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Another rock star adventure

2011-11-20T21:57:00.000-08:00

Having tickets to see Robert Plant and knowing that he would most likely be staying at The Whitney Hotel, favourite of English rock royalty, I convinced a couple of skeptical friends at work that HELL YES, we could meet this most legendary of Rock Stars!

Kelly, my always willing groupie partner on many occasions, shared my can-do attitude. But Jenny, always pragmatic, went along mostly to ridicule us.

It was a rainy, gloomy day -- I vaguely recall being kind of wet and skanky when The Golden God did indeed appear in the lobby in all of his drunken glory. And, surprisingly, it was Jenny who went the most insane upon seeing him:

Jenny, VO: "YOUUUUUU GUIIIIYS!!!!" (overly annunciated Midwestern accent, best imagined if you actually know Jenny, as almost everybody does, right? ;)

RP was very willing to have his photo taken with us and although I can picture the polaroid in my head, I don't think I have it anymore. I was wearing a vintage man's tan trench coat and thankfully having a good hair day. Kelly was all big hair and bright red lipstick. Jenny had wide eyes filled with excitement and disbelief. The whole way back to work, it was Jenny who was still the most "pinch-me" giddy, and subsequently shared a few more rock star stalking adventures.

Fast forward, many years later...

I was in New York on business. Staying at the SoHo Grand, I got out of a cab with a co-worker just as Robert Plant AND Jimmy Page got out of a cab ahead of us. A double score -- Led Zep in the flesh!

That would've been cool enough, yes? But, as fate would have it, we happened to get in the same elevator. I turned to Robert and said, "Hello! I met you in Minneapolis a few years back!" He didn't skip a beat, gallantly playing along by replying, "Ah, yes, of course I remember. HOW have you been?" It was most awesome.

Jimmy scrunched back far into the corner, clearly not wanting to be noticed. I paid him respect by averting eye contact although I was out of my brain just standing so close to a player of his stature. My co-worker was speechless until we got off the elevator. It had happened so fast that she wasn't quite sure exactly who we had just encountered. We went to my room and had fun putting it all together...and MAYBE sending a fax or two to the Penthouse. I'll never tell!

Thanks

2011-11-12T13:01:00.000-08:00

I read a book a year ago or so about cultivating a grateful heart, and the difference it can make in your life. I started to do this everyday on the way to work -- try to notice every single thing around me -- people, conversations, physical setting, weather, etc. It's a nice way for me to start the day with Christ at the center. On good days, I still remember my morning ritual at the end of the day, but most days it's a challenge, until I start over the next morning.

Here are some recent highlights:

- The morning glories on the fence of the group home on my corner. They're fading, but there are still a few left, hanging in there. I root for them every morning!

- The guy on the bus who I think has had multiple strokes. He greets everyone who gets on, asks about their families, etc. Yesterday he told me that he had stopped going to a lutheran church after 13 years and had started at a methodist one instead. His reason was, "The lutherans are all about liturgy. They've stopped celebrating joy."

- The sun setting over downtown at around 4:30pm, when I've been coming back to work from picking up Lilly. It creates the most unusual pink hue to the buildings that I think I've ever seen. It's like neon.

- At night lately, along with the harvest moon, there are streaks of whiteish-yellow that almost look like the northern lights. Not something usually seen in the city, and makes standing in the cold backyard with a wiener dog almost bearable!

- After nearly 3 years, the woman I've been talking to on the train and I finally formerly introduced ourselves. She was showing me a photo of her 6 month old son. His name is Graham. My love of that name broke down that final percent of "stranger-ness" and allowed us to officially become friends. Much better than facebook!

Give it a try. As cynicism melts away, it makes more room for wonder.

Possibilities

2011-11-12T07:36:00.000-08:00

This photo freaks me out. The girl on the right, hiding behind a cap and forever with her nose in a book, is my daughter, Lilly. She's a few months away from 13. The other girl is Lilly's best friend, Liberty. After a sleepover last weekend, we took the train downtown to the library so the girls could get some homework done. Although these girls are like any other preteens, giggling the night away and making movies on YouTube, they're also serious about school and passionate about the things they love most, art and books.

I snapped this on my phone because the sunlight was streaming through the train window and shining just right on Lilly's beautiful auburn hair. That was supposed to be it - a pretty picture of my daughter and her friend.

But when I downloaded it, it was like peering into the future, seeing Lilly on a train in another city, as a student at some faraway university, or on her way home to the tiny apartment she shares with a friend or 3. At that jumping off point between adolescence and adulthood that so many of us get wrong.

So that's the apprehension I feel when I see this photo, although it is balanced equally with excitement and possibility. And hope that the sun will always shine on Lilly, no matter where her train is going.

Work work

2011-10-10T12:55:00.000-07:00

I don't often post about work here, but today was a big day for us at Cue. We've been working on Jack Daniel's for about three years, including a re-design of the iconic bottle and label. Pretty cool for a small studio in Minneapolis (small in size, gigantic in talent!) Nate Hinz led the way on this one, with lots of fun collaboration from a great client and production team. But, for me, the most important test of success will be how it looks in Keith's hands!

Is it better to preach than pray?

2011-09-19T16:14:00.000-07:00

The building I work in is right next to an abortion clinic. Most days, there is one man who stands outside, handing out pamphlets and acting as a physical obstacle to people wanting to get in the clinic door. He is a Christian, as evidenced by his literature and his preaching. I've never seen him having an actual conversation with anyone, only occasionally shouting a verse in a tone that while not exactly hostile, sounds like an admonishment.

I often notice him as I enter the garage where I park my bike, and it conflicts me. There's part of me that admires the fact that he seems absolutely committed to what he must feel is his divine purpose/calling. He spends a good part of everyday there, alone, rain or shine. I don't think he's backed by an organization, so he probably doesn't earn an income, meaning he must sacrifice on some level.

But then I wonder if what he's doing is effective? His shouting doesn't engage anyone, thus providing an opportunity to really minister to a person and their individual circumstances. I've seen him blurt out a verse to young women as they step around him and toward the door with looks of humiliation, sadness, anger and fear on their faces. Confronted with the situation that this man purposely places himself in everyday, I don't think I could do anything other than hug these girls, all flavors of political, religious, moral beliefs aside. Seems like a prayer might go a lot further, you know?

2011-09-16T10:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes in the course of a normal day at work I get the super fun task of looking through stock photography, which leads to casual conversation such as this:

"If i WAS to die of nuclear radiation, doing so in a field of poppies would be preferable."

For hours of stock photo inspired fun, go here.

Oh, the romance.

2011-09-06T12:13:00.000-07:00

After dropping off our newly minted first grader this morning, Eric and I found ourselves home alone for a whole day, for the first time in probably close to a decade.

I expect that anyone together for as long as we've been will know the answer to the question that sentence suggests: What Did We Do??

Yup, cleaned the house from top to bottom...and then took a nap.

2011-09-04T08:40:00.000-07:00

Reading back through some of my posts, I noticed a definite lack of crazy rock'n roll stories. So I've decided that when I'm not feeling witty, or poignant, or just plain self-important, I'll stick up some war stories of my past as a groupie-wannabe.

This one is the first in a series that could be called "smack". No, no, no. Not that kind. Literally rock star encounters that have gotten me or someone else smacked in or around the head.

This is Angus Young. If you don't know him, you should just leave right now. Seriously, kids. (Especially my kids...buh-bye!)

The rest of you may remember that iconic moment during an AC/DC concert where Angus would ride through the crowd, sweaty and short-pants'ed, on the shoulders of Brian Johnson. Brian would run like hell through the main floor aisles whilst Angus was burning through a steady stream of killer licks driving the crowd into a frenzy.

There I was, in that crowd, in the front row of the second section on the main floor. Brian and Angus were coming right for me, along with a few thugs appointed to clear the way. When it comes to rock stars, I am a lemming. My brain goes on auto-pilot and I know not what I do. In this case, I innocently reached my hand up just at the right moment and grazed the thigh of the mighty Angus. I don't think I had any other intentions. For obvious reasons, he was never on my list of, well, let's just say My List.

But the thugs must've thought otherwise. At the moment of contact, one of them stiff-armed me right across the shoulders. I flew backwards into several rows of chairs, taking a few other fans out with me. Laying on the beer soaked floor of the arena, trampled under foot, came a cry of triumph, for I had touched him!

An observation.

2011-08-26T15:16:00.000-07:00

After a few years of research and behavioral analysis, I have reached the following conclusion:

There is a direct correlation between the brightness of a person's
teeth whitener, and their ability to tell the truth.

Mean kids

2011-08-19T09:00:00.000-07:00

This is for all the mothers who have mean children...

"YOUR CHILDREN ARE MEAN!"

There. Just thought you should know.

If you think I might be talking to you, I'll provide a little clarification so you can be sure, or feel relieved that you are instead a Good Mom (like me :)

First, a quiz, because they are so popular:

1. Do you make frequent, catty remarks about the physical appearance/lifestyle of your friends, neighbors, family members, or *gasp* the children of any of the aforementioned?

2. Do you make these comments to or around your own children?

3. Although you have no formal training or professional credentials*, do you casually share your expertise on any/all of the following:
- mental health
- fashion
- health and wellness
- financial issues
- nutrition
- substance abuse
- unemployment
- religion/spirituality
- any other area in which you frequently toss out judgmental opinions about others?

*Okay, I'll give you a "pass" if you have significant life experience, because no one knows it until they've lived it, and the reward for that is grace and humility. (Reading a self-help book or watching "Oprah" does NOT count.)

4. Have you taught your kids to be twice as empathetic as they are competitive?

You really only need to answer number 4. If "empathy" has never been part of your family vocabulary, you just might have raised a mean, self-centered kid and NOT EVEN KNOW IT!

Fear not! It's not too late. Read numbers 1-3 again and stop doing anything you've answered "yes" to. Be a better friend and you'll teach your kids to do the same.

(And if your kid EVER calls my kid a nasty name again, I will revise this post to include a picture of you and your evil spawn, and make sure it goes viral. *rrrrr*)

Those '70's shows

2011-08-15T21:06:00.000-07:00

Oh, please check out this link to the most wonderful thing I've found on the internet in a long, long time.

I'm really sorry to my neighbors here in the Marriott in Cincinnati who have had to listen to this blaring through the internet TV system, 12 times in a row now. Sid and Marty Kroft must have dropped more acid in the '70's than all the rock stars put together.

And just when I was about to push play for the 14th time, I found something almost as great here!

Sadly, I don't get away much, but from time to time I get to travel for work to an exotic place like Toledo or Covington, KY and enjoy a night alone in a nice hotel. A glass of wine, a bag of airplane peanuts and these little youtube treasures makes for a fine evening.

Perplexing Q of the Day

2011-08-10T12:37:00.001-07:00

Did it ever occur to you that when someone says:

"Well, it's better than nothing!"

it usually isn't?

For when I'm simply not enough!

2011-06-27T10:54:00.000-07:00

Here's a new blog that you will enjoy:

http://ifyoucantsayanythingnicesitbyme.com

This is my friend and former co-worker, Michelle. Although I haven't seen her in ages, we share a lot of similar quirkies. Except that she actually did a lot of the things that I threatened to do over the years, like moving to Cali, buying a Harley, marrying a cop, populating her domain with big dogs, etc. In contrast, I stayed in Minni, ride my (t)rusty bicycle, continue to dodge authority...and own a wiener dog named Duchess.

