I'll Be Home for Christmas ...

...not only in my dreams!

Somehow, being back in my own home this year is truly making this year a special Christmas. Not perfect, mind you, but special in a comforting sort of way.

I've always enjoyed the Christmas Eve service, and the same held true tonight. Part of what I enjoy is that, as pastor, it's a "low maintenance" worship service. There's no sermon or meditation to prepare, just Scriptures and hymns to choose and the standard Communion liturgy to prepare.

There's something incredibly appropriate about this service being so simple. There is simplicity amidst glory in the birth narratives. So, I like to let the whole service bask in the simplicity of members doing the readings and the congregation singing the Christmas hymns. This year, we even ended up doing the service a capella, since our accompanist had to work this evening. There are plenty of strong voices in the congregation, so it went well.

There are always the unexpected glitches that make things special, too. When it came time to serve Communion, we had four elders come to the front and we only needed two. How beautiful that all of them wanted to participate! One of our youth dropped his piece of bread before it was dipped in the juice. So, he reached down, picked it up, blew on it, and dipped ... to chuckles throughout the sanctuary.

One of our members got a brand new puppy for Christmas. She snuck her into the service in a large handbag, and she behaved so well. I think I only heard something out of the pup once. One of our church matriarchs made it to the worship service tonight. She doesn't get around very well, or hear very well, but there was no way she was going to sit in her seat and have Communion brought to her! So, with help, she made it up to the front (after grousing quite loudly that she wasn't going to wait). *smile*

And, then we sang Silent Night as the candles were lit, to the accompaniment of a guitar. Beautiful! Simple! Uplifting!

So, now I'm home. Enjoying the moment and looking forward to tomorrow, 'cuz I'll be home for Christmas this year ... and it's certainly not a dream!

Merry Christmas, Everyone!!

Community

Community comes in all shapes and sizes. Usually, I feel community most where I live or with people I've met in real life; although, I admit that I have one or two "second generation" friends (friends I've never met face-to-face, but are good friends of face-to-face friends and we've built our friendship over the internet).

Right now, though, I'm in the midst of an interesting international experience of community. For the past year and a half, I have regularly participated in the conversations of a bulletin board with a group of people who share some common interests, and even met three of them in real life. This is a group of caring, intelligent people who have a wide interest in the world around them and each other. We've gotten to know each other through our conversations, controversies, and the varying life experiences shared on the boards.

One of the members is currently anticipating the birth of her first child. We've followed the pregnancy over the past months and are now awaiting the imminent arrival of the youngster. The youngster is two weeks overdue and, while not in immediate difficulty, is at the edges of potential distress. Mom and Dad have decided to go ahead and let the doctor induce birth, entering the hospital yesterday.

As we all wait on pins and needles, our international community has been posting in the appropriate thread just like a group of close friends waiting at the hospital for someone to pop their head out the door and announce the arrival. Some have offered various snack foods, to head over to the local take-out and bring something back, shared how uncomfortable the waiting room chairs are, even heading into that punch-drunk waiting room silliness which occurs after 24 hours of waiting.

In the midst of all of this, I get the sense of actually being a part of the process, just like I was there in the Netherlands waiting with grandparents and friends. It's something like this which brings home to me that my world has gotten both smaller and larger at the same time. Smaller in the sense that even someone across an ocean is a part of my life and larger in the sense that my world now spans around the globe instead of, mostly, within the span of a few hundred miles at most.

Excuse me. Is anyone going to eat that piece of cold pizza? I think maybe it's time for a walk up and down the halls, 'cuz these chairs have given me a horrible crick in my neck. Come and get me if anything happens! Come on, little one! We're looking forward to meeting you!

Loss and Loss

Just got back from a meeting that left me feeling a bit angry and sad.

Today our presbytery met to enact the next set of procedures to deal with a congregation that has decided to leave the Presbyterian Church (USA). The pastors and less than 60% of the membership have apparently decided that they just can no longer abide within a denomination as heretical as the PCUSA.

Here's a basic accounting of events leading up to today's meeting: In June of last year, the General Assembly accepted and approved a couple of items that set at least one of the pastor's teeth on edge. So, for the better part of a year, their Session of eleven members (plus the pastors) secretly discussed their "problem" and what to do without including the rest of the congregation. Then in October, they notified both the congregation and the presbytery that they would be taking a vote in December as to whether the congregation would seek dismissal to the Evangelical Presbyterian Church or stay in the PCUSA.

There were several (at least 4) informational meetings planned. Representatives of the presbytery were present at each meeting. Various materials were available from both the Session and the presbytery. A variety of issues were discussed. Then came the meeting where the majority present voted in favor of leaving the denomination. There was also a significant minority who voted no.

So, why am I angry and sad? Let's get the anger out first.

This is not the first congregation in the PCUSA in the past year or so that has decided to leave the denomination. I've had a 90 minute drive to do some thinking about this, and I hope I have gotten some perspective on it.

I don't think I'd have a problem with this if the entire congregation or 100% of those present and voting decided it was time to leave. If that were the case, I'd almost be inclined to say, "Let them keep their property and go." In that situation, it would seem that God is indeed calling that group of Christians into another denominational relationship. The same group of people who have given their lives, money, blood, sweat, and tears would be the ones who had discerned and affirmed that call. No one would feel abandoned or betrayed by such a decision.

However, that's not the case here. For this congregation, Pastor Johnny/Joany-on-the-Spot accepts a call to serve, works with the congregation, and then decides that there's something fishy about the denomination and s/he can't stay. But wait! There's this group of people who've called me to work with them. It's a ready made group to support me, if we can all just leave together. Oh! And icing on the cake, we can just take our property with us. VOILA! In just a few easy steps, we have a new relationship with a new denomination and can all bow down to the theology-of-ME.

What gets forgotten is that Pastor Johnny/Joany-on-the-Spot wasn't there in the beginning when the presbytery began the church, wasn't a part of putting together a congregation or procuring a building, didn't walk hand-in-hand as this congregation started from nothing and gave blood, sweat, tears, finances and faith to the establishing of this thriving congregation.

Admittedly, at the time this congregation began, the PCUSA didn't exist. However, the current pastor also wasn't present when this congregation made a conscious decision to become a part of the PCUSA when it did come into being. Part of what infuriates me is the blithe discarding of those who are committed to remaining a part of this denomination. This is a fairly young church, and some of those who are against the change are charter members. Even if this was an older church where the charter members are all in their graves (and their souls before us in the Kingdom), I would still be loath to discount the desires of those who wish to stay in the denomination.

Look - I don't have a problem with the pastor deciding to leave based on what s/he has discerned as heresy. I don't even have a problem with those who believe that the pastor is correct leaving as well. What I do have a problem with is the expectation that the property, a tangible part of the heritage of the congregation's hard work, is a part of the package.

If you feel that you can't stay within the denomination, fine! But then, also do the hard work of starting from scratch that the original members did as they brought the congregation into being. Let those who still want to remain in the denomination keep what they've worked for and move forward. Remember, it was the denomination which brought the congregation into being in the first place, and worked with it to help provide a facility for it to grow. You wouldn't be where you are today without the denomination. No one should be able to effectively "steal" a congregation just because they have a problem with the denomination. I'm still puzzled as to why it's not possible to stay in the denomination and work to change things, but then that's another rant.

I hope you can see why I'm sad. I feel great sorrow for those who are in the position of losing so much. Even if the property stays within the presbytery for those who voted against the decision to leave, they will have lost much. This kind of situation involves division of friends, perhaps family, loss of relationship and trust, a sense of betrayal, anger, hurt, disappointment in self, abandonment, just so much pain. I feel great sorrow for those who are leaving, as well. They too will be losing much, even if they don't realize it at the moment.

*very deep sigh* Why, oh why, do we inflict such pain upon one another?

It's Beginning to Look ...

Two years and two and a half months after Her Horribleness roared through town I'm finally decorating my own house for Christmas!

My son and I decorated the tree this evening. It took two trips to the store to get enough lights to replace the ones that didn't survive effectively three years of non-use. It's been a blessing to see my old friends - the ornaments that have been a part of my family story.

Many of them are ornaments my mom gave me and my son each year, a history of interests and, for my son, growing older. Others are part of our family tradition of choosing a box of new ornaments for the tree, which developed after my divorce and the loss of many of the ornaments we already had. Then there are those that are special gifts: the cardinal ornament from when I was director of Baby Redbird Day school, the nativity scene in the pale blue "egg" given to me by a beloved friend, the baby picture ornament made by my aunt, the stuffed cloth angel made by a co-worker, and all of the others.

They've been in hiding for such a long time. It's wonderful to see them again!

The Christmas boots (yes - Texas boots made of red and green felt) are hung, not by the chimney (no chimney in this house), but on the wall in the main family area. The ceramic Christmas tree that's lit by an interior light bulb and plays a Christmas carol is in its traditional place on the table in the living room. My three nativity scenes now reside in places of honor.

I have a few things that I haven't quite figured out where they belong now that some of their resting places have changed. And I still have to drape the bazillion miles of tinsel garland that in the past I've draped in the ironwork kitsch in the entryway. I just didn't feel like working with my arms over my head this evening.

Finally, I have a mystery to solve. In one box, I found the exterior light strands - 4 sets of large outdoor lights that run along the eave of the front of the house in the clips I put up when I first moved into the house. AND there are three strands of slightly smaller outdoor lights. *scratches head* Now where the heck did I put those up in the past? I haven't the foggiest idea. Any suggestions?

End of an Era

[Aside - Didn't realize it'd been so long since I'd posted! Gee, it's been busy around here ... but I'm not really sure what's actually been accomplished. *chuckle*]

Read in the paper today that Ma Bell is eliminating pay phone service. Cellphones and other technology have apparently chopped into the profits significantly, so it's time to ditch the critters and move on.

