Cotidiana

The dog named Pear

2009-09-29T14:40:00.001-07:00

So, I had this dog for like ten seconds, actually is was about a week. Most people who know me know that I'm not a "dog person". I'm not really any kind of animal person, it's not that I have anything against dogs. other people's dogs can be really cute and great.

With all that said I'll explain how the dog thing happened. We were at bible study one fine Monday night when I heard a dog crying outside. I had inopportunely forgotten my head lamp so I went out with a candle to find the dog. There was this whole thing about Joanne wanting the dog to die, but that was just a misunderstanding. She likes dogs much more than me, so just to clarify, Joanne's doggie-death-wish=false. I brought the little whining bundle inside to inspect her wounds. Her leg was bleeding and it looked like she couldn't put any weight on it. I didn't know what to do, so I gave her water, made her a bed and then fed her a quarter of an Advil wrapped in cheese. I took her home with me that night, fed her another quarter of an Advil and hopped for the best. The next day the elementary school was doing a march in the community, I took the dog to see if I could find her owner. If anyone is going to know who a puppy belongs to it's 115 kids, right? But, to my surprise, no one seemed to know who she belonged to. She enjoyed the march though.

After awhile I decided to name her. She was perdida (pronounced pear-DEE-da, meaning lost in Spanish) and my last name is Pearson, so I named her Pear. Kim (the owner of the house I'm living in) was not happy about the dog still being around and having a name at that. I admittedly did start thinking about keeping her. I washed her and then gave her a flea treatment, made her a bed, etc.

But, as quickly and as randomly as she showed up, she de-showed up, as in she left. I had offered to give her to any of my students who wanted a female puppy and two kids actually came by to pick her up, but she had found herself a home. I don't know where she is, but rumor has it that she's still in the community, but has a new family. I'm happy with that. I felt like it was a little test, what was I going to do with this needy creature and how was I going to treat it? I think I passed and thankfully passing this test didn't include a long-term canine commitment.

Are you my patria?

2009-09-16T17:23:00.000-07:00

Today is the 15th of September, the day before the 16th of September. The 16th of September is a big deal because it’s one of two nationally celebrated independence days. And no, Cinco de Mayo is not one of the two. Today the kids from the Zarhembla school did their march around the community. It was nice. I had a dog that I brought to try and find the owner. I didn’t, but I think I’ve become more popular with the students. Dogs make people approachable, puppies even more so. The puppy showed up last night injured and apparently homeless. I, out of the goodness of my heart (ie. some foreign being momentarily took over my conciousness) took in the puppy. So anyway, march, puppy, 15th of September, got it.

At the mission there was also an event, the Noche Mexicana. I went we Gabby and Chela, two Mexican girlfriends of mine. It was nice to “hang out” with Mexicans since most of my interactions with locals is on a more ministry-based level, not buddy buddy level, which truly bums me out. So we went to the event, I was dressed semi-mexican, kinda a cross between two characters from my favorite novela plus a dash of white girl for good measure. But the fun didn’t stop at The Mission! Oh no my friend, the fun spilled over and down the street onto the plaza and into the Salon Social-town hall.

The event at the plaza was quite similar to the event at The Mission, only different. Tons of people packed themselves into the Salon, which is large, to watch a dance, a march, a man endlessly presenting other men and women, and my favorite, the unimaginably old queen of the town...who I happened to know! I felt so in! The dance included a May Pole, dancing with glasses/glass jugs on the dancers’ heads, coconut shell clapping, stomping, but sadly, no machetes like they danced with at The Mission.

Other fun things I saw included: watching a guy get pulled out of the hall and get frisked by a police officer, and then realize it was a friend of mine. He’s cute, and the officer was a woman. Apparently she pulled him out because he was wearing a bandana...I think not. There was a lot of mingling with the officers actually. Some people might be unnerved by the sight of giant automatic weapons, but really at this point, it seems pretty normal. We saw white people too. It’s become a bit of a game when we see a group of white people to speculate about where they come from and why/how they ended up here. I realize that sounds odd, if you consider that I, myself, am white. But that’s the whole thing about this blog, having such a Mexican evening only makes me feel more white. I was dressed “Mexican” while all the genuine Mexicans were dressed, well, not like me. My skin, my eyes, my hair, all of it caused me to stand out and even though I spoke Spanish there was no hiding it, I was/am foreign. It didn’t matter how many friends I saw and greeted with a kiss on the cheek, it still doesn’t make me Mexican.

Tomorrow is the actual holiday, maybe I’ll go the march in town and try and be white, around other white people and see if that makes me feel more Mexicana. And side note, “patria” means home-land, or mother land, but that sounds kinda former USSR.

Traveling humor

2009-08-02T09:38:00.000-07:00

two things that seem blog-worthy happened while I was in the States. I was only there for a short time...but here's what happened:
1. Lady @ the bank:
While I was in the waiting area at Bank of America, waiting for Bill, this OLD lady walked in. She had a cane, a purse, and a big paper bag folded over at the top and stapled. As she stood a few steps in front of me, hands full, her skirt inexplicably fell to the ground. It didn't quite register right away, for either of us. But when it did I quickly hopped up to grab the stuff from her hands so she could pull up her skirt, which she didn't. So, I helped pull her skirt from around her ankles to a level where she could grab it. It was at that moment that I realized that the paper bag which held in my hand had something living in it. It was a cockateel (spelling?) I left after that with Bill while the little old lady kept repeating "poder de Cristo"-power of Christ.

2. On the aeroplane
The other hilarious thing that happened to me was on my puddle-jumper flight from San Diego to LA. I was in seat 9b, an exit row, when a number of adult passengers came back looking for the illusive row 11. There was one seat, 11a which did exist but no b, c or d. As a matter of fact there wasn't on single "d" in any row. Then the passengers, who couldn't even stand upright, began to get really confused. They bumped into one another and turned around trying their hardest to figure out what to do. I got half-mooned in the shuffle by a man who nearly sat next to me. It remended me of that scene in Willy Wonka where the visitors are led into that small hallway/room and are all sqished and confused. Ultimately they leave through the same door through which they entered. It occurred to me that room must have moved-like an airplane-so you exit through the same door that you entered, yet you find yourself in a different place. How had I never thought of that?

I'm going to Mexico

2009-07-19T01:23:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I know, I live in Mexico. I'm going to a different part though. In 2004 I went on a Spring Break missions trip to Agua Prietam MX. There I met a lovely family who pastor a local church. I was so touched during my time there (I bawled for hours on our last night) that I asked if the family needed help for the summer. They said yes. For five weeks during the summer of '04 I stayed with the Ramirez family, and have since been informally adopted. Since my first trip down there I think I've been back three or four times.

On August first I'm headed back down (or technically, up and over) for two or three weeks. My plan is to help with the VBS that they will be putting on, the first week I'm there. Other than that I don't have very fixed plans. I don't actually even have a return flight yet. Poco a poquito.

My commitments back in Baja include teaching English once again for the elementary school in Zarahembla and a new weekly class teaching geography at the IDT school. I'm also anxious to get some more use out of my surfboard while the weather is warm.

"Reforestacion" = watching movies

2009-07-19T01:12:00.001-07:00

Friday was the last day of summer school. As far as I knew the plan was to plant some trees around the school and/or do general landscaping. "Reforestacion" was listed on the schedule, followed by a closing ceremony. When I got to the school (in my get-dirty clothes) the kids lined up as usual and the principal then proceeded to hand out pirated movies to each of the teachers to put on in their respective class. The bummer was that I was handed Transformers 2-yes it's in theaters, or so I hear. Like I said, these were pirated movies. I wasn't bummed because I didn't feel like watching that particular movie, or even by the fact that it was an illegal copy, but rather because I didn't want the kids watching it. The movie was similar to the first in theme, amount of action and violence, but differed in the amount of sleaze. It was oozing with it! As I talked to Carol about it later she told me how she has personally observed a lack of censorship for children in Mexico. My moral dilemma was the fact that I didn't like the kids watching that movie, yet i was told to put it on. I didn't feel comfortable leaving them unattended, so we watched it. Like I said, it bummed me out.

A Goat Named Elvis

2009-06-22T21:58:00.000-07:00

This was one of the more amusing things I've seen in awhile...Some friends of mine have, what's shaping up to be, a veritable farm. I think they started with one goat...or maybe it was chickens...I don't really know. But now they have many-a-goat, one sheep named Lana (wool in Spanish), lots of chickens, dogs, etc. I think they have other animals, but I'm not sure. They live with other families on the same property and those families have all variety of farm animals.

I took my friend home (to the farm) and was invited to stay for dinner. Before dinner I got the grand tour. First the mom showed me their newest dog, a little puppy who showed up nearly dead who the family has been T, L and C-ing back to health. She described it to me as we walked towards the puppy's box/dog house. And I quote, "It looks kinda like a milk carton with legs." I thought she was being descriptive. As we got nearer and nearer the dog house's entrance I saw something...it was a literal milk carton bobbing it's way out of the quadra-casa. I couldn't help but laugh, the dog had an empty gallon milk jug on it's head. One of the sons who was with us asked me, "Oh, my mom didn't tell you?" I explained to him that she had, I just didn't expect it to be, well, literally a milk carton. It's actually a bit of a sad story, the dog must have that make-shift contraption on his head so his wounds can heal properly. Otherwise he would bite and scratch at them, which would in the end probably kill him.

The other and more jovial animal-meeting that I experienced that evening was at the goat pen. There are probably 10 or so goats. They're all different ages and sizes; they have differnt temperments...and hair styles. The last goat I "met" used to be called Xerox until a fad allowed him another name. He goes by Elvis now...it's all in the hair. I needn't explain more.