Michelle is among the handful of those friends that you know you'll run into one day, in some completely out of the blue place, and pick up the convo right where you left off. So until then, I will read her blog, and think of not-so-nice things to say for the next time I'm lucky enough to be sitting by her.

more train wisdom

2011-06-24T15:17:00.000-07:00

My seat mate on the train today was a boisterous, extremely social man with a plan:

"Hey! I'm going to Valleyfair today! Got me some tickets from Mary's group home. Why should the white people have all the fun? hahahaha!

The Lord done woke me up this morning just so I could have some fun! Ain't nobody gonna know I've been drinking. I drink from the cup, you know, not the bottle! See, you can't tell I've been drinking, can you? hahahaha!

What's this stop? Is this the government center? Yah, man, cuz I gotta go to court. And then I'm gonna go to Valleyfair!"

Lord, I hope you done woke him up this morning just so he could have some fun.

Excuse me

2011-06-11T15:52:00.001-07:00

Note to all tween girls:

When you go to your first movie with a boy that you like, like (accompanied by both of your families, of course), if your little brother is suddenly stricken with a mysterious cramp and asks you to pull his finger, DON'T.

He's coming!

2011-05-21T09:20:00.000-07:00

This is my official rapture post.

As an "out" Christian, I've gotten to have some fun with, and at the expense of, friends over the past few days due to this wecanknow.com prophecy. This isn't our first rapture alert, of course, and it's always funny to see how people react to the news. Here's a link to an "after the rapture" pet care service...these fine people will make sure your pets get taken care of should you ascend. They'll place your pets with self-confessed heathens, thereby guaranteeing good homes for your sinning cats, dog and hamsters. And then there are the people who decide to use the rapture as a completely rational excuse to not make their mortgage payment.

This is a day that mostly belongs to nut cases and comedians. Even though I personally wouldn't mind being sucked up to heaven today, no, I don't think it will happen. Today. I do believe the bible is the truth, the light, the way so I'm open to it. But I'm pretty sure that Jesus won't rely on a website and cheesy billboard campaign, or that he'll need to tip off anyone in the media, or the church or the GOP.

I think having faith means being okay with not knowing. Being open to hope and possibility, and reveling in the wonder.

And I'm pretty sure that the second coming will happen at an Apple keynote address, anyway, as Steve Jobs announces not only a miraculous healing, but also "Rapture OS", featuring the groundbreaking i-jesus app. Groupon will offer a deal whereby each believer is allowed to crowd source in a few "on the fence" friends.

But just in case Jesus DOES try to friend you around 6:15 tonight, I guess I'd think twice before hitting "ignore". Because if the rapture does occur, I would not doubt that the folks at Fox News will be around to report on the after-party, and that the "left behind" won't be who you were hoping for, but instead those who've felt it was their right and moral duty to judge others. Hanging out with them for eternity would definitely be hell on earth.

This makes sense to me

2011-05-20T08:32:00.000-07:00

Make Music With Your Life
Bob O'Meally

Make music with your life
a jagged silver tune
cuts every deepday madness
Into jewels that you wear

Carry 16 bars of old blues
wit you everywhere you go
walk thru azure sadness howlin
Like a guitar player

Hasta la vista baby

2011-05-18T09:46:00.001-07:00

I had a dream last night about the first child conceived through social media. I was watching a news story about it where a biologist was explaining how it happened. I don't remember the details (thankfully), but the logic was presented in a way that made total sense. I woke up with that, "wait...that's NOT real, is it?" feeling.

I blame this on the subliminal convergence of two things on my mind lately:

1. Real friends vs. FB friends

2. The Terminator's love child

¿Carlos Estevez es muey loco?

2011-03-02T09:12:00.000-08:00

Okay, I admit it. I DO care about Charlie! I'm concerned about him, and how this latest celebrity melt-down is yet another example of how screwed up the media is.

Clearly, Charlie is mentally ill. He needs to be left alone, or better yet, in the care of people with the best interests of him and his kids in mind. But it seems that not a single media outlet can resist the scramble for a front row seat to his crisis. Not only the tabloid news shows that you would expect, but the network news as well. The bottom feeders taking advantage of Charlie include strippers, drug dealers and reporters, in no particular order. Sad.

Also sad is that after all these years of medical advancements in diagnosis and treatment of mental illness, there still seems to be major holes of cultural awareness around substance abuse and addiction. Drugs and alcohol (and anything else that can become an addiction) are almost always symptoms of other illness or psychological trauma, and not the root of problems. But the business of "treatment" is highly unregulated and super profitable, so I think it's sometimes difficult for people to get out of the treatment cycle and really get the right kind of medical help.

And, it's much more entertaining/scandalous to report on the debauchery of the lifestyle of celebrities, than it is to raise awareness and offer helpful information and resources.

I hope Charlie gets help and turns it around like Robert Downey Jr. did. They are both actors of my generation with talent, charisma and careers deserving of some respect.

The Love Chart

2011-02-26T10:33:00.000-08:00

This is a chart sketched out on our conference room whiteboard during a meeting. We were discussing some branded platform strategic marketing phased initiative approach concept.

As Ed drew this he said, "Passion and function will always ultimately die. Where we want to be is right here (pointing to the 'x')." And with that, the light bulb in my brain turned *on* and I blurted out, "Ed! Wow! You've just defined love!"

Yes, this stopped the meeting as we all pondered this profound moment like a devout Catholic who had just discovered the Virgin Mary in a sandwich. Well, it wasn't exactly like that, I guess. Mostly, everyone just looked at me like I had a fever (which, for the record, I did).

But really...look at it. Passion on the top, function on the bottom. The peak of passion burns out quickly, leaving you plummeting into depression (represented here as an ominous -30). Function? Sadly, there are many relationships that churn on, zombie-like on the flat line of function. But as Ed said, that "x" is where you want to be. Riding the curves, the inevitable ups and downs, at times close to passion, but mostly just steady.

I'm not sure everyone in the room saw it like I did. Different situations, experiences, life stages, etc. And I suppose you might not see the truth in it unless you've lived (and loved) enough to have experienced the highs, lows and in betweens. But to me, it was perfect and made me happy for the rest of the day.

The rest of the meeting went well, too, by the way. : )

a po-em

2011-01-28T06:30:00.001-08:00

the whole entire train
this morning
smelled like garlic breath.

Today, I'm Shiny!

2011-01-27T07:30:00.000-08:00

One of my posts is featured today over at Shiny Bits of Life. This is one of my favorite blogs OF ALL TIME so this is quite an honor. Thanks, Paul! (This is another Paul...not the one who made the fabulous clock, below.)

To be fair...

2011-01-26T07:29:00.000-08:00

Since my son, Samuel, got a little shout out, being the good mom that I am, I've got to give Lilly a turn. She LOVES to draw. She's into all that crazy Japanese anime stuff and manga that I don't really understand, but it's what inspires her. Going on 12, she knows what she likes and doesn't care what anyone else thinks. I hope that attitude lasts awhile. Both of my kids still spend more time with art supplies than screens, and for that I'm grateful. Meow!

This is the front

2011-01-25T09:02:00.000-08:00

So now you can see why Sam would want to send this to Obama, right? As opposed to say...Michele Bachmann. *wretch*

As a producer of printed materials at the design studio I work at, I get lots of paper samples and other fun promotional stuff. Like this...

It was a build-your-own clock kit that came from a paper company that specializes in wood veneer-like paper. I was frightened by its complexity, but my workmate, Paul, went right at it and created this Thing of Beauty which hangs just out of reach, mocking my lack of any sort of craftiness.

That's my boy...

2011-01-24T15:13:00.000-08:00

Dialogue I would kill to write

2011-01-19T15:56:00.000-08:00

I was waiting for the train the other day when a dude standing next to me, in full-length pleather coat and loud cell phone etiquette, caught my attention. An interesting fellow right out of a Tarantino movie, he was a purveyor of pirated movies. Moving through the city via bus and train, he carries a portable screen, projector and DVD player with him in various luggage-y looking cases.

From what I could gather from his phone convo, he just randomly sets up shop in public places, or offices, maybe, and starts showing his movies -- "screeners" and "1st generation cam copies", he calls them. So it was the profession that first peaked my interest, but his actual words that made me sparkle with glee. Here, listen...

"I've got my own DVD player so when I'm out selling movies, I can play 'em right there for people. Today I played 'Little Fockers' and sold 10 copies right on the spot. But I've got some important stuff to do tomorrow, so i won't be going to KFC until later."

"Shit, man, I've money all over me. Places I don't even know about. If you tipped me over right now, I'd have coins, dollars, checks, people's credit cards, falling out all over the place."

"I've got to pay a guy back $130. What?? Hell, no. Hey man, when I say I'm gonna pay somebody back, unless I can't pay him back on the exact day I said I would, I'm gonna pay him back."

"My movies are preeem. Primo. I got this Ed Sullivan Motown special and I made my own cover label for it. I sold tons of copies. Bootleggers were like, 'you made this look good! I can buy this for $2 and sell it for $5.' I was like, shit, man, I ain't here to make you rich. I'm here to help you out, but I ain't here to make you rich."

Yep. Brilliant, isn't it? Preeeem. Primo.

sketchy

2010-11-07T13:53:00.000-08:00

How honored am I that some little thing I wrote inspired Arturo to make this? He's submitting a sketch book as part of The Sketchbook Project. His will no doubt be included because he's quite brilliant.

(note: lady wig...his words, not mine!)

Andy's camera

2010-10-17T12:52:00.000-07:00

When I was in Mendocino on a photo shoot recently, Andy Anderson loaned me a camera. I headed out to the beach for a few hours of down time, thinking maybe I'd actually be able to see the world as Andy sees it — with unedited enthusiasm and the genuine glee of an overgrown kid, able to bring out the best in anyone and anything.

I had fun, which is about the most I can say for what's above. To see the real genius, you have to go here. Thanks, Andy, it's always a pleasure!

sarcasm=poison

2010-10-12T21:47:00.000-07:00

I do not like sarcasm, which is very hypocritical of me because I'm oh so good at it. You could say, "Good morning!" to me and be sure that the first thing that popped into my head would be sarcastic. I've gotten a lot better at swallowing the poison, even though it's often valuable currency in our culture, and especially in my chosen profession, where quick wit and one-ups-manship wins friends and influences people.

Sarcasm has become an accepted form of intimacy, I think. In my family, my mom was often the victim of "gang sarcasm", while my brother, dad and I high-fived each other over jokes at her expense. And I think that holds true today, where it's so common for parents to want to be their kids' best friend. Sarcasm is a "smart" form of humor that provides a meeting ground for parents and teenagers who struggle to grow up together and form healthy adult-to-adult relationships.

I have been blessed with a sensitive husband and daughter who have made me learn to put a sock in it. While we all share a dark sense of humor, both of them are pretty thin-skinned when it comes to the off-handed sarcastic remark. I used to roll my eyes with a "get over it" attitude until it dawned on me just how hurtful my words often were, unintentional of course. Now I'm more aware that sarcasm is a thinly veiled lack of respect that mostly gets in the way of empathy. And sadly, it's so ingrained in our culture that it mostly goes without notice.

2010-09-21T15:26:00.001-07:00

After another hard day at the office, fueled by a Hot Pocket, I hop on my bike and ride off into the sunset.

2010-09-17T10:42:00.000-07:00

"Thank you for calling Wells Fargo Dealer Services. I am not a real person, but I will still take your money. I may or may not apply it to the appropriate account, causing you to call me back again and again. Because that's what customer service is all about. Now, listen as I attempt to lull you, oh angry customer, into passive complacency with the soothing sounds of scales on a tinny acoustic guitar."