True, people are constantly yakking on their ubiquitous handy-dandy cells, or wandering around talking to the air while their bluetooth gizmos funnel the conversation directly to their brains without hand or mouth being involved. Shoot! I have a cellphone. Used the darn thing as my main phone for two years while my house was getting fixed. It eliminated a lot of problems concerning changing my main phone number on the bazillion things I would have had to change it on.

Still ... I can't help but think that getting rid of pay phones completely is not such a good idea at this point. There continue to be way too many places where cellphone coverage just plain drops off the map, literally, even places where my skewed logic says the stupid thing still oughta work. I still have a "dead spot" near Baytown when I head to Houston. It's shorter than it used to be, but Hey! Shouldn't the flat land between Beaumont and Houston carry those signals further than if they had mountains or hills to snake around, over, and through?

Unfortunately, I do see Ma Bell's point. I wonder how much gets spent repairing vandalized phones. *sigh* Don't people realize that sometimes those pay phones are a lifeline for someone in a difficult or dangerous situation? There continues to be a public service need for this "antiquated" equipment. I'll have to admit, though, that I'm rarely caught with the two quarters it now costs to call anyone on the old landlines, even though I am Luddite enough to insist upon having a landline in my home. There are, occasionally, advantages to using older technology.

Still, I wonder what our future youth will say when they encounter old comics of Superman changing into his Supersuit in a phone booth. Though I always thought that was a dumb place to change clothes even before phone booths turned into three-sided half-boxes.

Ah...I think we've about reached the end of an era.

GiveThanksing

In the cartoon PreTeena, oddly quirky friend Stick has started a campaign to change the name of our November holiday from Thanksgiving to Givethanksing. Since "thanks" doesn't do the giving and since we're supposed to "give thanks" to God and to others, the reversed name is a much more accurate description, according to Stick's theory.

She's got a point.

So ... some "Givethanksging":

-- Family around to share it with. My son is home and Mom came over for the night. And, if it hadn't been that there was family around, I have "family" in the broader sense: people who would have welcomed me into their homes for Thanksgiving dinner.

-- Finally being home! Even with the work that needs to be finished, it is wonderful to be back in my own home. Yet it reminds me of those whose homes are still unfinished and who may not have homes to return to. To have a roof over one's head is something to be thankful for. And, during these past two years, I had generous and wonderful people who provided that roof while mine was being repaired. Something else to be extremely thankful for.

-- My elderly, yet often puppy-ish, canine pal. She's such a scaredy-cat when thunderstorms come through; however, she's quite ferocious when someone's on the other side of the front door. The past couple of days she's been pretty "windy", but that hasn't affected her playing with my son or chasing squirrels. I hope it's just a transient affliction and not a sign of something more. I've had her for 12 years! Never would have believed I'd have such a loving critter-friend in my life for so long.

-- A great congregation! Yes, there are challenges, but without challenges, our faith would not be stretched and strengthened and given a chance to grow. These are truly wonderful people who have not turned their thoughts inward. Helping others is what they are about.

-- Friends, in real life and online. They are a lifeline when things feel bleak and someone to share rejoicing with when things are uplifting.

I'm going to stop there, but the blessings in my life could go on and on. And for each of these blessings, I give thanks to God, the Creator; Christ, the Redeemer; and Spirit, the Sustainer. Their presence has helped me to become the person I am today, and continues to encourage me to grow even beyond that.

The Me I am right now would have been an impossible goal for the Me I was 20 years ago. The journey became possible through God's unconditional love shown in ways I never expected. I hope that I live my life in such a way that expresses my thanks daily.

I hope that your lives are touched with many blessings and hope for the future.

HAPPY GIVETHANKSING ONE AND ALL!!

How Absurd!

An AP article in today's paper reports that a developer in Arizona is planning a water park in the desert where people can surf and scuba and do other water stuff.

This while significant portions of the middle east coast are under drought conditions and some places are looking at the water supply literally drying up to nothingness. Pictures of lakebeds with cracked bottoms and only small puddles of water are heart-wrenching.

Wouldn't a better use of that water be to aid those who are suffering?

So what if surfers have to travel farther to get to the surf! They have to do that now, as it is.

*sigh* What a waste of resources!

Just Plain Reee-diculous!

It's been over two years. Believe it or not, mucho (in my humble opinion) federal buckos were allocated and actually sent to the state of Texas, where it's been languishing in some state coffer while state bureaucrats whine and moan and groan that $500 million isn't enough money. Reeeeeee-diculous!

Since the money arrived in the state ONLY THIRTEEN families have had their homes repaired. And people have been bitching about the way that federal monies have been spent in Louisiana? Shoot ... Louisiana has managed to spend much more than Texas has in the same two year period.

According to the article in the Houston Chronicle, 4,000 families had applied for the assistance, and my guess is that, for the most part, they are probably among the neediest of the needy. True, there's always a huckster around to manipulate the system, but there's just no excuse for that $500 million to be lolling around while so many people are living in homes with blue-tarped roofs and damage which is only getting worse with each rainstorm that comes through town. Damage which could have been healed at a fairly minimum now has become major renovation for many of those who've waited this long for repairs.

What is their problem? Sure, I want to make sure that it goes to legitimate recovery projects. But do they have to reinvent the wheel themselves?! There are organizations in the area whose reason for being is to ensure that the neediest are the ones who reap the benefit of the limited money that has been released for hurricane repair. They already have lists with priorities and ways to maximize the funds which are received through volunteer labor and donated or low-cost materials to help along the way.

Is there some kind of invisible restriction which requires that the funds be spent to pay contractors, and only contractors, to complete the work? Shouldn't the state be working with local programs to make the most of the money we have received? Why just sit and moan and groan that "we didn't get the kind of money that other states did", when what we have could be actually HELPING AND HEALING families?

To only allow a trickle of funds to be released when at least a small spate is available is absolutely unconscionable!

I'd suggest that we get some buses and cars together, fill them up with people whose homes need repairs from Hurricane Rita, and caravan to Austin to camp out on the Capitol steps. But wait! These people have already been "camping out" for over two years! Maybe instead, we ought to make plans to show up on the doorstep of Michael Gerber, executive director of the Texas Housing and Community Affairs, come Thanksgiving morning. I wonder if something would happen if suddenly 4,000 displaced families became real people instead of numbers on a page.

Nah! With this crew in charge?! Probably not!

It Passed! Now Comes the Hard Part

Well, bless my soul! The BISD school bond issue was actually approved. As I said downstream, it's not perfect, but there was so much that was necessary that I felt it was important to support it.

There's been a lot of bitching about the football stadium/natatorium. I can't see anything but good coming to Beaumont as a result of all of the district's schools using the same facility for sports and other competitions that need similar arenas. I lived here in the 70's-80's before all of the school consolidations were finished. There was incredible dissension in the community, much of it due to the rampant racism AND classism that existed then. True, it still exists today, but isn't anywhere near as virulent as it was back then. Sharing a sports facility can only help to eliminate further the niggling in the background suspicion that one school has better "x" than another, for whatever reason.

Pasadena Independent School District has shared a common football stadium since long before I was in public schools. There were four schools sharing the facility when I was in high school. Now there are five. Problems with that? None that I'm aware of; however, I can only imagine scheduling got a bit more difficult when they added that fifth school three years ago. Scheduling certainly wasn't a problem for the previous years with four schools, and BISD only has three high schools at the moment. (A fourth is planned for the future.)

The other thing people are bitching about is its being built in the first stage. The thing people forget is that the sports complex isn't the only thing being built in the first stage. Sheesh! Talk about tunnel vision!

So ... now comes the hard part.

There was honest disagreement with the bond issue, and valid points of concern were raised. Here's what I hope will happen (not counting on it, though, people being the cantankerous critters they are):

Several of those who were vocally against the proposal have offered to help bring things into being if it passed. For those of you whose noses have gotten out of joint over the opposition (both past and present), pop them back in place and let the opponents have a stake in bringing this new vision of the future into being. Sure, they may operate as roadblocks instead of bridge-builders. But sometimes we need someone to stand in the road and say "Wait a minute! There's a better way!"

And to the opponents, it's wonderful of you to ask questions and poke harder into making things the absolute best they can be for our students, present and future. Just don't use that as an excuse to subtly sabotage the good which can come from fulfilling the promise of this bond proposal.

There are those out there who have a legitimate gripe that they were left out of the initial process. LET THEM IN! And not just in token numbers. Look at the demographics of the community and make sure that each racial/ethnic group is represented in a proportionate basis.

We all have a stake in making sure the promise of this bond proposal comes into being, the promise of a community which may finally begin mending the brokenness of past injustice and providing for all of our young people an education in equitable facilities.

I don't deny that we've a long way to go. BISD has many obstacles besides facilities to overcome. However, the fact that we've taken action on the first thing gives me hope that our community may come together to tackle the others. Prayers arising that this might be so!

Being Visible

Given a choice, I'd much rather be there in the background than up front where everyone can see me. Ironic, isn't it? Especially since I'm a pastor. It's part of the job description to be where you can be seen.

Within our denomination, I've gotten a bit better at standing up for things I believe and making myself heard on particular issues. Still, I prefer to do it in small group settings. Speaking before hundreds of people continues to make my knees knock together in fear, but it's not the total impossibility it would have been 15 years ago.

Recently, I found myself involved in the local school bond election. Not particularly as a vocal proponent or opponent, but more in the interest of getting those on each side of the issue in the same room and talking with each other. There's something about a bond issue in this part of the country that leads to civic deafness. People seem to prefer to "Jerry Springer" their points and not particularly take the time to hear what's being said by those they disagree with.