"Reblogging"

2009-06-18T14:45:00.000-07:00

I found this on the tumblr page of a guy who's married to a girl who I knew in HS. I don't keep up with said girl-from-HS, but what this blog entry expresses is a well-articulated version of some of what I've been thinking about lately. And (FYI) I don't know who Nick, Cynthia or Jane are. I commiserate with Nick, but I feel somewhat asinine when he ends the convo with his last line. Here it is for your reading pleasure:

Excerpt from a dream I had

Nick: “God, look at all this. You know, the narcissism of American modern art has really reached its fever. There is no consideration of the viewer at all…” (indicates to a painting) “’Psychosexual aggression’? Who needs this stuff?”

Cynthia: “Perhaps it’s an attempt to educate. You know, Socratic… Devil’s Advocate… You can’t just assume self-absorption is the motivation here.”

Nick: “I can’t? There’s no oversight. At a restaurant, if I am made ill by what I eat, I can complain. Here, my nausea is my own fault.” (Peers closer to painting) “Good brush patterning, though.”

Cynthia: “Then where is the forum for those who want to raise unpalatable issues?”

Jane: (walking up) “What are you guys talking about?”

Cynthia: “Nick thinks that the artist is purposely inflicting him with self-indulgence…”

Nick: (interrupting) “Self-importance. The artist doesn’t even enjoy this stuff. He is impudent, not indulgent. For once I would like to see an artist that tries to cater to a viewer’s tastes.”

(Cynthia snickers, Nick looks at her)

Nick: “No, I’m mostly serious. The decent consideration of a literate New York patron’s sensibilities. This pressure to force myself to enjoy or appreciate things that are not appreciable… It’s empty taloring. (He looks around) All these people forced to look at an arrogant artist’s “soul”. Maybe they would like to see their own soul. As a true artist, I feel for them.”

Jane: “You’re an artist? Are you working on anything currently?

Nick: “I am working on a tasteful series of self-portraits.”

Credit where credit is due:
http://freeplay.tumblr.com

Adventures in mailing (including a slight tangent)

2009-06-17T11:42:00.000-07:00

Some of you may not know, but the Mexican mail system is not very reliable. I don't know if it's due to a faulty system or simply to a culture that doesn't have mail as a main priority. Here's a principal problem when it comes to sending/receiving mail-most people don't know their address, many don't even know the name of the street they live on. Are Mexicans simply daft? No, there are no street signs.

This also poses an obvious problem when one needs to give someone else directions to his/her house...or almost anywhere else, for that matter. There is no way, that I have found, around this problem of no one knowing street names. When I call the propane company to order a tank of gas 4 out of 5 times the gas man never finds my house. The good thing about down here though is this, most services one needs to survive shows up on the doorstep sooner or later. The gas man (thankfully) drives his truck around a few days a week honking his horn, so you know he's coming, which usually means I fly quickly out of my house, barefoot, running after the gas man while waving wildly. A couple ladies come around from time to time offering vaccinations. The veggie man and his wife push their vegetable cart around while yelling, "CEEEEBBOOLLLLLIIIITTTAAAAAAASSSSS! LEECHUUUGAAAAAAA!!!!!! TOMAAATTEEEEEEEESS!!!". The water man (who may or may not sell clean water, although he acts as though it's clean) drives around in his weighted down old Toyota pickup with a whirling and obnoxious siren/horn announcing his presence. Those are a few of the aforementioned services that come by, if you wait long enough.

But, I've gotten oh so far off track. The mail. The mailman drives around on a little motorcycle, equipped with a small box on the back for the mail-one must only suppose. Not many people around here have mailboxes. So, IF (a big if) anyone ever does get mail and there's no box to be seen, the mailman (now off of his token moto and searching high and low, unless there are dogs in which case there will be very little searching) will stuff said mail into whatever crevice he should desire to stuff it in. Where I'm currently residing, the "mailbox" is a small wooden box stuck to a pole and probably above my head in height. That mailbox is about one block away and is home to a particular bird who has taken a liking to it and relentlessly builds its nests there despite any efforts on the part of the house owners to relocate it. One more word about the birdhouse/mailbox-it's shared by three families...four if you count the bird.

So far we've discussed the difficulties one simple piece of mail faces in getting to a particular address, and then why it still may not even "get there" once it's already gotten there. Next-sending mail.

I went out to the post office today, it's "in town". That's where we do our banking, go to the market, pay bills, etc. I'd never sent mail out from MX before. I always send it up to The States with someone who's going up, to be mailed via the trusty USPS-to all you USPS nay-sayers bite your tongue! I have a PO box up in San Diego, but there are only slightly less problems with getting my mail there than down here. As I walked into the post office my first impression was that it is very small. There was one man working. There were a few (maybe 40?) boxes on the wall, for sorting I assume. And no one else in there, but me. I told the man behind the counter that I wanted to send a letter and then handed it to him. He looked it over and then gave it his stamp of approval, ie. a postage stamp. He stuck the stamp on a little sponge-pad to wet it first, no adhesive-backed stamps here. Oh no! It's lick-n-stick all the way! It cost 10.50 pesos, 80-something cents, with the current exchange rate. He asked me a strange question as he handed back the letter. He asked if I had gotten a piece of mail the day before. I said no and he said, oh, because I put a letter in that box, #603. It struck me that his remembering was not a testament to his amazing memory, but the stunningly few pieces of mail that are delivered. Is he the mailman? I don't know, the mailman is always wearing a helmet, so I couldn't tell. Finally he said, now go outside and stick it on the box on the wall. It will go out tomorrow. Simple. Straightforward.

The return address on the letter is actually to the IDT office. That mailbox is four blocks from my house, not bad. I thought it would be the most trusty place to have mail delivered. Getting the address was slightly like going on a treasure hunt though. The picture is of the physical mailbox at IDT.

The role of art in the developing world

2009-06-11T17:14:00.000-07:00

Where the exploring began

I'm setting out on a journalistic, artistic, blogtastic journey to find out:

Where does art fit in the developing world?
How does art fit into the developing world?
What purpose does art serve in the developing world?
Simply, what role does art play in the developing world? I may also consider what roles it has played and what roles it may play in the future.

I don't know how this project is going to develop. Will it be like a thesis? Will it be mixed-media art project?

The reason why this is all coming about is due to what I experienced today. As I was perusing (stumbling across, is more appropriate) tumblr artist websites (blogs?) I began to pine for my own distinguished artistic style. I wasn't thinking style simply in my art, but also my lifestyle. There exists an artist persona which is one one hand intriguing to me, and on the other slightly upsetting.

That paradox (intriguing yet upsetting) led me to a whole station of thought-trains. Although I would love to live out that bohemian, free, interpretive way of life (you know, with the black rimmed glasses, cigarettes, Moleskine journals, etc.) it's so contrary to current situation in which I find myself. I currently live in a developing country. And that art-inspired lifestyle does not translate.

Art in the developed world evolves into a culture. Does it do the same here? How does art co-exist with abject poverty versus with affluence? It cannot manifest in the same way. The general public cannot afford the lifestyle that artists in the western world enjoy. I know, I know, there's the whole starving artist m.o. but honestly, there is a stark difference between a "starving artist" in a developed country and someone literally starving.

So, with all that said, those are some of the ideas that I would like to explore.

Going pro

2009-06-07T09:56:00.000-07:00

I'm so good at waiting that I'm going pro. That's not true. I'm bored and quite bad at waiting. Regardless, there is no other option, I'm here at the airport...waiting. The trip to CO is over and done with-not in a bad way, although that phrase kinda implies a negative feeling. My trip to SD is almost over too, that is, once I'm done waiting for my ride and leave for MX.

Colorado was as (choose one):
a. great
b. beautiful
c. fun
d. whirl-windy
There were two things that made it grand: the people and the scenery. The people were inexplicably wonderful and the scenery was verdant and stunning.

The San Diego trip was (is technically) also a delight. Here are three things that would make SD better-in my case:
1. Transportation (this could be a bike, I wouldn't object, or Wonder Woman's invisible jet) I'm slightly mass-transitaphobic
2. The aforementioned people (ie. from CO trip)
3. A lover-legitimate, not clandestine

In the spirit of being bored waiting for a ride I took a picture of myself, with the handy new ($1200) apparatus sitting on my lap, for your viewing pleasure.

Maybe I should write about being in CO

2009-06-01T10:16:00.001-07:00

I decided awhile back, kinda on a whim, to come out to CO. I realized that there was going to be a convergence, and I wanted to converge too. My parents were headed back to CO, as well as Chey - my friend who's living in Italy. Many friends were still around, as in, hadn't left for their summer escapades...so, I found a ride north and bought a plane ticket.

My first order of business (or pleasure) was to meet up with a friend of mine I had met in Italy in January. He recently moved to San Diego. We spent the whole day wandering around the SD metro area, taking pix, doing cartwheels, eating mock-Italian food and pretending to be otherwise hip. I'd say "hip" is the word I would use to describe SD. The thing is, because I'm relatively self-conscious (it's true! Gasp!), hip people make me nervous. Where I live I could look like Quasimodo's twin sis and I could still do no wrong. Why? Two words: blond, blue. Then, when I come up to where all the kool-kat's are born, man-o-man do I experience culture shock. After a fun play-date I caught my plane headed to Denver.

In Denver a friend of mine (who I met in MX, and has been house sitting for my parents) came to pick me up. It was late, and I was tired, but regardless we chatted and hung out until 1am-eeek!

