However, things were, as they usually are, uphill after the trip. After arriving on Christmas eve afternoon, I took a nap and then the whole fam piled into a rental car (yay for Europe! no need to actually own one) to go to what turned out to be an incredibly saccharine Christmas Eve service. I mean, for crying out loud, right before we read the Scriptural Christmas story, we got a story read to us by Pearl S. Buck. And the sermon... well, I've heard meatier words from "Delilah" on KEZK. And who cares about a cheesy sermon when there are good friends to greet you after the service and beer and homemade pizza to greet you when you get home?

The rest of Christmas flowed as usual - presents, stockings, a Christmas party, picking on Aimee (my sixteen year old sister), and rousing the dogs to a good barkfest. And now, a few days later, I've been able to pack the time with trouncing around Prague, losing horribly at pool in the same cafe where Kafka and others used to sit and talk and think and write (Cafe Louvre), staring up at the castle from my delicious Videnska Kava (viennese coffee) at Kavarna Slavia (Cafe Slavia) along the river, catching up with old friends, shopping the hip Euro stores with Aimee, staring down at Vaclavske Namesti (Wenceslas Square) from my seat in the posh McDonald's in the middle of the square while snow coats everyone and everything... elbowing between passersby to make the metro, squashing my way up to a corner kiosk in the Christmas kiosk, between kids hankering for parek v rohliku (hot dogs) and old men grouching about who knows what so that I might get svarak, or mulled wine. Yum!

Well, I was going to continue telling about my week but I got plum tuckered out of writing after barely covering the first 72 hours, so I quit. But here it is, everyone - a post!

1) What is a movie that changed the way you think and act? Or just got you thinking, if the first question is too intimidating.

Geez, Neil! Quite the first question. After finishing the rest of the questions and coming back to it, I still don't know if I have an answer. Crash got me thinking, I suppose. Of course, my yoga video also changed my back, so that had quite an impact on my life. Go Denise Austin.

2) It's a late autumn evening and rainy and cold? What do you have for dinner/snack? What movie do you pop in the DVD player?

I might chop up some apples and cook them in the microwave with brown sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon. Some kind of coffee is almost a must, or perhaps hot white chocolate. If I didn't have a sweet tooth, which is almost like saying if I didn't have a tooth, I'd probably go for some kind of hot noodle something. Or fresh bread dipped in french onion or tomato soup. Heck, I don't know, I just like food. As for the movie... well, the truth is, I'm not a huge movie person, and I don't often watch them over, but I do like Love Actually a whole lot. We'll go with that for today.

3) You are off to wee Himalayan hamlet for a year, your laptop hard drive can hold one film. What will it be?

4) What movie made you laugh the hardest? What movie made you cry?

*Dumb & Dumber. "Harry, I took care of it!"
*Cannery Row made me bawl like a little baby. So did Life is Beautiful. And Amistad. And of course, Hotel Rwanda.

5) Favorite actor (female, male)?

For sheer power, Don Cheadle. To make me laugh, Steve Carell. To make me have to look away, Jamie Foxx. To make me want to be her when I grow up, Emma Thompson. I wish there were more talented actresses out there. Guess I'll just have to go back into acting and show 'em how it's done;)

6) What book or story would you like to see made into a film or what book do you love that could never be made into a film?

A Tale of Two Cities is an INCREDIBLE book that could either make a brilliant movie, if done well, or could be slaughtered at the hands of Hollywood movie-makers in an attempt to make it mass-accessible. But it would be really great if someone could actually pull it off.

7) What is a movie that immediately after you watched it, you wish you hadn't?

There was a summer where I found myself always watching horror/thriller films at some friends' apartment. I regret most of those, but the one that comes to mind is The Mothman Prophecies.

8) Do you read movie reviews? Before, after, never? Whose reviews do you find the best? Are you an analyzer?

Not really. A bit of an analyzer, as with everything, but really not that much.

9) What movie do you think is a must see, but that you can only recommend with caveats? What movie do you really like, but can only recommend with caveats?

Hotel Rwanda.

10) What movie do you most wish to share with your friends?

Hm. Haha, probably the home video of my pants falling down on performance night of the the play in 9th grade. It's pretty stinking funny.

Now tag at least 5 people.

Corrin
Heather R.
Erika
Justin
E'erbody else around here's been tagged...

