is a form of a common mispronunciation of my name.
Anyway, here I am.

Interesting stuff to follow.