Then, and million things happened that I can't keep straight in my head (including but not limited to)

-Three trips to Boulder, including two to Lucile's

-Four trips to Denver, including one bike parade, two breakfasts, one endeavor to return a lost wallet, and lots of time with friends

-Two trips to Ft. Collins, including one trip to Thai Pepper, three trips to Avo's, three to Starry Night, one random encounter with Kevin (which if you know Kevin, then you know it's not as random as it sounds)

-One trip to the pool with my nephews

-Lots of "hellos" and too many "goodbyes"

I have about four full days left here in CO. Hopefully the next few days will be productive and not so whirlwindesque.

This blog's theme: Intruders

2009-05-20T12:17:00.000-07:00

Maybe a week ago I was at the house where I’m staying now and I saw this kid run through my yard. The whole yard is fenced, so it was odd that he was inside the yard. My first thought was that he was stealing. No. He was just looking for his cow.

A few days ago I was mowing the yard but every so often there would be a big mound of dirt that I would plow through with the mower. There are ground squirrels living below this property, reeking havoc on the general aesthetics of the yard.

Now, only two nights ago I was here at the house when I heard footsteps outside my window. There were people in my yard. It was about 10:15 and I frantically called Hannah to come with someone and check the yard. I hunkered down with my bat awaiting Hannah and Gabe’s arrival. They got here, we checked around the house and didn’t find anyone, then left again. I begged Hannah to stay with me at the house b/c I was scared. She conceded and during the night her van was broken into. Her stereo was stolen, the battery and two tires slashed. I felt really bad. I decided to stay at Kim’s house last night and had some other kids stay here.

Yesterday, while I was working on my giving tree costume I had another group of invaders-goats. Three little goats (who seemed more like small dogs, wagging tails and all) wandered into my yard in search of foliage they could eat. I’d prefer they didn’t eat Val’s lovely flowers around her yard so Jen (who was there at the time) and I chased them out.

I’m really hoping for no more intruders.

The markings on the van after it was broken into

Something to pray about...

2009-05-15T16:30:00.000-07:00

Today isn't any special day in particular...actually I think it is. It is because God chose it. Somewhere in the scriptures it says, "This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it." But today in particular, I saw prayers, seeds which have been sewn, and expressions of love, all done in hopes of sharing the beautiful love of Christ, come to fruition.

God has brought someone into my life who needs a friend, someone He wants to know, and wants her to know Him in return. About 10 years ago this friend's dad preformed an unofficial ceremony uniting her with her "husband". He was a drug addict, and she was soon to become pregnant-the first of two times. Ten of possibly the hardest years she will ever experience in her life is what followed.

About 9 months ago we met. She's in my adult English class and I like her so very much. She has begun to go to church with me, and a Bible study on the side. God has been knocking.

Five or six days ago her husband was released from and 10 month stay in rehab. She wants things to be different this time, who wouldn't? The enemy doesn't. If he wants anything to be different he wants it worse. The thing is, there are two beautiful, sweet, young girls involved. But more importantly, there are four souls involved.

I found out today while she was at my house that her husband is back with them at the house, with little or nothing to do. After our other company left I encouraged her to go with me to another friend's house-who has gone through all of this, if not more, along with his wife. We went and spent a hard but wonderful time discussing what's next for her and her husband. We prayed, and cried and she walked out of there with hope and relieved of some pressure that had been bearing down on her.

Truth be told, I'm less than ill-equipped to help in this situation, but that's OK. God likes to remind us that it's not because of our shining resume that he uses us. And, He reminds us that it's futile to trust in our own strength anyway-He alone is mighty to save. I pray that He does so.

What's a commune...

2009-05-05T09:14:00.000-07:00

'Cause I think I live in one. It's not a proper commune, but there are just so many commune-esqe things about where I live/who I live with.

"A commune is an intentional community of people living together, sharing common interests, property, possessions, resources, work and income. In addition to the communal economy, consensus decision-making, non-hierarchical structures and ecological living have become important core principles for many communes." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commune_(intentional_community)

That's from Wikipedia. I like how it's referred to as "intentional community." Now, I'll go down the list to see if I live in one...

1. People living together - yes
2. Sharing common interests - yes
3. Sharing property - I'm constantly sharing other people property ;)
4. Sharing possessions - The van...enough said?
5. Sharing resources - yes
6. Sharing work - yes
7. Sharing income - yes and no
8. Consensus decision making - yes and no
9. Non-hierarchical - yes and no
10. Importance of ecological living - important to me, but not everyone

More than anything I live with/near a group of really wonderful people who have become much more like family than I could have imagined they would have become before coming down here. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea and think I live in a wacko place with a bunch of crazies. It just seems to be a lot like the early church you read about in Acts. We pool our skills and resources to have a more fluid life.

The last thing that I thought was interesting was at the end of the article in the "See Also" section: Ejido, a form of Mexican land distribution resembling a commune. The community I live in is officially the Ejido of Zarahemla.

The Magic of the "Abarrotes"

2009-05-02T23:48:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I daydream about people coming down to visit. This happens most often when I'm at a place I would like said visitors to see, or with people I would like them to meet.

One of these particular places/people is only 1 block from where I'm currently living. It's called Abarrotes Garcia, ran by a very, very old woman. It's taken me nearly two years to get into Dona Agustina (the very, very old woman)'s good graces. She's sometimes referred to as Dona cara, or, the expensive old lady. Some times she rips you off, but that's OK b/c she's (like I already said) so stinking old that I figure she deserves it somehow.

But! I haven't really explained what it is that she does. If you've been to MX then the word "abarrotes" is well established. If you haven't, here's what it is: usually part of a house converted into a mini-store. It's maybe the equivalent of a 7-11, minus the gas and slushy machine. Each abarrotes usually has a fridge and a freezer stocked with milk, coke and bolis (popsicles). You can find most staples there as well, eggs, oil, TP, etc.

While I was watching a movie tonight (7:15pm and getting dark) I realized that I was down to my last bit of milk. Tomorrow is Sunday and the "store" will be closed until the afternoon. Since drinking coffee sans milk seems unimaginable I asked my friend if she wouldn't mind pausing it while I biked quickly to the store. I rushed off, picked up milk and pan dulce (perpetually disappointing bread which many Mexicans eat in the evening with tea, coffee, chocolate milk, etc. as their dinner) and then rushed back. By the time I got back my friend had read 5 pages of the Four Loves. She thought I went fast, I thought I went slowly.

One last thing (OK, more than one) about Dona Agustina. She's Poblana, small, usually always wears a beanie/"tuque", and has one of those long braids with no rubber-band at the end which just dwindles off into nothingness and doesn't come undone. She never remembers exactly what it is I do here in this town; and is only scary for the first two years ;)

It's a Small World...in my kitchen

2009-04-29T23:03:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been really into Italian food. I guess it's 'cause I went to Italy, but I also blame Trader Joe's. I found this AMAZING 3 cheese red sauce and pretty dang quality pesto, at Trader Giotto's. I never seem to have cheese in my house so instead of making pizza, I make bruschetta...sp?

The other day the CMB told me I owed him a meal. I looked in my fridge and cabinet, things looked pretty bleak. So, I whipped out the Basic Italian cookbook (that's where I got the recipe, more or less, for veggie ravioli, which was insane-o good!) and the Grazing cook book. I decided to make foccocia bread so I could have something that would help a meal look like it had a semblance of decency to it. Come dinner time I covered the loaf with the aforementioned pesto, thinly sliced calabacitas (Eng?), tomatoes and onions, salt, pepper and olive oil. I baked it for some time on some heat then took it out.

Ben and Hannah came over. (CMB didn't, that's a diff story) We dinned on ridiculously large pieces of bruschetta, salad and red wine. Later I made brownies...from a box.

Then tonight, Jen, Regan and Hannah were over and I felt like I must provide some delightful little meal. So, I once again whipped up an international culinary delight. Inspired from the previous day, I made more foccocia bread. This time it was topped with caramelized onions and queso fresco-Mexico's answer to feta. But the substantial part of the meal was California rolls. I know those don't seem to jive. Don't judge me.

I'd never made sushi rolls before, but they turned out quite nicely. Thanks to the woman I'm house sitting for all the necessary ingredients were at our disposal.

Yesterday Italy came to visit, tonight Japan, tomorrow...?

God in the Alley by Greg Paul

2009-04-22T10:32:00.000-07:00

I read this book about an inner-city ministry in Toronto. It was good. Not "life-changing", per se, but he had some really profound and beautiful things to say:

“I am sometimes struck by thoughts of the hundreds of lepers Jesus did not heal, the thousands of people who died of ridiculous little infections during his lifetime, the blind or lame beggars who missed his passing by a few hundred yards or a few minutes. He healed so few! And I, who can heal no one, as reminded that being his presence does not mean fixing everything.”

“When I see Jesus instead of just a poor, broken individual, it helps me resist one of the great temptations of ministry: the temptation to be powerful. How can I treat Jesus himself with condescension?”

“[Jesus’] garden prayer with its simple, heartrending and exhilarating conclusion, ‘not My will, but Yours,’ is the statement of his intention to abandon himself. His arrest, trial, flogging, crucifixion, and resurrection are the physical expressions of it. And his final cry, ‘Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit!’ is one of victory. The power of Jesus’ abandonment would soon begin its regenerating sweep though all creation.
The disciples couldn’t see it at the time. The whole scene was too shockingly tragic. It’s not easy to see power in abandonment in the painful mess of my world. But when I look for the presence of Jesus in the poor and broken humanity within and around me, I can recognize him in the indomitable drive to create, this joyous compulsion to liberate and a tender, courageous vulnerability.”

“Jesus’ power to liberate me derives directly from his vulnerability on the cross. No death for him means to resurrection for me.”

“Walk in my footsteps. Don’t worry so much about the destination; be with me on the journey! Become the one I meant you to be in the first place, free of all the old restraints and preconceptions.”