The interfaith organization we got involved with after the hurricane decided to try something a bit different and attempt to get those involved in the bond election in the same room, with the intention of providing a forum for each to listen to the other. We held two forums this week, fairly controlled to keep grandstanding to a minimum and to avoid those in the audience who like to make speeches under the guise of "asking a question". The forums were planned to address specific issues of significance and to allow each side a limited opportunity to present their positions. Equity in the presentations was one of our objectives.

Somehow I ended up doing the welcoming and intros at each of them. Visible, but not too bad, since the number in attendance was fairly small. For me, it was an opportunity to hear concise information from both sides with only a limited amount of hype. Good fodder for decision-making. What was truly encouraging about both of these forums is that much common ground was discerned, and both sides were not only willing to admit it, but were willing to open themselves to hearing what the other had to say.

While the bond issue is not perfect and I probably would have approached several things differently if I had been a part of the process, on the balance, I find myself in support of approval. There's so much history which has been impeding the progress of the school district that much of the work which is being targeted in the bond proposal has been postponed for way too many years. To put things off longer by defeating the proposal would only make the costs great and the animosities even deeper within the community.

So, today I ended up being part of a press conference of a racially and religiously diverse Beaumont clergy in support of passing the bond proposal. Being one of two women present, I was on the first row of the "visual". (Never quite know what to do with my hands in those situations, but at least I wasn't picking my nose!)

Afterward, the camera crews were doing individual interviews. I'd done a really nice job of avoiding those until the end. One of the cameramen came up while I was talking with the head of the local Church of God in Christ (COGIC) association. Guess the visual of a male African-American pastor speaking with a Caucasian female pastor was irresistible.

Why is it when I get in front of a news camera my brain seems to shift into blubada-blubada-blubada mode? I'm not completely convinced I said anything which made any sense; however, my "this is an opportunity to move beyond the past and into the future" cliche, but truthful, statement ended up being the final sound-bite for that station's report. (We won't focus on the rest of the inanity that I'm sure surrounded those 13 words.)

Now I think I'm going to crawl back into my hole and pull it in after me. I've had enough being visible for a while!

The Dichotomy of Welcome

If you want to accomplish a task while thinking, repainting the knick-knack cabinet is not a bad thing to do. As I covered the old paint with new, I began to think about last Sunday.

On that day, instead of my usual Sunday afternoon pursuits, I accepted the invitation of the local bishop to participate in St. Anthony Cathedral's grand celebration of their 100th Anniversary and several other significant events in the life of the local Catholic church. Along with religious leaders of other denominations and faiths, I truly enjoyed the experience, especially since it is all too rare that our faith communities gather in worship, and felt welcomed to be a participant in this event.

And yet, I didn't feel welcomed.

One of the songs during the worship had to do with everyone being "welcome in this place". As I sang along, I felt the irony of not being completely welcomed into this community as a woman called by God to serve as a leader of a congregation, in effect a priest, and as a Protestant not completely welcomed into the celebration of the Lord's Supper.

There is a dichotomy of welcome.

It's a dichotomy that one is not particularly aware of until you discover that, in some respect or another, you are indeed an "outsider", not truly welcomed into complete community, not completely part of the "family". There is welcome and there is "Welcome!"

As I thought about this, I thought about our own worship services and meetings. On Thursday at our Session meeting, I unthinkingly ended our meeting as I usually do after someone makes a motion to adjourn, "All in favor, please stand and join hands in prayer." Oops! We have a person on our Session who has recently begun to have difficulty standing. Did I inadvertently exclude her by making it seem she was not in favor if adjourning? Well, yes and no. We're a small group, and everyone understood what was happening, but I certainly could have been more inclusive in my invitation.

When we celebrate Communion, we do have several people who are not members, and a couple who are Catholic, who worship with us. Our invitation to the Table is fairly open, "All who trust in the Lord are invited to the Table which He has prepared." Yet our Catholic friends honor their faith tradition and do not partake of the feast.

A guest speaker at seminary spoke of his wife's Buddhist parents attending his worship service where Communion was served. He knew that his mother-in-law probably didn't have the foggiest idea of what was happening, yet she came forward for the meal. Should he single her out and not serve her? Or should he trust that God could handle the situation and include her in this faith-meal of the community? He chose to trust God.

In the work of the governing bodies of the church, I serve on a committee whose purpose is to lift up those areas where we have been exclusive in choosing the leaders of our church. Historically, various racial/ethnic groups have been left out of leadership roles, and that is the most obvious area people think of when looking at inequity.

At various times and in a variety of ways, we have not been particularly welcoming to women, clergy or lay; youth and young adults; and those with disabilities or differently abled. Sometimes we aren't even aware that we have turned away those whose call is to serve within the smaller congregation, or who don't happen to already live conveniently within the main urban area where meetings tend to be held, or whose work and family schedules don't fit comfortably into meeting structures we've forged into place. It's all too easy to simply put things together "the way it's always been done", without realizing that perhaps we are excluding those who can't easily arrive on the leadership dais because there is no ramp and they are in a wheelchair or who don't have the necessary materials because they were provided on hardcopy but not available in a format their adaptive technology could handle. In what ways do we exclude those who don't have a handle on Robert's Rules of Order, but manage quite gracefully in a more collaborative manner?

In what ways do we say, "Welcome, but, no, you aren't truly WELCOME!?"

Gee, those are mighty deep thoughts for one rather small knick-knack shelf! But then again, maybe it isn't the size of the shelf or the thoughts that matter. Perhaps what is more important is to become aware of the dichotomy of welcome which exists in our daily and corporate lives, and learn what it means to be truly Welcoming of others. I'd think the world would be a much nicer place if we could all figure that out and then live it.

When the Dust Settles

If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it. I think I moved in almost TWO houses worth of stuff when I came back home. Another hurricane seems to have made an appearance in the past week.

My head knows that most of this stuff will end up back in my file cabinets, in my drawers, on my shelves, and back on my walls, just where it was when I "evacuated" it at varying and sundry times over the past two years. At the moment, it's sprawled all over the floors in my living room, bedroom, office, den, and hallway.

I've managed to put bits and pieces of it away. Then I get overwhelmed by the absolute MASS of it and flee the area.

Not before I've stirred up enough dust to set off a sneeze attack. ACHOO!! ACHOO!! (and so on for about 10 minutes)

Then there's the stuff that hasn't been used for two years, and has forgotten what it's supposed to do to operate. There's a bit of a chill in the air ... and the house. Seems the pilot light needs to be lit on the heater, and I'm too much of a dolt to figure out how to get into the unit to light it.

Hope reigns eternal, though.

If my handyfriend doesn't make it here this weekend, there are two or three other people who can help me out. At least it's not too cold yet.

It would also be helpful if we could manage to get the curtain rods hung, so I can put up my thermal curtains. Double paned windows cut down on the heat transfer, but they don't eliminate it. There was a bit of a chill down the back of my neck this morning. Brrrrr!

And there are other minor frustrations, as well. Guess life wouldn't be normal without them. *chuckle*

So, when the dust settles, I'm going to get things organized and then .....


IT'S OPEN HOUSE TIME!! LET'S PARTY!!

Fun and Frustration

First, the fun!

This afternoon, St. Anthony's Cathedral celebrated their 100th Anniversary and several other significant events in the life of the local Catholic diocese. The bishop invited local clergy of all faiths to attend and be part of the processional, wearing the traditional garb of their faith. It was really cool!

In addition to five Christian denominations being represented (Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, Episcopal, and Presbyterian), the Jewish, Bhuddist, and Hindu faiths were present. As the Honorably Retired Presbyterian minister serving the Lutheran church as interim stated, "Leave it to the Catholics to do a celebration up right!"

I'd never realized that there were so many lay organizations within the Catholic church. The honor guard was made up of members of the Knights of Columbus and another group called the Knights of Peter Clavel (I think that's his name. I left the bulletin in the car and am too lazy to get it.) The order on the processional put the interfaith leaders right behind a group called the Knights and Ladies of the Sepulchre. Each of these groups were absolutely decked out in some incredible "uniform" finery. Tricorn-ish hats with bright feathers in them, colorful sashes, various kinds of crosses, and the honor guard came equipped with swords. And that was just the laity! Pageantry to the max!

This particular celebration included the designation of the Cathedral as a minor basillica, so there were some additional pieces that are particularly identified with basillicas - a special type of umbrella and a special bell (a tintinabulum - I think that's what it's called). Of course, there were various Catholic clergy present and involved: 3 archbishops (one who's just been designated as a cardinal) and 7 bishops, plus about 10-15 priests and deacons. Altar boys and girls, attendants from the various ethnic groups represented in the area, and music abounded.

All in all, it was an honor to be invited and I had a grand time. It was my first high mass, and, while there were things that would obviously be different, it was intriguing to see how much of what we Presbyterians do that are the same. We aren't quite as far apart as it sometimes seems. Well, except for the hierarchy and no women, and few married, priests and all that bowing and kneeling and a bit of a different understanding of just what happens when you celebrate Communion and "trespassers and those who trespass against us" instead of "debts and debtors" and, what is it about all those sacraments? *sigh* Ok - maybe a bit more than it looked on the surface, but still ...

So now for the frustration:

I just got my Roadrunner set up yesterday. All is good. It does work ... as long as I'm tethered to the cable connection. My gameplan was to set up the system for wireless. I have the router. I have the installation CD. I have very carefully followed the instructions, Oh!, 10 or so times. Is the router hooked up to the system and letting me get to the internet? NO!! Of course not!!

