Ordinary Life

One of my internet friends has been tackling the phrase ' worship experience ' lately along with probing the idea that worship is something we "feel" or an environment we can create on Sunday mornings. As a person with a more reserved personality, this topic resonates with me and while I never feel that I have the answers , I am learning to join the conversation . My churched background has afforded many opportunities to feel pressure from the platform or my gathering of friends to 'perform' worship in a way that is more visible and animated than my comfort level. I have prayed beside people offering their prayers in tongues unknown. I have been told that my faith was only genuine if I was willing to pick up a snake. (There were no snakes present in the Kroger where this conversation occurred, thankfully - but it was a real conversation) I have scoffed at fog machines and cameramen running across the stage to get the next shot. I have scoffed at three piece su...

Friday night and we are out to eat, two widows proper and me, widowed by the death of a girlish dream. Our waitress leads us to a four top, one empty chair for the phantoms we bring. We three share genes and a bloodline, but have different ideas about dressing a biscuit. My aunt asks for apple butter, my cousin requests honey from a bear and I opt for maple's syrup. The phantoms are silent. No one asks what they would have liked. My aunt, alone the longest and of a quiet nature,  is content to share our company. My cousin, twice widowed yet too young to retire, is - unbeknownst to our waitress - a former five star general in the order of Cracker Barrels. I feel the need to create content, to lift countenances; we are not begged by little voices to please, pretty please , play checkers. The phantoms clear their throats and I push the peg game meant for one in front of their empty chair. "I wonder if they have blueberry muffins tonight?" my cousin asks aloud "Oooh, mmm...

Dear Ryan, Rarely do I feel the word 'quintessential' applies - especially in regards to myself. But you have transposed me into the notes of a song, quintessentially. Thank you. When I was first diagnosed (ha.) as a nine, I didn't think I could be sure of my own results. "Who am I to say, what any of this means..." indeed. I tested a few more times over the past few years, ever and always a nine. But, for some reason I kept my results close, replying to the few people I allowed to know "I tested as a nine" in case maybe later my actual number came to light.  I never shared the visual caricature that captures the key 9 attributes publicly, because... what if there was something I wasn't remembering, something I wasn't letting myself be honest about? What if eventually I would admit that I have always been a five? As I type this now, being a nine stands out to me from every line. You helped me "see myself through someone else's eyes....

Sometimes they're on land, too.

One day, you might drive past a busted bag of flour on a busy street downtown. You're just gonna have to press on knowing the backstory will never belong to you. It is almost enough to have seen it with your own eyes. Almost. Tell yourself you can build a new story upon its head...someday.  And get on with your life.

The old fishing pier  at Clam Creek on Jekyll Island is one of the tacks in my personal map. You know, one of those places on the planet where a soul can just exhale. An album exists: www.flickr.com/gp126152547@NO2/782f61

There's just something special about Walt Disney's Experimental Prototype Community Of Tomorrow. It is my favorite park for several reasons, and it seems to me one of the most fitting monuments to the man behind Mickey Mouse. At its inception, Walt said of EPCOT:  "EPCOT will be an experimental prototype community of tomorrow that will take its cue from the new ideas and new technologies that are now emerging from the creative centers of American industry. It will be a community of tomorrow that will never be completed, but will always be introducing and testing and demonstrating new materials and systems. And EPCOT will always be a showcase to the world for the ingenuity and imagination of American free enterprise." Ingenuity. Imagination. America.  I think that's all of it in a nutshell.  Walking through the park makes me nostalgic. Not only for past visits and childhood adventures, but also for the strong broth of a certain philosophy, spooned to me steadily f...

Lazaretto Creek is one of my favorite spots [ so far,  life is young yet...oh,  but not as young as she used to be ]  Whether we're headed towards the ocean or away from her,  I enjoy crossing over the scenic spot: boats of all sorts to one side,  lonesome Cockspur Light on the other. I enjoy spending time down near the docks even more. Yesterday's lunch found us creekside @ CoCo's finishing arithmetic [1 Million ÷ 25 ] o ver sandwiches featuring melted cheese ( there were other ingredients but it is only ever the cheese that matters ) and counting our fingers to the rhythm of the music from many decades and genres . That's all really.  Just a nickel for the Nice Day jar.  Thanks for listening. Bonus Nickel: I learned more about lazarettos than I previously knew when getting ready to frilly up this post with links. Double Bonus Nickels [dime?]: I learned more about Lazaretto Creek's unique history , too. And as is often the case, learning backstory...

The real problem with a hard-hitting, right-on-the-money-Sunday-morning-sermon is my propensity to quote parts of it against my fellow man (and myself) for the rest of the week.  I don't think that's how they're supposed to work. Leave Space For Grace, Kelly .  (Ah yes...I've heard she was quite the dancer.) 