Baby Billboard

2010-08-06T22:44:00.000-07:00

This just very well be my Mel Gibson moment. If I piss anyone off here, I'm sorry in advance. I usually don't write about stuff that's too controversial, but this just bugged me and I couldn't put my finger on why. I would be interested to hear any comments, opposing/enlightening view points, etc.

Last weekend, I was down at the neighborhood nursery buying carnivorous plants with my kids when I noticed a sweet little baby toddling around with her mama, gigantic pacifier stuffed in her mouth. Aww...what a cute kid, my daughter and I exclaimed. Then we noticed that her tiny tee shirt said "Lesbian Love Child" on it. So, here goes...

Beyond the bigger question of hasn't our culture "evolved" enough that this kind of proclamation is unnecessary, what I really reacted to in this instance is wondering if it's necessary - tasteful, really - to use a child to advertise, on a very base level, the sexual activity of his/her parents? That was the "gut reaction" filter in which I processed the t-shirt. It seemed like a call for attention on the mother's part, relegating her lifestyle choice to a hobby in the way that, say, a classic car lover, obsessive dog owner, dangerous plant collector, Trekkie, etc. would do. It just seemed 'off' to me.

To the larger and more controversial question, I'm wondering if/why one person cares these days what the sexual orientation of others is? I think there may be a backlash to gay culture in that by feeling the need to publicly "come out", one ends up defining and dimensionalizing themselves by their sexual preference. Has "Gay Pride" become so over the top in its expression of sex that it trivializes the civil debate of equality by the need to remain outrageous/controversial? I wonder if it puts pressure on a gay person to have to wave that flag first and foremost, possibly overshadowing the essence, talents, gifts, accomplishments etc. that make all of us "whole" and of value to one another and our communities.

In our city newspaper, there was a special pull-out section for the Pride celebration earlier this summer. It seemed to be trying hard to promote the event in a family-friendly, community oriented way, centered around celebrating diversity. As someone who personally straddles the fence on many issues and enjoys people across a wide range of cultural labels, this seemed like an appropriate tone for a mainstream media outlet.

As I was leafing through, looking at the section from that perspective, I got to a near full page ad for a gay male chat line. The image and message were overtly sexual and I found myself shaking my head and thinking, "Damn, there's the problem." Pride in diversity, but reduced to sex. It made me sad, really. I want to think, and I do, that diversity is the issue. People need to be treated the same, with respect and love, no matter what their differences are. That's my stand as it relates to civic issues and I think it's hard to argue against. And I'm saying that because of my Christian faith, not in spite of it. But being first confronted with more details than I really care to know about another person's sexuality throws the real issues off-track and complicates the dialogue.

That's all I'm sayin'. And, that as a mom, I would not slap a t-shirt on my kid as a billboard for my personal beliefs, positions or choices.

Here's that Rumi again...

2010-07-30T08:07:00.000-07:00

This dude must've been one of the wisest ppl in Persia. (I have no clue about the historical accuracy/context of that observation. Please, intellectual friends, feel free to expound! I will be in awe of your smartness.) Anyway, here's another poem that just nails the big "it"...

If God said,

"Rumi, pay homage to everything
that has helped you
enter my
arms,"

there would not be one experience of my life,
not one thought, not one feeling,
not any act, I
would not
bow
to.

Source: Love Poems From God, translated by Daniel Ladinsky

Online/Offline Fail

2010-07-29T06:33:00.000-07:00

This is what happens to me. When I go down, I go all the way. I lose my cell phone and credit card, and the very same day, my internet connection will drop, taking the cable along with it. This is a hypothetical situation, as I have none of these things, except the internet connection. But you've been there...right? All of a sudden, propelled back to caveman days, feeling oh so alone, isolated, in despair! The frustration grows as you spend half a day over-communicating to all of the various customer service androids who cannot help you. Very typical online fail.

Today, I had one of those days, but it was magnified even more when my offline energy field also malfunctioned. It started with the usual irritating technology snafus, along with my bike gears slipping, causing me to bash into the boy bar on my bike, which hurts just as bad even if you're not a boy.

I won't go through the rest of the tedium of the day that had me racing around doing thousands of things half-assedly, until now, 10:22pm when I'm finally on the train heading home. But, I will share one more thing that capped the day and proved my theory that there is definitely a connection between online/offline energy.

Before I leave, dog-tired and defeated by my all-time evil archenemy, Powerpoint, I go to the bathroom and get into the stall that I KNOW to have the most frustrating toilet paper roll ever. This thing is impossible, and we have fought before. It simply does not roll. And it's got enough toilet paper on it to wipe every ass in China so to get it to come free, you have to stick your hand way into the deep cavity of scratchy black plastic. So tonight I'm forced to stick my hand up there and start clawing at the paper to get the roll started. It doesn't budge. I tear at it like a rabid squirrel. Nothing. I get into a frenzy, highly aware of how much time I have spent trying to do this most basic and necessary of human tasks. I look down at the floor and notice enough little shreds of paper to build a damn birds nest. And my hand is bleeding. THIS is an offline fail, big time.

Hello, my people!

2010-07-14T13:24:00.000-07:00

I am back! Thanks to all who made the effort to tell me they missed this little blog...it's very humbling to know that friends new and old, real and virtual, or in some cases, virtually real, stop by from time to time.

I took my blog down because I did *something* to it that seemed to mess with the formatting. I think I fixed that. But also because I had gotten some comments from people close to me that were uncomfortable with some of my posts. Boundaries have always been difficult for me, so it was valid for me to consider other perspectives. Arturo shared some wisdom from Bob Dylan about that subject, something like one of the absolute necessities of being a writer is anonymity.

I get that - how do you balance looking at your life from an outside perspective with being thoroughly on the inside? My brain naturally processes the events of the day through the filter of a sitcom. I see little moments that would fall right into a script or pieces of dialog that are just too funny to go unrecorded.

I'm not sure how I'll reconcile all of this, but I do know that I miss bloggin' so I'm gonna have to figure it out, I guess.

Kickin' it, old skool

2010-06-01T22:04:00.000-07:00

Seemed like I could use a photo on here. This is what I've been working on for the past 6 months. Cool, huh? Still tastes like prom.

White people, clapping

2010-05-19T20:34:00.001-07:00

This happens sometimes at church. Those of you who have been in the last decade know what I mean. I go to a church that's excited about its mission to serve the neighborhood and the world. They genuinely think they can do it, and being one of the "they" as often as I can, I think we can too. So it's a nice place to go on a Sunday morning, to see friends and be inspired by the word of God.

Our worship director dude is fantastic - a musician in every sense of the word. Going just for the music is a valid reason at our little church.

Often, the band plays songs with a kicky, bluegrass twang. They're not cheesy countrified. They're usually old spirituals revved up with some genuine joy. In a more racially diverse, traditional Baptist church, people would let themselves go and get into the moment without a second thought.

But we have mostly white people in our church. And that proves to be a problem. When white people are moved by music, we clap. Clapping is a big, joyous deal, even if it's pathetically offbeat. People clap along without much inhibition. I'm not a clapper, myself. My natural expression of being moved by music is air guitar, which doesn't seem a good choice at church, so I clap along, feeling obligated to do so.

After a few minutes of rousing clapping, when the music is changing tempo or about to stop, people start to panic. We don't know the proper clapping etiquette. Should we clap through the slow parts? Or stop. Once we stop, should we start again when the tempo rises? We are a room full of self-conscious clappers. *awkward!*

If you can't manage being a clapper, you become a swayer or a bopper by default. That can be even worse. Although at church, if you're a swayer and you close your eyes, people assume you've been moved by the spirit, even if on the inside, you've convinced yourself that by closing your eyes you've engaged your super-hero invisibility cloak.

When confronted with the choice of clapper, swayer or bopper, my friend Arturo has confessed to being a pencil tapper. That's as good as it gets on his emotional spectrum, I guess. Should Jesus actually show up again when we are in church in the midst of worship, I hope he's not disappointed. I hope he loves us anyway, rhythm-challenged white people that we are.

Fire Chief 21F

2010-03-22T08:35:00.000-07:00

They closed our bathroom down at work due to some construction. This means we have to take the elevator up one floor every time we need to go. Because I have to put in that little extra effort, I naturally don't go.

So the other day, I was in a hurry to get home and didn't want to waste that critical 3-5 minutes. Halfway home on the train, I began to regret my laziness, big time. Knowing I had a mile+ walk after getting off the train, I began to think of options. Since there's really no such thing as a public restroom anymore, they were few and far between. I could always go behind the old grain elevators, on the railroad track, the way the hobos do. But that presented all kinds of problems that were just over my line of public humility, however thin that is.

But then I saw it. The firehouse! Yes, I paid my taxes last year so technically, I was entitled to this emergency public assistance. I only had to make it a couple blocks. Relief was near.

A firehouse is an intriguing place. Not many people have reason to go there, do they? Except maybe to vote, or the occasional passer-by feeling stroke-like symptoms, or maybe when you were 6 you had a birthday party where they let you climb on the hook'n ladder. Still, it's a bit of a mystery, I think, despite the NYFD wearables trend.

I went up to the door and rang the bell. A very handsome and friendly man opened the door, probably expecting that I was having some kind of heart failure. "Excuse me. I'm a little embarrassed to ask this but do you have a bathroom I can use?"

"Sure! Come on in."

Wow...the place smelled wonderful. Here were all these...Men sitting around a table eating some kind of hearty chili or stew, just like in the Campbell's Chunky Soup commercials. They were playing cards and having a generally good testosterone filled, bicep flexing time. My own everyday hero showed me into the bathroom, where he had to first put the seat down. How chivalrous.

I decided right then and there that just like every other American girl, I, too, want to do a fireman when I grow up.

Winter

2010-03-11T22:51:00.000-08:00

Here I am, alone in my hotel room, late at night, drinking wine, listening to old tracks from "Goat's Head Soup", transported back to the heady days of 17. I intended to write a long, insightful post, a confession, actually. A dip down into melancholy metaphors that would slowly rise with the tide of optimism, gained from a life of acquired grace and wisdom. But instead, all that comes out is that sometimes I want to burn a candle for ya.

Waking up in Montreal

2010-02-11T04:42:00.001-08:00

Sorry to the guys I did not have breakfast with this morning. I was enjoying the luxury of waking up, all by myself, with no Coco Puffs.

For Mature Women Only

2010-02-06T10:08:00.000-08:00

Okay, dudes, don't say I didn't warn you. I'm about to recount my annual visit to the ob/gyn here so now would be a good time to hit that "back" button.

Alright, the rest of you, here goes. Today I went to the doctor for the yearly once over. (Last warning for the squeamish...scram now!)

I've been going to the same doctor since I was, well, too young to be going to that kind of doctor, but that was the '80's and we all thought we had AIDS, so I'm excused. Anyway, over the decades, he's delivered my kids and went through a few more life-changing events with me, joyous and not so. Like most Super Doctors, he's a bit of a pompous ass but he's that good so in our society, we allow him that right. As I sat there in my pink paper sheet, he came in and greeted me like the old friends we are, in the context of the doctor patient relationship, of course.

And then all composure was thrown out the window.

He started by asking me if I was in menopause yet...
"I dunno...aren't you supposed to be telling me that? How would I know?"

"Well, do you feel like you might need me to start removing stuff?"

"Excuse me? Like what?"

"The stuff that makes the hormones. Haha...I was just kidding." "Have you had any hot flashes?"

"Uh, not until you just said that."

By this time, we are both laughing inappropriately, at least by AMA standards. After the exam, he asks me if I'm doing Kegels. Remember that silly hand-out sheet you got when you were pregnant? The one that, along with the hee-hee-hoo breathing techniques, made you realize just how controlled by males the medical practice really was? As if.

