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July 31, 2006

Little Miss Reformed and more

Well, I've been wanting to highlight my amazing friend Heather and her blog for some time, but just haven't gotten around to it. However, now that she has "tagged" me about book titles, quoted me, and posted pictures of one of my list of former hometowns (Grand Haven, MI), all in the last 48 hours or so, I feel it's an appropriate time.

First, let me tell you about this little spitfire of a woman. She's a whole five feet and two inches of God-lovin', honest, extroverted, funny, ridiculous beauty and she's one of my favourite BFFs. AND she knows how to appropriately, gracefully, strongly be a woman, which is trickier and trickier in a world of passive men and hardened, controlling woMEN. (You know, the ones that might eat you for breakfast if you even suggest that they're anything but vastly superior to men.) Anyway. She's fantastic, she has my same name, and I love her blog.

Now, to fulfill the taggage. I think that means I'm supposed to answer the following questions:

1. One book that changed your life:
Fresh-Brewed Life by Nicole Johnson. (Again, it helps that we have practically the same name.)

2. One book that you’ve read more than once:
Shiloh by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor. About 800 times, or maybe just 5 or 6.

3. One book you’d want on a desert island:
Ooh, what about a choose your own adventure?!? That could at least while away some hours.

4. One book that made you laugh:
Just Checking: Scenes from the Life of an Obsessive-Compulsive by Emily Colas.

5. One book that made you cry:
Cannery Row by John Steinbeck. And Shiloh. And "Not the Way It's Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin" by Cornelius Plantinga, Jr. And King Leopold's Ghost by Adam Hochschild. And a number of others, I'm sure on it. (Ok, when required reading for college history classes sets me off, it's time to just get a grip. And yes, Heather, Bridge to Terabithia kills me, too. Just thinking about it gets me kind of upset.)

6. One book that you wish had been written:
How To Die To Self Without Your Self Dying.

7. One book that you wish had never been written:
Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy. (Don't get me started!)

8. One book you’re currently reading:
The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read:
The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs.

10. Now tag five people:

This part kind of cheeses me off a bit, too, but whatever, let's all play along! Now I'm curious about just about everyone out there, but these are the ones I'm gonna go ahead and tag just because.
Tuggy
Laura W.
Neil
Claire
Barbara H. (a.k.a. surrogate Mama)

Posted by Heather at 12:36 AM | Comments (4)

July 17, 2006

Old writing, exhumed

On Friday as I was cleaning out my computer files at my old job I found a little piece of writing I'd spat out last summer one day while bored. It's a little on the darker side because that's where I was at the time, particularly at work where I was sitting by myself in a cubicle with nothing to do for 8 hours every day. So I started writing and this is what came out...

Continue reading "Old writing, exhumed"

Posted by Heather at 10:51 PM | Comments (2)

July 10, 2006

Yo mama so fat...

...she broke the bed? Yep, unfortunately for my future children, their friends will be able to say that truthfully. Except the fat part. But I did break my bed.

See, I love my bed. LOVE IT. It's just my size, the mattress is about right for my musculoskeletal sensibilities, I've got a normal pillow atop two faithful throw pillows between which a slight dip is formed in the normal pillow where my head happily resides, bright white sheets and a bright white pintucked decka cover (any clues what those are called in english?). Furthermore, earlier this spring I took a trip to Ikea in Bolingbrook, IL, with my sweet friend Corrin and I invested in something I'd been longing for for quite some time: a big, huge decka. And this is no ordinary decka. This is the heaviest weight Ikea sells. Not only that, but I bought a queen-size so as to be fully, unequivocably smothered in downy goodness. This wonderfully dense cloud, dressed in its bleach-white cover, has the effect of making me feel rather princessy most nights of the week as I climb into it. My bed is my safe haven, my comfort zone for baring my soul before God, the place where I find delight and rest for every piece of me. But tonight, it forsook me. Tonight, I have been cast out.

Actually, it was a couple nights ago when I was sitting and reading in my sweet, merciful bed that I felt a jerk. I thought maybe the way I'd jumped into my bed (yes, I do sometimes literally jump into my bed from sheer glee at the prospect of being in it) had forced it against the window or dresser such that it was now readjusting. However, the last couple of nights I have not slept as well. Usually I wake up in less pain than whatever I went to bed with (another reason to love my bed - it covers a multitude of backaches), but not so the last few days. That said, tonight it was just too much. I lay in my bed for about an hour before deciding to get up and see if alcohol could set me right for sleeping. I got up and for the first time saw the noticeable dip in the upper right hand corner of the bed, where the metal piece connecting the side support board to the headboard had broken off. Not slipped, mind, but actually broken off, such that I'd been sleeping on an incline for the last few nights. Not wanting to break the bed or anything stored under it any further, I slid the mattress off to see if it was at all immediately fixable, which it's not. I then wrestled the top mattress onto the floor between the two beds in my room. I'm trying to convince myself that because I'm sort of sleeping on the floor it's fun, like a sleepover, only I'm the only one there. But all that furnituration, including moving the two beds each ever so slightly here and there to put the mattress down, has woken me up. So here I sit on the living room floor, my trusty Czechvar beer at my side. (At least I eventually made it to the beer - thanks, Tim.) My friend Tripp's sermon today was about when Jacob wrestled the night away with God. So far it seems as though it only takes an inanimate, yet seemingly vengeful, mattress to best me. But I think I just heard the bell go off and it's time for round two against that angry beast. It's my time now. I will prevail.