It seems I need a username and password. The cd doesn't tell you that the router needs to be registered before you install it. I now have a username and password. Do they work? Of course not!! I tend to be an idiot when it comes to computer hardware stuff, but this appears to be such a simple thing. Plug in, let the computer make sure it's working right, unplug this, swap out that, replug in this, hook that to the powersource, and Voila! wireless internet! Right? You'd think. So, of course, my computer guru, who understands that I'm absolute hell on working computers, isn't available to talk me through it and probably won't be in town before next weekend. *very deep sigh*

At least I had a good time this afternoon!

I'm HOME!

Much still to do, but I'm home!!

Please excuse the wild dancing throughout the place, but I just can't help myself. It's been over two years and I almost can't believe I made it.

There's a certain level of disarray that still exists. Mostly of the "can't do that until something else is done first" variety. I'm currently sitting on the floor, using the phone chord in the disheveled office to connect to the internet. Roadrunner and cable don't arrive until Saturday.

But this part I've been through before any time I've moved. There are curtains to put up and pictures to rehang and knick-knacks to put on their appointed shelves.

Why is it that when you move new furniture into a room for the first (or second or third) time, it never quite fits the way you expect it to? Easily solved, but a bit frustrating.

I will have to admit that this is the first time I've liked my bathroom since I moved into the house. The pink-paint-from-hell is gone (well, at least where paint is regularly visible) and I have a new mirror and light fixture. Of course, the shower stall has been replaced and looks really cool. Progress!

Now that we're here, though, I've discovered that someone apparently decided that my complete set of extended Lord of the Rings dvd's would make a nice addition to their collection. It's not definitive, yet, but they sure seem suspiciously missing. It's not like there was someone hovering around every minute to keep things from walking off, but I'm rather miffed. Harumph! At least they didn't take the dvd player, too.

In any case, I'm home! I hope I remember how to sleep in my waterbed. It's been such a long time!

Excuse me, but I think I'm going to get back to my happy dance!

Later!

Mental Exhaustion

Or is it physical? Or spiritual? Maybe a bit of each, perhaps.

Part of it is that I keep crashing into brick walls. Not literal ones, but the ones set up by expectations and hopes that never quite pan out, at least not yet.

Since I last posted, there have been at least three dates set for the finish-up work to be accomplished at my house. On two of those, the friend who's doing the work couldn't make it. Then yesterday, when he did come, our time was spent on all manner of things that needed to be done, but we still didn't accomplish the main task. There is progress, but it feels so infinitisimal in comparison to my desire to sleep in my own bed again that I really just want to cry. But can't. So even that feels stuck.

I look at the things that need to be finished and feel overwhelmed. Then I just tend to wander from one partial task to another.

This weekend I began to work on removing the brighter-than-Pepto-bismol pink paint from my bathroom. What started out as a semi-reasonable, but relatively simple, task quickly turned into the paint removal from hell. Did you know that there was once used something my friend called "iron paint"? Well, that's what they used in my bathroom. I used every kind of sandpaper imaginable and didn't even make a dent in the texture of the paint. My son had used a whole container of paint stripper on the stuff and had managed to get bits and pieces of it off, but not what you'd usually expect.

One frantic phone call to friend later ended up with me headed to the handy-dandy hardware store for paint deglosser. That stuff is just plain nasty! And even that didn't make a dent in it until I used steel wool on the paint to just barely score it so the deglosser could do its thing. I managed to complete the doorframe and the bathroom cabinet. Now all I have to do is degloss the cabinets under the sink, prime and then anoint that pup with two coats of paint. That's what it took to finally banish the offending color.

Perhaps my exhaustion has something to do with yesterday. I finally got the kitchen completely cleaned up. There is no more roofing soot and grime and bits and pieces of wood lurking on my appliances and counters. You wouldn't know it by looking at it, though. Within a few hours of completion, there's all kinds of crap and clutter and stuff permeating the room.

Then again, it could be the garage door that decided to come unhinged from the ceiling as the garage door opener was opening the door, and proceeded to smash one of the windows in the door ... after all the stores were closed for the night, of course. I am glad my friend was there, otherwise, I would have been completely befuddled by what to do with a garage door stuck in 3/4 open position. Sleep in the garage? I don't think so.

My friend was able to complete a temporary? fix on the garage door through a midnight run to Wally World for bolts and a garbage bag and tape concoction over the gaping hole.

My mission between now and Thursday? (A day later than I was hoping to actually sleep in my bed, btw.) Get the garage support checked out by someone who understands how the garage door works and see if I can find a "compound miter saw" - the tool which kept us from getting as far as we'd hoped. And give my feet a rest, because they've declared war on my body and ache whether they're on the ground or not.

I think I'm going to repeat a lament from two years ago - "Show me the way to go home. I'm tired and I wanna go to bed." My aching body, soul, and mind are soooooo tired.

Little by Little

Don't think I'm gonna make it. ... Back home by the 2nd anniversary of Her Horribleness' arrival in the Golden Triangle, that is.

Some progress has been made, though. My handyfriend came to town and I think we've pretty much bought everything else we need to finish the repairs inside. Well, almost. One nice piece of 1/4 round is needed to finish off the baseboard in the kitchen, and I'm sure there will be one or two more things before we're through.

All of the baseboard, chair rail, and crown molding has been painted, as well as the framing for the doorway that had to be replaced, and progress has been made in installing the baseboard in the den. I won't tell you about the piece that I managed to break as we took it back outside to trim down a bit. Turns out that some of the door framing left a nasty swath which needs to be repainted with the paint from hell. Bleah! (Especially, since there's now CARPET on the floors and I have to be really careful to not drip paint, paint tarp notwithstanding.)

Dorky moment of the day - I started tackling cleaning around the kitchen. The ventahood looked rather bedraggled, so I started in on it. Managed to pull out the light cover without much trouble. Then came the grease screen. Started to get it loosened and something tumbled onto the stove. EEK! *sheepish grin* It was just a leaf. EEK! *sheepish grin* Next came a bit of wood. EEP! *sheepish grin* Another leaf. Notice a trend here? You'd think after the first one I'd quit thinking some kind of dead/live critter wasn't falling through the hole. I finally realized it was the detrius from my previously hurricane-mangled roof, which made the balance of the cleanup a bit less exciting. *chuckle*

My handyfriend won't be able to come back until next week. *sigh* Perhaps we'll get the rest of the inside finished next time. In the meantime, I'm exhausted and headed to bed.

OOPS! Forgot to mention one moment of hilarity during our work. My working refrigerator is in the storage room in the garage, while my regular fridge is in 3 pieces waiting to be reinserted into its appropriate location. We'd stored water in the working fridge so we'd have something cool to drink. My handyfriend hollers "Water!" I'm thinking, "Well, he's closer to the fridge. Why doesn't he just walk in and get one?" Again, he hollers "Water!" So I yell back, "It's in the fridge!" He says, "No! Water! All over the floor! WATER!" Sure enough, there's this mysterious water in the storage room. Turns out the drainage pipe from my washing machine was dislodged from its comstituent parts by the installation guy and now the water drains all over my garage floor instead of into the sewage system. Not an ideal situation by any stretch of the imagination. But the miscommunication sure was funny!

Raising 'Cane

(Thanks, Gard!)

I had truly hoped to sleep in my own bed before (1) the NEXT hurricane blew through town and (2) the anniversary of Her Horribleness. While #1 got the best of me, there's still hope for #2. But I'm waiting to hear from my handyfriend as to whether he'll be able to make it to town this weekend or not.

By comparison, for me, Humberto was just a baby hurricane. Of course, those who experienced significant damage won't see things the same way. I truly feel for those who got clobbered this time around.

When I went to bed on Wednesday, Humberto was still just a tropical storm. The lights had flickered once or twice and the dog wasn't happy about that. But they came back on, so no one in my house was particularly concerned. Snoozin' and cruisin' was the order of the night.

That is, until the dog decided to crawl into bed with me about 3am-ish.

We still had lights, so that wasn't it. There wasn't any thunder at that point, so that wasn't it either. The rain was pattering on the roof and windows, but that usually doesn't bother her, so that wasn't it. There must have been something about the wind blowing that made the Penster decide to snuggle. She's not much of a snuggle-dog.

Finally after spending about an hour trying to calm her down, I gave up, went to the den and turned on the tv. To my vast surprise, scrolling across the bottom of the screen was "Inland hurricane warning in effect"! Hurricane! Where'd this hurricane come from? How on earth was a storm over dry land becoming a hurricane? (Ok - it was really early in the morning, so give me a break!) I'd certainly decided I'd lost my mind and was misreading what was on the screen. Then the weatherperson came onscreen and announced that Humberto had become a minimal category 1 hurricane before coming ashore somewhere around ..... at that point I quit listening.

A hurricane? Nobody'd ever said anything about a 'cane. Uhoh! I just remembered that there was a small stepladder and an empty can of paint on the back patio which should have been secured earlier. Don't worry. I didn't jump into clothes and try to go and fix it. I just fretted about it for a while.

Then the power went out, for good. So the Penster and I went back to bed, her to cower and me to console. There wasn't much else we could do at the moment.

Next thing I knew, a phone was ringing and it was 8:30am. All quiet, except for the ringing. Alllllllll quiet. No a/c. No refrigerator hum. No lights anywhere. And still no lights today.

Ah, well! The whole thing could have been significantly worse. I'm grateful that things have calmed down and there's sun on the horizon for the next couple of days. Keep your fingers crossed! I'm hoping to meet that second deadline, and it looks like it just may be possible!