"Why would I want to be doing that? Will it help me open jars in my impending old age?"

"It improves your sex life AND helps maintain bladder control."

"Wonderful. My two biggest worries in life. I'll google it."

"Do it ten times, ten times a day, and your husband will think he's with a teenager...again." (See, I told you - we've known each other a long time.)

Uh....that hardly seems fair. "Is there anything I can tell him to do so I feel like I'm with a teenager?"

"I suppose he could hire a yard boy."

"I am so looking forward to going through menopause with you."

"Likewise, Christine. You always make my day."

"Don't call me that. It creeps me out."

"You have an odd sense of what constitutes creepiness."

"Eeeew? Look who's talking?"

For someone like me who too naturally slips into using humor to diffuse uncomfortable situations, a visit to the ob/gyn is as good as it gets. And to think - I have to wait a whole year to see him again.

make up

2010-02-03T22:16:00.000-08:00

On the train this morning, seated side by side are two women. One, who I'll call Adriana, could've been a suburban commuter, probably drives to the MOA from Apple Valley and takes the train downtown. Or maybe, she was flying here on business...she's in P.R. She has a rolling bag and silver travel mug full of fresh coffee. Sporting red leather gloves and a matching scarf, she is Put Together. But when she takes the gloves off, I see she's neurotic, in a french manicure kind of way.

Her seat mate, let's say she's Gwen, has hopped right from the shower onto the train. Her still-wet, dyed black hair is pulled back in a long ponytail. It's a little crunchy on the ends since it's still frigidly cold here. She doesn't appear to have a coat and is wearing a low cut, saggy blouse under a natty long black sweater coat thingy. She's pulled her makeup out of her hobo bag and is going at her face with a brush full of powder. Adriana is slightly uncomfortable, but also fascinated by this. She starts with a couple of sideways glances, but soon she's pretty much gawking.

Gwen has lots of different powered concoctions she's layering over the deep acne scars on her face and forehead. She's also got one especially unsightly blemish right smack in the middle of her chest and begins dabbing some coverup on it. She dabs, squints awkwardly, almost cross-eyed, trying to look down at her chest, dabs some more, looks again and then...this is my favorite part, she makes an outright, exaggerated gesture of "eh, that will have to do". And I'll be damned if the spot isn't almost invisible. Good work, Gwen.

I think it was the gesture that broke an invisible barrier for Adriana. She strikes up a conversation, asking Gwen about a particular brand of face powder. Gwen doesn't have any problem with social barriers and is a very willing conversationalist. But as it turns out, Adriana just needs to talk. Once she starts, there's no shutting her up. I can't hear what she's saying, but clearly she needs a friend. It makes me happy watching them talk, although I don't know why.

When it's time for Gwen to get off, Adriana says, "Have a good day", and Gwen gives her a casual, "Later" shrug. Adriana looks a little sad, folding herself back in her matching outerwear. The same day, on my walk home from the train, I think of them again, not sure why they stuck with me all day. It could be that the thing they have in common, as evidenced by Gwen's dabbing and Adriana's nails, was some kind of hope.

2010-01-29T10:55:00.000-08:00

And now Keith has supposedly quit drinking:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/musicblog/2010/jan/26/sober-keith-richards

All of my heroes are falling!

Literary perspective

2010-01-28T11:52:00.000-08:00

Picked up my son from PreK the other day and he was incredibly frustrated...the conversation went something like this:

"What's wrong, Samuel?"

"None of the kids in school believed me today, mom."

"Why? What were you saying?"

"I kept telling them that the teachers were only using us to MAKE MONEY."

Today, JD Salinger died. Word has it that he was pretty insane, long before he was 91. But I loved that book and have seen the world through Holden's brain, long after I could claim teen angst. I'm not sure the degree of trouble that worldview caused me, but as a mother capable of recognizing it budding in my 5 year old, it seems just a lit-tle scary.

2010-01-08T10:24:00.000-08:00

Damn, it was cold this morning. Public transportation takes on a whole new meaning when the temperature stays below zero for this long. I never seem to have the right assortment of outerwear, either, so I end up looking like a deranged bag lady.

So this morning, I was at the bus stop with a couple of other people -- one was a woman from the group home on my corner for mentally challenged adults. She was standing on a snow bank, peering into the sun, looking quite majestic when all of a sudden, she starts belting out some obscure song. I mean, she was SCREAMING like Bon Scott...

"LIFE'S A BITCH. BUT IT'S WAY TO SHORT. UNLIKE A POLITICIAN, IT JUST CAN'T BE BOUGHT."

omg! I totally know that song!

It only took me a minute to catalog through the decades of music in my i-brain before I hit on it...Mick Jagger, from one of his ill-fated solo albums. "Don't Tear Me Up" to be exact.

Moments like this do not happen very often. I mean, NO ONE knows that song. The bus was a few blocks off, I needed to do something to stay warm anyway, so I joined in. I think she was a little scared at first, but then maybe a little impressed. Not sure about the other guy at the bus stop, who seemed quite horrified, especially when he realized that neither of us had earphones in. This wasn't the case of someone getting carried away with their mp3 player, oblivious to the volume. Nope, this was just a melding of the minds of two crazy chicks in mangy fur coats and Napolean Dynamite boots.

The bus came. We all got on. She sat in the back and I composed myself and sat in my usual spot, behind the driver.

And that song has been looping through my brain all day.

I do not own a digital photo frame.

2009-11-27T09:30:00.000-08:00

Black Friday paralyzes me with anxiety. Christmas shopping in general does. I've been up all night, combing through 5 pounds of ads for stuff I never knew I needed. But after seeing the same Famous Maker cutlery sets, $19.99 comforters IN ANY SIZE!!! and assortment of $5 family games in every ad, I realize how much I deprive myself and my family. We have none of this shit.

We have managed to survive quite happily without some of the basic comforts of modern life like a microwave, dishwasher or cell phone. But when Christmas comes around, I can't deal. I don't know how to shop. I get incredibly overwhelmed trying to decide what to buy my kids -- do I go for quality and get them each a couple of higher end gifts, like an ipod for my daughter (will she use it? where will the money come from for itunes? is it better to upgrade to the itouch or does that open another can'o worms with social media?) or do I just barf out a bunch of $15 plastic toys so the tree looks chock full of good cheer? Or, do I go the practical route and buy something the whole family would enjoy, like a TV (although without cable, does that make sense?) Or I could go the "need" route and get everyone clothes and be ostracized until Easter.

Like many people, I've had to become way more responsible with every cent we have. In a way, it's easier when you can't afford anything beyond the basics (plus good coffee, of course!), because the decisions are black and white. Learning how to live a reasonable lifestyle by today's standards is much more difficult.

FIRE!!!!!!!!!

2009-10-20T19:29:00.000-07:00

I don't have the comedic talent to do justice to the circumstances surrounding an event such as I witnessed this evening, so I hope this sentence is enough:

Some days just seem fitting to end with a malfunctioning popcorn machine, a convenience store filled with smoke and the need to hold the building door open for 3 hook'n ladder crews, the chief and a fireman named "Burns".

Rare sighting

2009-10-17T09:50:00.000-07:00

I usually hate on all pics of me, but this one somehow managed to capture the many sides of my complex personality!

Seriously, how many people do you know who can rock a fur AND a Southern Comfort tee at the same time??

humility

2009-10-16T13:19:00.000-07:00

a few times in life you get a brief moment of clarity when the veil of self is lifted and you see all of the people who prop you up. a collection of the old familiar and least likely that spans time and place. i think that's the face of God - i saw him today.

Ruff

2009-10-01T05:17:00.000-07:00

So today I was at the bank, checking the status of all of my investment accounts and watching a little Fox News on those TV's that hang from the ceiling. The hot story was that even in this economic down-turn, sales of pet food have held strong. This was a joyous report, peppered with cute photos of people with their way-spoiled dogs and cats. High society women prancing through Central Park with French poodles in matching outfits, cats about to fly First Class, etc. It didn't take long for me and my teller friend, Mr. Todd Tomorrow, to lock eyes and say, "Duh!!!" at exactly the same time.

Fox News...you out of touch bastards. Clearly sales are high because PEOPLE ARE EATING ALPO!!!

Happy shiny birthday!

2009-10-01T05:05:00.000-07:00

A shout out to my bloggin' friend, Paul, on his birthday!

The cool thing about Paul is that although I've never actually met him in real life, he has shared Christ-centered wisdom with me through some difficult times. We have a mutual friend who has assured me that Paul is not some kind of crazed maniac.

What else do I like about Paul? He's got great, eclectic taste in music. He has a quirky sense of humor, as evidenced by his obsession with toothpaste, he has a super cool family, and an eye for finding something interesting in the ordinary. If you don't believe me, you can go here and see for yourself.

In honor of his birthday, me'n Arturo went on a public vandalism spree and posted stickers promoting Paul's website in strategic places along First Ave. Like, well, on First Ave. If you want some, just ask Paul -- he's that kinda guy!

2009-09-24T07:39:00.001-07:00

The Current (89.3) is playing "Victoria"...spontaneous memory popped into my head of a Kinks concert a long, long, long time ago. I was at the front of the stage taking pictures, being knocked around by some obnoxious old guys (they were probably my age now and I was early 20's). Dave Davies saw this happening, grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the stage. I got to sit up there for the rest of the concert. I have great photos and a particular memory of him hamming it up with his brother, singing "Victoria". I think they hated each other back then. I wonder if they still do?

2009-09-22T22:31:00.000-07:00

Note to disgruntled spouses:

When your hard workin' s.o. calls to say he/she is going to be working late and you start hollering about how rude it was not to get a call earlier and lamenting about what a kink this is putting in your evening, do not think he/she is going to gather up all of his/her stuff in a mass panic and run out the door, eager to right all that's wrong with your world.

No, there's a good chance that he/she will decide now is a good time to check out yahoo news and read a very interesting story about the capture of a giant squid in the Gulf of Mexico. And then organize his/her pencil holder, file some of his/her 3,902 emails and write one last witty comment on his/her facebook page.

Did I mention that squid was, like, 20 feet long??

2009-09-10T22:03:00.000-07:00

Hi. Haven't been motivated to write much lately, but here's a cute pix of my kiddies. I'm already missing the lazy days of summer...all 3 of them!

Two thumbs Up!

2009-08-29T19:25:00.000-07:00

Have you seen that movie, "Up"? It was WONDERFUL! Any kid from 2 to 102 will love it. See it at the Riverview, the best neighborhood theater in Minneapolis, and you'll even get popcorn with real butter. I am still smiling...

i'm back.

2009-08-14T12:05:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I'm flying, I forget to look at the sky.

I bet you were bracing yourself for another contemplative life metaphor...nope! Tonight it's just pretty and I'm glad to be safely home.

That's all. Did ya miss me?

Lost

2009-08-14T11:38:00.000-07:00

In which the Thomas's go for a hike...

We pulled into a makeshift parking lot off of a dirt road about 40 miles up the Gunflint. A place that Eric goes hunting every year, he knows it well. In the early winter, there is nothing green around and you can see miles in every direction through stark forest landscape. A rocky ridge line up ahead, a trail meandering down the hill to a small lake, Gunflint Lake off in the distance. Power lines, service roads, marked ski trails. But in the thick of the summer, everything is green. The trails are grown over with heavy brush, and downed trees and trail markings are easily lost.