God and I had the most wonderful conversation. If you're ever gonna get stuck in traffic, He's a good one to get stuck with. He was sweet, gentle, forgiving, passionate. And yet He was strong enough for me to fall apart and to cry (I recommend wearing sunglasses as big as your face so you're less inhibited by the neighbouring cars) and to just be with me while I was feeling hurt and angry and scared. He didn't require me to feel a certain way when I started or ended, or think certain things, or even verbalize what I was feeling to Him. He was just kind of there, letting me know He loved me and that nothing about that had changed or will change, no matter what else has, does, or will.

There are parts of me that are still hurt, angry, and scared, of course. But I'm not hurt, angry, scared, and alone. I'm safe, and loved by the only one who's big enough and coordinated enough to not only hold my hand but to actually carry me in one arm while dealing with all the crap with his other. He's quite a lover and quite a God.

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)

Today is quiet at the office and I feel the insignificance irritating me again, like that old wool turtleneck sweater that doesn't always itch, but when it does, it's a beast and you can't really make it go away, it's always just kind of right there, reminding you of itself. Best thing you can do is find something to do and ignore it, perhaps it will just leave you well enough alone after awhile. I write but I don't much feel like it, because I don't feel (like it's) worth it. I've just begun the first page of Anne Lamott's Traveling Mercies and I do want to read it, but every time I take a moment to appreciate someone else's art these days I feel a greater desire to express myself, more so than I am interested in someone else's expression. Instead of watching the game and cheering them on I just get put out because I'm not playing. So here I am, I play.

But I don't know what to write. I feel like everything that happens lately is intensely ordinary - not extraordinary - and so very uninteresting and unimportant. I don't believe I've had any existential crises lately, although perhaps this malaise is one in itself. I suppose I could make it into one, but is it really worth it? I wish I had something to be excited and passionate about, but here I am, just sort of hanging out. Perhaps once Jeff [my boss who was out of town the first 2 months of my job] gets back I will be mentally occupied enough to enjoy the mental breaks that come outside of work. It would be really great if I could feel like there was something for me to do to worship God with this time but it's very tricky when all there is is quietness and an absolute black hole of time and energy where good healthy work ought to be. Geez, I'm depressing myself. Surely I can be more lighthearted than this. I am the Beloved, after all.

3 pm

What do you write about when your life has some comedy, very little tragedy, and not much by way of dramatic plotline? I have no story of how I became the great administrative assistant I am today, clawing my way through the lower classes to achieve a better socioeconomic status. I am no suffering saint, no martyr, although I can elaborate and make a mediocre story into a good one if I'm confident at a party and the crowd has got me going. I wish I was at least tragically Irish or some other good ethnicity. Dutch-Viking-German-English children who aren't even totally sure of that don't have much to offer as far as unique cultural interest goes. Is it special that I think, deep down, I might actually be Italian or somehow Latin?

...

Sometimes I think I like everything about Christianity except God.

Was Thomas the only one who doubted or the only one who was honest about his doubts and, therefore, the only one who got an answer to them?

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.

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!

Thanks, Ryan, thanks.

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!

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...

On 6/11/06, jim plunk wrote:

usa v czech republic

we know who will win (usa), but you should watch the game anyway.

http://www.ussoccer.com/articles/viewArticle.jsp_281049.html

Jim,
I'm disappointed that as a soccer player even you have the gullibility to think that the US has a fighting chance in tomorrow's game or the rest of the world cup. Consider this an intervention to speak some honest, loving, gentle truth into your life - it ain't gonna happen, so you might as well go ahead and get you some tissues and a shoulder to cry on. I hope this truth sets you free from the darkness enshrouding your mind that would make you write what you did,
Heather

"Heifer, your belief system is best suited to religions that value salvation from sin

How do we know? While you were taking this test, we compared your religious beliefs against 10 of the world's most common religions. Your score shows that you share core beliefs with religions that offer to deliver you from sin or save you from evil.

Some religions assert that all people are born with original sin and must seek salvation. They also maintain that a savior has come to save humankind and that you can find salvation by accepting this as the truth. You are attracted to spiritual groups that believe salvation is possible and encourage you along that path"

Glad that's what I got! Geez, what if I hadn't? Do these things come with a return receipt?

Personally, I'd rather just read a Consumer Report to make my choice...