On That Day

Much has happened since the fateful September 11th six years ago. There're so many things which seem to have taken us in a u-turn from the essential tenets of who we are meant to be as Americans. Yet that's not where I'm headed tonight.

Last night I participated in a truly incredible experience which I'm not completely certain I can put into words. For those of you who don't live in this part of the world, there's still a fair amount of prejudice; although, it has improved since the last time I lived here.

But last night ...

Religious leaders from every faith group in the area and all racial/ethnic backgrounds gathered together for a September 11 Remembrance and Peace Procession. Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, Islam, Christian of various stripes, African-American, Hispanic-American, Asian-American, male, female, formal clerical attire, casual, from all three of the major cities in the Golden Triangle area, all shared a prayer and walked together to the main fire station, the police station, and the port.

At each stop, the first responders gave a short tribute to those who have served and whose lives were lost or forever changed in the line of duty. At the port, the military headquarters (transportation group) gave a prayer for those who serve in the military and for a time when all may live in peace. The religious leaders placed a wreath there and laid palm fronds there as a symbol of the peace we prayed for.

The only prayer given by the religious leaders was this one:

"Loving God and Father, answer our prayers for a world of peace. Give us strength as we face the conflicts o our troubled world. Cleanse our minds of retaliation and help us to be instruments of your peace. Fill us with the compassion we need to overlook the hatefulness of others and enable us to be a country embraced by the grace of your teachings. We ask to share in teh task of restoring harmony and justice.

God of compassion and mercy, we pray for all the people whose lives have been changed by violence in this world. Remember, too, those who perished in the attack on America and the lives that have been lost in protecting democracy and freedom around the world. Console their families and friends with the knowledge that their loved ones will find comfort and peace in your loving arms. We put our trust in your heavenly graces. Hear our plea and grant that peace reign through the world. Amen."

Yes, I have one or two quibbles with the prayer, but, considering the context, it was a job well done. I hope the local news outlets showed that our area has an incredible diversity within it and that we can all hope and pray for peace in our world and a time when differences are embraced and not feared.

Yesterday was a very good day. What better message could we send to those who would bring pain and division to this world than the image of all of us together walking and praying for peace?

A Surgery Long Overdue

That's the headline on an article in the Houston Chronicle today.

Two years ago, a young EMT and her cousin were riding down an Angelina County road when some bozoid pulls alongside them, shoots and kills the cousin, then shoots the EMT, mangling her arm. She's rushed to the hospital where they're able to save her arm. Truly wonderful! She has insurance at that point.

Fast forward to today. No job. No insurance. She gets a $900/month disability check, which is too much per month to receive medical care in Angelina County. In many Texas counties, if you earn $179/month as a single person, you make too much to qualify for indigent medical care. $179!!! That doesn't even cover housing and you're too wealthy to qualify for medical care?!?! OUTRAGEOUS!

For this young woman, her situation became visible due to an article on healthcare in the newspaper. It touched the heart of people with resources in the medical community, and yesterday she received the long delayed surgery to complete the repairs that were started after she was shot.

The original surgery was competently done. There's no malfeasance involved in her situation, at least no medical malfeasance from the outset. However, the one surgery was not sufficient to bring about the healing which might lead to her being able to train for a new career and re-enter the workforce.

So, yesterday that healing was begun. Gratis. Surgeons and hospital and rehab therapists are donating their resources to ensure this is done. HOORAY! I'm truly happy for this young woman. It's a wonderful and incredible blessing that she's receiving.

Now for a mini-rant:

What about those whose stories didn't make it into the newspaper? What about the thousands in Texas who are considered 'wealthy' when their income probably doesn't even provide even minimal necessities?

Not to malign the hospitals who provide indigent care, but why wasn't this surgery done earlier? This young woman traveled 175 miles round-trip, twice weekly, for physical therapy at a teaching hospital which provides care for those who don't qualify for the same care close to home. I applaud their assistance and the services they provide. However, if surgery was necessary for improvement, why didn't they pick up on this and offer it? (Ok - I know why, but I don't have to like it.)

Why aren't people so outraged at the state of health care that they lobby and protest and write letters to elected officials until something is done about it?

*snort* My mom is probably a prime example of why. She has really good health insurance. (So do I, for that matter.) Here's her plaint: If we go to universal health care, there'll be rationing. *one daughter tearing out hair* There already IS rationing! Those who can't afford health care are already "rationed" out of the system!

So, one injustice has been rectified. When will we tackle the others?

PS - There's a part of me which says that the bozoid who committed the crime should be personally responsible for any medical care costs of the person he damaged. Unless he was independently wealthy, I realize this could never happen. It's difficult to pay multi-thousand dollar medical bills when you're serving two life sentences in prison. So, in the balance of things, I'm just glad he's off the streets so he can't hurt anyone else.

Flashback

Two years ago, I really needed a vacation. I'd scheduled two weeks off around Labor Day and everything was in place so I could go. Then this nasty named Katrina popped up on the horizon. By the time I was scheduled to leave, it was pretty certain the vixen wasn't headed to Beaumont and people were pouring in from the east to escape here. My competent crew was helping out with the local agencies and things were in order, so the dog, the cat, and I also headed west for a visit with my mom.

In the days to come, we (Mom and I, the dog and cat weren't particularly into tv) watched transfixed as Katrina came ashore, completed her devastation, and faded into nothingness. Original plans to visit with friends further west were put aside because traffic and gasoline costs were horrendous. The next days were spent almost paralyzed as we watched helplessly while people in New Orleans died, awaited rescue in miserable conditions, were abandoned on 24-hour national tv. One helluva way to spend a vacation.

Then the dog and I returned home. Still wrapped in a sense of the surreal, I went about my business. The cat had stayed at mom's because I had a week-long meeting to attend in a couple of weeks, so there was no sense in disrupting her catly routine twice. As I left Houston for the meeting at the appointed time, Mom had a hissy fit about an almost tropical storm that was off the coast of Florida. Our part of the world had a ridiculous high parked over it, so I wasn't worried and I left.

In a total otherworldly experience, the entire meeting from California became a watching of news reports and wondering what this second nasty named Rita would do. Again I watched helplessly as my friends, family, church members fled in long, unmoving lines while this at one point category 5 virago bore down on my home. In some respects, I've been in a bit of a fog ever since.

Then came Hurricane Dean.

I've been in an even deeper fog since the moment Southeast Texas was in even the outer edge of the cone of probability. My head said he wouldn't come our way. *shrug* My head had said that about Rita. Again I watched helplessly as Dean clobbered Jamaica and Mexico, poor areas devastated and nothing I could do.

I just realized last night that I was completely and truly trapped in a flashback as Felix came so quickly after Dean and roared up to category 5. I think I've been paralyzed for almost two weeks now, functioning more or less at the zombie level, again trapped in the helpless feelings of two years ago.

Then oddball stuff bubbled to the surface. When I do finally get into my home, it won't be the same home I left two years ago. It'll be a much better home. More completely mine, in the sense that my choices will have been imposed on it. Yet so much less mine, because it isn't the house I left two years ago and, somehow, I just want to return to THAT house, not this one. Don't know if that makes any sense, but it's what I'm feeling.

Somehow I think it's time for me to holler for help. I'm fortunate. The resources are there. Now I just have to pick up the phone and do it.

I Really Oughta...

...turn off The Weather Channel.

Part of my semi-obsessive weather watching is legitimate. I'd like to be able to figure out when it will be safe to finish painting the exterior of my house. Doesn't look like that's going to happen any time soon. Especially since there's thunder rumbling in the background and some of those thunderstorms might actually make it here from the coast. Even if it does manage to get dry enough to paint, it'll probably be way too hot for most of the day. This task may have to wait until October.

It's also legitimate to keep up with the latest tropical updates (nothing happening at this second, but you've gotta keep your eye on ... )and see if the skies are about to break loose with a gullywasher at any moment, usually just before I walk out of the house. Weather radar is your friend. (Anyone else remember when the Weather Channel was just the local radar circling round and round with someone intermittently announcing temperatures and weather alerts?)

However, today is the 2nd anniversary of Katrina's landfall. Each time one of the segments on how bad things were and what recovery is happening and what the area has to look forward to in the future, I find myself feeling really ambivalent.

There's the angry part of me that says "All right, already! We've Katrina ... Katrina ... Katrina'd until you'd think that was the only catastrophe that happened in 2005." And I wonder if they'll do the 2-year anniversary of Rita and Wilma with the same overkill they're devoting to Katrina. Probably not.

Then I find myself hoping that they don't. The look back reminds me too much of the whole surreal experience of watching the devastation and then seeing a similar destruction head straight for our coast 3 weeks later. It's peak hurricane season, so my hypervigilance becomes even more hyper (if that's possible).

Then I end up feeling guilty because the eastern Gulf Coast took a super-major hit and you see the pictures of the devastation that is still waiting to be dealt with. Finally other parts of Louisiana and Mississippi are getting a bit of their due, yet New Orleans is still the "star".

It is encouraging to see how far things have come, as well as discouraging to see just how far they've yet to go. The mind recognizes that 10 years out may see the area looking almost as though nothing had ever happened. The heart goes out to those who are caught in limbo in the meantime. To some degree, I understand their limbo; although, certainly my limbo is nowhere as deep or long as theirs may be. And the same recovery parameters may be just as true for us as it was for those clobbered by Katrina.

Yeah. I think I oughta just turn off the tv for a while. ACK! More thunder. Maybe not.

Peace

It's absolutely curious as to what brings peace to my soul right now. Checking out the National Hurricane Center and discovering that:

"There are no tropical cyclones at this time"

is one of them.

Having my church members recognize the devastation wreaked by Hurricane Dean and desiring to help as they are able, at this time, through our Presbyterian Disaster Assistance program.