Despite the change in perspective, we easily found the trail head for Rabbit Run, a trail we've hiked before. This was going to be a leisurely stroll into the woods, nothing at all challenging for Lilly and Samuel. We had enough water and snacks to make it across the ridge and down to the lake where we would stop to have a little picnic. Eric knew this area well so we were very casual in our preparation...no maps, no compass, a little water and a bottle of "Off" to spray down with.

We started up the trail and although the growth was heavy, it was mostly open and grassy and posed no problems. The weather was unseasonably cool, in the 60's and overcast so there was little threat of dehydration or sun burn. It was a perfect day for a quick hike to tire everyone out.

Maybe half a mile in, the trail started to get lost amidst heavier brush and pine tree scrub. The mosquitoes were thick and I began to realize that "Off" was more like mosquito nip than anything that would really keep the bugs away. We had left the hard stuff at the cabin. Still, we could see the blue tape wrapped around trees every 100 yards or so to mark the trail. Even though the brush was getting thicker, we felt confident that we were headed in the right direction.

As we climbed the ridge, we realized that the trail was zigzagging up and down through thickets of berry bushes and fallen trees. It was no longer easy to get through. The grass was over Samuel's head in some places. We were at the point where we had come far enough to not be sure if going forward or going back would be our best bet.

Eric was sure there was a break in the brush just over the ridge line - a heavily used walking path that led down to another trail beside Gunflint Lake. I trusted that he knew the area well, but I wasn't so sure he had his bearings. I was no longer noticing the blue taped trees and the mosquitos were chewing us up, particularly Samuel. He was getting tired, hot and overwhelmed so Eric had put him up on his shoulders. Walking behind them, I noticed a colony of mosquitoes biting Samuel around the top of his underwear waist band. In the comics, Spiderman might save the world, but when it came down to insect-on-insect, he was no match for the skeeters.

Samuel was growing increasingly uncomfortable and squirmy on Eric's shoulders. I began to sense just a little bit of anxiety in Eric as we followed a clearing in the brush that seemed like the trail, only to have it lead us to an impenetrable thicket or grove of new pines. Picking up on his bewilderment was all I needed to set off full-on panic.

I knew that we were not far from the car, in a heavily populated area of the Gunflint Trail. But, over the past few months, I have been reading nothing but "woodsmen in peril" adventure stories. I guess I was jones'ing so badly for a trip to the cabin, the fresh air off of Lake Superior as you head out of Duluth and into Two Harbors, the smell of pine and cedar that gets stronger and stronger as you drive up highway 61...that I had started reading nature books just for the contact buzz. So even though we hadn't been air-lifted into the middle of Quetico or lost on a portage in the BWCA, my mind was racing with images of people who had simply wandered a few yards off the beaten path and ended up in desperate survival situations. It was always the stupidest errors of judgment that started a disastrous chain of events leading to hypothermia, dehydration or starvation.

With two young kids in tow, the slide show in my head was fretful, to say the least. What if Eric tripped and bonked his head or broke his leg and I had to get out on my own somehow? What if Lilly wandered too far ahead into the brush? No one really knew where we were. Our car was not in a designated parking lot. We hadn't entered our trek from a marked trail head. It would be Monday morning halfway through our work status meeting before anyone really began to wonder where I was, and with my propensity to always be running late, realistically, it would be more like Tuesday. That would be 5 days. Probably not too many for a family of 4 to survive on a chunk of summer sausage seeing that we were in prime berry picking season, but who wants to go that long without coffee??? Serious crisis mode was setting in.

I wanted to go back to the car, immediately. Eric agreed that we should turn back, even though he was quick to point out that we weren't technically lost. He knew this area well and was certain that we were only a few feet from a well marked path. He was probably a lot more confident than I was because he did at least have the perspective of knowing where on the Gunflint we were. He knew we were fairly close to the road, the power lines and the lake. But as far as I could tell, we were heading into deeper and deeper woods and in the opposite direction of where my natural bearings told me we should be going. I was desperate to catch a glimpse of the blue tape.

When we finally saw a couple tagged trees, I realized that we were still following them but seemingly in the wrong direction. When I brought this to Eric's attention, it only annoyed him, which set off our usual struggle for control. I was quick to talk over his suggestions and become the practical one, in charge. Aside from my new hobby of adventure reading, I had absolutely no first hand knowledge of the woods that would make me an authority. While Eric has lots of survival skills and experience in the woods, he also gets easily confused on direction and suffers from lack of judgment once his adrenaline is pumping. The kids took daddy's side and were quick to repeat what he had told them, "Daddy's been hunting here for years. He knows exactly where we are." In hindsight, they were right to have faith in him and to be calmed by his knowledge. Even though we had wandered off our path, my anxiety was mostly self-inflicted.

Within a few minutes, we had found a series of tagged trees that seemed to be leading us in the right direction. The path was a different one than the one we had walked in on, but as we followed it, it started getting easier to discern. I felt the grip of panic let go and in no time at all, we were back to the car. During the ride back to the cabin, Eric was still crabby at me for over-reacting and not trusting him. He admitted that the trail looked completely different in summer than when he was hunting, but insisted that we were never in any real danger. After 23 years of marriage, I'm still not sure when he's trying to convince me or trying to convince himself.

That could be one reason why we tend to take longer than most to find our way out of the woods.

2009-08-12T20:30:00.000-07:00

Tonight, I've finally escaped St. Louis and have made my way to Louisville. The vibe of Louisville is a relief from the edginess I feel in St. Louis - like the heavy sigh of a city trying to revitalize itself too little and too late.

But in comparison, Louisville feels like a "glass half full" kind of place. The hotel staff said it was safe to walk alone at night so I decided to take a stroll down the waterfront parkway along the Ohio River. I ran right into a bluegrass festival. Outside on a large, grassy field, people were setting up chairs, blankets, coolers, etc. to enjoy this "hillbilly hootenanny". I got a basket of fish'n chips from Joe's Crab Shack and enjoyed it picnic-style while listening to great music and watching a huge orange sunset over the river.

The evening was perfect, but I left wondering why it takes going out of town to have this kind of fun. It made me kinda sad, actually, missing my kids and thinking of how much they would've enjoyed this night.

It's clear to me that we need to shake off St. Louis once and for all and start living like Louisville.

Cheers, St. Louis

2009-08-11T23:00:00.000-07:00

A good thing to do when finding yourself alone outta town, in a city where you really had no inclination to ever visit in the first place, a city like, say...St. Louis, is go to a baseball game. Nothing beats an outdoor stadium on a muggy night in August.

A crowd of people brought together because of the love of the game creates instant bonding, without ever even having to talk directly to anyone. You can mutter observations under your breath, second guessing the ump on a terrible call, or loudly exclaim, "Brilliant!" when the pitcher lays down a perfect sacrifice bunt.

And, if you furrow your brows and make a forever controversial statement about the merit of pitchers batting in the NL, you can be sure that some hometown fan nearby will pipe up and invite a healthy debate. Then you'll have a friend to high five or lament with for the rest of the game. I think that's why little boys like baseball so much...instant friendship, no strings attached.

At the end of the game, you've enjoyed an acceptable level of social engagement over something genuine.

You can walk that mile back to the hotel, even through the dangerous part of town, because you now recognize others going your way. Your half-eaten bag of peanuts identifies you as part of the faithful.

Two slightly drunken elderly gentlemen gladly agree to escort you to your hotel. They tell you their names are Larry and Bob and they are from Oklahoma and South Dakota, respectively. They've already hatched a plan of self-defense in case they get mugged at gunpoint. They share the story of how this happened to one of their cronies on a recent trip through St. Louis. You would be lying if you said you felt the least bit safer with these codgers, but at least you can laugh in the face of fear.

When you tell them you are from Minnesota, Bob teases, "So you're one of those liberals then! Huh huh huh! Nice job on that new senator! Huh huh huh!" You consider this for a minute and then reply, "Well, let's keep that in mind when the mugger comes. I may be able to offer him food stamps, but we all know I ain't got no money." "Huh huh huh!", reply Bob and Larry. They wish you a wonderful evening and safe travels.

Back at the hotel, with a glass of room service wine to help finish off the peanuts, you drink a toast to a night well spent.

command-zzzzzzzz

2009-08-10T23:44:00.000-07:00

I am finding myself in St. Louis this week, traveling for business. Here in the hotel, it seems kinda lonely and too quiet -- so I've decided to sleep with my laptop, screen open, on twitter. How's that for cyber-sychotic??

Revelry

2009-08-03T22:35:00.000-07:00

There is no better soundtrack for chugging up the side of a mountain on a forest road than trumpets. With the nautical blue gray Lake Superior sky behind me, the trumpets blasting from the local classical music station make me sit up straighter in my seat as I gun it up the trail road. Up ahead on the horizon, there is a grove of tall pines spotlighted by the emerging sun in an unearthly way. Although the sign says to slow down to 35mph as I approach a tight curve, the feeling that I could keep going full speed ahead and blast off into the air with a regal trumpet fanfare is almost too hard to resist. Chest pumped out, head held high, here I go!

When they find me an impressive distance off the road, smashed a mile up a pine there will be only one way to accurately describe my demise. It was clearly death by trumpet.

From where I'm at...

2009-08-01T11:18:00.000-07:00

It's been too long since I've been here, to this blogging space in my brain. I too often fall into the trap of thinking too hard about what to write here and forget that just showing up is good for me, if no one else. Having never been a planner in any area of my life, it's out of character for me to do it here. So I'll write today from where I'm at.

Which happens to be in the parking lot of a landromat in Grand Marais, MN. That's way Up North to all you city folk. A beautiful harbor town on the shore of Lake Superior that feels more like somewhere in New England than in the midwest. Even though I love this town with it's quirky characters, the best public library in America, the Ben Franklin store and last but not least, those world famous donuts, the real reason we come through here is to get even further outta town up the Gunflint Trail.

The trail is about a 60 mile long road that stretches through the heart of the BWCA and Superior National Forest. It's one road with no civilization except for a few resorts and outfitters. It's the closest thing to heaven on earth for me and my family. We stay in cabins, so we get the best of the woods along with good coffee and modern day plumbing, although as my kids get older, the call to paddle and portage is getting stronger for me. I think it's only a matter of time before I get really granola and start carrying and burying.

But for now, the cabin life is good enough -- going to the laundromat is a small version of roughing it, as proven by the van full of bikers that just parked next to me. There they are, stripping down naked inside their old van, throwing clothes into a garbage bag and dumping quarters out of an empty Marlboro box. I assume they're in town for the Hell's Angels convention happening a few cities back down Hwy. 61.

Maybe tomorrow I'll post some Wisdom From The Woods -- some soul searching insight gained between washing dishes, picking blueberries and playing with my kids. But for now, this is where I'm at, about to sink a few more quarters into the soap machine.

I ain't no Rumi...

2009-07-09T19:31:00.000-07:00

but I do coin a phrase of my own every now and then. As a matter of fact, what's this? I feel one coming on right now, inspired by several hilarious conversations with friends lately. Here goes...

"Beware the man who smiles from his heart. Especially if you've already married the one who talks out his ass."

Okay, okay - go ahead and use it. No credit necessary.

Rumi...i love this guy.

2009-06-23T22:09:00.000-07:00

Rumi. Ever heard of this dude? An Islamic Persian poet, living in what's now Afghanistan in the 1200's. His poetry is timeless, crosses "religion" (such a problematic word) and is full of simple wisdom.

Here's a gem from inward/outward.org. Find happier friends - a life-changing piece of advice.

Do What Is Given
Rumi

When you start some new work,
you give in completely to it.

You're excited,
because the Creator keeps you
from seeing what's missing.

Your heatedness hides that,
so you do the work, and then look back
and see the nature of it.