“This is what I used to be. I am dying to this old stuff-a hard, long, painful death. I will carry many of these pains and all of the scars until I do physically die. In this suffering I am entering into the fellowship of Jesus’ sufferings, and he is making me into a new man, the resurrected man of God he means me to be. I’m being transformed into the image of Jesus.”

“The truly good news, of course, is that death is not the end. It is not the finish, and certainly not the goal. If Jesus calls me to carry my cross, it is so that I can live into these wonderful words of his: ‘I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies; and whoever believes in me will never die.’”

Watching romance movies is akin to eating at Casa Bonita

2009-04-22T10:31:00.002-07:00

Casa Bonita has its own kind of draw. It’s novel. For kids the novelty is found in the caves, the cliff divers, etc. For adults the novelty lies in the irony. Even small children know that there is something up with that food. Please consider it on good authority that I tell you: THAT IS NOT WHAT MEXICAN FOOD IS LIKE. Going into it you realize it’s bad for you and there’s almost 100% certainty that you’ll feel significantly worse walking out of there than you did walking in.

I find that watching romantic comedies or any other variety of romance for that matter has a similar effect. Granted, you don’t come out of it with a bloated belly, but you may just come out of it with a bloated heart and mind.

There’s no doubt about it, romantic movies (RMs) have their own draw as well. They usually have two beautiful main characters who almost always end up together and happy. RMs play on our (ie. women’s) desires. I would venture to guess we’d be a lot less aware of those longings if it weren’t for all the damn contrived love stories we’re bombarded with on a very regular basis-that’s an unfair presentation, I willingly watch them. I know that they have the CB (Casa Bonita) effect on me, yet I watch on! I don’t say that in a triumphant air, quite the opposite. I’m bummed out that I go to the CB of the cinematography world, and eat/watch.

The stuff that makes me feel so crappy seeps in nearly unnoticed. Like I imagine MSG or aspartame seeps into your system and you don’t think much about it until the doctor tells you that you have a blood clot or brain tumor-does aspartame really give you brain tumors? I don’t know. BUT! RMs DO have a negative affect on me which asserts itself from time to time in the form of a heart-attack…not the myocardial-infarction type, but the ouch-my-heart-hurts-and-I-want-to-be-in-love type.

This may simply be the result of being on spring break for two weeks and having too much time on my hands; with which I watched RMs. The good news is, I’m back at the school, and quite aware of the CB effect, so as to avoid it.

The gift of a home

2009-04-22T10:31:00.001-07:00

Could you imagine for a minute if someone came up to you and said, “I have a present for you…I’m giving you a house.” That idea blows my mind. The thing is, I’ve seen it a lot. I work down here with IDT and one of the ministries is the house-build program. People fill out a “solicitude”, a request for a house, and then someone from IDT goes out to their lot (sometimes there is an existing house) to see if the family would be a good candidate for a house-build. I could go on and on about the houses you see when you go out on “follow-ups”…but I won’t.

Not too long ago I was driving around with my friend Chela working on a project for her brother (CMB) and she asked about the house-build program-how someone goes about getting a house. Her situation is pretty crappy, but not at all uncommon. Her husband is in rehab, and has been for quite a long time. She has two (beautiful) daughters and is supported by her father-who has 25 children total. That’s not a typo, he has 25 children. But back to the point. She asked about the program and I told her that if she turned in the necessary paperwork and had a lot then there would be a good chance that she could get a house. Ultimately, on July 5, she’s getting a house!

These houses are not great. Nevertheless, it is a house. It has 2-3 rooms and a living area/kitchen/dining room. They are not insulated so they are cold. But, they have a roof and a cement floor. The idea is that it’s a starting point and that the family would hopefully take the initiative to improve the house on their own. For Chela it means a great deal and I am so very excited to share in this wonderful gift.

PS. The above house was actually my little one-roomer, but her house will look kinda like this...but a little bigger.

Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency By Douglas Adams

2009-04-22T10:28:00.000-07:00

I read this book recently and LOVED it. Here are some of the quotes that I found to be HIGH-larious:

1.
The horse walked with a patient, uncomplaining gait. It had long grown used to being wherever it was put, but for once it felt it didn’t mind this. Here, it thought, was a pleasant field. Here was grass. Here was a hedge it could look at. There was enough space that it could go for a trot later on if it felt the urge. The humans drove off and left it to its own devices, to which it was quite content to be left. It went for a little amble, and then, just for the hell of it, stopped ambling. It could do what it liked.
What pleasure.
What very great and unaccustomed pleasure.
It slowly surveyed the whole field, and then decided to plan out a nice relaxed day for itself. A little trot later on, it though, maybe around threeish. After that a bit of a lie down over on the east side of the field where the grass was thicker. It looked like a suitable spot to thing about supper in.
Lunch, it rather fancied, could be taken at the south end of the field where a small stream ran. Lunch by a stream, for heaven’s sake. This was bliss.
It also quite liked the notion of spending half an hour walking alternately a little bit to the left and then a little bit to the right, for no apparent reason. It didn’t know whether the time between two and three would be best spent swishing its talk or mulling things over.
Of course, it could always do both, if it so wished, and go for its trot a little later. And it had just spotted what looked like a fine piece of hedge for watching things over, and that would easily while away a pleasant pre-prandial hour or two.
Good.
An excellent plan.
And the best thing about it was that having made it the horse could now completely and utterly ignore it. It went instead for a leisurely stand under the only tree in the field.
From out of its branches the Electric Monk dropped on to the horse’s back, with a cry which sounded suspiciously like “Geronimo”.

2.
“…Describe him.”
“Tall. Tall and absurdly thin. And good-natured. A bit like a preying mantis that doesn’t prey – a non-preying mantis if you like. A sort of pleasant genial mantis that’s given up preying and taken up tennis instead.”

The magically disappearing interweb

2009-04-22T10:24:00.000-07:00

There hasn’t been much bandwidth to speak of these past couple weeks. Being internet-less makes you question, “How much do I really want to spend 45 min. signing into Y! mail so I can delete my spam?” Turns out a lot. It’s so strange that this clever little invention of Mr. Gore’s has so much draw. After years and years of having access to the internet I still don’t exactly know what to do, per se, with it. I check my e-mail. Check my Facebook. Sometimes write/read blogs. And, when necessity asserts itself, I use online banking. The inter-world actually has millions of ways that Joe Blow can waste time using it. Like flair. Ultimately, I do believe that the gods of the airwaves have spared me. I probably would spend/waste time on the internet, if I had the option.

PS. I do look through flair. It’s kinda like the Globos (Mexi-swap meet which comes to town once a week) you know that 98% of the stuff is junk (eg. Twilight flair) but you also know there is 2% treasure to be found!

The Fifth Resident

2009-03-31T14:13:00.000-07:00

A few nights ago Hannah went to the bathroom in the middle of the night. She saw something on the wall. Hannah is almost blind (near-sighted) so she stuck her face really close to the object only to find that it was about a 6-inch long centipede. She got scared, went back to bed and dreamed about bionic bugs.

Then two nights ago I went into the bathroom and discovered the same centipede crawling along the rug, then up onto the wall. I was alone at the time and tried to develop a plan to capture said creature without injuring it or myself. I collected an arsenal of tools including:
* A box of Q-Tips
* A piece of paper
* Round Tupperware, w/ lid
* Square Tupperware, w/ lid
* Long, hefty mudding knife

Ultimately I couldn't do it. I didn't have the courage to scootch the critter away from the corner capturing it against the wall in the Tupperware, while using any number of the aforementioned tools to secure it in it's new, airtight home.

Thankfully, Kim and Jacob (and Tammy) got home and did the deed. There was a lot of running around, screaming, slicing, shuffling, etc. until finally the bug laid mostly-dead in three pieces. We didn't want to take any more chances and decided to flush it. The End. I HOPE!!!

Here comes the bride?

2009-03-31T14:01:00.000-07:00

Recently I started going to a new church in town. The church is called La Mision and is part of the bigger organization Cristo por su Mundo. CpsM includes a Bible college, an orphanage, a grove of nut trees (groups come from all over and help them harvest nuts which they sell for a profit) and the church, among other things.

The worship is usually pretty good at "The Big O", and the teaching is sometimes. I like going b/c there are more people that are in my peer-group. Lately my friend Graciela (Chela) has been going with me and bringing her two young daughters.

This past Sunday we went and at the beginning of the service the pastor said they were going to keep the service short b/c afterward there was a wedding. After an hour or so the pastor went back to the front and said, this is going to be a short ceremony...What I didn't realize was the wedding was right then and there. All of a sudden the "padrinos" (key part of a Mexican wedding) started pouring down the isles in pairs. Shortly after the bride came down following them. We all stood. Then sat. The wedding lasted maybe 20 minutes. After the ceremony, the groom invited all present to the reception-I'm guessing there were about 200+ people, many of whom had no idea there was even going to be a wedding...like myself.

Foiled plans

2009-03-09T10:37:00.000-07:00

It's quite common to have plans foiled down here in MX. But, I've had an unusual amount of it these past few days. First, on Friday I went to teach English at the elementary, but there was no power. I said "I'll just come back Monday. Is that good?" The principal responded, yes. Then I went to teach my adult class and the building that I have been using for two years, had been descended upon by a bunch of women from the ejido. They said, "It occurred to us to make tamales." I conceded and left. Then, that afternoon I was planning on picking up my friends Joanne and Jenn, driving south an hour and camping. While outside of Joanne's house the van broke down. Then finally, today (it's Monday, keep in mind what the principal told me) I showed up to school to teach and the gates were locked and no one was around. It's Dia de la Mujer-Woman's Day. Frick, I hope someone gives me flowers or something 'cause I'm slightly irked.