Watching a squirrel climb down the middle framing of the sliding glass patio door (actually, that was more of a chuckle, but there was a sense of peace - except for the dog who wasn't sure if someone/thing was breaking in or just what was happening)

... *humming* "these are a few of my favorite things"!

Would that the peace of this particular moment floods the entire earth and all war and conflict cease. *sigh* (Nope - I'm not headed back to reality and you can't make me!)

Whew ... and a Prayer

*wipes brow* It appears we're going to dodge this particular bullet as Master Dean seems to have decided on a decidedly westward path.

He's still a nasty character and has caused significant damage and taken lives. Looks like he may become an even nastier character before whomping into the Yucatan Penninsula.

So - prayers arising for those in his path. We who have dodged this disaster are with you in spirit. Please do whatever you can to be safe.

Tropical Blues

The first Gulf-aimed hurricane of the season has arisen ... and it's a biggie!

Living along the Gulf Coast, one tends to keep the potential for hurricanes in one's peripheral vision. I find myself checking the 'Tropical Update' on The Weather Channel out of the corner of my eye each morning from June 1st onward. However, once we get to August, I shift from peripheral vision to at least one eye firmly focused on the tropical reports more than once daily. So, I'd had my eye on Dean since he was just a gleam of a possible wave off the coast of Africa.

Since Her Horribleness blew through town about two years ago, I've broadened my hurricane watching resources. In 2005, I was virtually certain that the high pressure hovering over the southeast Texas coast would send Rita skittering past us and further west, if it even turned into a hurricane at all. Wrong-o!

It would have been nice if The Weather Channel and other tv outlets had even mentioned the National Hurricane Center's concern that the high pressure system would be shoved out of the way and a low pressure system just primed to suck Rita home would take its place. I realized none of this until watching CNN News as Rita bore down on the Texas border while stuck in California.

Now I wander through the National Hurricane Center Forecast Discussions regularly. I didn't even know it existed two years ago.

So - back to the original premise of this post:

A hurricane's headed to the Gulf ... and it's a biggie!

The range of emotions has been, well, weird. There's this part of me that's hypersensitive - an almost obsessive desire to know what's going on with Dean, precisely and minute by minute. I generally get to the Forecast Discussions within 15-20 minutes of them being posted. The lag is because I want to give them a chance to have the newest stuff up before I hit the site.

There's this part of me that is a bit ecstatic about having a hurricane to track. (I know - I said this was weird.) Somehow I want to vindicate my improved tracking skills. Please don't laugh. I know hurricanes are capricious and beastly difficult for even the experts. But I've had a pretty good track record over the years and Rita got past me. That just bugs the heck out of me!

There's another part of me that's wavering in distress. I truly wanted to be able to sleep at least one night in my restored home before another monstrosity even glimpsed the mouth of the Gulf of Mexico. One moment I'm gleeful over the things that have been accomplished: all that's left for the interior to be complete is trim and touchup painting, cleaning (a bazillion loads of laundry and dishes as well as getting rid of two years worth of dust - did you really imagine that I'd cleaned house in the month before Rita hit?), and reinstalling my furniture. Then I'm plunged into despair when things foul up getting those last things done.

Then there's the flash of anger at the local paper's editoral to "just get over it!" The intelletual part of me recognizes that their reaction is simply a phase of compassion fatigue, something to be expected at this point in recovery. Yeah! I'd love for things to be back to something resembling normal. *sarcastic* Me to editorial writer, "Yep! You've got it back together, so come take over my life for a bit and I'll live yours! You want things put back together quicker? What have YOU done to help someone who's struggling? or those without the funds to make the repairs? or still on the long waiting lists to get volunteer workers to put things back together? HUH?!"

*sigh* And then there're the times when I just feel completely sapped of any energy. *chuckle* Guess you could call it a 'tropical depression'. It passes, but I'd rather do without them.

In the grand scheme of things, it's a good thing I don't chew my nails or I'd have none left (or would be working on my toenails by now).

Well, the thunder from a local storm has the dog giving me a semi-anxious look, so I guess I'll bring this to an end and go reassure her.

Any songwriters out there interested in composing a tropical blues? I'd love to hear it!

Come. On.

As I was signing offline last night, just as everything was shutting down, the AOL screen that flows through with current news announced in bold headlines:

Tropical Storm Erin Heads Ashore

As Major Storm

ARRRRRRRGH! (ummmm...that was me)

You do not describe a measly barely-a-tropical-storm as a MAJOR storm during hurricane season. MAJOR is at least a Category 3, definitely Cat 4 or 5. MAJOR means nasty winds and storm surge and the potential for some exceeding nastiness.

Sure, you watch the darned things while they're in the Gulf, 'cuz hurricanes can be sneaky beasts. Get one of them lolling over the water, stuck in one place gathering water and the like, and you may have a steamroller headed at you. But when it heads onshore? Well, if it gets stuck (like Tropical Storm Alicia did several years ago), it may lead to significant flooding. But MAJOR!?!

I like flooding just as much as the next person - not at all! However, I also am not thrilled with hype when it comes to reporting on storms. Where do you go emotionally when a mere tropical storm rates the level of a Cat 5 hysteria?

Come. On.

Holy Sh-- Report

Reading today's local newspaper, I came across this Associated Press article, "Girl dragged behind van at boot camp". Ok - sometimes I read stuff like this, sometimes I don't. However, I glanced at the first sentence and saw this phrase "Christian boot camp"! Immediate reaction WTF!! So of course, I read the whole thing.

Apparently, a 15-year-old girl was having difficulty keeping up on a morning run. The director assigned one of the staff to run alongside of her to motivate her. When she fell, these so-called Christian bozos tied her to the back of a van and then dragged her! The name of this boot camp? Love Demonstrated Ministries.

Someone somewhere didn't get the memo ... or forgot to read the Book ... or came equipped with no brains ... or certainly wasn't willing to truly listen to and interpret what it means to demonstrate love! I'm hoping the police totally throw the book (the legal code, at least) at them and lock them up with a copy of The Book to read over and over and over, especially spending time to read what Jesus himself did to demonstrate love. It certainly didn't involve harming another human being.

Then second on the H.S. (ummmm.....that's not coming out right 'cuz it certainly wasn't the Holy Spirit) report: FEMA is only now deciding that people living in trailers after the 2005 hurricane season should vacate the premises ASAP! They've had the info in their hot little hands for about a year, but chose to sit on it. The article doesn't once mention that it's probably not a good idea to BUY the stupid trailers from FEMA, which they've been trying to sell to those living in them for about $300-$500.

Here's the kicker - There are about 45,000 trailers still in use in Louisiana alone, and they've only managed to scrounge up about 4,500 rental units for people to move into. Along the Gulf Coast, approximately 65,000 are still living in trailers. Cruise ships, anyone? Not ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it would get people out of a toxic formaldehyde situation fairly quickly while FEMA/HUD work to get some viable rental property in place.

I do want to say for the record that the local FEMA workers who are still in the area have been quite sympathetic to the situation and have been advocating for a better solution whenever difficulties have been pointed out. It's the muckety-mucks who don't seem to get it.

Got Your Back!

Traveling to the church today, the car in front of me sported this bumpersticker:

God has my back!

My reaction? Oh, really!!

Let's see if I've gotten this straight. To me, that bumpersticker says that God supports me in whatever I've decided to do. It runs somewhat along the line of the old bumperstickers that said "God is my co-pilot." The followup to that one is more to my liking, "If God is your co-pilot, you're in the wrong seat."

The one I saw today smacks of human-centeredness. It says that God supports my biases, my prejudices, my interpretation of scripture, my ordering of how life should be lived. It eliminates the need for discernment of God's will and the possibility that what God wills may be completely antithetical to what I happen to want or believe becomes completely irrelevant.

True, one may spend significant time and effort trying to discern what God wants us to be and do, and in the end, our decisions may be the wrong ones. It's often hard to be certain in this life, especially if what we decide is in that gray area where any response we make could be the correct one. And it can often be difficult to discern when the "tough love" of Jesus with the rich young ruler which, while it may appear and feel like cruel treatment of one in need, is the most loving and caring action one may take. How does one best emulate Jesus in loving one's neighbor as oneself? Unless we're willing to take the difficult step of loving our enemies, rather than treating them according to our personal biases, how can we be certain that God "has our back"? True faith journeys are rarely easy or so straightforward.

Of course, the individual who was driving the car may have had a different interpretation. The sticker may simply have been a statement that the driver trusts that God is present in the difficult times as well as the good, perhaps even a restatement at some level of part of the 23rd Psalm. In which case, I agree wholeheartedly! But I must confess that I fear my first interpretation is the more likely one. I only hope that I'm wrong.

Coming up Roses!

Ahhhhhh! Good things happening. Progress. Positives. WOOHOO!

For once, something planned worked exactly like it was supposed to. The linoleum and carpet are completely installed ... and they look wonderful! The house looks liveable again.

Lotsa dust to be removed, though. Two years' worth! YIPE! But it's beginning to look like this long wandering in exile may be coming to an end.

I even felt comfortable enough with the progress to go out and buy a new washer and dryer. They're going to get quite a workout, as will the new dishwasher. What's coming next is the Spring Cleaning to end all spring cleanings. Well, not really, but you get the picture.

Next weekend comes the final touchup painting and painting and installing the trim, plus a couple of installations or so. Clean curtains, new curtains, new blinds and all sorts of fun stuff.

What bliss! To sleep in my own bed, just a few short weeks ahead. AHHHHHH! Heaven!