If you'd seen that at first,
you wouldn't have done anything!

Don't worry about repenting.
Do the work that's given,
and learn from it.

If you become addicted to looking back,
half your life will be spent in distraction,
and the other half in regret.

You can live better than that!
Find happier friends.

Say: Show me the faults
of my destructive actions, but don't show me
what's wrong with my good work.
That way I won't get disgusted and quit!

Solomon had a habit of visiting the mosque at dawn,
because then he could see
with an early morning eye
the new spirit-plants that were growing.

Encourage that freshness
in yourself, and not what clouds you
with dullness and futility.

Source: from "An Early Morning Eye," in Delicious Laughter

A royal pain

2009-06-18T09:38:00.000-07:00

So all this bike riding has proven to be very good for me. I've lost a few pounds, toned a muscle here and there and am well on my way to having a discernible waistline. I come to work with more energy and focus, and get home less crabby and tired. Even my skin has a healthier glow. I'm feeling pretty good on my way to a little further over 40 next week.

But I have noticed a bit of discomfort that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Just a little squirmy in my chair. Can't quite sit comfortably. Not a big deal, pushed it to the back of my head. Until yesterday while i-chatting with my friend, Arturo. Sometimes I tell him he's got a stick up his butt, because sometimes he does. This was one of those times. Then he wrote me back that no, I was the one with the stick. At that very moment, the light bulb went on. I googled. The connection was made. Ugh...wince. George Brett. And I ain't batting .400.

2009-06-11T04:44:00.000-07:00

A fun thing to do to rile up your 10 year old - walk around the grocery store, or any public place, talking like Yoda. "Mmmm, wise is your mother. Mini-waffles good for young Jedi."

The one-line rapper

2009-06-05T08:27:00.000-07:00

Going home last night, Eminem crossed the street in front of me. He was gettin' loose and shouting loud and had peaked the curiosity of the corner people going home from work. He looked legit and full of promise. A few people stopped to watch as he seemed prime to lay down some sweetness, and...here it comes...wait for it...wait for it...

"Hey digga digga digga welcome to my household. Drinking all night, too much liquor 'till I'm out cold."

And that was it. He stopped cold with a blank look on his face as the next line was just not there, nakedly aware that some expectation had been built and he had not delivered.

A collective groan out of the few people waiting to cross the street. A head shaken in disappointment over What Could Have Been. The deflated look of a small personal tragedy. The light turned green and we all moved on, but I felt sorry for Em all night long.

Good reads

2009-06-03T08:04:00.000-07:00

Went to the Book Store last night. The book store is like church to me. I don't go often because I can't buy books these days, so when I do go, I'm like a kid in a..book store. There's a lot of great stuff on the first 3 tables in B'nN. Here's what got me full of want and desire last night:

1. What Would Keith Richards Do? Daily Affirmations from a Rock and Roll Survivor
Why did I not write this book? I have lived my life guided by Keith quotes (yes, I know, that might explain a few things on this here blog.) This book is written by some chick who doesn't have anything to do with anything. I shoulda SO wrote this.

2. Driving Like Crazy - PJ O'Rourke
I forgot about PJ! How dare me? Back in the day when Rolling Stone was worth reading, I worshiped his political commentary, even though he was a card carrying Republican. Remember "Parliament of Whores"? It's all you need to know about government. Anyway, this one is about the love affair with American cars sprinkled with thoughts on the downfall of the U.S. automotive industry.

3. The Women - TC Boyle
Another great writer I had forgotten about. This one is the story of Frank Lloyd Wright told from the perspective of the 4 women he shared his life of varying degrees of weirdness with. I love a dysfunctional family!

4. When You Are Engulfed In Flames - David Sedaris
David Sedaris writing about death, body parts, general anxiety, as usual. Can't wait for this one. I might have to steal it. (fyi...ever since the fire safety unit in second grade, I've been convinced that engulfed in flames is the way I'll go. This could be a prophetic.)

5. So Brave, Young and Handsome - Leif Enger
Did you read "Peace Like A River"? One of my favorite books...great storytelling. I think this dude is from Minnesota, too.

One more thing to note -- B'n N currently has a buy 2 get 1 free table with some great titles, including a couple of CS Lewis classics. Go! Go now! Or, wait until they come to the library...*sigh*.

Velvet

2009-06-02T15:29:00.000-07:00

Today I was hungry for an afternoon snacky so I decided to run over to Target. I used to hate on Target all the time until I discovered their Market Place brand. Halfway decent food, which is really all I appreciate anyway, at prices that are a STEAL! I got a box of 12 ice cream bars for less than the price of one designer Dilly bar. A steal. Target, even though I'm not buying into any of your psycho branding voodoo, I have returned.

Anyway, I don't get out much so when I stroll down the Nicollet Mall it's always a treat to see the freaks, of which I am one. Especially lately, when there are just as many not-working people as there are working people and lots of flavors in between.

So I'm waiting to cross the street and notice that the man standing next to me is wearing a black velvet blazer. There are several things weird about this:

1. it's hot out
2. as far as I know, we are not in the middle of any festive season
3. he's looking pretty hetero, and not even in denial hetero
4. the rest of his wardrobe is decidely casual

I studied him more closely while waiting for the light to change and came to this conclusion - his girlfriend bought it for him. Can't be his wife, because he would have the balls to say, "No way am I wearing that." He's got a girlfriend who thinks she knows what cool is. The poor slob is doomed and by the look on his face, he knows it.

i believe in evil spirits.

2009-05-23T09:50:00.000-07:00

when i'm low and feeling distracted, evil spirits seep in and bite at my heels. like little dogs, they seem cute and harmless as they yelp, "play with me, play with me, play with me!" they wear me out. i'm a sucker. i reach down to give them a pat on the head and they take off running. stupid me, i run after them. always exhilarating at first...the promise of excitement, something to break up the same old, same old. maybe lead me down a whole new avenue i've yet to stumble upon. or, more likely, into a familiar alley that i didn't recognize until here i am, stranded. the dogs have tricked me, led me here and ran off once again. i can do the rest of the damage all by myself.

this is what happens sometimes, when i feel low and distracted. you would think i would know better by now and that i would be able to see these little menaces and shake them loose. it is getting easier. last time i got the notion to run off, i called my friend, kz. she is my Friend Who Talks To God so i rely on her wisdom a lot. this time, i was describing my latest mental frolic, how it was making me feel, what i had analyzed it to mean, how i was rationalizing, excusing, fretting, whining, moping, etc. she listened to me blabber for about 1/2 hour, like a good friend will do. and then she leaned in real close, this friend of mine who Talks To God. my eyes widened, waiting for the wisdom, and she said, "Stop it. Just go home."

Huh? That was it? Brilliant. I had been playing in the park with these little evil dogs, letting them twist their leashes all around me, tangle up my head, suck my energy until it was me who was on the end of the leash. And all I had to do was stop it. Go home at the end of the day, when my work is done.

disclaimer

2009-05-21T08:41:00.000-07:00

It occurred to me after re-reading the post below, that a good number of my battles were also hard-lost. Those may have been the ones that mattered the most.

*Not Really

2009-05-20T15:42:00.000-07:00

Last night, I worked myself into quite an emotional state over the fact that I was not a gynecologist*.

I was cleaning out a drawer in my dresser and found a picture of me and a neighborhood buddy, dating back to maybe 7th grade. I started to remember how this particular friend had always brought out my competitive side. I was cuter, she got the boys. I was smarter, she got the grades. She skipped school, I got caught.

As we moved on to high school, she took it seriously, I got stoned. She went to college. I got stoned. She went to a prestigious outstate grad school. I went into advertising (and at least got paid for getting stoned...it was the '80's, god bless 'em). And yes, last I heard, she was a successful OB/GYN.

I don't spend a lot of time looking back with regret. I love my life, as hard-won as some of my battles have been. But every once in awhile, I do catch myself wallowing too long in the self-pity pool, wondering what it must be like living in Laguna Beach, Gynecologist* to the Stars.

I DO NOT heart my bike.

2009-05-20T14:49:00.000-07:00

Okay, I do still love my bike but yesterday was the first real blast of summer. Riding home on the river road, getting gritty pollution blown in my face, climbing uphill at the pace of a snail, cursing my shake'n bake helmet. I'm pretty sure my head would look just as bad shrunken as it would smashed in.

But that chick in front of me?? No helmet, swingy ponytail, thin, white cotton pants. Honey, your hair and makeup were fairing much better than mine, but NO ONE wants to see your sweaty underwear.

I heart my bike.

2009-05-04T18:12:00.000-07:00

Yep. I do. I didn't have one for many years until I was offered an, "I'm cleaning out my garage...want this?" bike last summer. A few years back when I was on a financial upswing, I bought a Jetta wagon and felt a similar sense of yeeha! until the payments and maintenance expenses started racking up. I turned it in when the lease was up and was left with nothing to show for my Fahrvergnügen.

I look like a total dork on my bike. (Does anyone look good with a turtle on their head?) But I look particularly dorky. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself riding by a store window in the middle of downtown, an awkward combination of that witch from "The Wizard of Oz" and...my mom.

My bike has also led to my daughter's bike. So we ride together -- huffing and puffing along the river road, looking dorky together, rewarding ourselves with a dilly bar and a brief escape from the men in our lives.

I do not own many "things", and hardly any that I'm emotionally attached to (okay, I admit to an unhealthy, codependent relationship with my laptop). But I do love, love, love my bike.

Hosanna

2009-04-13T13:24:00.000-07:00

Yesterday at church, people were greeting each other with a hyper-enthusiastic, "He Has RISEN!!!!!"

Yes, He has and I'm all for it. But for some reason, these people were freaking me out and I couldn't really put my finger on why.

This was still sticking in the back of my head today when all of a sudden the answer Dawned on me. Zombie movies.

Chill'n Grill

2009-03-27T21:13:00.000-07:00

So far this March, we've had a few brief appearances of spring. Warm days that cause people to expose their overly white flesh, drive too fast with the classic rock blaring and start digging up their yards.

On the last teaser, I was heading up to the grocery store, yowling along to Tom Petty when I noticed a bunch of guys dragging industrial strength grills out on the lawn of a local business. It looked like the maintenance crew deciding to knock off a little early for an old-fashioned neighborhood barbecue.

This made me feel good so I gave them a honk and a wave as I waited for the light to turn green. But then, something caught my eye that ruined the carefree sunny day vibe - the sign on the building said "Bradshaw Funeral and Cremation Services". Eeeew.

The other "Give It Back" alternative

2009-03-21T09:39:00.000-07:00

So I'm thinking, this whole AIG scandal is a hugely complicated deal. It's easy to say the "right" thing to do is for AIG to not give the bonuses - right now, the government is looking like the hero for demanding that they be given back. But, my feeling is that this will do nothing but set off a neverending legal process that will result in nothing but more wasted resources.

I'm thinking the thing to do is to go ahead and give the bonus money that was promised, and hope that the people who receive it will have a conscience and immediately give it all back to people and organizations that need it. Isn't that how capitalism is supposed to work?

This could be a great opportunity to "right" the greed that landed us in this mess in the first place and to make an immediate impact on the economy. And a way for some of these people to clear their reputations - and their hearts.

Gasp!

2009-03-18T10:37:00.001-07:00

How could I have forgotten both the Kinks AND Chuck Berry?? The Kinks were one of my early favs as a teenager. Once, Dave Davies pulled me up on the stage because I was surrounded by a group of obnoxious drunks. I got to sit on the edge for the whole show and take pictures. Really cool.

And CHUCK? For dropping him off, I deserve to be peeped at in a public restroom.