One more fun quote for the road:
"Esta rota."-it's broken. This was said by the appliance repair man after Kim had called him to come look at the BROKEN washer...

Q. What's tiny, wide-eyed and taps a lot?

2009-03-05T19:02:00.000-08:00

A. A first-grader. Today while I was teaching I thought I was having muscle spasms, turns out that I was being tapped by lots of little people all around me. Teaching first-graders is very strange. They're just so helpless and lost. There is a world of difference between them and 2nd graders. I don't know why they seem so foreign to me. They are simply miniature people-when that occurred to me a few years ago it blew my MIND! I know, I sound like a lunatic, but before you write me off as hospital-worthy spend some time with 20 1st-g'ers and see if you don't get what I'm talking about.

Interpretive Teaching

2009-03-02T13:43:00.000-08:00

The art of "winging things" has been quite perfected in Mexico. Ex. Today I arrived to teach English at the elementary school. I had discussed a schedule with the teachers and we agreed on 1/2 hr. twice a week for each grade. Monday and Thursday I would teach 1st, 2nd, 3rd and Wed. and Fri. 4th, 5th, 6th. When I got there the principal said to me, who do you teach today? Really, he had no idea. Furthermore, there was no agreement where I would even teach the class. (note: My tone is not an angry one. I've lived here in MX for two years and have grown quite accustomed to this type of thing...yet, it still strikes me as odd.)

The gov't had only given the school enough books for the 5th and 6th graders since that's who the new program is for. That left us (me? the Principal? another teacher?) the job of copying the workbook so that each child could have the material. There were no copies when I arrived...or books for that matter, except the ONE I had brought.

While the principal duked-it-out with the copy machine (with the help of another teacher) I discussed the situation with Profe Lety-she's kinda the head of the operation. What were all the kids doing while all but one of the teachers were gathered together in the office huddled around the copy machine? The Lord only knows. In that moment we changed the entire schedule and decided where I would have class.

The classes themselves went pretty well, all things considered. My first was with the 4th and 5th graders, combined. They handled the material well and were pretty respectful, on-task, etc. Then the next group were the 1st graders. They were...cute. I haven't worked with 20 1st graders before, so it occurred to me VERY quickly that things work oh so differently with them. I need to do a LOT, LOT, LOT of explaining. It's actually a good thing that they are as cute as they are...

On Wed I go back for round two, this time with the 3rd and 6th graders, and then 2nd. This is going to be an interesting week, I'm sure.

The Underbelly of the Mexican School System

2009-03-02T13:33:00.000-08:00

On Friday last week I went with the school principal of the local elementary school to a training seminar. The goal was to learn how to use a new program designed to help students learn English. It's a computer program that works using a smart board and workbooks. The main reason why the government is implementing it in all schools in the area is because until now teachers had to have some knowledge of the language or they couldn't teach it.

Training was pretty straight forward. The teachers were a lot more hyper than I had expected. I was nervous going to it because I had to be a real life professional, but in Spanish...eeek. It went fine ultimately and it was a good time to get to know my boss(?).

Monday is my "first day" teaching at the school.

It's Easy to Be Green in MX

2009-03-01T14:58:00.000-08:00

C'est vrai! It's easy (or maybe easier) to be green in Mexico. Here's why:

*Things are generally closer together (ie. no suburbs), little communities have little stores, schools, etc. No matter where you live you can walk/bike to get most things you need to survive = less (or no) driving.

*You cant use water you don't have. We have not received water in well over a week, I used a world record amount of water (as in a little) to wash un montOn of dishes yesterday. I also have only showered once in prob a week. I'm going for the gold and taking another today.

*Imported things generally cost more and many people don't have more $ to spend than absolutely necessary, so many things here in MX (produce for example) are produced nearer (compared to the US) to where it is consumed = less gas used to ship things from point A to point B

*People are more opportunistic, instead of frivolously driving to town whenever something is needed many people carpool (maybe cause there's only one car, which is the case with me) and/or they save all their errands for one or two days. When the market comes to town we (there's usually at least three people in the car) go to the bank, market, store, etc.

*No one I know has heating or cooling systems in their houses = less gas or electricity consumption.

*Things are generally repaired instead of tossed and buying a new one. Along those same lines, most things are bought used or 2nd-hand, instead of new.

The areas where MX is not so green is in the trash dept. There is a LOT of waste and very few options for recycling. But, I like feeling like a good little greenie. Onward and upward!

School build in Z-town

2009-02-15T12:02:00.001-08:00

Last week a group came down from B.C. Canada to build a new room for the elementary school here in town. Considering I have a vested interest in the school (I start teaching there in March-unpaid) I wanted to be there for the project. Not to mention, they had no supervisor or Spanish speaker. There was one thing though...it was an all-men group!

There were more than enough of them to handle the building aspect of the project, and maybe I don't think they were keen on me "helping" per se. So, I just hung out and translated here and there.

The first two days were, um, slightly awkward, but it got better. On Wednesday I went out with a rotating variety of men from the group to old house-builds they had done over the years. They brought a box of foodstuffs for each family and various other gifts. Each family was incredibly blessed and really appreciated the visit. It's customary for the families to want to return the favor, usually with a meal. One woman made us a tremendous lunch of mole (Chicken with a chile, chocolate sauce), rice, beans and tortillas...it was so delicious-and I normally don't like mole.

The last day (Thurs.) was the dedication. The group bought 240lbs. of chicken and various families from the town brought rice, beans, etc. There was some confusion about the time, some people thought 12pm and others thought 4pm, so there was a lot of waiting. About 200 or 300 people (adults and kids) showed up. The best part of the whole thing was the fact that the town was unified. The build at the school didn't have to do with religion or individual families, it was for everyone, and everyone was there to express their thanks, TOGETHER.

Day One:

Day Two:

Day Three:

Day Four:

Cooking chicken:

The group grubbin on delicious food

The group, the build and ME!

Love and Pancakes

2009-02-15T11:18:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Valentine's Day. I like Valentine's Day. I had the girls over for "Love Cakes" ie. pancakes, eclair (stuff), chocolate, strawberries, etc. In other words, we consumed copious amounts of sugar, together, in the name of St. Valentine. It was lovely. Then a certain someone came and gave some of the girlies flowers, and one in particular, a bouquet. But, I'd like to think I won the VD prize when my friend Victoria showed up with her son (CMB-the best looking guy in town) in tow. They brought me a little loaf of banana bread.

Later we watched 1900 (liked it) and Ella Enchanted (liked it too, but for different reasons). We chillaxed, talked about life, and 12 hrs after the girls came over, they left again. I think we all have sugar hangovers today...eeek.

The pictures are from last year's cakes d'amour.

The Chicken and the Egg OR the Cart before the Horse

2009-02-06T12:07:00.000-08:00

"The nobelman said to Him, 'Sir, come down before my child dies!' Jesus said to him, 'Go your way; your son lives.' So the man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him, and he went his way." John 4:49-50

I'm not very good at believing for healing. It's not that I have a hard time believing in what God can do, but I struggle believing in what He will do. And, there's always that question of how much my faith plays a role. Is someone healed or not because we have or don't have enough faith? That throws me for a loop. BUT tal vez I had it backward??? In that passage above, Jesus first told the nobleman your son is healed, and then he believed. Have I been believing (or trying to make myself believe) for things that God has never intended? I think this will change the manner in which I pray...and believe.

Blog-O-Rama

2009-02-01T17:26:00.000-08:00

Here's a healthy-heap of random blog-thoughts that I will form into one awkwardly shaped blog:

The birds make me nervous...There are lots of birds in our beautiful green yard. The birds are nice, the lovely green foliage is nice, but think about it for a moment. The birds are there to eat and there are a LOT of them! That means there is a LOT of some creepy, crawly something in my yard. I'm not really a bug-a-phobe, BUT let me just fill you in on the great infestation of 2008...One night sometime last spring I brought in a dart board from outside. The said board had three spiders on it, one black widow and two black, mystery spiders. Those black mystery spiders kept reappearing until we had seen and KILLED HUNDREDS...maybe thousands! Our house is on the edge of town, there's nothing but a mile of field b/w us and the ocean...in so many words, our house is a sitting duck, in terms of buggulary infestations.

Thought two: Burnt chilies. Down here the most common chili used is some variety of dried, red chili, like Chile de arbol, or Chile California, etc. Many times the dried chilies are roasted before they are used in food. It tastes good, sure, but can also wreak havoc on your throat and lungs. The air of burnt chilies (it's not even so much of a smell, but it's in the air no less) prompts you to cough uncontrollably and there's nothing you can do about it. Burnt chili air is the worst.

Thought three: A 5-gallon utility bucket of strawberries. At the end of any one produce season people start showing up to your door with insane-o amounts of that type of produce. Yesterday I was pining for an excessive amount of strawberries. Today a woman, a VERY pregnant woman with three little boys, showed up at my house selling a 5-gallon buckets of beautiful, large, ripe strawberries for 100 pesos. I did the math and at the 1:14 dollar to peso rate we have right now, that's just over $7. I'll eat some and freeze the rest. I'm dreaming of all the wonderful things I can make with 5-gallons of strawberries.

Mexico una vez mas

2009-01-25T10:51:00.000-08:00

I'm back in MX. It's just how I left it. That's not true, it's warmer, greener and the pantry is messier. It's nice to be back. Traveling is fun, but can be oh so exhausting! I arrived here almost two full days after leaving Chey's house in Italy. The first leg went like this: airport in Venice-->airport in NY-->airport in SD-->hotel in SD. Second leg: supplies in SD (like in the Oregon Trail before you really start the game) then drove to MX.

I might go back to teaching in the elementary school here in town. A year ago I switched from teaching in the school back to the town hall building, where I began in the summer of 2007. IDT is building a library for the school in a couple weeks, which means there may actually be a place for me to teach if I go back.