Monday, Monday

.....so good to me! Shades of The Mamas and the Papas. Now all I've gotta do is hope that it doesn't end up being one of those days I can't trust. *chuckle*

Tomorrow is linoleum (well, that's what I call it!) and perhaps a start on the carpeting. I can't believe how excited I'm feeling about this.

My son has done the floor prep and cleared up all of the dust, junk, and just plain garbage that has collected on the floors over the past two years. It's amazing how nice it looks now that that part of it is done.

My plan is to just sit in the den and figure out what color curtains to put in the room after the flooring is completed. Hmmmm.....the possibiliites are so many!

Contrary to Appearances

I have not died nor abandoned this lonely blog. Instead, I've been slogging through a slump, tired of being 'snakebit' on the repair situation, tired of rain, tired of feeling uncreative, tired of looking for solutions to problems, tired of being tired (ok - enough whining - it didn't really help. *chuckle*).

Actually, some good has transpired. I just seem to be in a sogged out place at the moment, something I learned was "normal" for about this time in disaster recovery. My trip to the mountains was uplifting (pun only slightly intended). That's where I learned more about the process of disaster recovery and hitting this particular washed-out phase of Compassion Fatigue. Knowing about it hasn't eliminated the washed-out feeling, but it has made it feel less intense. I'm "normal"! Gee, that's something I don't often get to say.

For anyone who's never been through it, or is in the midst of it and isn't quite sure what's going on, here's part of what I learned:

Apparently at somewhere around the 18 month to 2 year mark after a major disaster, compassion fatigue sets in for a time, sapping energy in general and slowing down progress.

In general, there’s a progression through the process, which may take several years. J. Eric Gentry, who co-developed a program on compassion fatigue, outlines the process something like this (this was designed for those working in the mental health field, but seems to fit a much broader cross-section of people affected by disaster):

The Zealot Phase – Idealistic: We are committed, involved, and available … ready to problem solve, ready to make a difference. We willingly put in extra hours. Our enthusiasm overflows. We volunteer. We are willing to go the extra mile and often do so without prompting. I’ll do that!

The Irritability Phase – We begin to cut corners. We begin to avoid contact. We begin to mock colleagues and others. We talk unfairly about people’s medical or mental health problems. We denigrate people’s efforts at wellness. The use of humor is sometimes strained. We day dream or become distracted when people are speaking with us. We make efforts to avoid conversations with those still recovering from disaster. Oversights, mistakes, and lapses of concentration begin to occur. We begin to distance ourselves from our friends and coworkers.

The Withdrawal Phase – Our enthusiasm turns sour and our bubble bursts. People we work with become a blur and run together. We lose our ability to see those recovering as individuals and they rather become irritants. Complaints may be made about our work and possibly there are problems in our personal life as well. We are tired all the time. We no longer wish to talk about work and may not even admit to what we do so as to avoid talking about our work. We neglect our family, our coworkers, and ourselves. Our shield gets thicker and thicker … it blocks our pain and sadness.

The Zombie Phase – Our hopelessness turns to rage. We begin to hate people … any people and all people … we even hate our coworkers if they dare question us. Others become incompetent or ignorant in our eyes. We develop a disdain for those recovering. We have no patience … we lose our sense of humor … and have no time for fun.

Transformation – "Pathology and Victimization" vs. "Maturation and Renewal" At this point, there is either a shift toward hardiness, resiliency, and transformation or the person remains stuck in the loss.

To put this into perspective, this is a process, and not necessarily a straight-line process, and takes more time than any of us ever expected it would. One of those on the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance response team who was presenting this information was pastor of a church in the area where Hurricane Andrew hit in 1992. It took seven years before she was able to be part of a response team to a hurricane area, even though she was able to assist at other disasters in the meantime.

WHEW! And here I'd figured it'd be about a year or so and things would settle in on their new normal and I'd be "over it". HAH! It's almost TWO years and I'm still not back in my home. My recovery progress will probably transpire a bit more rapidly once I'm back there, but this has provided me with some understanding of what it's like for those who won't be back in their homes for even longer, if ever.

Now - for some good news. Progress is happening on my house. The shower is almost finished and it looks awesome! (All I've gotta do now is remember to call the plumber for the finishing touches.) The front door has been installed and all it needs is painting. And I have new windows! (*furiously happy dancing*) That was the last thing I needed done before getting the carpet laid. That's scheduled for the end of this month. My handy-dandy handyfriend is planning to come do the touchup painting and trim on the 2nd weekend in August. THEN! Then I'll be able to live in my house again while finishing up the rest of the to-do list.

There is hope on the horizon. HOORAY!

It Figures

*shaking head* The glass guy came today to install the glass door for my shower. Everything was going nicely. Measure Measure. Cut Cut. Zwip Zwip. Other various and assorted installation noises. Zwip Crrrrrrack! Daymn! (that last was the installer)

The glass in the door just completely shattered. A gazillion little pieces held in place by the frame. *shakes head more*

Wouldn't you know it? The first time in the guy's sixteen years installing glass shower doors and mine is the one that earns the honor.

*sigh* It'll be next week before the door is installed.

On the brighter side, my front door is being intalled this Wednesday. The oven has been fine tuned. And the dishwasher installer, who apparently didn't receive the order about installing the dishwasher, is calling me back this evening to set up an installation date.

And.........

On Wednesday, I'm headed toward mountains! Boy, do I need mountains.

Interlude

Tomorrow I take a break. A break from juggling repairs. A break from the routine. A break from uncertainty. A break from fighting fleas (they're really bad this year). Breaks are good.

I'm headed to one of my favorite places for a Worship and Music Conference, one of my favorite things to do. For the next week I'll be in the Texas hill country near the Guadalupe River, getting to sing with a choir of about 70 people. Fun!! I'm also hoping to get to spend some time sitting in one of the natural spa spots on the river, that is, I will if the predicted rains don't turn the river into a raging torrent. (boo! hiss! no raging torrents, please!)

I'll also be away from technology for that time. Not going to say I'll be away from "civilization", because there's plenty of "civilization" where I'm going, just not much available technology (or time, actually). See ya in about a week!

A "Pleasing" Aroma

Ahhhhh! The sweet (?) smell of progress! Not success, but at least progress. It's the sicky sweet, slightly tangy, high-inducing aroma of the epoxy-whatever-it-is adhesive used to permanently attach cultured marble to the walls, ceiling, and floor of a shower.

The installation of my shower is almost complete. Almost, that is, because of a flaw in the last piece of marble to be installed. Well, that and a minor repair to be made resulting from the demolition of the old tile. I'm so glad I went with cultured marble! My shower looks so nice now.

It is so good to see progress. I still don't know when my front door will be making its opening appearance. If things run true to form on this project, I'll get the installation call right after I leave town for a continuing ed event scheduled for next week. *chuckle*

Different Celebration, Anyone?

While browsing the local internet sites to find something different to do on my birthday, I came across this:

Open Casting Call

For the independent film, "Flying Solo," will be at 11 a.m. (formally Nell's Place). Volunteers will act as an audience for a staged musical comedy show. Those wishing to audition should dress in solid colored clothing with no logo's or heavy patterns. Bring bottled water and be prepared to stay and film until 5 p.m. Lunch & Refreshments will be served.
"Flying Solo" is a faith-based family film that is being produced locally with a cast and crew of volunteer local talent and Lamar students. The film is a 90-minute comedy-drama set in a small city and featuring original songs sang and composed by Reginald Cooper of the Jazz Innovators. Dances are choreographed by Winetta Roy, Tina Simpson, Danielle Brown, and Shana Logan. The story follows an aspiring singer/songwriter who relocates to Texas with her aunt and younger siblings where she is challenged to conquer her fears and follow her dreams.

It certainly would be different. I'm just not sure they'd want some 50-something in their audience, and don't know if I could face the rejection. *fake cringe* I'll have to admit that there's no age limit in the cattle call ... erm ... casting call. I'm also not sure I want to be a part of anything where the grammatical errors are so blatant in just a two-paragraph announcement ("formally" for "formerly" and "sang" instead of "sung"). Not to say that my grammar is perfect.

Ah, well! I may be spending my day getting the rest of the shower installed. Guess I'll look for something a little less different to celebrate the special occasion. *chuckle*

Baby Steps

A couple of tiny miracles occurred this weekend:

In a frantic plea on Thursday, I asked that the rain stop for 48 hours so I could get the paint on the frame of my new sliding glass door ... and it did! The wood was dry enough for the primer yesterday evening and it stayed dry until I put the main coat on today. Then about an hour later, it began to sprinkle, almost precisely 48 hours after I made my plea.

I've also spent the last few weeks perusing appliances. The whole routine, Sunday ads, Consumer Reports reviews and recommendations, lusting after controls and cycles and whistles and bells. On Friday, after painting the primer coat, I headed to Sears to check out a range, a dishwasher, and a garage door opener. While looking around, the sales clerk came by and suggested that I look at a dishwasher he had that was a demo. Wouldn't you know it? It was the dishwasher recommended by Consumer Reports as a Best Buy for almost $150 less than retail. One appliance down, four to go!

Plus, the cultured marble guys came to the house today and did the first half of their installation. One of the crew went to the emergency room yesterday, so they couldn't do the whole thing today, but Progress! I'll take most anything at this point.

A New Word

I love doing crossword puzzles, and do several throughout the course of the day. It's often intriguing to find the same word, sometimes with different clues, used by different puzzle creators on the same day. In time, you can begin to sort out which of several possibilities to try just by knowing who the puzzle author is. Generally, the puzzles start out fairly easy on Mondays, getting progressively harder through the week.