Posted by Heather at 12:39 AM | Comments (9)

July 04, 2006

World Cup Final

I told myself I wouldn't blog tonight (it's about to be an addiction), but I do want to put this out into the bloggy world before I forget. Here's my thought: I am willing to host people at my country home in the county to watch the World Cup Final at 1 PM Sunday on ABC, but I don't know if people are up for the trek to "Kansas," especially NCF-South City attendees who don't get out of church until 12:45ish. Thoughts? Anyone in or have a better offer/suggestion? I really don't mind at all - I like hosting things - but I feel bad for people who aren't used to the commute. Just let me know and I'll make a final proclamation at some point.

Amendment: I should clarify that by "country home in the county" and "Kansas" I actually mean my apartment in Maryland Heights at Page/I-270. I own no country homes nor do I live in the actual state of Kansas - it just feels like it sometimes on the way back and forth. But I like Tanya's referral to it as a "road trip" - I'm gonna start thinking of it that way and have WAY more fun with it!

Posted by Heather at 11:50 PM | Comments (6)

July 03, 2006

I Relearned How to Drive Stick Today.

"1st and reverse are the same, except you're going backwards."
- Ryan Wright, Manual Transmission Tutor Extraordinaire

Thanks, Ryan, thanks.

Posted by Heather at 06:44 PM | Comments (2)

July 02, 2006

Fond memories

My "boss" from when I painted and did remodeling last summer sent our crew a link with a few pictures and better yet, a recording. Our crew included Ryan Wright ("boss"), Sean McDowell, Seth Postma, Scott Herron, and me. We did have a lot of good deep conversations, too, but this recording isn't particularly serious. I apologize because I think there are a few off-colour jokes, but you can't miss our family rendition of "Ice, Ice, Baby" and Scott singing the guitar solo from "Hotel California."

Posted by Heather at 06:24 PM | Comments (0)

July 01, 2006

New Adventure!

Last night I stumbled upon a new creative outlet. I had intended to paint, but as I could not find my paints, I was at a loss. However, where the paints were meant to be (under my bed), there was fortuitously a box of sample votives I won last year. I'm a bit picky in terms of decor and so these votives, although high quality, as votives go, had never made it to display status. But last night they found their true calling - wax paints!!!

So, if you have a box of colorful votives and a bunch of oil paint practice boards lying around, I highly recommend melting the wax and dripping it on the boards to create a Jackson Pollockesque home art project. I experimented with using the solid end of paintbrushes to attempt to direct the wax in a more intentional manner, but it didn't work as well as I'd like. So, it's an art form in progress, and my "piece" from last night is still missing a certain something (chopped up old photos? writing? more wax?), but it was fun at any rate, especially if you're a sucker for colour like me. Try it!

Posted by Heather at 11:18 AM | Comments (2)

Midnight Ramblings

I worked on another unfinished entry tonight. I think I have a stack of about 5 now waiting to be gone over again, for me to figure out what my point was at the time, and to see if it's "worth saying." I think one of those entries might even be a "worthwhile part II" that I'd always intended to put out there. So tonight I'm just going to scrap the pretense, the hope that I'll write some brilliant piece that'll get me the Pulitzer of blogdom or will change someone's life or communicate some brilliant truth. Poo on that.

My thoughts tonight, as they come:

I love Aimee Wilson. Or at least, her voice, her words, and her song "Timbers Fall." I only barely know her personally through my church in Chattanooga, but I listen to that song about 8-10 times a week at work. "The wind blows and blows, and it breezes through until I find it's not my calling that brought You... and I don't have to call to have you hear me." Good stuff.

I've been back in West County not even a week and I think I'm done. I like being in MY house rather than someone else's, and I like the free pool and workout room (or at least, knowing it's there) and the neighbours' free wireless. But I can't wait to move back into the city!

I feel an emotional disconnect between myself and my soul. The person I've been of late is not the person I am. The person I am hurts, gets angry, and is overly honest about what's really going on with her. The person I've been is narcotically happy to compensate for soulish unrest, is brash and obnoxious to protect the wounds, and is loud to block out possible silence, constantly interrupting God to avoid His penetrating voice. Tonight He and I had it out a bit. I'm not even sure what was said, I just know that He opened me, I opened, and I cried and cried and cried - the kind of cry where you're afraid you're disturbing the neighbours and you're hiccuping and you nearly break the toilet paper roll as you fumble to get something to blow your nose on. (I never was one of those elegant, dainty cryers.) He exposed my soul to me and to him and he exposed himself to my soul. And it was good.

My right calf is currently twitching. Can anyone out there tell me why muscles just start twitching? I have a friend who used to have a weird twitch where one eye would wink ever so slowly and seemingly flirty. He didn't even know he did it until I asked him why he was winking at me in class one day. Poor kid. I just hope his now wife has picked up on it so she doesn't get mad when he winks at a waitress or whomever.

I'm feeling the urge to do something creative and artistic lately, but I don't know what. If I were a boy, I would follow my brother's and my friend's example and go out and photograph the night away, but it's not the same as a girl. And I really shouldn't be driving my car until I get new brake pads. So I think I'm gonna get out my paints. That's right, I have paints. I do not paint. I do not know how to paint. But I have a coupla brushes and practice canvas boards and some oils and here's to trying new things. Man, I should have done it earlier when I was a little more angst-ridden. Angst always seems to facilitate better art in my experience.

I went to Las Vegas for work last week. I think the next "Grace" church (e.g., Grace DC, Grace Seattle, et al) should be Grace Las Vegas. Initially I just liked the name, but when I think about it, can you imagine what grace could look like there?!? It really would provide some visible feet to the words "where sin increased, grace increased all the more." Another name idea would just be Sin City PCA...

Posted by Heather at 12:28 AM | Comments (4)