Problem is posed in first 5 minutes. Give yourself 24 Hrs to solve, then watch the second half to check your solution (or find relief).  Taking the "Truth-Teller Amongst Togglers Dilemma" to bed with me-- find the truth-teller in only two questions:

Now I'd like to paint... maybe after a brief nap...

I am learning new things. Thank you, Khan Academy .  Project: Shooting star From THAT :    ASSIGNMENT Decide what side of the canvas you want the star to start from, the top, bottom, left or right, and position your star there. Decide what direction you want the star to move in. Change the variables inside draw so that the star moves the way you wanted. Add another star or other shape, and animate it going in a different direction. Bonus: Change the star into a different shape, or have it shoot out of a cannon. Bonus: Add a backdrop, like a starry night or skyscrapers. To THIS : *REFRESH MAY BE REQUIRED TO VIEW ANIMATION, I HAVEN'T LEARNED LOOPING QUITE YET*

Our FaceBook friend Mitch often posts poetic pictures of  the "Old Lady" tree near his home. And, it is a beautiful, old lady tree. See? Mr. Mitch is an interesting fellow and I often want to do and be and think and see in step with him.  So, imagine my delight when I discovered  that we have an Old Lady Tree too... See?  Okay, so she's a bit of a hag.  I surely wouldn't eat any apples from this tree. Mainly because it isn't an apple tree, bu t also because 'she' looks like the witch from Snow White, whose specialty was the Drowsy Apple.  See?  I have friends standing by - ready to call the right folks and administer the right meds for me if the lady in my tree turns out to be from another Disney franchise:  If I hear it speak, I am to repeat: "A tree may speak to me, but only metaphorically."  (...and so help me, if you ever find me running around in a buckskin dress...talking to the trees... wrap me up in my loooong sleeve pajamas please.....

David Levy Yulee   was the the first Jewish member of the United States Senate.  He was a sharp business man, serving as president of several companies. While living in Fernandina with his family ,  David Yulee founded the  Florida Railroad Company and became known as the Father of Florida Railroads.  Yulee served as a member of the Confederate Congress where his passionate speeches in support of Confederate causes  gained him another nickname:   "Florida Fire Eater"   .   These passions also gained him a 9 month imprisonment @  Fort Pulaski .  He was granted pardon and has since been named a "Great Floridian" 

I recently joined a local band of rowdy homeschooling mommas. Okay, so we aren't really rowdy. We're all rather reserved actually... unless you hit our hot topic or favorite curriculum  buttons... then we may have opinions to share... or mildly suggest. But, rowdy or no, we are banded together birds o' feather (who like to maintain our autonomous natures, thank you kindly.)  The important thing is we are ' banded together ' - something I had let go of for awhile  (Sometimes my 'autonomous' overflows and I forget that I'm not an island adrift nor The Lone Ranger.) It is nice to be back in community with like-minded yet completely unique folks again. It has been a little while since we were last plugged in with a group.  {Here's one time . This was another .}  Between my overflowing autonomy and busy, bustling every day life, it just didn't seem like we had the time. But alas, as is usually the case-some of the best things are things we MAKE T...

I recently finished merging all of the old blogs that I could find (and that I still remember the passwords for). This after a period of ducking into my shell... I can be very 'turtle-like', I know. Sometimes I'm okay with all the world seeing all the warts , other times I try to disappear for all I'm worth . As I merged the blogs, I enjoyed reading the old entries. Many memories and  moments were brought back to mind- some of it good and some of it slightly embarrassing... I have been too  many versions of me. One Two Three ...Count the Me's .. .   SeventySix ... NinetyNine ... One Thousand I have a terrible memory. If there isn't a picture or journal entry about it, it never happened or at least, not that I can recall.  Reading back over small, conversational details in some of the older entries had a shrinking effect. My eleven year old was suddenly four again, trying to fly like Peter Pan .   Years disappeared and in their place the taste of sweet sadne...

St. Marys, GA 

I recently picked up Elizabeth Smart's book at a local thrift store.  It terrified me. As in, check all the closets, lock all the doors, "What was that noise?!" terrified me.  It was not unlike watching a Criminal Minds episode... too late at night... and home all alone.  I finished the book shortly before bedtime and so, I slept with flashlight and pepper spray nearby and I  set up noise traps at RyeBird's windows. She usually eventually ends up in 'the big bed' with us, but for the 45 minutes where she actually slept in her own bed, it was extra peace of mind. I did not sleep in  MY own bed. I just lay there, hyper-vigilant.   ~*~  Sometimes, it is nice to pretend that the world isn't as sick and twisted as it really is, but stories like this deny that charade. The world is broken...very, very badly in some places.  The month prior to this, I had picked up Jaycee Duggard's story at a different thrift store. Also scary. So I am now convinced that...