I have a huge list of new projects (this is a Jenn-style blog entry):
-remix dirt in garden, sprout seedlings, plant.
-work on curtains
-learn how to make sun-dried tomatoes (it's sounds so easy, doesn't it?)
-pick up guitar after a long hiatus
-learn how to make ciabata bread
-sew/hem/mend many things
-organize life
-weed yard and spray house, before the infestation begins

Trip to Milan (and Abrezzo, Florence, [back to] Milan, Mestre, Venice, Sacile)

2009-01-19T11:46:00.000-08:00

This is not quite as bad as my East Coast mis-adventure of '06, but pretty close. Chey, Rachel and I headed out for Milan on Saturday for April's birthday party. The plan was thus: Milan-Saturday and Sat. night, Florence-Sunday, home (Sacile)-Sun. night. But this is how it ended up...

We got to Milan quite easily actually considering that the b-day party was in an apt. right in the center, and that is not an easy city to navigate. We spent the evening playing instruments, and eating dinner with a trio of Australian girls (plus one Irish girl) April and her Italian boyfriend, Alessandro. The party didn't really get started until about 11pm. Rachel left at 12am and Chey and I just spent the night there. The party lasted until 4:30 and I didn't really fall asleep until about 5am. Chey and I headed out that morning for Florence, hoping to get there by 2:30. On the train we chatted with a wonderful Swiss (or Italian, I'm not entirely sure) man who owns a Tuscan style hotel in Switzerland. Since we came from a different direction than Chey is familiar with we ended up passing our stop and finally stopped in Abrezzo-not too far from Rome. We realized our mistake, got off and reboarded going the other direction. But, the train we got was not regional, it was local, meaning it stopped at EVERY stop from point A to point B...we finally arrived in Florence at 5pm.

So that's the end of our misadventure, right? Wrong. Then at 8:30pm when we were supposed to board our train headed for Chey's home, we unwittingly boarded one headed back to Milan. When the woman came to check out tickets we were 15 min. outside of Milan and there were no more trains till the morning. Thankfully, April and Ale met us at the metro station and we spent another, albeit unplanned, night in Milan.

Then came Sunday. We DID board the right train this time headed from Milan to Mestre intending to catch another train from Mestre to Sacile. But when we got off at Mestre, I didn't grab Chey's sleeping bag...thus, it continued on to Venice, while we were not. I talked to the info desk lady, who called the station agent in Venice who retrieved the sleeping bag and would hold it for us, which meant we had to go to Venice. We missed the first train to Venice, but caught the 2nd. The sleeping bag was no longer orphaned and we tried our darndest to catch the right damn train to Sacile with ALL our stuff. Then, 14 hours after we planned to arrive back home, we made it, tired, grumpy, broke, and smelly.

The photos are our reenactment of the finding out we were on the train to Milan, the ticket from Florence to Mestre with Venice in the background, and finally making it back home.

Train Station fun

2009-01-11T01:36:00.000-08:00

While waiting for the train Jess, Chey, Curtis, Rach and I took some photos. Here they are...

Pink Jesus

2009-01-10T01:16:00.001-08:00

I'm with Chey right now in Italy. She has Pink Jesus sitting on her dresser. It's a pretty novel little guy, you ask it (him?) a question, flip it over and see what the answer is-it's a glorified 8 ball. The answer are all pretty clever, here are a few examples: I'll ask my Dad. No way in Hell. Watch out for lightning. Just Believe.

It's so easy to treat God like Pink Jesus. If I have a question, doubt, etc. I pray* to God and say things like: Should I do X? or Does X like me? or Should I stay in X for another year? and so on...

Let's think of it this way, you have a friend, said friend has a good heart but whenever you're together he/she is only ever asking your opinion on what he/she should do. There's no reference to you, your life, your heart, your desires...nothing. It would get old pretty quickly.

Now in regards to God it seems a little more complicated. God isn't Pink Jesus. God does have a will, desires, etc. But how could we even begin to go about learning what those are? Here's a basic one that I know: God loves people and wants to know them/for them to know Him. I could pray for that 24/7 for virtually my entire lifetime. There are also clues to be found in the Bible about things God wants-unity, for instance as in Jn 17. Or this morning I remembered that we are asked to pray for the peace of Jerusalem.

God really does speak through Pink Jesus.

*What is prayer, really? This strikes me as not being it.

Osteria Dei Poeti or Picking Elder Flowers in the Springtime

2009-01-03T02:35:00.000-08:00

Last night Chey, Rachel, their friend Curtis and I went to Osteria Dei Poeti. Osterias are little house restaurants/bars, very communal, very family oriented. The proprietor of the restaurant is named Mauro-reminiscint of Doc from Back to the Future. From the moment we walked in he was unbelievably friendly-I say that b/c I really, really mean it. It was impossible believe before I experienced it. There were us three girls, at first, sitting around a small table with an yellow leather armchair also next to the table. Mauro came by, sat in the armchair, and took our orders. He spoke English with the cutest stinking accent ever! Chey asked for dessert, he said he'd yet to put the tart in the oven but that would take 45 min. in the meantime we could have chocolate/amaretto mouse. We did. Later Curtis came and we all chatted.

The whole reason we went there was b/c on Friday nights there is sometimes a band, or if not, then whoever is there is welcome to be there own band and jam. There was no band. Rachel was just playing around on the guitar when Mauro came over and said, "We will jam in five minutes!" All of a sudden Rachel's guitar was plugged in, she was mic'd, and old Italian man was on drums, another playing the electric guitar, while Chey and I played djembe and did backup vocals. And before I knew it I too was playing guitar/singing with "the band." I did the only song I could remember in the key of E (Mauro was playing the harmonica and only had two, E and B) Grace Like Rain. By the time we finished our jam-sesh it was nearly midnight. So we went home.

This place is crazy.

One more thing...After we played music Mauro came out with Elder Flower water for everyone. He actually tried to hold it to Chey's mouth so she could drink while holding the guitar. I asked him how he made the water and he told me the whole process. I told him that I didn't have any Elder flowers, and this was his response (imagine it in the best and cutest Italian accent) "I will go with you in the springtime and we can pick Elder flowers together."

In fair Verona where we lay our scene...

2009-01-03T02:23:00.001-08:00

I went to Verona yesterday. It felt pretend. It's rather apropos if you think about it-think Romeo and Juliet. We went to see "Juliet's Balcony", watch all the luck-seeking tourists touch her breast, etc. The whole feel was surreal, the beautiful tall buildings, the picturesque Italian architecture, the weather (it was beautifully overcast and foggy-OH! so European), the labyrinths...is all of Italy so labyrinth-y? We ducked into a cafe at midday to recharge and reheat. I spoke to the proprietor in Italian! Granted, our convo went like this:

Do you have black tea? Yes, I have regular, green, darjeeling...I would like regular, please.

Then I sat down. She later asked if I wanted lemon or milk for my tea..."milk please"

Although the convo wasn't very linguistically complicated, it was still in Italian!!! I would NOT have thought three months ago that I would be in Pretendville (ie. Verona) speaking Italian to the owner of a quaint cafe. I like that life surprises us.

A day in the life...

2008-12-11T11:12:00.001-08:00

A few days ago I went out with Rachel to take pix at the Old Folk's Home (Hogar Buen Samaritano). We didn't exactly know where it was, but with myself, Rachel and Joanne we were pretty confident we would find it. After an hour or so driving around the same neighborhood we were relegated to asking passerbys for directions. No matter who we asked they always said, "it's one block that way, and one block that way." Finally, at one corner of the neighborhood Joanne exclaimed, "That's it! I think that's it! It's like dejavu!" The reason why we still weren't *sure* is because there was nothing there but a dilapidated and uninhabited building.

While driving into town, to resume our errand-doing, we saw Stan and Marilyn's car drive by. We followed them in hot pursuit of their car and answers. Once they stopped we parked alongside them and I got out to figure out the mystery. The first thing they said once they opened the door was, "It's not there!" Apparently just days before the electric company kicked the old folks off the property and gave them a new piece of property about a half mile away.

I only write this to give an example of what it's like to live in MX. One never knows if he/she will be able to accomplish the task at hand, nothing is black and white. Everything, rather, is covered with layers upon layer of brightly colored paint with a top coat of dust.

shoeless shoe boxes

2008-12-11T11:04:00.000-08:00

This Saturday is our big Christmas Carnival for the town of Zarahemla. Friends from Canada have sent shoe boxes (full of Christmas presents) for the kiddos. They are soooo excited! At school they keep saying, "why is the party so far away?!?!"

The plan is to have each child receive a goody bag with tickets in it so they can play the various games and "buy" a corn-dog and popcorn. For the moms there is a cake decorating contest. All the cakes will be entered into the cake-walk game. The winner of each of the three categories will win a prize. At the end of the night before the kids go home they will receive their shoe boxes. I'm super pumped!

I hope that this event is a way to bring unity to our little community. Pray about that, if you would.

Clase de Dulces Mexicanas

2008-12-06T11:54:00.000-08:00

I recently finished my clase de dulces mexicanas. We (the ladies in Zarahembla and I) learned how to make Mexican candies/sweets. I really liked the class, but what I liked most was the ceremony at the end. This, my friends, was a BIG deal! Each lady had a partner (mine was Neomi) and made one of the dulces we learned how to make in the class, but in a large quantity to share at the end. Neomi and I made cocadas (coconut bars), about 150 of them! Each group had to decorate a basket and display their goods in a traditional Mexican way. Each lady received a certificate of completion-including a one who maybe went to only one class? But man, were they excited about those certificates. It was pretty much as big of a deal as when I graduated college, high school at least. Four government employees (plus the teacher) were there to hand us our certificates and evaluate our work.