Today, one of the puzzles turned out to be a real poser (pun only slightly intended). I managed to get 3/4ths of it done, but there was one section where I just couldn't put my finger on one or two essential answers. So I hit the trusty internet and scrounged answers I thought would shed enligtenment on the remaining few blanks.

Yep! You got it! There was one which just plain turned the rest into gobble-de-garbage.

What would you have put down for a six-letter word meaning "good humored"? With a couple of spots filled with what I knew were the correct letters, I came up with 'jovial'. I already had the J and the O. But that word just didn't help me a bit when it came to the other letters. So, I continued scrounging, and learned a new word:

Jocose

I like that word! I like the way it sounds and the way it feels when you say it. I even like the way it looks on the page. There's something about it that just seems "good humored". Maybe it taps into "jocularity" and memories of Father Mulcahy on MASH saying "Jocularity! Jocularity!" I don't know. But I think I'm going to try to find a way to include it in my vocabulary whenver possible.

Insomnia

I guess it's not classic insomnia. I did get some sleep, just less than usual. My brain seemed to kick into high gear around 4ish this morning and just wouldn't shut up. So I decided to try something different today. I got up.

The dog isn't completely sure what's going on, but she's decided to join me wherever I happen to land. At the moment she's on the couch dealing with an itch she didn't have a few moments ago. There's some critter outside making a kind of whirring shound, sounding almost like some fairly rapid snorer enjoying a good night's sleep, with an occasional pause just to make things interesting. The only other noises, besides the thoughts rumbling around in my head, are my fingers tapping on the keyboard, the intermittent car sounds, and the idling of a train about a mile or so away.

I'm really not a morning person; although, I do occasionally enjoy watching a sunrise, especially if I'm away from home. That's not the case this morning.

There's a really cool word that I first read in one of my favorite science fiction books that describes the light at this time of day: crepuscular. It actually describes that kinda gray sorta light which happens at dawn and dusk, where things are just becoming visible out of the darkness or are just fading into the night. The author used it in conjunction with filming an historical vampire movie at that time of day just before the sun rose while things are eerily foggy and mysterious.

Crepuscular. Good word for this morning, especially since I'm sitting here feeling a bit gloomy and hoping that the predicted rain decides not to transpire. I really need the wood around my new sliding glass door to dry out so I can paint it. I've been trying to paint it ever since a week ago Monday, but the days I've been in town have also been rain days. *sigh* I'm not painting wet wood! But it's just so frustrating, and a bit depressing, that I've not been able to get that done.

I think I'm going to just sit and listen to the critters a bit longer. There's a bird who's decided to add a chirp to the morning's chorus, and a mourning dove or two who've joined the melody. Maybe the dog snoring on the floor might entice my eyelids back to sleep. I've an hour or two before I have to be anywhere or do anything. *yawn* G'night.

The Winner and Champeen ...

They certainly don't make them like they used to.

Today the plumber came to the house to move the drain from its current location to the place it needs to be for the marble installation to proceed. To pull this feat off, it was necessary to cut through the old pipe and install a new section of pipe from the drain's new location to the old underground drainage system. Easy, you'd think, right?

Not if the original pipe is cast iron!

It ultimately took two strong men and four diamond saw blades to successfully cut through the pipe to remove the section!

Winner and Champeen? The men, but only by referee's decision. *chuckle*

It's good to know the underpinnings of the house are sturdily built. A major blessing when things are working right, bit of a curse if there's a problem.

Next up - concrete in the shower! I suspect this bout will be just a bit easier.

Probably Christmas?

Please forgive me if the blog becomes a reconstruction rant for the next few weeks. Getting back into my house truly isn't the only thing on my mind, but it's certainly at the top of the list at the moment. And an especially frustrating item on the list at that.

When last we met, I was looking at about a two week delay to get someone to repair the rotted wood in my now dismantled shower. Thanks to my blessed handyman church member that problem has been rectified. He did an awesome job in fixing up the nasty looking studs and that shower ain't a-gonna be moving anywhere any time in the near or distant future! I couldn't have asked for a better resolution to that difficulty.

But then .....

The plumber's jackhammer guy came to the house and pounded the crap out of the concrete in the shower. After much chipping away, it was discovered that there's something weird about the way the original builder installed the shower foundation. The jackhammer guy consulted one of the owners. The owner stood there and scratched his head while trying to figure out how the heck to do the necessary plumbing so the marble can be installed. Totally perplexed, he left, still scratching his head. The jackhammer guy packed up his gear and headed off for the day.

Fortunately, the plumber did come up with a possible solution. Which meant the jackhammer guy had to come back the next day and pound some more crap out of the concrete. I may now have a permanent headache. *chuckle* Today, the plumber's supposed to come back to the house to do the plumbing work and then re-concrete the shower floor. He's not called yet, so I don't know when he's coming.

Ok - that was the good stuff. At least there will be some progress soon on the shower.

Then today started. I get a call about 7:30am telling me there'd been a cancellation on the schedule and the door installer would be able to come and install my doors today! Woohoo! Get the doors in and the shower fixed and the carpet/vinyl could go in only slightly off-schedule. Right? (wait for it)


WRONG!!

Turns out the guy who measured the doors and did the estimate on the installation mismeasured the front door. Two weeks to get the door reordered and back in. Then the installation has to be rescheduled. *sigh* Perhaps I'll be able to live in my house by Christmas.

The sliding glass door was installed, though. So that was a positive. But the weirdnesses associated with this house never seem to end. When the installer began the replacement, he discovered that the brick threshhold was an add-on which ended up serving the purpose of providing a most excellent source of unwanted moisture to the wooden portion of the threshhold, thus nicely rotting out the door's support. He chipped and levered the bricks out of their track, and now I have a 6-8" by 6-foot by 4-5" trough to be filled with concrete to level things up with the patio.

Maybe if the plumbing concrete guy comes by while the weather's still good, he might be willing to add my interesting trough to the indoor task. *pleads pitifully*

I am beginning to wonder why delays of 2-3 weeks keep popping into the picture. So, I'm going to get a window company that's been advertising in the paper to give me an estimate on replacing the rest of my windows. If it's not an unreasonable price and the timing of installation is right, I may go ahead and do that before getting the carpet and vinyl installed. Maybe in the interest of energy efficiency, and eliminating as many weirdnesses as possible while the house is still a torn-up mess, I ought to go ahead and finish things off. If it's not going to delay things by more than they are already delayed, then ... well, it's something to think about (and quickly!)

Here's hoping to something earlier than Christmas!

I Oughta Know Better By Now

You'd think I'd learn. I do it to myself every time. At least I'm consistent.

Here I was getting all excited about work being scheduled for Her Horribleness repairs. This week, the cultured marble people were to tear out the yucky tile. They did. One task down. Then today the plumber was supposed to come over and replace the shower pan and redo the plumbing fixtures in the shower and in my bathtub. He did. However, he wasn't able to finish everything.

For one thing, apparently the drain has to be moved and, of course, it's set in concrete. Literally! That means a jackhammer person has to come by and smash out the old stuff. Since we didn't know about that until today, there wasn't anyone with a jackhammer available today to come and do the work. *sigh* Perhaps tomorrow.

Unfortunately, there's another problem that's even worse. When the marble people did their thing, they discovered that the wood framing in the shower was seriously rotted. ACK! Now I have to replace the wood before the plumber and the marble people can finish their jobs. This additional task is going to take a contractor. Guess who doesn't have a contractor readily available. ... You've got it!

So I tapped my congregational handyperson, and his contacts say "about two weeks" before someone's available. Two Weeks!! ARGH!! And that's just before the shower stuff can be completed.

Then I have to get the linoleum and carpet put in. I'd had it scheduled for next week. Now it's been postponed.

Here I was hoping that the flooring could be installed next week, the touchup painting and trim/baseboards/etc. finished Memorial Day weekend, and light fixtures, curtains, ceiling fan, and the like put back together and cleaned up shortly thereafter, with a move-back-in date by no later than my birthday in June. *double sigh*

Now it's maybe by July 4th? Labor Day? Thanksgiving? Christmas? OK - I'll do my best to not get totally pessimistic. *whine* I just want to sleep in my own bed. */whine*

Pomp ... and Circumstance

It's 100% official! The boy ..... oops! Ahem! The Man has attained his initial goal - a college diploma. This past Saturday he put on cap, gown, and tassel; waited in line and through the formalities; handed the card with his name on it to the Dean, and walked across the stage to shake the college president's hand and get the empty diploma cover signifying completion of his degree requirements (the actual diploma had arrived in January); then returned to his seat for the completion of the graduation rite. Pictures were taken (although not of his 'non-traditional' footwear) and we were through. I'm so proud of him!

Graduation had its quirks. Since the school only does one graduation ceremony each year, there were many people and not enough seats. People came early and saved not just a few seats, but rows for those who weren't there yet (and, for the most part, didn't arrive until just as the graduation began). Then as soon as their graduate made it across the stage, they rose 'en masse' and left! I probably wouldn't have been quite so upset by this, except that they did it when my son was getting ready to cross the stage and I now have a picture of heads and backs instead of my son. I'm hoping the school photographer's picture comes out ok.

I guess it's traditional for the commencement address to consist of every graduation cliche in the book. It did. It's also traditional for names to be mangled. They were, just not the students' names, and there were some doozies. *chuckle* In the grand scheme of things, I'm glad my son was scheduled for the morning graduation instead of the afternoon one. Standing room only doesn't begin to describe the afternoon crowd.

We followed up the ceremony with the family's traditional meal of the graduate's choice, then he left to spend some time with friends and to get some much needed sleep (if possible). And now he's headed off to California to start work on Wednesday. Good job, my son! I'm sure you'll end up accomplishing whatever you put your heart to. Godspeed, my son!