A List

2009-03-17T12:37:00.000-07:00

I don't know what compelled me to make this list. Isn't that what social media has come to? Making' lists. So here's a list of all of the music I've seen live in my long and jaded life (that I can remember - it does seem like there's a hole where grunge should be). Some are cool, most are super dorky. All have a story of a time and place in my life. Some are funny, some are sad and at least one is tragic. I will probably share a few of them in the days to come now that I've turned this stone over...feel free to share your own!

Beach Boys (the original Beach Boys - Dennis Wilson, NOT John Stamos)
The Who
The Rolling Stones
AC/DC
Motley Crue
Bob Segar
Bruce Springsteen & E Street Band
Prince
The Police
The Stray Cats
Steve Earle
Jars of Clay
Genesis
John Mellencamp
The Clash
Supertramp
John Prine
Dokken
Jane's Addiction
Dio
U2 (why are they so far down the list? there is no hierarchy here...hence Bob Segar's position)
The Pixies
The Firm
Robert Plant
Billy Joel
Rod Stewart
The Fixx
Judas Priest
Tom Petty & Heartbreakers
Bob Dylan
Grateful Dead
Night Ranger
Lenny Kravitz
Rhett Miller
Xpensive Winos
Mark Cohn
Local boyz (all the good ones and too many to remember)

2009-03-17T12:26:00.000-07:00

I think this was the first time in my life I've been lured by a radio commercial. About a week ago, I heard one suggesting I have a Kit Kat during my coffee break. It's stuck in the back of my mind since then but I was able to resist the temptation. Today, I broke. I'm eating one now along with a steaming cup'o coffee and it's DE-lish!

The tendril of blasphemy

2009-03-07T14:30:00.000-08:00

This poem was a Christmas gift from my bff, Kelly. We worked together in our 20's and have been friends ever since, even though she's lived in warm places for the last 15 years and I have not. She used to write these krazee haiku's which I found deeply moving.

There have only been a few friends in my life who would (or did) gladly go with me off the deep-end. I'm pretty sure when I'm 85, living alone with my cats, my memories of them will be the ones I cherish the most.

Always a Jedi

2009-03-05T10:00:00.000-08:00

“It is time to move ahead, not wait in place with illusion that things will change on their own,” Mrs. Clinton said in a speech to the ministers. “It is time for realism, as well as hope.”

Doesn't it feel a little like Princess Leia and the Rebel Alliance have finally defeated the Empire?

Guess having John Williams involved in the inauguration ceremony wasn't so weird after all.

Learning to walk

2009-03-03T14:32:00.000-08:00

It's February in MN which means that the sidewalks are treacherous if you have to walk a mile to the train each morning, like I do. I never wear the right footwear so I'm often finding my way through an obstacle course of puddles, crumbling dirty snow, clumps of muddy grass, thin sheets of invisible ice, etc. This means I spend a few minutes each day on my ass thanking God that I'm still young enough to get up, brush off and keep walking.

There have been times in my life where I no doubt skated through and too many years of plodding along. I can't say that I've done much traipsing - not yet, anyway. I usually don't trip, but instead have taken a few giant leaps that were not modified by the word "forward". Some have ended with awesome crashes that take a few years to recover - years of stepping gingerly.

I could end this little metaphor with a line about how, despite it all, I never have to walk alone, but that would be beyond my "corny" comfort zone. Instead, let's just say that each day I make it to work without splitting my pants is miracle enough.

An Artful Conversation

2009-02-23T07:27:00.000-08:00

On the bus this morning, I had the pleasure of listening to the following conversation. I'm going to try and remember the exact words here:

man: "Ah, yes. I had a friend who traveled to Italy recently, for 3 days. He's usually a beer drinker, but he quite enjoyed the wine."

woman: "Oh, there's so many there! There's merlot, charbonyange..."

man: "Yes, he came back with quite an education. Although he didn't realize how different speaking Italia was than Mexican."

And so it went. They were having a delightful chat, paying attention to cadence and using just the right adjectives in affected tones. When the woman got off the bus, the man remarked to the driver, "What a cheerful conversationer she was!"

Both of the participants were older, on their way to doctor's appointments, a few days between showers, carrying belongings in an armload of paper bags. But their enthusiastic energy towards conversation seemed to lift them out of whatever their circumstances may have been. They just loved words. And on this morning, quite randomly, they had found each other to talk to.

Tweet-Off

2009-02-18T22:03:00.000-08:00

No more twittering, tweeting, whatever for me. I've decided that it's like junk-mail, annoying noise. There is definitely such thing as over-communicating and twitter takes jabbering to an extreme. I guess it's mostly that the constant stream of stuff violates any information hierarchy - the lines between what's news, opinion, worthwhile insight, etc. are too blurred. The speed and frequency at which info comes at me is more distracting than attracting. So, I'm crossing it off my social media list.

2009-02-12T17:57:00.000-08:00

Hey! I'm adding images to my blog...this is a big day for me. Believe it or not, I'm currently WITHOUT cell phone or digital camera due mostly to extreme poverty.

But this little book of optimism is worth spreading the word about. It was designed by Cue, which is the wonderful place that I work. It's a 32 page booklet of illustrations made from cut-paper. We have extras so if you want one, go here.

Okay, tomorrow I may have some promised trashy rock'n roll stories.

How He got me.

2009-02-09T21:08:00.000-08:00

Well...I promised my bloggin' friend, Paul, that I would be a faithful writer if he put me back on his sidebar. Seeing as it's a slow news day in my usually crowded head, I've got to go into the vault for some material. Here's my faith story - I was asked to do this at City Church, a great little church I bop in and out of every couple of months. If you all get through this, I promise to stick to some trashy rock'n roll stories the rest of the week!

--------------------------------------------------------------------

I've always been moved by hearing people talk about their faith – despite the very different lives we all live, the wisdom seems to come directly from the Holy Spirit.

Even though church was a presence in my life as a child, I didn't know Jesus. As a teenager and young adult, I was intrigued by religion intellectually, and considered myself very spiritual (I think the words were “deep” back in the ‘80’s!). My “practice” mostly involved swirling around in many different flavors of New Age’ism. I also enjoyed passionately arguing with Christian friends that I felt were incredibly narrow-minded and just plain wrong. Along with the love of a good argument, inherited from and too often practiced on my dad, was my need to always be right. I realized that to prove my point and "save" a few of my friends from throwing their lives away to Christianity, I needed to educate myself.

It’s probably worth mentioning that at that point, late 20’s/30’s, my life had been a snowballing mess for many years and I was skirting the edges of disaster. I had a smart mouth and a brashness that, while contributing to a volatile personal life, seemed to be an asset in my career in advertising. Although I looked pretty successful on the outside, I was sinking into desperation, irresponsibility and despair in my personal life.

I can look back now and see that during my lowest points, my spiritual thirst was growing. I had started reading Christian apologetics to bolster my arguments with a group of friends that I had become surprisingly close to. I realize now that God was drawing me near - and saving my life.

Little by little, instead of strengthening my arguments, my reading led right to the Bible and it started to sink in. What I was reading had direct connections to the huge mess that was my life. The evil things that I had been justifying and allowing to define me, I saw for the first time as deception. And the way out was finally becoming clear.

As I kept reading and started to talk to friends with a more open mind, the scales began to fall from my eyes. At first it was incredibly scary. I was NOT looking to be Born Again. That label meant being sucked into the Church of the Holy Suburban White People. But Jesus was undeniable and real. I had reached a point where rejecting Him was not an option. So as emotionally painful and scary as it was, I prayed a plea of repentance and commitment. During a very emotional weekend of sobbing, reflection and feeling like I was being physically separated from sin, I literally got down on my knees and handed over my life to Christ.

Almost immediately, things began to change. I was able to face fears and unhealthy dynamics that had been rooted inside of me for generations. The criteria I had for success and happiness was turned inside out. The layers of "rot" that I had built up in the form of sarcasm and defensiveness started to fall away. I was finally able to see the many blessings that I had taken for granted – most significantly my marriage which was badly in need of a miracle. God granted that miracle through an 85 year old Catholic priest, a wonderful therapist and a couple of amazing kids.

Right after I became a Christian, God’s presence was magnificent. I learned to give up control and trust that my Father knew what was best for me. I found myself overcome with such extreme periods of joy that I had to pull over when driving because they were so emotionally overwhelming. I became aware of the protection and love of Christ throughout my life, manifested in people and circumstances that were too coincidental to be anything other than heaven-sent – the timely re-connections with a childhood friend who had become a pastor, a totally random conversation with my driver’s ed instructor, a co-worker who later told me he and his family had been praying for me long before what I was going through was apparent. And of course the old priest.

As a Christian, my life did not get easier. In fact, I can happily report that my life is still a mess. Except now, I think of it as a Holy Mess -- and as my ministry. God has shown me great joy in the midst of facing hardships and I’ve learned that faith is something that has to be cultivated with discipline and obedience. To break the patterns of behavior and the deception that run deep in my family, I need the Holy Spirit. Instead of continuing generations of living in isolation and spiritual darkness that still have strongholds on our parents, my husband and I will be the generation that is willing to fall apart, be saved and ask for the help we need. I believe that by living an honest life, we’re laying the foundation for our kids and their kids to thrive in love and truth. It’s for that reason and with that hope that I try to face each day with a grateful heart.

2009-02-06T22:24:00.000-08:00

I twittered yesterday.

Somehow that seems like it should be followed by an, "I'm sorry father, for I have sinned", or at least, "excuse me".

Hole

2009-02-04T21:44:00.000-08:00

The other day, during my lunch break, I stood in a manhole.

I was walking across the street just as a worker dude was putting a ladder down. Intrigued, I stopped and asked if I could look inside. He said, "Sure, you can go down if you want." I'm sure he was not thinking for a minute that I'd take him up on his offer, me in my high-heel boots and old-lady fake fur coat.

But how could I not? This isn't a chance you get everyday so in I climbed. This particular hole didn't go down any further than just below street level. My head was barely underground. It wasn't a sewer hole so it wasn't that interesting. In fact, the minute I got in, the whole (haha) situation got awkward. I became acutely aware that I was in a manhole and the worker realized just how fired he would get if he got busted, so I got out, thanked him and went on my way.

Stupid? I suppose. But how many of you can say you stood in a manhole?

You're it!

2009-02-03T22:06:00.000-08:00

Late this afternoon, after mostly being inside over a cold weekend, I took the kids to the park. It's freezing here in Minneapolis this time of year and it takes an extra bit of energy to get everyone in coats, hats, mittens, scarves, etc. It's really easy to sink into lethargy and spend too much time in front of a screen but I felt inspired by a sunny day and so we went to burn off a little steam before dinner.

This time of year, the park is a lonely place made even more so by the long shadows and early setting sun. But the kids were happy to be running around and surprisingly, so was I. After kicking the soccer ball around and sliding on the ice in our boots, another mom and kid arrived. The kids all start to play together immediately which is a carefree aspect of childhood that you take for granted as an adult. In the grown-up world we need a zillion dollar, high tech infrastructure for social networking but for kids it's as easy as this...

"Hi. I'm Lilly. What's your name?"

"Isaiah. Want to play?"

"Sure. How about hide'n seek? I'm eight."

"Okay. I'm six. You count."

And so they're off and running. Now the social norm for moms in this scenario is to engage in small talk about the neighborhood, schools, childhood milestones. But today, the combination of brisk weather and the symptoms of cabin fever make me want to run and play instead. The other mom was feeling it, too, so what the hell...we hid!