As I was sitting with the other students, before the ceremony started, my friend Kim came in. She was the only one who could come out of those who I invited. The lady next to me, Victoria, asked "is she the only one you invited?" I told her she was the only one who could make it. Victoria looked at me with a slight look of pity and said, "well at least you have one."

Gripa

2008-11-30T15:35:00.002-08:00

I've had gripa this week. It's been a pain. Let me tell you a little bit about what exactly gripa is: it's the flu, a cold, a sinus infection, allergies, a fever, pink eye...the list goes on. Basically if you feel "sick" the Mexicans ask if you have gripa. There's no use actually specifying which sickness you actually have, it's all gripa. You can tell if a Mexican has gripa because (even in the middle of summer) they have a hat on, a winter coat, boots, a scarf...they are WELL covered. It's just so simple, you don't feel well, you have gripa, you bundle up. Why complicate things?

Rain and great people (and some prayer)

2008-11-30T15:35:00.001-08:00

Tuesdays we go over to the Taylor's for prayer. It's a sweet time. This last week was really great, it rained! We were all sitting around the living room in front of the picture window deep in prayer (or maybe not so deep in prayer) when it started to rain. We're basically in the desert here so rain is ever so welcome. I asked God for it for my birthday, He was a little late. Anyway, anyway, back to prayer...here's what I thought about. (Was it God? I don't know)

You know those little things we love about babies? A yawn. A hiccup. A smile...you know, those things. I don't think God ever loses an appreciation for those things. For a half an hour or so neither did I. I was with all these amazing people not doing anyone thing that was especially spectacular, but it all was!

And then I thought: what are those little things through which we enjoy Him? Here are some of mine...
rain
bleating sheep/goats
children laughing
birds flying (sight and sound)
fruit
the ocean (water in general)

...and so on

Just as we get to know one another through certain mediums (their style, poetry, taste in music, art, etc.) we can get to know God better through the things he has created-including each one of us!

Anyway, that's what I was thinking about while at prayer with the sound of rain in the background.

Vicente Guerrero Welcoming Committee

2008-11-30T15:17:00.000-08:00

If you're foreign and pass through VG, there's a good chance that Hannah and I will be there to welcome you. The latest welcome guests to pass through were a trio, one was biking from Vancouver and the other two from the US/Canada border, they were on their way to Argentina! Aah-hem, ARGENTINA! The one guy, Andrew, left on his bike citing, "I've got two years." The other two, Stacie and John were a couple from WA just going down to visit their daughter...IN ARGENTINA!!! I just can't get over that, can you?

Back to the welcoming committee part. We met the three of them out at the beach (Gaston's) after church. They were eating at the restaurant and I couldn't help my curiostacatisitis and I asked them about their journey. Ultimately we offered them a place to stay out at IDT and made them dinner. It was a lovely time getting to know new friends and vicariously live out a little bit of their adventure. So, if you'll be passing though, let Hannah or I know and we'll be here ready to welcome you whole-heartedly.

The Epic Battle of Perspirant

2008-11-07T12:29:00.000-08:00

vs.

I have been fighting and LOSING the battle of anti-antiperspirant (I'm calling that a double negative and from here on out calling it the Battle of Perspirant). I want to be nice to my body, antiperspirant doesn't seem very nice. But, the options seem pretty grim. Do I want to smell or get cancer? This probably has a direct connection to my most ardent desire for cooler weather. I am ready to not sweat! This is a cordial invitation to Jack Frost himself. I read an article last night that said antiperspirant is fine. I'm just so confused...should I raise the white flag and apply (potentially cancer-causing) aluminum while I'm at it?

Busy Little Bee

2008-11-07T12:10:00.000-08:00

One time I asked this kid if he was in high school and he said no, that he worked at a welding place. So I responded "Oh, you're a little worker bee!" to which he responded, "No!" He's not any kind of bee, worker or otherwise. I on the other hand am a bee, a busy one.

My schedule hasn't been this full since college, I thought I remembered liking a busy schedule. Now I'm not so sure. I'm just adjusting I guess. In addition to teaching English in the community I'm now teaching at the children's home. I still do community stuff, (ie. baseball, language exchange, sewing, clase de dulces, shoebox prog. for the elementary and kinder, general needs, etc.) Apart from that I've started learning Italian! The learning program that I found at the globos was a present from God. It was on my 'wish-list' to find a program (book, CD or otherwise) to learn Italian. (The globos might just be God's way of reminding us that no matter how silly our whims and wishes seem, they still matter to Him.) On Monday nights I have a new Bible study with one of the ladies from the community. And, recently I've started leading worship! That last one might be the biggest stretch of all!

There are many advantages to being busy that I've noticed right-off. The disadvantages probably start to crop up as I'm starting to wear out and feel tired. Business is somewhat contrary to the Mexican way of life. It will take some time to reconcile the two, no doubt.

Beisbol

2008-10-31T13:42:00.000-07:00

This picture is from AFTER our FIRST game!

I'm in a foul mood so this may not sound as cute and fun as I would like it to, but here goes...

Friday's have changed around here, no more Adult English class (imagine the Hallelujah Choir striking up in the background) Don't get me wrong, I like my adults a lot, I just don't like teaching class on Friday nights. Instead of class the ladies (myself included) have formed a baseball team. It's ladies only b/c women seem to shy away from playing if there are men involved...if you don't understand you're prob. not female. We're not very good. That's half the fun. I played center field last time and I was sore for two days after, who knew baseball required so much running?!?!? The ages range from teens to 50's. There are both Spanish and English speakers. Mostly I'm glad we're all getting to know each other. I expect good things to come from this.

Cue the cowboy!

2008-10-27T12:06:00.000-07:00

Some mornings when I wake up my house is surrounded by cows. Sometimes it's annoying b/c they're mooing their lives away. But, the other morning, it was very quaint. They were in the adjacent lot eating, including a little baby cow, which was precious. Then I went about my business. Later I looked out the window to see that they had entered Kim's (my) lot, fearing for my tomatoes I went out there. I began shooing them away, broom in hand. There's only one small break in the wall for them to exit and sometimes it's rather tricky to get them through it. So instead of running towards them I had to run around the house and come up from behind. I continued shooing and got the last two out with no problem. A few minutes later I was in my room and I saw the cowboy coming to round up the cows at a full out trot. He had come riding from the fog/marine layer west of the house, it was very picturesque.

Later that day my friend Joanne, who stays in a trailer on Kim's property, congratulated me on my shooing job. She had heard me yelling at the cows, and wielding the broom earlier that morning. She said, "I wanted to get them out, but I was too scarred." I said, "Why's that? They're pretty docile." She responded, "That giant bull was pretty scary."

Whoops.

"Death Cab Sucks (Pt. 2)" or Armoire Shopping

2008-10-24T09:53:00.000-07:00

In between being yelled at by a vagabond and going to lunch with him + his human friend + his canine friend, I went armoire shopping. We went to five-ish segundas (second-hand stores) and I brought my buyer, Pepe. He wheeled and dealed for me...in Spanish. I like being translated for sometimes. The whole experience did not result in buying an armoire, but we got a few pix...here they are:

"Death Cab For Cutie Sucks!"

2008-10-21T15:20:00.000-07:00

I went to the globos today (Tuesday is my go into town, shopping day. First the globos then El Ass-that's for you Hannah. I had my canvas tote slung over my shoulder as I walked into the market to buy fruit. I walked past this man sitting on the ground and he shouted, "Death Cab for Cutie sucks!" I responded, "Ummm OK, thanks for letting me know." *key piece of info: my tote says Death Cab... on it* We continued, bought our respective fruit and then left the globos. When we walked out he was still sitting there, a friend had joined him, and he said, "I guess 'sucks' was a little harsh." I smiled and walked on. From there I went to recoger my friend Pepe to go armoir shopping. The shopping ended in armoir-less failure. Hannah then decided, as we headed back toward the vagabond and his friend (and dog), we ought to invite the two/three to lunch at the pollo place. The girls asked while I ducked down into the hole-in-the-wall chicken establishment with Pepe, out of the fray. A minute later the girls joined us, then another minute later the vagabundos. The new'bs told us how they were en route to the hippy convergence down near La Paz. I judged them, probably because of lingering resentment about our first meeting. I thought, do they really have to claim to be "hippies" so fervantly? "The louder they shouted about their honesty, the faster I counted my spoons." (I don't know who originally said that, but Hannah says it all the time). They might come by sometime before they catch a bus for the south.

Just an FYI: I like Death Cab, including their newest album, it's lovely albeit short.

Copper cauldron

2008-10-20T11:34:00.000-07:00

Imaginate: twenty women with surgical masks stirring a giant, bubbling, steaming, copper cauldron with a wooden oar. Sounds weird doesn’t it? It was. I wish I had my camera. Last Thursday I spent all day making “ate de membrillo” (glorified applesauce) with the ladies from my town. It was a great time. I’m now a part of a class to learn to make dulces Mexicanas. The first week we learned to make cocadas (coconut bars), the second week marzipan, the third ate de membrillo/manzana, and this week we’ll learn to make some sort of tamarindo sucker. I really don’t like tamarindo.

Despite not liking tamarindo I like the class, and furthermore, relationships are being formed. One of the ladies, Graciela, 30, asked if I would want to move in with her. I'm seriously thinking about it. I may not until the beginning of next year, if I do at all. I really like her and her two precious daughters, Karla 8 and Ingred 7. Her mom is wonderful, too. Her brothers, who I often refer to as the "attractive mormon boys", are nice too. I don't know what to do. It seems like a really good opportunity, and like I said, I really like Graciela...any thoughts?

Rescue Is Coming

2008-09-22T13:41:00.000-07:00

Rescue Is Coming

There's a darkness in my skin
My cover's wearing thin, I believe
I'd love to start again,
go back to innocent
And never leave

Don't give up now
A break in the clouds
We could be found
There's nothing wrong with me
It's just that I believe
things could get better
And there's nothing wrong with love
I think it's just enough to believe

Rescue is coming (4x)

And there's nothing wrong with you
And nothing left to do
But believe something bigger
And there's nothing wrong with love
I know it's just enough to believe

Don't give up now
A break in the clouds
We will be found
Rescue is coming now

I like David Crowder Band...a lot. I like this song too. Maybe it's the minors but it sounds kinda ominous like staring out of the window uncertainly at an oncoming storm. That fits considering the lyrics. Anyway, there's so much talk of "tough times to come" or the "end times" (GAAASSSSP!!!) I pretty much hate all that talk. Regardless of my feelings there is no doubt some truth to be grappled with. Common questions among Christians and non-Christians alike are, "Why, God, why?" or "How could You let this happen?" or maybe they think, "This whole God thing must be a farse." One of my sisters was just there. We're all there sometimes - if you're not you prob aren't human. The singer (or writer) of this song is speaking to those of us in that place. Who of us wouldn't love to "go back to innocent and never leave"? But he says, "Don't give up now!" He says, it's not that there's fault in God's love, just wait and believe. There's nothing wrong with you, but you mustn't loose heart by looking at the here and now, believe for something bigger. Anyway, this song resounds inside of me as a try and reconcile life and God. I appreciate that it doesn't ignore the reality, but encourages us not to give in and give up yet continue hoping for a breakthrough.

Love plays the fool

2008-09-18T19:45:00.000-07:00

I had been thinking of selfishness and selflessness when this all came together in my mind. I thought, what would it be like to live a totally selfless life? Would it be full of joy? Pain? Fulfillment? I thought of that verse in Hebrews that says, "for the joy that was set before Him (Jesus) endured the cross..." from Heb. 12:2 Doesn't that seem odd? We all know that the cross was not a joyful experience, the verse talks of something else. Something in that selfless act brought joy to Jesus despite "despising the shame" of the cross, it was for something better...for LOVE. He played the fool for our sakes, because of love. The cross was the climax of the selfless life He lived for us, but His whole time on earth (including the fact that He was on earth at all, as a MAN) He played the fool for OUR sakes.

What about that joy? When we choose what's good for others in spite of ourselves and it hurts like crazy, do we have the same joy to look forward to? I don't know, but I think so, I hope so. When we choose to love that person once again after they have let us down time and time again we play the fool. When and if they let us down again we can chose to say, "I knew better, I shouldn't have let them in again" or we can let our pride be battered and bruised. I think that's what it boils down to for me: pride. Openness, humility, selflessness they freaking hurt sometimes, but when it does hurt it's like a mini cross in my life, but only then I can look forward to the joy set before me. Realizing all this is only the first step, walking it out is a whole different story.

This is where I live!

2008-08-28T13:57:00.001-07:00

This is where I live...Baja CA, Mexico. Don't be confused by the "CA" part, I do, in fact, live in Mexico. I have been blessed to live in a place so beautiful as this! But honestly I feel bad sometimes that I love what I do and where I live so much. I was thinking today while I was in a waiting room...waiting, how different people have wanted to support my efforts by buying a meal, or a drink, or what have you. I appreciate it no doubt, but it perplexes me at the same time. The general feel that I get when I talk to people is that what I'm doing is somehow a ten on the nobility scale. Why? Why is what I do any more or less noble than what many other of my friends do? Is money really worth that much? Does a salary negate the good, hard work that my wonderful friends have committed this time of their lives to? I don't think so. Can I just say this now; I have the utmost respect for those of my friends (and family) in that position. I admire the discipline that it takes to work here in The States, the pace in this country will suck you dry.

It's not as though I don't work, it's just that there is no sense in the idea that because I live south of an arbitrary border and don't have a "paid job" (although I raise support and it's basically the same thing) it's somehow more valuable than what others are doing. So, I extend kudos to "the rest of you." My conclusion of this whole matter is this: the truly noble thing is to faithfully walk on the path God has put in front of you, be that working as a teacher, waitress or...missionary (there it is, I said it!) I have a feeling that Jesus really meant what he said about whatever we do for the least of these we do for HIM. And that applies to all of us, no matter where we are or what we're doing. Love to you all,

At the "foreign table"

2008-08-07T16:22:00.000-07:00

"The real voyage of discovery lies not in seeking new places, but it seeing with new eyes." --Marcel Proust

I went to a wedding the other day. It was beautiful. At the reception I sat at the "foreign table". Most of the people at the table spoke a second language. With one girl I practiced my French, another my Spanish and with the boys to my right, Japanese. I only know a few things in Japanese: I am Danielle, stop complaining, friend and flower. The combinations of those few phrases are not endless.

Since I've grown up here and been to many weddings I don't really think much about wedding culture, but my goodness does it exist! I was appointed the Japanese boy's (Kiyoshi and Mikio) tutor for the evening and I began to see with a whole new set of eyes. For instance, the glass clinking, we inherently know what it means...they didn't. I explained, if you want the couple to kiss you just clink your glass like this... The meal was served with a 4" sprig of rosemary as a garnish. I just told them, you can cook with that, but you don't really eat it, not like this anyway. Then they passed out a sheet of paper with the lyrics to "That's Amore" for everyone to sing while the bride and groom cut the cake. Kiyoshi asked me, "Is is common to honor Italian culture at weddings?" No, not really I told him, sometimes the more simple answers are the way to go. The bride's father came by and told us a joke during the evening which I went to great lengths to try and explain once he was gone. I did so because it evoked no emotion from either of the Japanese boys. Kiyoshi told me, "I understand the joke, I just don't think it's funny." Oh, OK then.

For some reason I find myself relating more to foreigners these days than Americans. I don't know why really, I've lived most of my life in The States. Although it was a rude awakening (one day in class my Jr. year in college) that I was not, in fact, Latina. We spend our whole lives trying to figure out life and ourselves, I'm still at it. Let me know if any of you come to "get it."

D

I ditched church to hear from God

2008-07-13T22:06:00.000-07:00

I guess I can't pretend that I ditched church b/c I knew God would speak to me, I just needed to be alone.

The other night as a lie awake I was thinking that when one is fixated on his/her sin they fall into one of two categories (I imagine there are more, but this is how it came together in my mind) they are either ignorant or pompous. The first doesn't see how truly bad they are inside and the second thinks they've really got their crap together. I think I fall into the second category. In that case I still haven't realized there is no way in hell I could ever save myself. By focusing on a particular sin I have committed, I'm really saying to myself, "had I not done x thing I would be pretty near perfect." On one hand I know that to be a "scandalous falsehood" but on the other I fail to live it out. I don't fully understand God's grace because I don't fully understand my sin.

Now, the other type of person I mentioned is the ignorant one, the one who doesn't really grasp the entirety of h/h sin nature. It might be more fair to call h/h naive, it is much more of a humble fault. Because h/s doesn't understand that pure evil lies in h/h core h/s thinks they could probably achieve perfection by just trying hard enough...right?

So, after thinking about these things and about a convo I had with my friend, Dane, it struck me that this wasn't an entirely new idea. In fact, the very book I was reading was a simple illustration of this exact idea. In The Wise Woman (or The Lost Princess) by George McDonald the two main characters are the embodiment of the pompous and the ignorant/naive, their names are Agnes and Rosamond. Agnes believes she is quite good and Rosamond doesn't realize how bad she really is. If you think you're interested in the whole story I'd highly suggest it.

I get really hung up on the "walk worthy of the calling" part (Col. 1:10) and not on the part two verses down that says it is the Lord who qualifies us. I realize it's not bad to try and walk worthy of the Lord's calling on our lives, but I must question my motives. Do I strive to walk worthy simply in order to try and qualify myself? If that is the case, then I have missed the point all together. Oh that I could understand the wonderful grace of God!

And that, my friends, is what I learned while I was playing hooky and not going to church. I'm really glad that I serve a God who likes to talk =)

"Will you forgive all my naughtiness, and all the trouble I have given you?"
"If I had not forgiven you, I would never have taken the trouble to punish you. If I had not loved you, do you think I would have carried you away in my cloak?"
"How could you love such an ugly, ill-tempered, rude, hateful little wretch?"
"I saw, through it all, what you were going to be...But remember you have yet only begun to be what I saw."
--George McDonald, The Wise Woman

Needles are mini lightning rods

2008-07-09T22:40:00.000-07:00

My friend Jennifer told me I should start a blog, so I did. This story is why she told me to do it. Want to hear it? If so you'll have to read it out loud, otherwise you'll just be reading it.

I went to sewing yesterday at the Mormon church. It's mostly me and old ladies and I'm DEFINITELY the only one there without children. We embroider, knit, crochet, whatever really. I went this Tuesday and just as I got there it began to rain. I was sitting there (in my metal chair) needle in hand as Victoria (a very, very old woman who actually can't see well enough to participate in the sewing, but comes anyway and usually sings) walked by and informed me of the dangers of my craft. She said it was imperative that I let the sewing alone, because, with that needle in my hand I was likely to be STRUCK by lightning! They are made of metal, you know; I was virtually holding in my very hand a mini lightning rod! It happened to a friend of theirs-so they say. So, I decided to retire from sewing with the ladies for the day, donned my hood and rode off (on my steel framed bike) to my house. The End.

PS. The first pic is of my first embroidered "servilleta" the other pic is not from the aforementioned day, nor is it Victoria, but rather, my dear friend Ana...but it is from Tuesday sewing.