Under the slide, in the tunnel, behind the garbage dumpster, we were into it. After a few rounds of hide'n seek, we all played tag. There was hardly any conversation, just some serious playing. Catching and seeking the kids was fine but when all the kids were found and she and I had to tag each other, there was just a little bit of strangeness because we were the grown-ups. After not very long, we got over it and were both shrieking and laughing as hard as the kids.

I haven't had that much fun in a long time. I never knew her name or made plans to have coffee or get the kids together for play dates. We all just said "Bye!" and went home for dinner. Why does it get more complicated than that?

Paul's blog

2009-02-02T23:07:00.000-08:00

Oops, forgot to link to Paul's blog in my previous post...how rude of me!

2009-02-02T07:26:00.000-08:00

Well, if I'm going to be receiving some visitors from our friend Paul's blog, I'd better get something up on my own, huh? That would be the gracious thing to do.

Not much to say about the world today, so I'll tell ya what I'm reading instead. "Petal Pushers - A Rock'n Roll Cinderella Story" by Laurie Lindeen from Zuzu's Petals. They were an all-chick band in the early '90's when boys like Paul Westerberg and Dave Pirner ruled our fair city (that would be Minneapolis). I have fond and scary memories of those times, which I won't go into right now 'cause my daughter may read this someday.

But suffice it to say, that even though I never made it to the stage, I had rock'n roll dreams, big time. On Weds., I'm going to have lunch with my bff from those days, Lisa. I haven't seen her in about 15 years which is crazy considering how close we were. She was the drummer, I played guitar. Our bedroom band was The Frustrations. At that point in time, she loved Prince, I loved Dokken so I guess you could say we were never able to resolve our creative differences. The band name says it all.

My CNN post

2008-10-11T18:41:00.000-07:00

As a Christian, I cannot believe that the "right-wing Christian base" would support, and even encourage, the kind of hateful, fear-mongering that is currently grabbing headlines. These people are about the Power of Religion, which has nothing to do with a biblical faith in Christ.

Anyone who is a true follower of Christ should listen to Him and look around. The world is being turned on its ear, just as the bible says. We're being deceived and divided. We've been worshiping a false god — money — instead of being the stewards of this planet and taking care of the least among us, as God intended.

Patriotism has turned into self-righteous arrogance and completely wrong justification that America has been anointed as God's chosen people. As Christians, we should learn from the hard lessons of Israel before we, too, alienate America from the rest of world in the name of our religion. The bible says that salvation is promised to every person, every nation, of every tribe and tongue. We've let religion get in the way of faith, service and the grace and glory of God and we're paying the price.

Obama is a Christian. He does not claim to have a direct line to God, like so many of his evangelical GOP rivals. He has shown humility and honesty in answering questions about faith and theology. McCain is also a Christian and seems to have a steady faith that he does not sully by invoking the name of God to endorse his political policies.

At the beginning of this election, I was excited to have two solid choices, both Christians who seemed to have a healthy perspective on how they "walked their walk". But as soon as the right-wing zealots once again hijacked the GOP and McCain caved in, my choice was made. In the ensuing weeks, it's been validated as we see Palin use Religion and the tired, polarizing issues that drag along behind it as a way to divide people and stir up hate, fear and anger.

Where in the bible are these attributes of Christ? They're not — they're age old devices of satan. I pray that my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ wipe the scales from their eyes (and hearts) and see it for what it is before it's too late.

My reason for writing this is not to convince people to vote one way or the other. I feel the real issue is much bigger than that.

Let It Be

2008-09-05T14:44:00.000-07:00

I just got off a plane from Chicago. As I walked down the jet way and into the terminal, Paul Westerberg was the first person I saw. He was sitting on the floor, reading a book. An ancient bit of groupie inside of me flared up, but only for a second. I didn't have the energy to act on it, even mentally, and even though he still carried a lingering air of rock star, the weariness was apparent on him, too. The only urge that popped into my head was to actually look me in the eye and tell me, are you satisfied? All angst, teen-age torment, bitterness, regret, what-could've-been aside, I think we would've both taken a deep breath and hesitantly answered, "yes".

The "N" Word

2008-09-05T14:30:00.000-07:00

Today I was walking back from lunch and crossed the train platform just outside my office. It's right in the middle of a bunch of sports bars, adult entertainment venues - just a general place where people spend the day hanging out.

As I walked by a group of black guys coming out of a bar, one of them shouted, "Hey nigguh!" No big deal...I hear this form of greeting between friends quite often and it really doesn't sound shocking anymore.

Except this time, the dude said it a couple more times in my direction causing me to look around and realize that there was no one around me, particularly no one who might fit that description. So he was talking to me.

As we passed and he and his friends saw the confused look on my face, they started to crack up. I laughed, too, mostly embarrassed, but also, just for a moment, feeling Just A Little Bit Hip. A little less like a middle-aged mom with taped up glasses, negative fashion sense and far removed from any street cred.

It felt kind of good, in an ironic way, that such a powerfully negative word could be spun around in such a way. Maybe I'll try it out on my friends at the PTA ice-cream social tonight. Then again, maybe not.

There is a right answer.

2007-10-10T11:09:00.000-07:00

What's the difference between hope and wishful thinking?

If you have hope, you're a "rock of faith". If you're a wishful thinker, you're an irresponsible fool. But in the end, doesn't it come down to simple economic theory? The "haves" and the "have nots"?

I'd like to hear what you guys, my wise bloggin' friends, think...

Forget I said anything beyond the question:

What's the difference between hope and wishful thinking?

As Seen On TV

2007-09-26T22:12:00.000-07:00

One day, not too long ago, I went to Target. I had a few essential items on my list and a little extra money to surprise my daughter with some sort of bobble-headed plastic animal that carries status among her 8 year old social circle.

When I got home and presented it to her, she was THRILLED! One of the benefits of not having a lot (or any) disposable income is that the little things are usually more than enough - for all of us. What I didn't see coming was the immense disappointment on the face of my 3 year old. He's just old enough to go crazy over commercials for Spiderman toys and weird-o arts'n craft product infomercials. The latest screamer for him is a moldable, multicolored substance that's supposed to be easier to clean and less nauseating to smell than Playdough.

Anyway, when I was unable to produce even an interesting piece of packaging that could substitute for a toy for him, he freaked out and broke my heart. I dumped out my purchases on the dining room table and picked up the one item that I supposed I could live without. Yes, it had taken me damn near 6 months to be able to justify spending $14.99 on myself, but the look in his eyes made it easy. I jumped back in the car and drove to Target. After a simple return, I made a beeline for the toy aisle and picked out his prize. Driving home, I felt like a good mom and only a little bit deprived, so it was worth it.

Still too young to recognize a pity gift, he was elated and all was fair and right with the world.

As for me, I'm inclined to look for a win-win situation in the face of injustice. I went to bed that night and the wheels started turning.

If necessity is the mother of invention and poverty is often the cruel step-mother of necessity, than maybe, just maybe it would be possible to make a bra out of Moon Sand.

Future Sick

2007-09-26T22:01:00.000-07:00

Wow. There's an ominous phrase, huh? I am learning a lot about health care lately, enough to scare the bejebee's out of a chick like me who does not have family health insurance.

"Future sick" is health insurance industry jargon for all of the people who are not, um, "present sick", I guess. When a corporation gets health care for its employees, the decisions are usually based on the percent of the population who already have some kind of "condition". Most of those conditions can be attributed to behavior and lifestyle. That's us lazy, chip-bag rustlin', chain-smoking, super-sized midnight snackers.

I'm not really going anywhere with this post. No wisdom or call to action about healthy living. That would be the potbelly calling the kettle chips extra crispy. No, I just liked the phrase. And the idea of being able to someday afford health insurance again. Hopefully while we're all still "future sick".

Protecting the Innocent

2007-08-16T22:05:00.000-07:00

One day a few weeks ago, I was hiking home from the train and it was about 200 degrees out. I had this weird little blazer jacket thing on and I took it off and draped it on my bag for the long walk home. By the time I got home, I noticed it was missing. For some reason (latent anxiety?) I went into this huge panic about having to go find it. This was a $20 Target haute courture ensemble piece that I've only worn twice...the other time was on my trip to Flint, Michigan so maybe it had sentimental value.

Anyway, I go running to get in our Durango (another worthy blogpost someday...for the record, I used to drive a cute Jetta wagon) and somehow activate the car alarm. And it won't turn off. The horn is BLARING for like 20 minutes. Neighbors are coming out, Arturo is trying to get it to stop, little Andrew's running around the yard in his diaper, I'm on the cell phone trying to get help from the Dodge service guy. Arturo unhooked the battery and finally got it to stop. Then we realized that our theft system has some kind of feature where if you try to disarm the alarm too many times, it shuts down all systems for 4 hours. When we finally got the car started, it ran out of gas before we could pull out of the driveway. To look for my jacket. Arturo failed to see the humor in this and cuss words poured out of him like some deranged Desi Arnez.

About a week later, I was walking home from the train again, chatting with a nice woman that I didn't know. All of a sudden, I see it out of the corner of my eye, hanging from a dead scrub brush, next to the freight train tracks by the old flour mills where the crackheads sleep. There was also a few socks and a flip-flop. My eyes light up and I run over and grab it like it's Old Fashion Bargain days at Dayton's. The woman I'm talking to looks at me in horror...seriously. The look on her face was priceless. I sort of try to tell her the story, but she crosses the street as soon as we get to the corner. I shake off my recovered treasure and stuff it in my bag, trying to tell myself that I don't really feel a damp spot on it.

When i get home, I display it like a trophy before I tie it up in a plastic bag and throw it away.

Or maybe I put it in the dry-cleaning pile...I'll never tell.

View From the Curb

2007-05-07T21:55:00.000-07:00

My parents called me a couple weeks ago to inform me that they had moved. 3 weeks ago. Out of the house they lived in for nearly 40 years, a couple of miles away from me. They've been coming over and babysitting my kids while all of this was going down and haven't said a word. I don't think they were planning on telling me or my brother at all, except my sister-in-law happened to stop over and see that all of their stuff was sitting on the curb for people to dig through and cart away. My mom told me that if I wanted anything that was left, I had 2 hours to come get it and to say 'goodbye' to the house I grew up in. I went over, got in a huge fight with my dad and said goodbye to a whole lot.

My parents are chronic gamblers. Instead of working, they go to the casino a few times a week. They've been doing it for years and have lost every penny they had. They live a meager existence centered around gambling and that seems to be fine with them. They have yet to invite me over to their new place, but I do know it's about a block away from where the casino bus picks them up.

Their $450,000+ house by Lake Harriet was confiscated and condemned. From the little bit of info that they let slip out, it seems they were evicted for not paying $4,000 in property taxes. Once again, it was easier to just cut loose then to face the truth and ask for help. What a waste - wasted lives, on so many levels. I'm sure this is only the beginning of the spiral.

Rightly or wrongly, I've mourned the loss of my parents in fits and starts over the years. I've lived through uncanny similarities in my own life and have had to distance myself emotionally just to resist the same fate. As painful, seemingly hopeless and overwhelming as it sometimes is, my husband and I have faced our shit head on, sometimes like a train wreck and not without casualties. Sometimes changing the course of what we learned feels like having a DNA transfusion -- having patience and following the rules feels so foreign and against the very nature of who we are.

Our reward is being able to look at our own young kids and know in an instant that we're doing the right things. Their lives will be very different than ours were. And despite the frustration, exhaustion and even occasional despair, I'm truly happy. I know who I am. I know what joy feels like. I am not numb.

And even though the house is gone, I DID end up with a whole box of Christmas-themed coffee mugs.

It's all about perspective.